by K. C. Cave
Love for Rent
By K.C. Cave
Artwork by Moira Nelligar
Text copyright 2015 K.C. Cave
Book 5 of Junie Makes Michael
License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places or events are entirely coincidental. This e-book includes descriptions of explicit sex and is for adults only. The stories in this e-book are completely fictional and are meant to be taken as fantasy. The author does not endorse or condone practices like incest, rape, or rough sexual encounters in any form. All characters depicted in these stories are 18 years old and above.
The Gulfstream, on a flight to nowhere, had leveled off at 39,000 feet. The main compartment, a large suite with a king-size bed and two sofa groupings, was essentially a fuck pad in the air.
Melanie was on all fours, head down, ass up, her arms thrust forward against the headboard. Junie’s arm circled her waist as she guided Rapja’s hard, black cock to Melanie’s puckered asshole. He gripped her hips as she gyrated on his stiffness, pushing—so far, to no avail.
They were nude. This would be the last fuck of a very long night that had started in the rapper’s penthouse suite. Now, cruising over the Atlantic in his custom jet, Melanie was gifting Rapja her anal cherry.
“Steady pressure, she’s relaxing, it’ll go in,” Junie said, urging on the rapper. Rapja stood at the edge of the bed, knees bent, straining between Melanie’s legs, his hands death-gripping her hips. Sweat ran down his face and dripped off his chin. It would be his fourth orgasm of the evening—if he could get it out.
“You said you had another one in you,” Junie said. “Goddamn it, you said…”
“Just give me a pill!”
“No fucking pills! Put it in! You wanted a virgin asshole. Here she is. Fuck her!”
Small mewing sounds escaped from Melanie as the black man pushed against her entrance. Junie grabbed the lube and slopped more slick goo around Melanie’s anus, smearing it up the veiny shaft of Rapja’s cock and his thick balls, big as hen’s eggs and tight against the base of his cock. “The head’s half in.”
“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” It was Melanie. “I never…I never…jeezus…”
Junie reached under Melanie to her clit and made little circles on the hard nub. Leaning up to Melanie’s ear, she whispered, “You’re doing good. It’s a fuck he’ll remember for the rest of his life.”
With a loud grunt, Rapja pushed his meat partway into her rectum as the ring of muscle gave. Melanie emitted a high-pitched keen and shuddered: “So…fucking…big!” Junie wrapped her hand around his shaft, stopping it at about four inches into her girlfriend’s ass. “You’re getting soft, goddamn it,” she snarled.
“Long night,” he gasped. Then a scowl: “Watch how you talk to me, woman.”
Junie stood up, put her mouth to his ear. “You got an accountant? Pay him well?”
Rapja nodded, thrusting into Melanie.
“Argue with him at tax time? Damn right you don’t. You listen when he talks. Because he knows more about taxes and not paying taxes then you could ever imagine. Well, I know more about sex than you ever will. You’re paying us well for this. So shut the fuck up.”
Not waiting for a reply, Junie reached for her courier bag and rummaged around. Pulling out a harness and dildo, she stepped into it and snugged it tight between her legs. After slopping lube on the fake dick, she pushed it through the hole. Now she had a hard, black, deeply veined penis almost the size of Rapja’s.
His eyes narrowed. “Who you think you gonna fuck with that?”
The intercom came on. “Rapja, thirty minutes to Logan. Descent begins in ten.”
Junie ignored him. She pushed a small upholstered hassock behind him and stepped up. Massaging his balls with one hand, she drizzled lube on his ass crack with the other. “It’s called prostate massage. I’ll make you come. You said you had another one in you, and I’m going to get it out.”
Her hips now elevated, Junie braced herself between his legs. She centered the head of her cock against the rapper’s taint and pushed, exerting just enough pressure on it to begin stretching the taut little opening of his ass. Melanie screamed as Rapja’s cock swelled and slid deep inside her rectum.
“Fuck him, Melanie!”
