The Big Book of Orgasms

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

  “It’s your turn to lie down,” she said quietly, and I did as she asked. She pulled my briefs off and licked a drop of precome. “I’m glad you like to keep things trim,” she said, indicating my shaven balls. With one hand on my shaft, she took my balls into her mouth one at a time and sucked hard. “You’ve been holding back all this time—don’t you need some release?”

  I nodded and said hoarsely, “Yeah.”

  Cheryl smiled wickedly and started stroking my hard cock. As she sensed my orgasm, she opened her mouth and milked me onto her tongue. All that restraint of the past half hour (and the fact that I hadn’t masturbated in a few days) resulted in a long stream of come. Some of it wound up on her neck and upper chest, some on her cheeks, but most she directed into her mouth and swallowed. Greedily, it seemed.

  I sat up and our tongues met again. She moved up the bed and joined me. We lay face-to-face, our legs entwined. One of her hands rested on my ass, one of mine around her waist.

  “If I asked you to call in sick, would you?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing,” she replied.

  BEER AND ORGASMS

  Jeremy Edwards

  Kenny showed up promptly at nine with the six-pack.

  “Okay,” he said with a smile, after they’d kissed hello, “I brought what I was supposed to. Now I’m ready for you to deliver on your half.” He gave her ass a promising squeeze. “When do we start?”

  His playful but earnestly enthusiastic manner was just what Lauren needed—and the fact that he was so invested in things going right for her tonight made her more certain than ever that this relationship was a good one.

  On their previous evenings together, Kenny had tried so hard to help her come that she’d had to insist they stop when she was too exhausted to go on.

  “Are you sure?” he’d said the last time. “I’d be happy to stay up all night, if it will get you off. Don’t be afraid to ask. Don’t be afraid to ask anything.”

  But she had a better solution than exhaustion, and she’d decided she knew him well enough now to be confident he’d go along with it. “Don’t be afraid to ask anything,” she’d quoted aloud to herself, as she got her nerve up for the phone call—the call inviting him here for “beer and orgasms.”

  “Works for me,” he’d laughed. “But what’s the connection?”

  “I’ll explain when you get here,” she’d said softly.

  The connection was that Lauren’s one surefire way of getting off was to let her bladder fill to a point where, under normal circumstances, she’d be running, not walking, to the nearest bathroom. But when the circumstances were “Lauren needs an orgasm without further ado,” the full bladder was where the fun began. She’d discovered years ago that escorting herself into a state where she could barely hold back the flood automatically brought her into a state where she could barely hold back her climax—which was quite a contrast with her usual recalcitrant mechanics. Her clit, normally temperamental, became a wild thing whenever Lauren was so primed she had to jiggle or dance or cross her legs, or squeeze her thighs around her hand to keep from leaking.

  She would relish the tension and the tickle and the sexy pressure between her legs, getting more and more aroused by the sensations—and by the secret erotic flavor of what she was doing—until she had to give in. And when she gave in, a fingertip on her button as she soaked her panties over the bathroom tiles, the ineffable ecstasy of pissing charged through her like a sports car while the stratospheric fuck, yeah of coming screeched like twin jet planes in her ears.

  And up until tonight, she’d always done it alone.

  One beer, two, two and a half, all chased with gulps of water…it was a lovely private party with this man who kissed with passion, fondled with fire and kept her grinning every minute. The series of drinks had reliably started her squirming here on the couch, and her cunt was slick with the anticipation of what was to come—and who would be participating. She was glad she’d covered the explanations during the first round of beers. Now she could enjoy unadulterated excitement, knowing that Kenny was on board with no misgivings.

  Things were reaching a point where she could hardly sit still. Clamping her thighs together corralled the urgency but made it sizzle all the more sensually, and the indirect pressure on her clit made it buzz with alertness.

  “Come with me,” she said, when even dancing in place astride the couch arm was no longer adequate to the situation. With a wiggling ass she led him hurriedly to the bedroom, where she’d dressed the futon in special rain gear for the evening.

