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Page 5
My body swells with long-lost energy when he touches his mouth to mine. Hot tingling erupts under my skin. The longer he kisses me, the more it overwhelms me.
A little overwhelmed himself, he breathes, “I would lick it, but my back...”
The image of his chocolate eyes between my legs is enough to set me off. I tremble against our soaked fingers to both of our surprise.
Our success seems to encourage him. He centers his hips between my legs and slides his magnificent manhood inside. We both cry out. When I let my head fall onto the comforter, he locks himself on top of me and urgently thrusts. I haven’t felt like this in so long that every gliding inch of him makes me wail into my apartment. It’s usually so quiet, but at this moment my euphoria fills it with every exaltation of his name. Not God. Billy. My bed shakes while I praise him again and again, and each time he responds with harder thrusts that reach me at my core. He shouts and finally expels himself, which triggers in me a fit of tremors.
I convulse again with pride and joy for myself. I deserve to be happy—sexually and emotionally. I deserve to love myself; the Church be damned. I deserve to love another man whether we’re married or not, whether we’re young or old, whether he’s Catholic, or Lutheran, or nothing at all. My rapturous shaking continues long after his hips calm.
We settle under my covers. He convinced me to get completely naked, but I tell him he can’t look under the sheet. He has to use his old-fashioned imagination.
He sighs with a smile and puts his hands behind his head. I hide my giddiness while I retrieve something from my bedside table. I’ve kept it for a special occasion, and this moment undoubtedly meets that criteria.
The lighter clicks, and I slowly inhale as the tobacco burns at the end of the cigarette.
Billy sits up as I exhale a long drag of smoke. “Those aren’t allowed here.”
I smile around the cigarette. “Want one?”
He laughs, and lets me hold the lighter when he lights his up.
We cuddle with his arm around my shoulders while we enjoy the smoke and nicotine in silence. I don’t remember the last time I was so happy.
Then the fire alarm goes off.
We frantically put out our cigarettes in an empty pill bottle and try to clear away the smoke. It’s no use.
The apartment door flies open. Nurse Rebecca calls, “Rose! We have to evacua—” Through the haze of the smoke, she stares at us in my bed.
Billy and I burst into laughter.
Rebecca puts her hands on her hips. “You two! When did you become such troublemakers?”
Billy cheekily replies, “Rebecca, unless you want to see me naked, I suggest you give us a moment alone.”
She points her finger. “You have three minutes.”
We still giggle after she closes the door.
Once we’ve finished dressing, he takes my hand, and we walk out into the blaring hallway.
REMOTE VIBRATIONS
Z. Esmé Mendoza
Two weeks have passed since Richie’s health scare. To Babs’ relief, it was just the flu; in these times, she immediately thought the worst whenever someone fell ill.
“When could I see you again?” Richie asked during one of their nightly FaceTiming sessions.
“You really are better,” Babs noted, trying hard not to smile at the twinkle in his eyes. Still, his voice was raspy, not having fully recovered from a bout of laryngitis. “You’re bullshitting again.”
“And yet you love hearing my bullshit.”
He was, of course, referring to his podcast Aural Pleasure. Before knowing that Richie Sato, her annoyingly hot neighbor from upstairs, was behind it, Babs tuned to it regularly. She had frequently masturbated to his oral sex episodes. And right before they were forced to isolate from one another, she experienced the joy of getting eaten out by his own mouth.
“You’re blushing, Babs,” Richie teased.
“Seriously, Richie”—Babs laughed—“we can’t take any risks. It wrecked me so much learning you got sick, and you were lucky it wasn’t anything worse.”
“And that’s thanks to you,” he said gently. “FaceTiming with me, ordering the food I need . . . it all helped.”
“I shouldn’t have let you stay with me in the first place,” Babs sighed.
“No, Babs.” Richie held up his hand.
If only he could take away her guilt. “I was the one who agreed to stay with you. You were only trying to protect my roommates, and you only had a cold. A cold, Babs, that you had just recovered from, and I had the flu! It wasn’t . . .” He stopped when Babs cringed and looked away.