Trembling and shaking like a football lineman just before the snap, Melanie bucked her hips as she pushed and pulled on Rapja’s re-energized cock. Sweat flew off his head as the two women—one on all fours pushing back on his cock with her hips and anus, the other pounding his asshole from behind with a strap-on dildo—fucked him with maniacal intensity.
“Pussy sandwich, Rapja! Ever been the filling in a pussy sandwich before?” Junie screamed, her hands squeezing his hips as she penetrated him with hard, steady thrusts.
Two minutes of intense prostate massage had the desired effect. Rapja screamed, Melanie squealed, and Junie laughed as the internationally renowned rap star exploded inside Melanie—just as the “fasten seatbelts” sign came on.
Author’s Note
Love for Rent is Book 5 of my series Junie Makes Michael. In Book 1, Making Michael Obey (a collection of five explicit and highly charged erotic short stories), live-in lovers Junie and Michael explore the edges of their sexuality. Or, more exactly, sex-junkie Junie pushes Michael to his limits as they make love everywhere in their apartment except their new bed (and has the best sex of his life). In Book 2, Making Michael Submit, things get wilder after they marry--Junie discovers Michael prefers playing more with himself than with her. An acrylic cock cage takes care of that (and saves their marriage). But Junie has needs, even after she lets Michael out of the cage–-something only her black lover can give.
In Book 3, The XXX Widow, Junie becomes the mentor to poor Melanie, a grad student with a problem. Her boyfriend spends more time surfing XXX websites than paying attention to her. Didn’t Junie have that same problem with Michael? She sure did—and fixed it with that cage and his chastity pledge. Taking Junie’s advice, she gives an ultimatum. Alas, the BF splits, leaving Melanie desperate for relief. Hey, isn’t Michael available? He sure is (and he’s been caged for a year), but Junie has her price: Melanie.
Book 4, The XXX Weekends: After their first-time lesbian tryst, Junie wants Melanie again. This time, Melanie does the bargaining--and negotiates an entire weekend with Michael. But Junie has her price: Melanie must submit to a stretching with her black bull to prepare her for the women's XXX weekend in D.C. (and her promised fisting) Not long after that lesbian fuck fest, Melanie loses her job and moves in with Junie and Michael.
A month earlier
Michael and Melanie crouched on a rock on the side of the fast-moving mountain stream, peering intently into an eddy. Nearby, Junie, clad only in sandals, balanced on a boulder in the middle of the trout run. The threesome had day hiked for miles deep into a state forest.
Dappled sunlight fell on Junie’s shoulders and small breasts. While it was a warm summer day, the water was icy. The cool mountain air flowing down the mountain above the stream perked her tiny nipples.
“What are you guys doing?”
“Catching crayfish,” Michael responded, half-yelling over the crash of the rushing stream. He waved a small net through the water, while Melanie held a stick in one hand and a flat, clear
plastic container in the other. They both wore hiking shorts and T-shirts.
“I’m hungry. And why don’t you take off your clothes?”
They ignored her.
Junie hopscotched from rock to rock and scrambled up the bank to the clearing where their daypacks leaned against some trees. A few minutes later, Michael and Melanie joined Junie, now munching on trail mix and seated at a rustic picnic table. Michael distributed sandwiches as the women poured ice tea from an insulated bottle into plastic cups.
“Junie, about what you were saying in the car,” said Melanie, seated across the table from her. “There’s nothing we can do to change your mind?”
“A contract’s a contract. Michael signed it. It’s got another month.”
Michael looked at his nude wife. She had stripped off her clothes on the hike in, and he knew her well enough that she was probably horny as hell. She always got horny when she was nude outdoors.
“If both parties agree, a contract can be changed,” he pointed out.
“You can’t make me,” Junie said. “There’s nothing you can say or do that’ll change my mind. You agreed to wear an acrylic cock cage for a year, and it’s been eleven months. I own your penis.”
