He growled beneath her. “Cock tease,” he murmured.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Anand, did you say something?” He only groaned in response, as she finally sunk his entire length in deep. There was something hungry and wild in the way that he watched her fuck him. She could feel the orgasm building from the moment he grabbed her waist, holding her in place as he thrust up and into her, hitting her clit each time. “I’m going to . . . fuck, Vik, please, I want to come. I’m going to come!” Ashika’s words became gasps as they slammed into one another, and then a guttural howl, as she reached a shattering climax. Something hungry and wild, it seemed, had been unleashed in her as well.
She rolled off of him and lay on her belly, catching her breath. He ran a hand over her ass, giving it a squeeze, while the other hand stroked his still-hard cock.
“Professor Rai, you have a truly fantastic ass, you know that?”
Ashika remembered something he had said, something he had done before and wanted to do again. “You can . . . put it there,” she told him.
“What?”
“I mean, in case we don’t get to . . . If this is the only . . .”
“What?”
“You can fuck me in the ass!” She looked up at him. “If you want to.”
“Right now?”
Ashika shrugged. “Sure.”
“Wouldn’t that be . . . uncomfortable?”
Probably, she thought. “Maybe just a bit,” she said. “But I don’t mind.”
“What if I do mind?” Vik asked. “I appreciate the offer and I would very much like to take you up on it because the truth is, I want to have you every fucking way possible, but I don’t want to hurt you, Ashika. Not even maybe just a bit.” He paused, then nodded toward the dildo drawer. “Got any lube in there?”
Lube. Shit. Why didn’t I think of that? Then she had an idea. “Hold on,” she said, and scurried into the kitchen. Was it here? No. Where was it? The bathroom! Ashika searched through her overcrowded bathroom cupboards and finally found the half-empty jar of coconut oil. She turned to find him standing in the doorway. “I have this,” she said, timidly offering him the jar.
He took it, opened it, brought it to his nose, and grinned. “Very tropical,” he said, as he moved in behind her.
“It does wonders for the skin,” Ashika said, a slight tremor passing through her as he ran his knuckles lightly down the length of her back, applying gentle pressure to bend her over the bathroom sink.
“I’ve heard that,” he replied, scooping the oil liberally onto his fingers and massaging it into her ass cheeks, working his way into the cleft between them.
“The hair too,” Ashika said, as he enclosed one of her hands under his and brought it down between her legs. “It’s really very multipurpose.”
Vik caught Ashika’s eye in the mirror and held her gaze. “Do it,” he said. “I want to watch you do it.”
“I don’t think it counts toward your total if I make myself come,” she said to his reflection.
His mouth turned up at the corners and he gave a hint of a shrug. “Who’s counting?” he replied, pressing an oiled finger to her asshole and slowly sliding it in.
Ashika pushed back on it, wanting more, and he responded by adding a second finger to the first. She breathed through the sensation and relaxed around him. The third finger, though, that’s when she found her clit and began working it in well-practiced circles.
“That’s good,” he said. “Tell me how it feels.” He was watching her in the mirror, even as his fingers twisted inside her, testing for resistance before pulling out and then pushing back in again, a little deeper every time.
“It feels . . .” She didn’t know how it felt. It was not being taken by surprise and then allowing it to happen because she wanted to be the cool girlfriend, the one who was okay with everything. It was not gritting her teeth and saying oh yeah, I love it in my ass, while hoping it would be over soon. It was something else entirely. And it felt fucking good. “It feels . . . like I’m going to come.”
His fingers slid out and his cock took their place, filling her up as her orgasm rocked them both. Ashika moaned and let her head drop, as she gripped the sink with both hands to steady herself. When she looked back up, she saw the question in Vik’s eyes. She was covered in oil, a sheen of sweat, and her own wetness. She was a total mess, but she had never felt more goddamn beautiful. “Fuck me,” she said.