  Lauren had also dressed herself with care: thin peach panties stretched tight across her flesh, under a clinging minidress that she wore without a bra. She was barefoot, and Kenny tickled her toes fleetingly when she lay down with her right hand wedged into her crotch.

  “Ohhhh, I have to pee,” she chuckled, rolling onto her side. She’d said this out loud, in exactly this sensuous fashion, many times in the past—but never for an audience.

  Kenny’s cheekbones seemed to glow with lust. She watched him shed his shirt while she rocked there for him, then squealed when he dived for the bed and positioned his face by her knees.

  She felt his hand under her ass—right on the taut peach cotton that pulled across her tight-lipped, pee-holding pussy. She wriggled against his palm, so close to leaking, and so moist with the juice of her excitement. His fingers teased the panties subtly down the blushing smoothness of her bottom cheeks: just a few inches down…then back up.

  With his other hand, he gently pried her knees apart. She thought she might lose it here and now, but suddenly the warm wetness of his tongue was on her gusset, bestowing a nurturing, rolling contact that made her cunt lips tingle while it coaxed her waters temporarily into submission. She moaned into her pillow.

  The beauty of it was, she could let nature take its course. Kenny was licking her vulva through the fabric, and she was letting each velvety shiver of pleasure flicker through her, while hanging on for all she was worth. There was nothing to be anxious about: she would, when the moment was right, drench her panties, drench them right in Kenny’s beautiful face, kissing him lavishly with her intimate stream. He’d sworn to her that he was looking forward to it, and the bulge in his jeans backed him up.

  It was the inevitability that made this work for her, she realized in her fever of anticipation. When you had to go, you had to go, and letting go was not merely the path of least resistance, it was the certain outcome. Not like the way it was with her “ordinary” orgasms, which demanded so much effort and then didn’t even consistently reward it. With a tank full of beer like this, it took major effort not to just open wide and pee like a river. That was why holding it was such a scrumptious game, and by the time the inevitable, mind-blowing piss finally occurred, the mind-blowing orgasm would have earned its inevitability as well.

  Kenny’s crotch-pleasing tongue cruised over the elastic to lap briefly at naked thigh, and Lauren shrieked with giggles. And then it was happening. She was convulsing with release, wetting and wetting as his mouth pressed itself even more firmly to her than before, his upper lip pulsing lovingly against the answering hyperbeat of her clit. It all felt so good, she almost couldn’t stand it; she screamed and grabbed fistfuls of air, pumping her hips while the warm bath of her freedom mingled with the tremors of coming.

  Kenny’s hands found her breasts, and he pawed hot icing onto her orgasmic cake as she twitched into aftershock mode.

  The song in Lauren’s nipples echoed the last exquisite spurts into her underwear.

  SULLIED INNOCENCE

  Neve Black

  The grocery store where I shop recently added a new and exciting feature to their produce section: his name is Joel. Joel is a lanky but muscular nineteen-year-old who stands about six feet tall, with sandy blond curls and piercing blue eyes. He has a look of innocence about him and I daydream about tarnishing his innocence more often than I should probably admit.

  Joel makes my
head spin, my stomach flip-flop and my pussy tremble whenever I see him. Ever since Joel’s titillating presence appeared in produce, I’ve spent a lot of time perusing the aisles of fresh fruits and vegetables. I’ve been known to revisit the produce department several times during a single trip to the store, feigning to have forgotten a much-needed juicy melon, lip-smacking lemon or zealous zucchini. The truth is I want to get another peek at Joel.

  It’s important that I mention to you that I rarely have any time for myself at all. Actually, I’m probably a lot like you—juggling several responsibilities all at the same time and hoping not to drop a single one, or else they all might tumble down on top of me. So, on those rare occasions when the planets align just so and I’m blessed with some priceless alone time, I’m always prepared. Along with various other necessary items that I carry in my handbag, like my wallet, checkbook, pen and keys, I also carry a very discreet but powerful vibrator. It’s my secret weapon for a quick and easy orgasm just about anywhere imaginable.

