by Violet Blue
I watched her work; long strokes first, her tongue trailing all the way down to the crease of my thigh. I’d never watched someone blow me before. Her tongue swept lightly across the skin below my testicles and I had to force my legs still, my thighs flat, so they wouldn’t block the view.
Pete was watching too, his hand on his belt now, his pants sliding to the floor. But by then I was deep in her mouth, and the effort to keep my eyes open was too much. I closed them, let my knees draw up, let my pelvis rise to meet her lips halfway on each stroke.
And then Natalie gasped, breaking the seal for a second, and I looked down to see Pete behind her, a hand on each of her hips, pulling her backward. Her lips slipped, a tight rosebud sliding down around my own glistening cock as he pulled her onto his. I grabbed handfuls of her hair, animal-like, unwilling to give her up. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t let me go. Pete’s next thrust eased her forward and I came suddenly and hard, hollering, eyes open, seeing nothing. He pulled her back again and I slid on the satin bedspread, landing on the floor between the beds.
Pete’s a big, strong man. In one smooth motion he lifted and turned her, forced her onto him where he sat. Her hair covered his face like a curtain. They were oblivious to my presence. He held her narrow hips in each of his big hands, forcing her down as he thrust. They were inches away; I could see his cock disappear inside her and I willed myself hard again. I wanted to take her back for myself, but it was too soon.
And then it was over. She struggled for a second under his rough grasp, her legs painfully wide, escaping just before he came, spurting all over both of them and me. She laughed at the mess, the feminine timbre of her voice shocking in the testosterone-charged room. She lay back and looked into his eyes, ignoring me. She ran her fingers through his hair. He kissed her tenderly, circled one nipple with the tip of his tongue. But when he spoke, it was to me. “Hal?”
“Yes?”
He traced a finger across Natalie’s thigh, leaving a glistening trail. “You wanna come help me clean up?”
Yes, I thought. Yes I do. Thank you.
PAID FOR THE PLEASURE
Adrie Santos
I couldn’t believe I was doing it—responding to an ad at all, never mind such a strange one. I listened to his introduction one last time: “I am looking for serious replies only…” His voice was monotone—almost cold. “I am a fifty-two-year-old, average-looking man with a fetish for giving oral pleasure. I am seeking women who will allow me to come into their homes or a hotel to pleasure them orally and I expect nothing in return. I am also willing to compensate.” That was it. It wasn’t a particularly dynamic pitch, and not even remotely sexy by normal standards, yet I was drawn to it.
I had started using this telephone dating service one drunken night with some friends as a joke, and would on the occasional late night get on to kill some time and sometimes reply to ads with a message at best. Never had I dared to chat live.
My heart raced as I pressed one to request a live connection. I was nervous and incredibly excited at the thought of what I was about to get myself into. Being an attractive girl with everything most people would want—a great job and a beautiful place—might lead one to wonder why I would respond to such an ad, but I was wet at the mere idea, and determined to follow through.
“Thank you for getting back to me,” he began. “Let me tell you about myself; I am fifty-two with an average build. My hair is gray and thinning. I wear glasses and consider myself to be very average looking. I am a business professional who has a fetish for giving oral pleasure. I am looking to meet ladies who will allow me to come over and eat them out with no strings attached. I have done this before and am told that I do it well. Our sessions would last approximately one hour. I enjoy licking not only pussy but ass as well. I am serious, clean, and safe and assure you discretion. I do not like to waste my time. Are you interested or not?”
I sat there for a moment stunned at his cut and dry speech, at the same time my clit was so hard and excited that it hurt. “I’m very interested,” I finally said.
We went on to agree that we would meet at my place the following Wednesday afternoon. He didn’t ask for a description, stating that age, race, and looks were unimportant, but I insisted on letting him know the basics; that I am a petite, long-haired blonde with an ample bottom and bosom. I figured that would help make the whole thing feel a little less impersonal.
Wednesday finally rolled around and I stood looking in the mirror, wondering what to wear for such an occasion. I couldn’t exactly call up a friend: “Hey Deb, what should I wear for my afternoon of pussy eating?”