And so he did, slowly at first, cock coated with oil, but it wasn’t long before he was thrusting hard and deep, hands planted on her hips to pull her back on his length with every stroke. There was the sensation of being stretched, of her body opening to let him in, but there wasn’t the pain she had been expecting. And when he pushed his thumb into her cunt, it made everything feel full and tight and she was making animallike sounds, way past the point of reason and words. He barely had to graze her already inflamed clit to have her screaming into the sink, coming hard around his cock that swelled and spurted into her ass, before they both collapsed on the bathroom floor.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur, like a dream where they were an ordinary couple who did ordinary things together. They showered, got dressed, ate breakfast, and walked around the neighborhood hand in hand. They went back to Ashika’s place, took each other’s clothes off, and made love in a pool of sunlight. She came easily in his arms, spooned tight against him, thighs pressed together, as he fucked her for what she knew might be the last time.
“I think that was nine,” she said.
“Was it?” he asked, and she felt him pause, then pull out slowly.
“Oh, don’t stop,” she said. “It might only be seven or eight or ten or twelve, I don’t know.” She felt close to tears, but managed a half-smile as she turned to look at him. “Who’s counting, right?”
He smiled back and there was sadness and beauty and mischief in it all at once. “One more then,” he said. “For good measure.”
Vik pulled Ashika’s legs over the side of the bed and spread them wide apart. On his knees in the space between them, she felt his mouth close around her clit, sucking on it, tongue circling it. It was a sensation so intense that it bordered on pain, but never quite crossed the line. Ashika screamed when the pleasure became unbearable, saying Jesus fucking Christ and every expletive she knew and pure rambling nonsense that eventually just became noise, because there were no words for what the good doctor was doing to her. When the orgasm overtook her, it was like being swept up in a hurricane or a tsunami or some other natural disaster and Ashika understood then why they call these things “acts of God.”
“I’ll see you next Friday,” he told her when the time finally, inevitably came for them to part ways. “You can tell me more about how functioning adults have sex.”
Ashika put her arms around him. “It’s a deal,” she said. “I’ll bring the takeout, you bring the gin.”
He kissed her goodbye and was gone. Wandering into the kitchen, Ashika noticed again the fortune she had tacked to the fridge. Multiple gifts are coming to you. She touched the slip of paper and thought of the twelve hours she had spent with Vik, each orgasm still smoldering in her memory. She left it where it was, a reminder of pleasures briefly possessed, and a fragment of hope that a fortune cookie might be right twice.
HOUSE
OF FINGERS
Sienna Saint-Cyr
Poppy Johnson took a deep breath as they counted the stairs leading to the front door. There were fifteen, though there might as well have been a hundred. The house was a lovely periwinkle with a wraparound deck and glowing sconces adorned the sides of the oversized door, setting it apart from the newer homes in the Hawthorn district of Portland. Everything about the house called out to them, begging them to come inside. Yet there they stood, the all too familiar dread slowly creeping up their back. One step at a time, Poppy. Just go.
“Hey,” a voice came from behind, “you joining us?”
Poppy jumped and turned quickly to find bright, c
aptivating, sea green eyes looking right into them. Poppy blinked.
“I’m sorry. Did I startle you?” There was a long pause as Poppy stood there, speechless. “I’m Emilee.”
Answer, you idiot!
“I’m Poppy; and yes, you did.”
“I get a little excited when these parties roll around,” Emilee said as she slipped by Poppy and ascended the stairs.
“These parties are regular events?” They didn’t mean to, but they’d shouted their question. Emilee turned around and lowered her gaze.
“This is your first time.” It wasn’t a question.
Poppy nodded.
“Come on,” Emilee smiled and reached out her hand. “We can go in together.”
The rock in Poppy’s stomach eased a bit, and they began to ascend the stairs as well. When they reached Emilee, they took her hand. They made it to the door together and Poppy raised their free hand to knock.
“You don’t need to do that. I live here.”
