Placing a hand on her shoulder, he traced his fingers across her neck and down her back. He tried to undo the clasps on her bustier, but for the life of him couldn’t figure them out. ‘Well, my darling, you have me now,’ he said. ‘I’m your bitch for life.’
Railroaded
by Landon Dixon
The train was practically full when Kyle Bigelow got aboard at the Grand Street station. The horses were running at Sterling Park Raceway 20 miles down the line, and the cars were packed with punters anxious to place bets, dreaming of making the “big score”.
Kyle shouldered his way through the throngs clogging the narrow aisles, down the train to the observation car at the end of the line. It was crowded, too, people standing around talking, laughing, drinking. Kyle was dressed in touristy-type clothing, an aquamarine windbreaker and white pants, a no-name cap, and his face was sunburnt a ruby red, blue eyes wide and eager.
It wasn’t long before a man latched on to him.
‘Got change for a twenty?’ the man asked Kyle. He was a good-looking guy, medium height and build, with glossy black hair and liquid brown eyes, a pale, pretty face. He held a twenty out to Kyle.
Kyle grinned and reached into his front pocket for his wallet. He pulled it out, opened it. The other man’s eyes lit up briefly when he saw the sheaf of bills within.
Kyle pulled out two tens and handed them to the man. He handed the twenty dollar bill to Kyle, said, ‘Thanks,’ and moved away through the crowded car.
It was only a matter of seconds before a woman suddenly pushed through the mob and bumped into Kyle. ‘Oh, sorry!’ she gasped, pressing against him, jostling him back into a group of chattering people in behind.
She looked up at Kyle, and he grinned and said, ‘Think nothing of it.’
The woman had long, flowing red hair and dazzling blue eyes, an oval, delicate face. She was wearing a short black coat, a blue dress underneath. Her breasts filled the front of her dress, cushioned warm and soft against Kyle’s chest. The rest of her was just as curvaceous, shapely legs sheathed in sheer white stockings, feet platformed on blue high heels.
Kyle licked his lips, staring down at her.
‘No harm done, I guess,’ she laughed, patting Kyle on the chest. She pulled back, squeezed his arm and then slipped past, swallowed up by the crowd.
He looked after her until she disappeared. Then he reached into his front pocket when a porter appeared with a tray of drinks, and his smile flattened into a grim line. His wallet was gone.
‘What a score, baby!’ Thomas enthused, picking up the wallet Anita had thrown in his lap, cracking it open and quickly leafing through the wad of cash he pulled out. ‘That rube didn’t even know what hit him.’
Anita smiled wearily. ‘We’d better get off the train. We’re coming to the racetrack now.’
Thomas slipped the cash into his pocket, tossed the wallet out of the window of their private compartment. ‘No rush, baby. We’ll ride it on down to the end of the line, get off at the beach and take ourselves a stroll on the boardwalk.’ He patted his breast pocket. ‘We’ll have a gay old time with all of our “winnings”.’ He chuckled. ‘And in the meantime.’
He pulled Anita down into his lap, looked her in the eyes, then mashed his mouth against her mouth. She seized his head, lacing her fingers into his dark hair, kissing him back just as ferociously. The thrill of the hunt, the size of the kill had them both excited.
Thomas grasped Anita’s left breast through her dress, squeezed the ripe flesh. She moaned into his mouth, then sunk her teeth into his thrusting tongue and pulled it out of his mouth and sucked hungrily on it.
Her dress was open, Thomas’ hands all over her large tits, clutching, kneading, Anita gripping and squeezing the man’s cock through his pants, sucking on his tongue, when Kyle burst into the compartment.
‘Not getting off at the racetrack?’ he asked, slipping inside and shutting the door.
Anita jumped out of Thomas’ lap and scrambled her dress up over her breasts. As Thomas smoothed out his hair and crossed his legs to conceal the tent in his pants.
‘Hey, what’s the meaning of …’
‘Stow it, pretty boy!’ Kyle cut him off. He ran a hand through his own short, blond hair, grinning at the pair. ‘Railroad cop. We knew there’d be grifters out working the opening day crowd. And you two plucked the wrong bird with your tag-team.’
Thomas licked his lips. Anita swallowed.
‘The next stop is the pen, for both of you,’ Kyle stated.
Thomas made to get up.