I decided on something simple: a black V-neck top—he hadn’t mentioned a cleavage fetish, but I figured it couldn’t hurt—and a knee-length denim skirt with black boots. I didn’t bother with panties—it seemed kinda pointless.
When he rang from downstairs, I did a quick primping of my long hair and touched up my lip gloss, making sure that my lips looked pink and wet—perfect for the occasion. My body trembled as I turned the doorknob. There he was, looking exactly as I had imagined, maybe a tad older. He was only a bit taller than I was and resembled my old science teacher. He was not someone that I would ever give a second glance to. He was old enough to be my father.
His hand was cold when he shook mine, barely cracking a smile. “Let’s get started. Shall we stay here?” He pointed to the sofa in my living room.
“Sure,” was all I could get out as he led me to the sofa and instructed me to sit down.
Almost clinically he told me he wanted to begin with my pussy. It felt so dirty: having this old, generic man in a respectable shirt and tie getting down on his knees in front of me using words like pussy and cunt. It was inappropriate and utterly exciting at the same time. I lifted my hips and ass off the sofa just enough for him to raise my skirt. I felt like a patient about to be examined by her doctor. I looked down and could see my clean-shaven cunt already glistening—had I ever been so juicy? He ran his hand over my damp, smooth skin, expressing his approval of my clean, bald mound. My knees shook as he pushed them farther apart and leaned in closer. I could feel his hot breath on my skin for a moment, and then he finally placed his open lips on mine. First some kisses all around my inner thighs and outer lips, then his fingers pulled at my delicate skin, parting my cunt lips until I could feel my pussy open wide—ready for his tongue.
I lay back with my eyes closed and just enjoyed the feeling of his tongue running up and down, all over my hot pussy. As he began sucking my clit, I sat up just enough to watch him. Every now and then he would glance up at me with his glasses steamed, his mouth and chin drenched with my juices. His expression was almost trancelike. I could see he was loving every lick.
Just as I would start to quiver, feeling myself ready to come, he would pause and change technique to put off my explosion for just a little longer. I could feel my hard nipples under my top as I watched him suck on my clit, squeezing my inner thighs with his fingers digging into my flesh, completely unaware of how rough he was being—but I was enjoying every second of it, more than anything I had ever experienced before.
I was mesmerized by the sight of this seemingly uptight man going at my cunt with such skill. I couldn’t take it anymore and was about to explode when he took his face out from in between my legs and wiped the juice from his face.
“Have you ever had your asshole licked clean by a man’s tongue?” he asked in that now familiar dry tone.
Before I got the chance to fully reply no, he instructed me to kneel down on the couch facing away from him. He raised my skirt again and used his hands to guide me into position, lifting my bare ass higher into the air. He spread my cheeks apart and quickly placed his mouth in between. His hot, wet tongue ran up and down my crack, his saliva running freely down toward my wet pussy. It felt amazing. I reached down with one hand and rubbed my clit as he slid his tongue into my asshole. It darted in and out quickly, and though I had never had anal sex before, I began to lo
ng for a hard cock to push into me. My whole body was on fire. I pushed my ass against his face, trying to get his tongue farther into me, at the same time fingering my cunt like mad. My insides began to tremble; I knew I was about to come, but it wasn’t anything like the other times. It wasn’t just my clit that was ready to explode; it was all of me.
He reached for the hand that was pumping in and out of my cunt and pushed it away, whispering into my ass, “Just let go…,” and I did. My entire body trembled as I came, hard and fast. I could feel my buildup of juices flowing out of my cunt as my knees buckled and I collapsed downward, his tongue quickly moving to my cunt hole and lapping up everything that was coming out.
When the frenzy of my climax was over, I glanced lazily over at him and saw that his cock was out of his pants and he was wiping away his own come, some of which had gotten on his pants. I had been so sedated by my own pleasure I hadn’t realized what eating my pussy was doing for him.