Melanie looked down at her half-eaten sandwich. “I didn’t sign a contract that said I can’t make love to him.”
“Tough shit,” Junie spat. “The party started before you got here. You knew the deal when you moved in with us.”
“Junie, you’re a bitch. Every morning and nearly every evening you make love to me. At least twice a week, Michael’s in your bed servicing you. It’s not fair. We want to have, you know, normal sex.”
“Too fucking bad.” Junie put down her sandwich and strode to a birch tree at the side of the clearing, her bare ass twitching provocatively. Turning, she leaned against the tree, churning her ass cheeks into the rough bark.
“Come on. Tie me up. Do your worst. Make me change my mind. I know you won’t hit me,” she shot at Michael. “So how can you make me change my mind? I have a pussy, but you are a pussy.”
Michael arched his eyebrows and looked at Melanie. Yes, he loved his wife. But since Melanie had moved in with them two months ago, he discovered they were a good match. The result was an intense longing for penis-in-vagina sex—strictly forbidden under Michael’s chastity contract.
He walked to his daypack and removed a pair of handcuffs and a nylon strap, the kind you snug around a suitcase so it doesn’t fly open on the airport luggage carousel. Hefting the cuffs, he approached his wife. Junie’s jaw jutted defiantly.
“Tough bitch, huh?” Michael said. “Meanest hombre west of the Pecos, is that right? Put your arms behind you.”
“Fuck you,” Junie snarled, and pushed her hands behind her back. “You gonna fuck me? Oh, I forgot. You’re peepee is in a cage. So you gonna splash me with cold water? Tickle me?”
Michael cuffed her wrists behind her and wrapped the nylon belt around her waist and the tree, snugging it tight.
Junie seethed, her small breasts jutting, her narrow hips churning, the cleft between her legs prominent below her abundant bush.
Melanie got up from the table, picked up the flat container full of water and walked over to her.
“What’s that?” Junie looked puzzled.
“Our crayfish collection,” Melanie said. Fewer than a dozen of the miniature lobsters darted around the container, about eight inches square. The largest was two inches long. Most were about an inch.
“They’re fascinating to watch in the stream,” Michael said. “They’re incredibly fast, too. See, they swim backwards. Took a while to catch these.”
“Giving up vegetarianism?” Junie sneered.
“I’m not going to hurt them. Catch and release, that’s my motto.”
Junie looked quizzical, but didn’t say anything.
Melanie handed the container to Michael, who held it up so that Junie could see. “Watch,” she said, and put a finger in the water. The crayfish scattered. After a moment, a large crayfish darted around her finger, retreated and came back. Chomp!
“Tickles!” Melanie said, pulling her finger out. “Actually, ouch!” She made a face and waved her finger in the air.
Michael moved close to Junie. “You like lobster, right? You certainly ate a lot of lobster on that trip to Maine before we got married.”
A cloud passed over Junie’s eyes.
“Here, Junie, you try it—oh, I forgot. You’re tied up,” Melanie said, taking the container out of Michael’s hands and holding it in front of Junie at eye level.
“I’ve got it!” Michael said. “She can still play with the crayfish, even while she’s handcuffed.” He grabbed his wife’s hair and pulled her down, bending her at the waist.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she snarled.
Melanie dropped to her knees and held the open container under her. As Junie, helpless to resist Michael’s grip on her hair, was pulled down, her breasts swelled and nipples hardened as they descended toward the water in Melanie’s hands.
“What the…Michael, let go…”
Junie’s breath came fast and shallow. She couldn’t kick, because she’d slide down the rough bark of the tree and scrape her ass and back. Her nipples were about an inch from the water when Michael stopped.
“No! No!” Junie yelled. “They’re wild animals! Not my tits!”
“Tough hombre, huh?” It was Michael’s turn to sneer. “A bowlful of little crawdads. Listen to yourself.”
“They’ll bite!”
“Not if you break the contract.” Melanie’s voice was hard.