‘I wouldn’t try it, slick,’ Kyle cautioned, reaching a hand into the pocket of his jacket.
Thomas sat back down, nodded at Anita.
‘M … maybe we can work out some sort of … deal,’ the redhead stammered. She dropped her hands down to her sides, and the top of her dress fell back down, exposing her full breasts, the smooth, creamy-white flesh mottled red where Thomas had mauled them, coral pink nipples still erect and pointing.
Kyle looked at the woman’s tits. ‘And what about him?’ he said, gesturing at Thomas.
Thomas stood up. ‘I’ll just leave you two alone. I wouldn’t mind catching a race or two.’
‘That’s not what I meant,’ Kyle said, staring at the man.
Thomas licked his lips again. Then he gripped his fly and drew it down, pulled his semi-erect cock out of his pants. The member hung large even at half-mast, shaft thick and pink and veined, hood bloated and purple.
‘Not a bad offer,’ Kyle remarked, looking from Thomas’ cock to Anita’s tits. ‘Let’s see her suck some life into that thing.’
The pair of grifters smiled, dirty-dealing their second nature. Anita pushed her dress all the way down and stepped out of it in just white cotton panties, her tits swaying as she dropped to her knees in front of Thomas. He grunted when she hefted his meat, groaned when she sucked his hood and half of his shaft into her mouth and squeezed with her lips and tongue.
Kyle moved in behind Thomas. He wrapped his arms around the man’s tight chest, kissing the man’s slender neck, watching Anita suck cock over Thomas’ shoulder. The guy’s dong filled the redhead’s vacuuming mouth to overflowing, poling out huge and heavy as it engorged with pumping blood.
Kyle tore Thomas’ shirt open, sending buttons spraying. He cupped the man’s smooth pecs, pinched and rolled the rigid pink nipples even harder and higher.
Thomas moaned, getting sucked, getting felt up. Anita bobbed her head back and forth on his swollen prick, hands on his hips, pulling hard and tight and quick, urgently. She gagged now and then on the huge cock when it pushed down her throat, but didn’t let up on the incredible sucking pressure for a moment.
Kyle pulled Thomas’ pants down, but kept them balled up around the guy’s ankles. He reached around and gripped the man’s dick, shifted his hand along the pulsating length up from the balls, meeting Anita’s lips halfway up. He pumped Thomas’ dong, as she sucked on the rest of it.
Kyle ground his own throbbing erection in between Thomas’ taut buttocks, thrusting in rhythm to his pumping the man’s cock. Thomas leaned back against him, welcoming Kyle’s wet mouth on his exposed neck, gripping Anita’s lustrous red hair in his hands as she sucked and sucked on his prick.
It went on like that for a while. Until Kyle breathed in Thomas’ ear, ‘My turn.’
Thomas quickly joined Anita down on his knees on the floor of the swaying compartment, and they both pulled Kyle’s hard-on out of his pants. ‘God, he’s built, isn’t he, honey?’ Anita cooed, noosing Kyle’s shaft with her fingers just below his mushroomed knob.
‘Hell, yes!’ Thomas agreed enthusiastically, grasping Kyle’s cock at the blond-dusted base and pumping his warm, soft palm up and down the smooth, cut shaft.
Kyle looked down at the pair working his cock, and grinned. ‘You wouldn’t be conning me now, would you?’
Anita enveloped his hood with her lips, tugged, Thomas seizing shaft between his lips and gliding
his mouth back and forth. Kyle jerked, getting the full treatment and loving it.
He took their sucking and licking for a good long time, then pulled his cock away and said, ‘Tilt your heads back, open your mouths.’
They quickly complied, and Kyle shuffled forward, bent his prick down and planted his cap in Anita’s mouth. Her lips instantly closed around his hood, ringing him in molten heat. He pressed downward, sliding his shaft into her mouth and down her throat, until his balls squatted on her chin.
She hardly gagged at all, her throat bulging with pulsing cock, cheeks billowing. ‘Fuck, she’s good!’ Kyle grunted at Thomas, keeping the pressure on, his entire cock stuffed in the woman’s mouth and throat.
He pulled back, his dong gliding out of Anita’s mouth gleaming, dripping with her spit. Then he plunged downward again, filling her throat. He pumped, fucking her face from up above, relentlessly driving his cock deep and then dragging it up and almost out. Anita’s nostrils bubbled with snot, her face red, eyes shedding tears; lips tight to Kyle’s shaft, throat and mouth working, sucking on his cock even as he fucked her.