Poppy dropped their hand; back suddenly tense. “I’m sorry”—they kept their gaze on the door—“I didn’t mean to offend you with my party frequency comm—”
“Hey . . .” Emilee tugged on their hand until Poppy looked at her. “It’s okay. There’s no need to apologize. I know these shindigs can sound a little weird, even be a little scary, but they’re really quite helpful. And . . .” —she paused and winked— “they’re quite fun. I mean, that’s the whole point.”
They didn’t know how to respond. “Let’s go inside before my flight response kicks in.”
Emilee opened the door and held Poppy’s hand until they were across the threshold. Then Emilee got mobbed with hugs and hellos. Poppy backed up awkwardly, as usual, and watched as the strangers—all seeming to know one another, but no one them—greeted and smiled. Before Poppy could turn around and escape out the door, Emilee kicked her foot backward and shut it.
“Hey everyone, this is my new friend Poppy.” She turned around and reached for Poppy again.
Before Poppy knew what was happening, bodies of all sizes and shapes and ages and nationalities and styles were heading toward them, each asking if they were okay with hugs or handshakes or asking their preference. They were all kind, friendly, unafraid; they even asked for the proper pronoun, which Poppy wasn’t used to. They greeted the crowd, and learned a ton of names they promptly forgot the moment they’d been spoken.
“Come on,” Emilee said. “I’ll show you around.”
They walked through the crowd and into a great room smelling of jasmine and cinnamon, the one Emilee explained they’d be enjoying themselves in. The floors were golden wood and littered with beanbags designed for couples, pillows of all shapes and sizes, and blowup beds with cheerful blankets. Dim lighting set the mood of the space and silky, colorful fabrics covered much of the walls, sometimes hanging between pillows, as though to lend privacy. But the main area was open and appeared to be set up for the purpose of talking.
After taking a tour of the house, Emilee and Poppy returned to the great room to find that everyone had made their way inside. Folks they hadn’t met yet were included in the bunch. Six to be exact.
“Come on.” Emilee sat on one of the double beanbags. “Take a seat. I think we’re about to get started.”
Poppy sat next to her. At least the tour had lessened their tension.
“Welcome!” a cheerful woman in a pinup style dress began. “We’re so glad you could join us! Tonight, we have seven new attendees. Because there are so many of you that haven’t attended before, I’m going to go over the ground rules in a bit more depth. To begin, I’m Ellena, and that” —she pointed toward Emilee— “is my partner. We’ve been running these parties for about five years now. Emilee, do you want to give a little background?”
“Sure.” Emilee stood and adjusted her vest. “I was struggling a lot back in the day. I was thirty and had never had an orgasm. When I met Ellena, she’d told me about this finger-bang party she’d been to back in college and how much it helped her figure out her body. I was reluctant, but I finally attended one and it changed my life. The more I shared my story, the more I began to realize how many were struggling with the same issue. So here we are, five years later, hosting our own fingering parties.” Emilee paused before speaking again. “For those new attendees that are nervous, I get it. And know that it’s okay to be nervous. It’s okay to be afraid. This is your first gathering. If you don’t want to take part tonight, you can watch. If you do take part, just know that it takes time to get to know your body. Give yourself that time. Ask questions. And please, have fun!”
Emilee sat down next to Poppy again and patted their hand.
“Thanks,” Poppy whispered.
“You’re welcome.”
Ellena went on to explain the rules; choose a partner, decide if you’re giving or receiving, then thirty minutes of exploration; after that, switch positions or partners. Everything was designed around consent, comfort, and support. Ellena then showed everyone where the gloves, safety, and cleanup items were, as well as the bathroom, and gave options for clothing or nudity. Poppy paid attention to every detail.
Their heart raced, though they weren’t certain it was from nerves any longer.
“Just one more thing . . .” Ellena began. “For those of you who are new, we respect all genders and bodies. Not all women have a vagina and not all those with a vagina are women. Please be respectful and ask about pronouns before making an assumption. And lastly, I’ve got your signed consent forms and acknowledgements that you’ve read and understand the rules. If at any time you feel uncomfortable and don’t want to continue, please respect your needs. I will not be participating tonight and will be here for support if anyone should need such.” She clapped her hands together. “Okay, let’s get started!”