“Please, Babs,” Richie continued. “I don’t regret the time we spent together in isolation. I never blamed you for anything then, and I don’t blame you now. So can we please . . . just put this behind us?”
His girlfriend sighed again. “We’ll do this the right way, Richie. Until this shelter-in-place is lifted, we’re gonna keep FaceTiming. We’re gonna have to act like we don’t live in the same building, all right? Everyone’s health is important. Especially yours.”
He nodded. “Which is why I wanted to tell you . . . I got you something.”
“What?” Babs frowned at the sudden change of topic.
“I appreciate you looking out for my health,” Richie began, “which is why I ordered something. It might not get here for a while, what with everything happening, but do call me once you get it.”
“What did you—”
“Just think of it as a thank you gift.”
“A thank you gift?”
“For caring about me. Choosing me. Loving me.”
“You are so corny, Richie!” Babs scoffed, her face turning red.
“You won’t be saying that after I’m done with you.” His tone shifted from gentle to stern. “Now remember, you call me once you get it, you hear?”
An additional week passed before Babs received Richie’s gift. In the meantime, they kept FaceTiming and texting, each meeting raunchier than the last. When Babs didn’t talk to him, she listened to some of her favorite episodes of Aural Pleasure. One of his more recent ones was him getting a blowjob. He wasn’t acting here; when they were quarantined together she was between his legs sucking his cock as he moaned and grunted for her to continue, all the while recording the whole thing. His favorite part was when she squeezed him between her breasts and rubbed them against his shaft.
“Never thought I’d actually be in a porno,” she had commented as she wiped the come off her face.
“No one will know it was you, babe,” he had gasped, as he recovered from blowing his load. It was true; Babs was quiet when she gave head, but to be on the safe side, he had edited out any faint traces of her sighing before he uploaded the episode.
On the day the package came, Babs discovered a new episode entitled “Remote Vibrations.” She had just finished rubbing one out to one of his BDSM fantasies, giddy that she was the inspiration for many of them. Yet she felt a slight pang of disappointment from missing a new episode.
Before she got a chance to play it, she heard someone knock. She left her room to go to the bathroom, washing her hands first before answering the front door, but when she looked through the peephole, no one was there. Slowly, she opened it and saw a small box on her welcome mat. It was addressed to Richie Sato.
“This must be the gift he was talking about,” Babs said to herself as she picked it up. She sanitized her door handle as well as the box before taking it inside. While opening it in her living room, she noticed the box had been re-taped. She was going to let Richie know that it was tampered after seeing what was inside. It was a pink wearable vibrator, but where was the remote?
She unfolded the box and put it in the recycling bin near her door, which she emptied out once a week. After sanitizing and drying her toy and washing her hands, she went to her room to call Richie.
“I take it you received my package?” he greeted as he waggled his eyebrows. His voice sounded much better.
“You mean this?” He held the piece in question. He wore the most self-satisfied smirk Babs had ever seen. Lucky for him they were apart; she would have decked him.
“You think I’d let you control how many times you can come, Babs?” Richie asked. He shook his head and wagged his finger. “I told you, I wanted to thank you for loving me. But I’m not letting your comment about me being corny slide. Nor am I gonna let so many days go by without fucking you in some way.”
“I have your podcast, Richie,” Babs pointed out. “I saw you have a new episode.”
“Yeah, but I can’t fuck you on my own terms,” he countered, ignoring her last statement. “I am your dom, remember?”
“You’re a top at best.” Babs rolled her eyes.
“We’ll see about that.” Richie straightened himself out before resuming. “Put it on.”
“Let me put my phone down—”
“No,” he cut her off. “I wanna see you strip. Now take your pants off, peel off your panties, and put the fucking vibrator in your pussy.” Both his tone and his facial features were harsh.
Without giving her reaction away, Babs propped up her phone against the wall where her desk was. Since she still saw him, she figured he could see her. She placed the vibrator on her desk before slowly taking off her pajama pants, her eyes not looking away from his.