“That was amazing,” I marveled, my cunt still throbbing from my climax. “Would you like me to do anything for you?” I asked, to show my sincere gratitude. “No, thank you. You gave me what I needed,” was all he said.
I sat and watched him zip up his pants and get himself together; my legs were still open, my swollen cunt exposed. He stood up and thanked me, his face somber, and in that dry tone, he told me to give him a call the following week to arrange our next session. He disappeared through the door, leaving behind fifty dollars next to my telephone.
CRUISING
L. E. Yates
When I’m getting ready to go out on the prowl I often get a feeling like the excitement of being sick but without the nausea, like my stomach lining is trying to peel away. It feels good in the same way that inhaling sherbet up your nose feels good, and believe me, I do mean good. I pull on my heavy, steel-capped biker boots, tucking them under my leather trousers, and sling my battered black leather jacket over my white vest. One large silver spike rivets my ear. My hair is dark and cropped short, snug against my head. I was once told that I had eyes like flakes from an iceberg—whatever that means. I’m wearing bondage cuffs, tight confections of soft, supple, leather and stainless steel, around both wrists for the constriction and sheer pleasure of it. I know I’m looking good.
I bang the door behind me and stroll down the hill from my apartment. I live in an ancient cathedral city where small, beautiful medieval churches cluster and old flint-faced walls run into each other. Beautiful, but it’s difficult to find the sex I need in this small, provincial place. I walk to the riverside, leaving little trails of iced breath in the dark air behind me. Dirty water slaps against the moorings and a line of grubby white cruising boats. I slouch my shoulders forward just a tiny bit and check that my jacket covers my small tits. It does. I step across the toll bridge and into the wooded park that marks the beginning of the local cruising area for gay men. I’ve become used to getting my kicks vicariously. I enjoy the ambiance. Strange men stalk between the trees, crunching leaves underfoot. Some of them walk dogs and feign nonchalance. I’ve even seen a few round here in business suits—no doubt, their wives are left waiting at home as they sully loafers in the mud and snag holes in pinstripe, rubbing against the rough bark of a tree as they’re taken brutally and swiftly by a faceless man they met twenty seconds ago.
A whole new language of looks and come-ons develops. Rejection is as subtle as the tilt of a head. Tonight the air is spiced with the smoky tang of autumn and a sharp, slowly trickling sense of muted danger. Dark parkland, bushes, and trees lie ahead of me. Often I catch men fucking and stand and watch them—on their hands and knees, being shunted hard from behind, or half hidden by a bush having a thickening cock rammed into their warm mouths; even sitting on one of the forgotten park benches stroking each other’s dicks.
Walking soundlessly, I reach the center of the park, continually checking the shadows and real obstacles that appear in my path. My clit is tingling. It aches from the recent sight of a youngish-looking man being fucked in the arse by a blond, heavy man in biker’s leathers, whilst twisting his head around at the same time to service the throbbing, red-tipped erection of another kneeling man. I had to force myself to steal quietly away before they shot down his throat and arse, worried I’d forget myself and betray my presence by some involuntary noise of lust and jealousy mixed together. Now just ahead of me I see the outline of a tall, slim shape leaning against a tree. I prepare myself to walk past casually but my heart is bumping in my chest cavity. For the first time tonight I feel like I’m on display. The man is dressed in dark clothes, jeans and a jacket perhaps, and is leaning with one foot up against the tree. Something dangles from his right hand—oh, it’s a dog leash. I relax slightly. I’m close enough to see that his hair is cut even shorter than mine. I look around but can’t see the dog.
“Hey,” the figure murmurs softly and I follow the sound without any real thought. I’m standing opposite now, face-to-face. For all my five feet seven I feel short. A kind of pleasurable sensation freezes my brain as the dog owner reaches forward with leather gloved hands and manipulates me so I’m facing the tree. I’m pushed so hard against it that I can feel the patterns of the bark pressing into my cunt. Hypnotized, I stay pressed against the thick trunk while the leash is used to fasten my hands together around the other side, securing me tightly to the tree.
