Gotta Have It

August 10th, 2011

Gotta Have It: 69 Stories of Sudden Sex

Gotta Have It: 69 Stories of Sudden Sex
$22 from Babeland

There’s nothing like a long book that you don’t really like. I guess I could sum up my experience with “Gotta Have It” in those words and leave it but I’ll try to explain exactly why this book didn’t catch my fancy. I mean, there’s a cat on the cover, so that should count for something, right?

“Gotta Have It” promises to offer 69 stories of sudden sex, and while the sex may be sudden, it’s not all sudden fiction. That is, some of them are just a little longer than I like and we all know how I don’t like erotica that lasts longer than I do. And, honestly, I think the sheer number of stories is not working in this book’s favor. It appears bulky, especially because it’s shorter and squatter than any other erotica book I own. It’s ten times as big as Five Minute Erotica! Maybe I wouldn’t have noticed so much if I weren’t reviewing it but I felt the deadline pressing against me and was just trying to finish all the stories, one by one, and they kept blending together. By the time I finished the book, I couldn’t remember anything about the first stories–there was just too much data to try to recall in one place. This would have been much better off as two volumes.

But it’s more than that because I found myself paging through and passing by more stories than I read. A lot of them just didn’t pull me in from the start and I couldn’t get into them by continuing on. I don’t like to waste my time so I skipped ahead. The problem is that the focus of these stories appears to be the writing rather than the sex or sexuality. They’re all spectacularly written and interesting as literature but not as erotica. It’s almost as though the sex is an afterthought in some of them.

There are well-written stories with a wide variety of subjects. The themes in this book include golden showers, sex with strangers, voyeurism, phone sex, gender play, online dating and Godzilla. Yes, Godzilla. In fact, Salome Wilde’s “Too Wondrous To Measure” is a fantastic tale about the giant reptile that I remember simply because it was weird. Call me old-fashioned but I just don’t get turned on by the guy. There are a mixture of gay, lesbian, bisexual and straight couplings but there’s a lot of monogamous sex that I just didn’t find particularly thrilling in “Gotta Have It.”

One of my favorite stories actually details the make-up sex of a married couple. Daniel Burnell’s “Ties That Bind” was interesting when I first read it. Yet, it’s not something that is so interesting or different that I remember it once the book leaves my hands. The same can be said for “Lucky Number Fifty-One” which follows a man who gets the chance to have sex with his favorite porn star and is able to impress her.

At the end of the day (or page or book), “Gotta Have It” Is simply not the best erotica collection I’ve read. It’s better than, say, X, because I like stories short but I have four or so anthologies on my nightstand that I found to be much more interesting. I don’t know if it’s the sole reason but I seem to really enjoy collections that Alison Tyler have edited and this one was edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel. I’d recommend Five Minute Erotica if you want a short and sexy story. Some of those have left some pretty vivid memories in my mind.

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Categories: Books, Reviews

Best Lesbian Erotica 2010

July 30th, 2010

Best Lesbian Erotica 2010

Best Lesbian Erotica 2010
$11.99 from Amazon

It took me forever to finish Best Lesbian Erotica 2010. I am now 100% positive that I can never be 100% satisfied with lesbian erotica. Or full-length erotica, at that. I wish it hadn’t taken two full anthologies to realize that, however.

I would describe this collection much the same way I described last year’s. There’s lesbian sex. Group sex. Oral, anal, penetration. Gender-bending. Roleplaying. Fantasies. BDSM and more. Many of the stories included omitted relationships, or at least that is what I assumed from the way they were written. There were some no-strings-attached encounters, and one story even included a first-time lesbian experience, as in “In the Sauna” by Stella Watts Kelley. For the most part, the characters have established their gender and sexual identities. As a mostly straight chick who doesn’t identify with her anatomy, it can be a little difficult to empathize with the characters or situations. I think that detracts from my enjoyment a bit.

It would definitely balance the collection to have a few more first-time or novice-type stories. I could better relate to those, and that would allow me to get lost in the story. As it is, I really had to force myself to finish this book, especially because some of the pieces were ridiculously long and included multiple parts. I was discussing this book with someone else, and it struck me that others may not read erotica to get off, but I do. