Sex Every Day, Volume 1: 7 Single Serving Fantasies

by Lexi Maxxwell

  “So, nothing else you want to add?” Rick asked for the fourth time.

  “Listen, I’ve told you all I know. I can’t tell you any more than that, now, can I?”

  “Alright, Ms. Hudson,” Rick said, handing her a card with all of his numbers. “If you think of anything, you’ll give me a call?”

  She sighed, took the card, and dropped it in her purse. “This is the third one you’ve given me, Rick. Christ, I think I have your fucking Twitter screenname memorized by now.”

  It was true, he’d handed her a card every time, always hoping she’d eventually spill her guts and send that sleazebag into the slammer where he belonged. Usually she slipped his card in her back pocket, where Rick was certain it hit the trashcan before she had made her way out the door. At least this time it made it all the way into her purse.

  “Is that all?” Sarah asked, standing.

  “That’s it,” Rick said, feeling more defeated than usual.

  “Alright then,” she said, sarcasm practically dripping from her lips. “Guess I’ll see you the next time.” She turned from his desk, then sashayed her sweet, tight ass out the door, turning every head as she went. Her scent lingered at his desk, saturating his office and attention.

  Fuck.

  Rick was tired, frustrated, and had a wife at home who would probably bitch him silly as soon as he stepped through the door, like she did every goddamn day that started with a sunrise and ended with a sunset.

  He loosened his tie, ran a hand through his thick, chestnut-colored hair, then shuffled through the papers laying inches thick across his desk. He pounded his fist beside a pile of pens, rolling one from the edge and onto the floor.

  “Fuck it. Nothing more to do here,” Rick growled to the empty room, then pulled his coat from his chair, said his goodbyes to the boys outside his office, and left the station. As he turned the corner of the building toward his car, Rick saw a figure lurking in the shadows. He squinted, gathered that the figure was far too small to pose a threat, then kept walking toward his Accord.

  “Rick.” It was a statement, not a question, meant to grab his attention. He swung around to see Sarah Hudson standing, arms crossed over her middle, draped in shadows. “Let’s take a ride.”

  Rick was confused, but opened the driver’s side door, then hit the button unlocking the rest. He climbed in the car and turned the engine as Sarah slid into the other side. Damn, she looked good. Her tight jeans were whispering compliments to every curve of her tiny body, and her low-cut shirt spilled the tops of her small, tight tits into his vision; just round enough to make Rick involuntarily lick his lips, and certainly enough to get any man with a heartbeat to do a double take.

  “Drive. We can’t stay here,” Sarah said, her statement sounding like more warning than suggestion.

  Rick was downright clueless why he should be taking orders from the local drug lord’s bitch, but he pulled from the curb anyway, driving in no particular direction, just like she had ordered. They drove in silence for the first few minutes until Rick couldn’t take it any longer.

  “What is it, Ms. Hudson?” he asked, using his best professional cop voice.

  “Really, Rick? This isn’t the time to be formal. There’s a spot off Route 20. You know the one. Take me there. There’s something I want to show you.”

  He made a few turns, then headed toward the spot. He remembered it — it was where Rick had fucked her hard in high school, years ago, before he was a cop and she was a whore. He instinctively checked his belt to make sure his gun was still on him.

  Sarah laughed. “You won’t need that.”

  Rick couldn’t tell if she was mocking him or being serious.

  He pulled into the deserted parking lot of the old factory off Route 20 and killed the engine. “Alright, Sarah. What is it you want to show me?”

  There were a few lights in the parking lot, flickering against the shadows and playing tricks on Rick’s eyes as he scanned the area for potential dangers. When his eyes returned to Sarah, the thin gauze of her shirt was laying on his console. The thin lace of her bra did very little to hide the hardened peaks of her rosy pink nipples.

  His body reacted before he could stop it. The instant throbbing in his hardened cock bleached his focus. Rick shot Sarah an uncertain look, then opened his mouth to say something — anything that might give him an answer as to why she was sitting half-naked in his Accord.

  “Shh,” she whispered gently, her finger on his lips as though consoling a child. “I told you, I want to show you something.”

  This was dangerous, and Rick knew it. But damn if he could get his aching dick to listen. He watched Sarah unbutton her jeans, then wiggle from the denim. The sweet scent of her slick pussy was calling to him and demanding his attention as she piled all her clothes into a corner of the car, then inched closer to him.

  She ran her hands up his leg, toward his throbbing bulge, then unzipped his slacks and snaked her hand inside them before moving to his boxers. The warmth of her hand brushed his dick and he could no longer control himself.

  Rick slapped her hand from his pants, then pushed her toward the passenger’s seat. She hit the opposite door with a thud, shock on her face swallowing every other expression.

  “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he shouted — not a question, but a challenge.

  Sarah shifted her weight in her awkward position, adjusting her back against the door and silently searching for a more comfortable spot to huddle. “I don’t understand.” She stumbled over her words.

  “What is it that you don’t understand? You said you had something to show me. Now fucking show me.” Rick’s anger had little to do with Sarah, and everything to do with the world. He was pissed at his caseload, pissed at her scumbag of a boyfriend, pissed that he couldn’t fuck the holy shit out of her, and pissed that there was nothing but a few strips of lace between him and the best goddamned pussy he’d ever seen, eaten, or filled with cum.

  Sarah didn’t say a word. Instead, she maneuvered her bra clasp, freeing her tits from their restraints. Her small, pink nipples perked even more as the cool air inside the car licked them from hard to harder.

  What in the fuck was she trying to do?

  The pounding in Rick’s head matched the throbbing in his cock as he curled his fingers around the steering wheel and tried not to growl. But he was losing it, looking straight ahead and trying to will any assembly of semi-coherent words from his mouth, anything that might make her stop before something happened that he’d never be able to take back, something the stirring member between his thighs wanted badly to happen. Something he wasn’t man enough to stop.

  Some of the words were slowly forming in his brain, but before he got any of them out, he felt Sarah’s hand slithering back inside his pants. She pulled his cock from the gap in his boxers, then moved her hand up and down, stroking every inch of his admirable length. He barely even noticed that she had drifted closer, and was now positioning her mouth to take in his tip. Only when the slippery wetness of her lips was warming his cock did he fully register what was happening. Rick wished he could stop, but one look at her gorgeous pile of blond hair swaying over his cock made it impossible.

  Some things in life never changed — one of them was that Sarah Hudson still gave killer head.

  Sarah’s head bobbed up and down on Rick’s rock hard length. He suddenly yanked a handful of her hair, then pulled her head from his cock so that she was staring up and into his eyes. She whimpered.

  “What are you trying to get from me?” He curled his lip, voice laced with suspicion.

  “Only what we both want,” she said, smiling up at him, her eyes growing wider just like they had so many years back in the same spot.

  Sarah had looked at him on three different occasions across the disaster of his desk, and he had managed not to feel anything but simple human attraction to her obvious killer body. But her smile dug up memories which smacked him in the face, reached in, and flicked th
e switch of what little hope he still had burning.

  Rick smiled back, and something inside him surrendered. He positioned her head back over his dick and let her resume. She didn’t waste a second.

  It had been years since he’d had any good head, so Rick’s body reacted immediately to her expert tongue. He lifted his hips to her mouth, shoving his aching member down her throat as he emptied into her with one creamy shot after another.

  Sarah swallowed, then smiled and immediately started stroking his dick as he laid his head back on the headrest, breathing heavy and trying to regain his composure. Her hands worked magic like he didn’t think any woman could, making his dick hard again in mere minutes.

  Rick pulled Sarah up by her hair, and pulled her on top of him. She put an arm between her legs, then pulled the lever, sending the seat shooting backward beneath their weight. Rick grabbed a handful of perky tit and squeezed. Her eyes glazed and her chest swelled as she inhaled, her breathing moving from steady to swift. Her small legs tensed and she rubbed her clit through the sheer panty fabric covering her soaked sex.

  Working circles with her delicate fingers, Sarah rocked back and forth to the rhythm of her own hand. Rick coaxed her tits from her matching lace bra and started leaving trails of swollen red marks across her creamy skin as his mouth moved from one to the other, harmonizing with her strokes.

  Sarah’s breath grew rapid as she shivered and moaned, her pussy leaking more juices on to her already sticky, wet panties. Rick curled his fingers under her panties, then pulled her toward him. The sound of ripping fabric sounded like gun shots in the small space as he tore the panties from her body.

  Sarah shivered again as her ass and steaming pussy met the cool night air. Rick grabbed his shaft with one hand and Sarah by the shoulders with the other, then shoved her down, hard, onto him. She gasped, then loudly thanked the Good Lord above for Rick’s significant endowment. He was big, and thicker than any other man she’d been with. He smacked her on each ass cheek hard enough to leave hand prints, before grabbing two handfuls of blond hair and using them like reins, making her ride his cock like a good little cowgirl.

  Sarah picked up her pace, squealing and squirming as she did. He rocked her against him, the angle perfect as he slid up her front wall and then down the back as he pulled out. Damn … she may have been hooked up with a kingpin, but he was getting what he paid for — Sarah Hudson could still fuck like she was riding for five-grand a night.

  Rick quietly moaned as she swiveled her hips, then dropped them down, bucking against his body in crushing blows. Her legs shaking, she rose from her position, then turned her ass to face him, grabbing the steering wheel and lowering herself back onto his cock, her slick cunt swallowing him to the hilt.

  The hot and wet of her freshly-waxed pussy sent shivers of pleasure snaking through his body. Rockets exploded in Rick’s head and he lost all control — as if he had any before — pushing her from his body, then swinging the door open.

  Sarah fell against the steering wheel and the horn brayed into the night’s silence. Rick swooped from the car, then picked her up with ease, placing her feet on the ground in front of the car and placing a heavy hand on her back, sending her already unsteady body lurching against the hot hood of the car.

  Rick pushed his knee between her trembling legs, spread them, then took a cool moment to admire the way her white skin almost glowed against the black paint. He slid his fingers down her back to her ass, then followed the crack to her dripping, swollen red lips and shoved himself hard inside her.

  Sarah’s feet left the ground as she grasped for something to steady herself.

  Rick pulled out briefly and dipped his fingers once more into her soaking hole, sliding his fingers into her slippery juices as he squeezed the lips of her pussy together over her clit.

  Her clit stood out from between the slit and Rick grabbed hold with two fingers and pinched. Her back arched dramatically as he rolled the tender, pink skin between his finger and thumb, turning her breathless before slamming his fingers back inside her. Then, without letting her recover, he quickly removed them and pulled her ass toward him, replacing his digits with his raging dick.

  Rick’s hands found her hips as he drove himself deeper inside her cunt, filling her up fully. Her ass rose and fell with every thrust and she screamed Rick’s name as her juices squirted from around his thick cock onto the ground, soaking his slacks with a scent he’d never escape.

  Sarah convulsed as the vibrations rocked her. Rick kept pounding her as she writhed under the pressure to her inner thighs from his gyrating knees. He splayed his fingers across her ass so her knees were still pinned together on the bumper, then spread her ass cheeks further as he fucked back into her pussy, slapping her where her the backs of her thighs met her ass, hard enough to turn pink into an angry red.

  Sarah pumped herself over his cock, trying to make words that were swallowed by moans. Pressure welled from someplace deep inside him … and then Rick reached his release, shooting enough hot seed inside of her to fill her up. Three thrusts later, his own knees were trembling from the unfamiliar exertion.

  Sarah lay splayed against the hood of the Accord, panting for a long moment before her shrill laughter filled the still night air.

  Rick heard the crunch of gravel under feet as someone approached, then slow, mocking clapping coming behind him. He spun around, dick still hanging out, to face Johnny — Sarah’s slimy drug dealer boyfriend.

  “Did you enjoy yourself, baby?” he asked.

  Sarah peeled herself from the Accord, then bounced over to Johnny, leaping up to wrap her legs around his waist. She kissed him long and hard before turning to face Rick with a sly grin. “He was better than I remembered,” she said.

  Rick felt the color draining from his face. He slowly moved his hand toward his dick, easing it back in his pants before zipping them.

  “No need to be shy now, Rick.” Johnny smiled. “Besides, you don’t quit coming after me and Sarah, the boys at I.A. will be seeing you in all your glory.”

  “Wh … What?” Rick stammered, trying to stitch his thoughts with his words.

  It was then Rick saw the red light from the camcorder in Johnny’s hands, still flashing.

  I’m Having an Affair with My Neighbor

  No matter the day, my routine is always the same: I smack the alarm to shut it the hell up when it starts screaming at 5:15 a.m., then bury my head beneath the super-soft pillow I paid way too much for, trying to ignore Adam’s snoring — which sounds like an asthma machine hooked to an amplifier — and hoping the next fifteen minutes might feel like an hour, then toss all the covers onto Adam and stumble from the bedroom at 5:30 a.m. to start the coffee.

  While my beans are brewing, I trade red kitchen tile for white in the bathroom, and turn on my shower, letting the water get scalding enough to bitch-slap me awake.

  This is often the best part of my day, shaving my legs and underarms and then shining my pubes to a sheen in total quiet, before I wash and rinse the rest of my hair and body.

  After leaving the shower, I grab my coffee from the kitchen, then return to the bathroom and use my last 10-15 minutes of alone time to dry my hair and get dressed before Adam gets up and occupies the bathroom like he’s Napoleon.

  I go back to the kitchen, pour myself another cup of coffee, burn my mouth on the first sip as I start making breakfast for everyone, and divide lunches into separate bags. After breakfast and the start of a second pot of coffee, Adam leaves for work and I drop Jenna and Jacob at school.

  I go to the gym for an hour or so before going back home to punch into my job as an accountant, which, thank God, I can do at home.

  At 2:30 p.m., I’m off to round up the kids and get them back for their daily after school snack before starting the never-ending joy of trying to get them to do their homework without bitching, moaning, whining, fighting, or using the words, “he/she started it,” which make me want to punch glass. After an average of two meltdown
s per afternoon, divided between the both of them, I can usually get to dinner by around 4:30 p.m., once Jacob and Jenna finish their homework and start staring numbly at the faded blue glow which bleeds from the screen of any one of their many electronic devices.

  By 5:30 or 6:00 p.m., Adam’s pulling into the drive, and we’re eating dinner ten minutes after that. By the fourth forkful of whatever I made that night, and Jacob’s third fart, I wonder what sleeping for a year would be like.

  After dinner, one of the kids — predetermined by the chore chart — helps me clear the table and do the dishes, while loudly complaining, unless I promise them some stupid reward they totally don’t deserve. Then I trade the kitchen for the laundry room. Once everything’s folded, and the kids are scrubbed clean and prepped for the following day, we watch a little TV before getting ready for bed.

  After brushing teeth and hair, then reading a story and saying goodnight, Adam and I drag ourselves into the bedroom and read or catch up on our favorite shows before falling asleep. Sometimes we fuck — every night before we were married, every other night a year after that, and once every five to seven days now.

  Rinse. Repeat. Giant fucking YAWN.

  I know this is a damn fine life, better than most in the world probably have it, and I’m a bitch for complaining. I love my husband, adore my children, and have everything in life I wanted since I was a small girl.

  Unfortunately, even the best life must fight against the beast of routine, where once-hot sex with your smoking-hot partner can turn as dry and exciting as a half-sack of flour. I didn’t know I wanted anything more than what I had until a hot day in the second week of September, when my world was rocked as hard as the cock that shifted the orbit.

  The thermometer had its nose shoved into the 100’s asshole since the start of August, and three weeks after the kids were back in school, it was finally there. If I’m working from home without an AC in the house and it’s that hot, I’m about as happy as a whore without a mouth. I can’t stay motivated for anything, and all I want to do is lie around and pretend I’m sleeping in an igloo.