Kyle pulled all the way out. His prick snapped upwards, flinging saliva. Anita gasped for air.
‘Your turn,’ he said to Thomas, forcing his granite-hard cock back down, spearing it into Thomas’ waiting mouth. He sank down to his balls, the man’s velvety mouth and throat easily accommodating him.
Thomas grinned up at Kyle, his maw full of the man’s dick. Kyle pumped Thomas’ mouth, drilling down his throat, swelling the man’s reddened face. Slobber spilled out of the corners of Thomas’ mouth as Kyle plunged his face, the cocksucker’s throat working to swallow the precome leaking out of Kyle’s slit.
Kyle went back and forth between the pair, ramming his cock inside them, plundering their mouths and throats. Until his own face bled sweat and his balls tingled and tightened with imminent release, the hot, wet, tight, stoking pressure on his dick too much to maintain for too long.
He popped his prong out of Anita’s face and took a step back. ‘Not too far to the next stop,’ he said. ‘I think we can just make it.’
As the pair of grifters regained their breath, Kyle pulled a condom and tube of lube out of his jacket pocket, sheathed and sprayed his cock. Then he tossed another condom and the lube to Thomas at his feet. ‘You’d better use it yourself, if you want to fuck Red here up the arse.’
Kyle sat down on the bench seat in the rattling compartment, up thrust cock in his hand. He signalled at Thomas to climb aboard.
The man got up onto the seat, and Kyle gripped his waist from behind, holding Thomas’ arse just above his glistening prong. He admired the man’s pale, mounded cheeks, then lowered them down to where his hood made sweet, hot contact with Thomas’ crack.
Thomas grunted and reached back, spreading his buttocks. Kyle thrust his hips up, pressing Thomas’ butthole with his cockhead. And Thomas sat down, impaling himself on Kyle’s pole, filling his chute slow and sensual with the man’s steely erection.
Kyle groaned, Thomas in his lap, his cock embedded in the man’s oven-hot, vice-tight anus. He signalled at the watching redhead, and she climbed up into Thomas’ lap, got her plump arse filled by that man’s tremendous erection.
The compartment burned with their heat, the three of them fused together, the rocking of the train filling them with erotic sensation, cocks buried in brimming arses. Kyle moved his hips, fucking Thomas’ arse, letting the other man pick up the fiery rhythm in Anita’s gripping chute.
They thrust faster, harder, together, moving as one. The two men groaned their appreciation, their shunting cocks buried in steaming bungs. Anita gasped her own agonized joy, grabbing up her shuddering tits and squeezing, pulling on her nipples, Thomas holding her tight by the waist and plowing her anus.
‘Not far from the station now!’ Kyle gritted, pumping even harder.
The train picked up speed, human and locomotive; Kyle fucking Thomas’ arse, Thomas fucking Anita’s. Sweat poured off the men’s faces, their breath coming in puffs, their backs almost breaking, joyously, with the rigorous effort of churning chute.
‘Jesus!’ Thomas gasped, jerking in Kyle’s hands, on the end of his pistoning cock.
‘Yes, come in my arse!’ Anita cried, getting jolted by Thomas’ orgasm, and her own.
Kyle torqued Thomas’ quivering arse a few more times, then jetted his own ecstasy into the man’s anus. He grunted and swore, firing off burst after burst of white-hot semen into the man’s sucking chute.
Kyle watched the pair re-dress themselves, as he tucked his own spent rod into his pants. He pulled the railway-issue one out of his jacket pocket, pointed it at the grifters. ‘I’ll try to put in a good word for you,’ he said to the startled couple. ‘About how you didn’t resist arrest, surrendered nice and easy.’
Kyle Bigelow might be a dirty cop, but he wasn’t dirty enough to shirk his duty.
Freedom
by Rachel Kramer Bussel
‘I wish I could be as free as you are, Nadine,’ Frank said, looking at me wistfully as I dug into my ice cream sundae. I’d just finished detailing the orgy I’d attended the night before, about my starring role as I gave multiple lap dances, blow-jobs, and ate three girls’ pussies in a row before getting double penetrated by two male models. It wasn’t exactly a typical night, but I’d attended parties like it before, and after the first one, I had no problem baring all and getting right in the middle of things.