“You’re a little wet there.” Richie noticed a clear spot in the middle of her panties. “You always had this habit of starting without me.”
“I just finished listening to one of your episodes before I heard the door knock,” Babs replied.
“The vibrator, Babs?” He motioned for her to continue.
She tossed the pants aside as she took the vibrator. With the same pace she took while removing her pants, she peeled her underwear halfway, giving him a peek of the pussy he had come to know so well, and inserted the vibrator. She adjusted the smaller part so that it rested on her clit, and let out a sigh.
Richie scanned her T-shirt up and down. “Take your shirt off,” he added.
Babs took off her glasses before doing as she was told. She tossed it aside once she pulled it over her head, revealing her breasts. “You better not let this leak,” she warned.
“Babe, I would never let that happen.” His gaze was fixated on her chest, her brown nipples erect. “God I miss your tits,” he whispered.
She stifled a laugh. Richie was always fixated on her breasts. He admitted they were what first attracted him to her that night he saw her at the party. They were bouncing up and down as she danced to the music. Then the first time they had sex, his mouth and hands were practically latched onto her nipples. He couldn’t kiss her on the mouth, and so there they stayed. It took a while before she even experienced nipplegasms.
“Lie down on your bed,” Richie said finally.
Babs took her phone, and before she even made it to her bed, she felt the vibrator move inside her.
“Oh!” she gasped as she winced. She heard Richie laugh from her phone.
“My bad,” he smirked, waving the remote control. “But hey, it works from my room!”
She rolled her eyes as she made her way to her bed.
Babs stretched out her arm so that Richie could have a better look at her.
“It’s all right,” he said. “I only want to see your face the moment you come.”
“Liar.” She moved her phone toward her breasts.
“Those are nice too,” he laughed. “I’ll just have you move your phone from time to time.”
Suddenly, the vibrator went off again. Babs arched her back and moaned.
“That wasn’t even the maximum setting,” he commented as he fiddled with the remote. “You should see your face, Babs. It’s priceless.”
She glared at him as she panted.
“Let me see your pussy,” he said. The screen moved down toward her crotch. “Keep your phone there,” Richie added as he played with his remote. He reveled at how Babs squirmed, and how her moans grew louder. He told her he wanted to see her face, but she couldn’t hear him from her cries. So he turned it off.
“Hey!” Babs yelled.
“I said move your phone up to your face!” Richie shot back. The image on his screen blurred until he saw a pissed-off Babs, whose cheeks were red, both from irritation and arousal.
“I get to decide when you come, remember?” he chided. “And you better pay attention when I say something, or we end the whole thing, got it?” Richie then turned on his remote at the lowest setting. Babs sucked the air through her teeth as she shut her eyes. “Now rub your nipples.”
Keeping her eyes closed, Babs let her hand massage her right breast. She let her thumb circle her areola before squeezing her nipple, squirming at her own touch. When Richie increased the speed of the vibrator, Babs threw her head back and cried out in response.
“Don’t forget your other tit,” he reminded, his voice gravelly. Babs opened her eyes, and she saw the hungry look in Richie’s face before switching her right hand to hold her phone while her left played with her other breast.
“Look at me,” he grunted. Babs noticed he was panting like she was.
“You must be so hard right now,” she ground out.
He ignored her comment. “Don’t come until I tell you.”
She shot him an annoyed look. Of all things, she hated delayed orgasms the most.
“Who’s your dom now?”
“Don’t ruin this for me, Richie,” she choked through clenched teeth. You fucking bastard, she added in her head.
He increased the intensity further. Babs jerked her head away as if to stifle any moans.
“Breathe now, Babs,” he chuckled.
She tore her left hand away from her breast and held the phone with both hands.
“You’re a fucking dick, you know that?” Babs panted.
“Speaking of”—he smirked—“which part of the vibrator do you prefer, the shaft that’s pumping inside your pussy or the bristles tickling your clit? You can’t pick both.”