  It was a late Saturday afternoon and Joel was working. The store must have been short staffed that day, because Joel wasn’t at his normal station amongst the thick cucumbers and curved bananas. He was bagging groceries.

  While I stood in the checkout line and placed my items onto the conveyor belt, I could see the dimples in Joel’s cheeks as he chatted with the customer just ahead of me. I could already feel my pulse start to trot and then canter watching his body move in his store uniform; tight-fitting jeans, white T-shirt and his green apron that fit snugly around his sexy waist, while the vertical strings that tied around his neck seemed to nip and tease his erect nipples. My pussy stirred.

  It was my turn. I moved farther up in line and closer to Joel. I watched as the checker scanned each of my items and the belt moved them down and into Joel’s large, strong hands.

  “Plastic or paper?” his husky voice dripped with temptation, sex, innocence and good customer service.

  …Oooh, plastic would be really nice with some vegetable oil and you, too, raced through my mind. “I brought my own,” was my response as I pointed to the canvas bags in my cart. I smiled and felt my cheeks blush hot over my lustful thoughts.

  “Good for you for helping with the environment,” he offered.

  His bright smile was the kind Hollywood producers look for when creating their next blockbuster hit movie—inviting, knee trembling and sexy as hell. My clit pulsated, causing the slickness in the crotch of my panties to grow.

  After I paid for my items, I tucked my wallet back in my handbag and caught a glimpse of the silver case of my vibrator. I looked at Joel standing there, still smiling sweetly. I knew he couldn’t have possibly known about my little secret tucked inside, but I grinned back at him just the same.

  “Do you need some help with these?” he asked, holding onto my cart. My heartbeat drummed in my ears. I was speechless.

  “Uh…uh…yeah…that would be great!” I finally blurted out.

  “Okay then. I’ll follow you,” he said, the virtue shining over his head like a halo. Little did he know that I would have so easily led him astray, if I thought I could.

  “Thank you. Thank you very much,” the eager beaver inside of me responded. Joel smiled again. My pussy clenched.

  I unlocked my car and stood there with the keys in my hand. I’m sure my mouth was gaping open and my pupils were dilated. Sweat formed on my brow as my clit continued to nudge me with pulsating urgency. Joel effortlessly placed each bag into my car. He was just doing his job, but he had no idea the effect he had on me.

  “Well, have a great day,” Joel said, while he offered yet another heart-stopping smile before spinning away with the empty cart.

  I felt a little abandoned and disappointed. I was hoping for some serious face-to-face flirt time with him. I was horny, too. I gently patted the side of my handbag, before driving my car about one block away to a quiet and semi-empty residential street. I parked my car under a large tree, seeking a little privacy. I dug inside my handbag for my silver bullet of salvation—my vibrator. I scooted the seat back, slid my hips down to the seat’s edge before lifting my skirt and pulling my panties down. I spread my legs and turned the power switch on. I placed the vibrator up and under my skirt, pressing the vibrating tip against my swollen, wet clit. The pulsations drove into me hard. My head fell back against the seat. I closed my eyes and let visions of Joel’s tight ass, muscular arms, rapturous voice and the thought of sullying his innocence with my lustful need take over. Before the vanilla swirl ice cream in the bag behind me had any inclination of softening, my orgasm spilled over me with great urgency.

  Minutes later, after basking in the afterglow of the Joel-induced orgasm, I tucked my secret weapon back inside my handbag. And before long, I was headed home with a backseat full of groceries and a sweet smile across my face.

  THE RUB

  Jon Fulton

  Turn over,” Tara instructed Ian. She didn’t growl; it was a request as much as it was a command, a test, a dare, and when he obeyed, she couldn’t help the smile that curved her reddened lips, a smile that was just for her, since his eyes were closed. He nuzzled deeper into the bed, his heft settling into the soft sheets, meaty hands folded beneath the pillow. He was beautiful. She’d known that—of course she had—but it was like looking at him for the first time as she climbed on top of him, familiar parts of her body—her pussy, her inner thighs—pressing against unfamiliar parts of him—his lower back, his hips.