“Cuffs—convenient,” a concentrating voice mutters from the other side of the tree. The burning, stretching sensation in my arms as the final knot is tied restores some of my sense to me.
“What are you doing?” A pathetic and useless question. The dog owner suddenly slams against me from behind, shoving me hard and nearly winding me.
“You should be quiet. I’m going to expose you…play with you…do what I like with you. If you want to be freed at the end don’t make it necessary for me to use a gag or blindfold.”
I stop squirming and trying to turn my head to see over my shoulder. That and my heavy breathing are taken for assent. All I can think is how I can now feel breasts against my back, and something harder, lower. The voice, although gruff, isn’t quite low enough to be a man’s, I realize. I can’t believe it.
A cold, gloved hand reaches round and flips open the buttons of my trousers. Then my trousers are dragged down round my ankles. My assailant—whom I now know to be a woman—hoists my vest and jacket into a bundle around my shoulder blades. The chill air is like a slap to my whole body. My skin creeps up into gooseflesh. I’m naked, exposed, tied to a tree. I wonder how many people can see the luminous white of my flesh in the darkness, watching me just as I watched them. Leathermen, big daddies, bikers, circling around me with their cocks out, stroking themselves to hardness.
I can feel the zip of her jeans and hard metal of her belt buckle pressing into my bare arse and burning with the cold. Her hands reach round and grab the erect tips of my nipples as my legs are kicked apart—as wide as the trousers shackling my ankles will allow. She just spreads me wide and helps herself. My nipples are being plucked and pinched and teased into aching points of chafed skin. Then the pressure against my arse recedes and all my thoughts are concentrated in my nipples being worked so hard and grazed against the rough skin of the tree.
My cunt is dripping wet as I feel the cold tip of something long and very thick pressing tantalizingly against it. I try to open my legs wider but fail and I let out a visceral grunt of frustration. The freezing silicone head is rubbed up and down across the opening to my cunt, nudging up to my erect clit and slowly back down again to rest against the tight pucker of my arsehole.
“Maybe I should take you right here,” she says, “like the little gay boy that you are, cruising around in the woods, looking for sex. Well, you’ve found it.”
The head of her dick pushes against my clenched arsehole.
“No,” I hear myself saying, “I’ve never been taken there.” Can’t she read the signs? I’m a top. I do not take it up the arse.
“Forbidding me, are you?
” she croons. “We’ll see.”
Before I can reply she slams the thick dick she’s packing into my cunt. Opening and stretching me, she gives my tight hole no time to adjust to the length and thickness. My cunt aches as she rams against the top of my cervix with her blunt, thick head, pulling nearly all the way out of me before thrusting back deep inside me. All I can feel is her in my cunt and her leather and metal bruising my buttocks. Anger at my enforced and unusual passivity and the sheer force of her cruel and energetic pounding begins to warm me.
I’m spread-eagled, wrapped around a tree and helpless. The muscles in my arms and stomach are being pulled to unbearable tautness as she works on me. I simply have to stand, spread and open, and let her impale my cunt repeatedly. I feel like I’m actually going to split down the middle but, despite myself, I can’t help trying to push against her insistent, plunging dick.
“Oh, do you want some more?” She grabs me by the half-inch of hair on my head. “I’ll give you what you want.”
Slicked wet from my cunt she pulls her dick back and then pushes it into my virgin arse. It hurts like hell, more than sherbet up your nose. This is definitely a boundary. I feel like I’m going to dissolve, that I can’t possibly bear her plunging in and out with long, hard strokes, or that I’ll explode. But my sphincter tightens around every move she makes.
“That’s right. Milk my good, big dick.”
I’m just about to start screaming when her hand works its way round and insinuates itself against my clit. The cool leather strokes against my hard clit as she fills my arse again and again. I can’t hold back and with my arse and clit being worked hard and my cunt empty and swollen to the night air I come so hard that all I can see is the rushing of red blood tissue before my eyes. It feels like she’s come inside me, violating me further, flooding my walls, but I know this can’t be true as it’s only her silicone dick that is now being edged slowly out of me.