“Oh God, Richie . . .”
“Answer, Babs.”
She took several deep breaths before replying. “The . . . the . . . clit,” she gritted.
“In that case.” He ramped up the vibrator to its maximum capacity, causing Babs to scream.
“Get on all fours!” Richie exclaimed as he lowered the speed. She cried out in protest.
“I haven’t told you to come yet.” He cocked a brow. “Now all fours, Babs.”
She did as she was told, but not without giving him the stink eye. The moment she was in the position, Richie once again ramped up the intensity to its maximum setting.
“Richie!” she pleaded.
“Just a top, huh?”
“Oh . . . fine,” Babs conceded. “You’re . . . a . . . dom.”
“Whose dom?”
“M . . . mine.” She rocked back and forth, the same way she did whenever she and Richie fucked.
“Yeah, ride it like that, babe,” he coached. “It’s like my cock pounding your pussy, huh?”
“Richie,” she begged. “Please . . . let me . . . let me come.”
He enjoyed having her in his mercy, and he watched her moan and writhe from the pleasure he was giving her. “I think I can get used to this quarantine,” he quipped.
Eventually though, he gave his consent, and he was treated to the loudest scream she had ever unleashed.
Gradually he decreased the speed as Babs began to calm down. He lost sight of her when he turned off the remote; she dropped her phone on the pillow as she laid prostrate on her bed, trying to catch her breath. Feeling the moisture pooling between her legs, she rolled over to remove the vibrator.
“You there, Babs?” Richie called.
She grabbed the phone and faced him. “Let me clean this thing. You wanna watch?”
He sho
ok his head. “As long as I know it’s covered in your come, my job here is done. And you’re welcome.” He added a wink.
“I take it I don’t need to listen to your latest episode?” she asked. When he didn’t understand, she added, “Remote Vibrations? Looks like we already did it.”
“We didn’t do it,” he corrected. “Completely different fantasy there, but thanks for reminding me. If you think this was intense, imagine what it would be like if you had no idea when and where that vibrator would go off while you were wearing it.”
EXCEPTIONAL SERVICE
T.C. Mill
In memory of John, partner, service submissive, nonbinary girlfriend, and best friend
“It’s hot,” Helen warned, just as two strong hands rose to guide the plate down. Her fingers skimmed them in passing—warm, smooth skin over the muscle. He’s also hot,her mind observed of the body those hands belonged to: equal parts strength and silky softness. Shoulders and arms that filled out his vest and collared shirt with rolled-up sleeves, wide eyes in a blue matching the fine stripes on those sleeves, long hair tied back, a jaw her eyes couldn’t stop tracing.
And so was she, the woman the plate had come to settle in front of. Her red velvet dress set off olive skin and dark brown eyes. Tight waves of mahogany hair swept to her shoulders and the square neckline that framed her small but well-defined breasts. Helen lifted her eyes, trying not to perv, but the woman’s jawline was as traceable as her companion’s.
“Anything else?” Helen pattered.
“No, thank you.” Her voice was like the anise flavoring all their seasonal drinks: sweet and spiced, lyrical. She had been the one to ask for a table for two, who ordered first, who asked about the preparation of the daily special. Her every word and motion were elegant, in command, and pleasant. She looked at Helen and seemed to see her, not a robot there to serve the meal.
Maybe that was Helen’s wishful thinking, but still, this attractive couple made for a pick-me-up in the fourth hour of her shift. A perk of being bi: double the pleasure from a well-matched pair.
Because she was looking so closely, Helen noticed where the red velvet was worn along the seams that hugged the woman’s curves. A few stray threads were loose on the man’s collar and cuffs, and what a surprisingly strong temptation she felt to tug them off and smooth the fabric down for him. Still nice clothes, and wonderfully well-fitting, but clearly not new. They suggested a night like this was a rare indulgence. Both ate small plates, swapping bites occasionally; he drank water, she drank tea. Helen made sure to give her a second bag of the flavor she’d chosen along with a refill of the tiny silver teapot.