  She had always found the back the most sensual part of the body, and on him, that sensuality was expanded into infinity. It wasn’t just because he was so much bigger than the guys she usually dated—and she liked big guys. It was that his back spread before her like a canvas, in a way he’d never been for her before; it was an invitation into another world, one where she was in control. He needed her to touch him in just the right way, the perfect blend of hard and soft, like the mix of pleasure and pain she got from him. She’d always been the one splayed wide, open, there for the taking, and she’d loved every second of it, loved it so much she hadn’t thought much about what it might be like to be on the other side of that equation.

  Before she could stop herself, she lay her head down against his left shoulder, turning so her right cheek met his warm, slightly hairy skin. Her hard nipples sank into his flesh and she again turned to kiss him lightly, forcing herself to rise lest she lay there all night. Tara ran her hands through Ian’s soft honey-blond hair, smiling as her fingers sank through its fineness. Such delicate wisps for such a strong, serious man, one who liked to hold her down, to make her beg, to hear her promise him every part of herself. You wouldn’t know his hair was so silky soft when he curled his belt around his fist and lashed it against those same breasts she’d just pressed into him, or against her ass or inner thighs, or wrapped it around her neck. His hair was the last thing she was thinking about when his teeth were sinking into her skin, bite marks blooming, or when he took her over his knee, a place she never got tired of being.

  Then she got to work, tucking those memories away into the corners of her mind where they nestled, burrowed down, just below the surface, to a place she could access at will, yet one that allowed her to go about her day and not be in a permanent state of arousal. She leaned not her breasts, but her elbows, into his back, working them gently at first, then more firmly. She knew it hurt, and a thrill rushed through her at the realization that she liked hurting him like this, on the path to pleasure. That did make her growl, and she shifted to rub her wetness against his skin before digging her palms deep into his shoulder blades, leaning down with all her might. He let out a noise that was far from English, a sound of surrender and desire, allowing her deeper inside. She curled her fingers, scraping her short nails hard enough to leave light red marks.

  This time when she reached for his soft hair, she grabbed it more tightly than she ever had, tugging gently as she worked her teeth into his neck. She knew the rules—no marks—but a little biting n
ever really hurt anyone, did it? She could tell how much he liked the feel of her teeth clamping down on his flesh, without having to feel his cock. His reaction lived in the purrs coming out of his mouth, the press of his face against the pillow, the shudder he couldn’t deny.

  Tara was suddenly overcome with the desire to touch him everywhere, to touch herself. Should she turn him over, let him see her face, let him reach for her? She longed to run her hands through the hair on his chest, to pass over his nipples, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from heading lower, from taking his cock in her hand, her mouth.

  She wanted to savor this moment, where she held Ian in the palm of her hand. She lay down on top of him, sucking on his earlobe as she stroked herself. “Do you feel how wet I am?” she asked, knowing the answer, and knowing he knew she knew. “Should I let you touch me, or should I just touch myself and let you feel me?” He didn’t answer, since it wasn’t really a yes or no question, or much of a question at all, kind of like the ones he asked her when her wrists were tied behind her back, panties gagging her mouth, questions like “Should I spank you with my hand or a paddle?” They weren’t the kinds of sentences that needed answers, because any answer would do the job.

  Since she only had his silence to go by, Tara said, “I’ll just touch myself then, and maybe you can lick my pussy later.” She turned around, so she was facing his ass, her legs wrapped around his sides. She reached for the vibrator she’d placed on the bedside table, the one she’d been planning to use to press against the base of his cock, to hold it there as she licked the tip. She’d told him about this plan, and remembered his groan of encouragement as she’d packed it. “I guess I’ll have to use this on myself instead,” she said, turning it on to its highest setting. “But don’t worry, I’m still going to take care of you.”