“Fuck you!”
Michael pushed down Junie’s head until her upper torso was parallel with the forest floor. Melanie lifted the container higher toward her chest. Junie’s nipples touched the surface of the water.
Her scream echoed off the rock walls behind the stream.
Melanie, startled, looked at Michael.
“Let her scream,” he said. “Nobody’s around. We’re miles from the trailhead, and it’s the middle of the week. All she’ll do is scare away the deer and attract coyotes. And maybe a bear.”
Michael watched his wife’s tits as they stirred the surface of the water. The crayfish darted around.
“Oh, Michael, please!” Junie begged. “Michael, don’t…”
A large crayfish landed upside down on Junie’s right breast and slowly walked toward her nipple.
Junie mewled like a trapped animal, her body quivering. “I can feel it! It’s crawling! Oh, god…”
The crustacean reached her tiny areola and stopped. It waved its claw toward the red nipple and then…
Junie screamed again. Michael held her head down with both hands as the tiny lobster made a lunch of Junie’s nipple. Her scream devolved into sobs as Melanie repositioned the container under her breasts.
“Let’s go for her other tit. But check between her legs first.”
Melanie set the crayfish container down and pushed her hand between Junie’s legs. “My god, she’s soaked!” She reached back further to her ass. “Her cheeks are wet. She’s got juices running down her legs!”
“I think you like this, dear,” Michael drawled softly into her ear. “I think crawdads on your tits turn you on.”
Junie sobbed and blubbered as Melanie lifted the container and the inflamed tips of Junie’s breasts reentered the water…
“No! Stop!” Junie yelled between sobs.
“What did you say, tough guy?” Michael said, pushing back Junie’s hair, revealing her tear-streaked face. “Had enough?”
“Just stop…” Junie choked. She was bawling. “Okay! Yes! Just stop!”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, you can have him.”
“Please, dear, could you be a little more clear?”
“The contract’s over. Please, let me stand up. Please!”
Melanie stepped away as Michael r
eleased Junie’s head. She shot up, her breasts dripping water.
“Where’s the key?” Melanie asked.
“Wait till we’re home,” Junie said between sobs.
“Michael, grab her head.”
“In the top pocket of my pack!”
Melanie retrieved the key to Michael’s cage and fell to her knees in front of him. “Shorts off,” she ordered.
He pushed them down. His cock was red and straining inside the cage. Melanie unlocked it and tossed it into the trees. She took Michael’s cock, now fully erect, into her mouth.
“Bitch! You bitch! Sucking my husband’s cock and I can’t even touch myself!”
They ignored her. His cock popped out of Melanie’s mouth, and she started stroking him.
“How long since your last draining?” Melanie asked.
“Month or so.”
Melanie pumped harder, her other hand cupping his balls. He was facing Junie, still writhing against the tree, straining the strap, as the other woman masturbated her husband. He bent is knees as pre-cum seeped out of his dick. Flecks flew off as Melanie beat him off faster and faster.
Michael exploded, his splooge arcing out in long, white threads that landed on his wife, hitting her stomach, breasts, face and hair as she thrashed. “You fuckers! You’ll be sorry!” she screamed. A final shot of cum hit her in the eye. Junie sobbed
Michael helped Melanie to her feet and kissed her. Turning to Junie: “Stop crying,” and he released the strap and handcuffs.
Junie shot to the other side of the clearing, wiping semen off her face, then clutching her breasts in both hands.
“You bastards! You hurt me! I was bitten! Right on my nipple!”
Melanie walked over to her and pushed her hand away. “I don’t see anything.”
Michael stepped up and examined her breasts. “Excuse me, Junie, but you come back from a weekend with Gordon with bite marks all over your body, including your tits. And your pussy so sore you can barely pee, much less masturbate. And that time with the black eye.”
“That was an accident.” She had stopped crying and was wiping herself down with a towel she had pulled from her pack. “Four people on a bed and sometimes, you know…”