‘You could be. Right now. I can teach you,’ I said. ‘It’s not rocket science, you know, it’s just about your attitude. You have to be open, open to anything. As soon as you set your mind to it, it’ll happen. It’s like The Secret, that book you’ve never read but I know have picked up and ogled plenty of times. You have to focus on what you want, and go for it.’
‘But how can I go for it when I don’t have anyone to go for it with? I mean, girls either think I’m gay or “too nice”. I don’t know how to really be a slut, like you. A slut in a good way – you know what I mean. I’m ready, trust me,’ he said.
I sighed. We’d had this conversation dozens of times before. He always wound up dating staid, relatively boring women who wanted to go to fancy dinners and cocktail parties where the wildest thing that might happen was one woman revealing she wasn’t wearing any panties. He fell for the wealthy types time and again, ones who wouldn’t be seen below 14th Street, whereas I rarely ventured above it.
I squinted at him, then tilted my head, examining him. He was wearing dark denim jeans and a rich grey zip up hoodie over a white shirt. He sported the kind of stubble I’d always lusted after, the kind I liked to rub up against. I’d thought he was gay when we first met, and he once called me a drag queen in a woman’s body. He’d been fine with my assumption, but had been quick – perhaps a little too quick – to assure me he was straight. Now that we were getting to the heart of his sex lust, I was discovering that my original assessment had been at least a little bit correct.
‘Let’s go over this again; why won’t you come with me to one of my parties?’
‘Because, Nadine, everyone knows you there. You’re the star. I’ll be like the little hanger-on.’
‘How do you know if you don’t try it? There are plenty of very open-minded people there.’
‘I guess,’ he said, sounding totally unconvinced.
‘I’ll lead the way, you just wear your cutest underwear. Tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up.’
The more I thought about it, the more I realised that Frank wasn’t just cute; he had an air of mystery about him. A few of my friends had suggested that maybe he was bi, adding to my original hunch; this party was going to be the test. If he was into guys, I certainly wanted to watch, maybe coax him on, and I was dying to know exactly what kind of package he’d been keeping under wraps in his designer jeans.
I arrived at his house and honked my horn, surveying my make-up in the side mirror. I already knew my outfit was perfect – a very low-cut purple dress
that, along with a plunging bra, almost revealed the edges of my areola, black and silver fishnet stockings just begging to be ripped off, and daring five-inch black heels. Whether or not anything happened with Frank, I wanted to get ravished.
He greeted me with a swirl of cologne as he entered the car, admiring my legs. ‘Nervous?’ I asked, winking at him as I pulled out.
‘Not really,’ he said, but betrayed himself by immediately reaching for a cigarette. He only smokes when he’s nervous, not like me, who only likes a puff after sex.
We let the radio speak for us as we drove, but when I pulled into a parking space, he said, ‘What if a guy hits on me?’
I sighed and rolled my eyes at him. I was sympathetic but only to a point. ‘What if he does? Do you know how freeing it is, to echo what you asked about freedom, to not have any boundaries for a night, to just go with the flow? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but I think if you just put your mind to it, you’ll find plenty of girls and, yes, maybe even guys, who are into you exactly the way you are.’
He bit his lip, and looked down at his lap. I took one of his hands in mine. ‘Look, you wanted to know how the other half lives, and I’m about to show you. You don’t have to participate if you don’t want to, but I’m sick of you talking like nobody wants you. I promise you someone’s going to want to fuck you tonight, probably several someones.’ If he kept annoying me I was prepared to tie him up and slap him around a little, because I had a hunch he’d like that, but I knew he was going to be a hit.
We entered, and after signing the consent form and paying our fees, we surveyed the luxurious house. Many formal play parties don’t serve alcohol, but this one did, and the bartender was a cute topless girl with tousled brown curls and bright red lips. She leaned forward, her nipples dangling close to the bar, to offer me a kiss. I gave her a dainty one so as not to smear my own lipstick, and said, ‘Tracy, this is Frank. He’s new, so maybe you should make him a stiff drink. Frank, give Tracy a kiss hello.’ His eyes almost popped out of his head, but he did as I’d ordered, bending over to be greeted by Tracy’s eager lips.
Best of Both: When You Just Can't Decide Page 13