Poppy watched as participants paired off and found a place to explore themselves. Round, full bodies, tall and thinner bodies, bodies with hair and some without, some wrinkled skin and others tight, boobs of all shapes and sizes. Poppy wanted to nuzzle up in them all. Almost everyone looked at ease and comfortable as they smiled and settled in to their chosen locations with their chosen partners. Colored fabric cast lovely highlights on their skin, giving a magical feel to the whole ordeal.
Poppy didn’t know who to partner with or even if they wanted to. Maybe they’d sit this first round out, until they felt more at ease. Their heart felt like it’d beat right out of their chest as their nerves threatened to overpower their excitement. All those hours with their sex coach didn’t feel like they’d paid off. Hannah had been wrong when she’d suggested the finger-bang party. Poppy wasn’t ready for this.
You can do this, Poppy. You’re ready to know yourself. Just breathe. They heard Hannah’s words in their head just as Hannah had said them in their last session. Poppy closed their eyes and took a long, deep breath. Then another. And another. They felt a few tears escape and run down their cheek. Emilee must have seen because she squeezed Poppy’s hand and they opened their eyes.
“Are you okay?”
Poppy shrugged.
“What will help you? Would you rather watch others? Take part in the masturbation circle? We usually discuss technique while we do it . . . Or may—”
“I don’t want to touch myself,” Poppy cut her off. “I’m not ready for that yet.”
Emilee tilted her head as if trying to assess why that might be, but she didn’t ask.
“What do you want then?”
Poppy looked around again and this time, saw that some of the other new attendees were red, flushed, squirmy, and nervous too. They knew what they wanted—why they’d come to begin with—so they faced Emilee again. “I want someone to touch me. To show me different things in my, errr, vagina, so that I’ll feel good. I’ve never”—they paused, lowering to a whisper— “orgasmed.”
Emilee didn’t respond immediately. She scooted forward and sunk to the ground in front of Poppy. From a kneeling position, Emilee met Poppy�
�s eyes. “May we partner, Poppy, so I can explore your nether region?”
Poppy giggled, their cheeks filling with heat. “Yes.”
Emilee grinned, her gorgeous green eyes seeming even larger now. “I’ll be back then. I’ve gotta get some supplies. Are you comfortable being naked?”
Poppy shook their head.
“Then I’ll grab a blanket too.”
They stood while Emilee grabbed the necessary items. Poppy hadn’t checked Emilee out much beyond her eyes, but now they did. Her knee-high socks, skater shorts, vest, and partial shaven head caused a stir inside Poppy. A pleasant stir, one of desire maybe? Emilee seemed so confident with her shoulders back and her steady voice. The combination was very attractive.
Emilee returned with the necessary items and Poppy spread a sheet over the beanbag chair, then sat again. The beanbag was large enough that they could lay back, so they placed the blanket over them and began unbuttoning their jeans. They slipped off their pants first and felt nothing, but when they reached their underwear, there was a slight tingle . . . a sensation.
“Is there anything that you know you like? I can begin there.” Emilee’s eyes penetrated them as she spoke.
Poppy wiggled their butt in the beanbag, scooting down further, as though the movement would suddenly give them an answer. They felt their cheeks flushing in a different way now and they averted their eyes. “I don’t know what I like.”
Emilee lay down next to Poppy. She slipped on some rubber gloves and covered a couple fingers in lube. “That’s no problem, Pops, I’ll just explore.”
Pops? They’d been called that before, when they first came out. The word—name—shifted something inside Poppy’s chest. “Pops” filled them with a deep and profound peace while also making them aware of how they’d swallowed down a quiet rage. A rage that wanted to surface, wanted to scream, “Shut the fuck up and leave me alone,” but also a rage that needed facing, and Poppy desperately wanted to face it. Especially with someone as adorable as Emilee.
Coming Soon Page 12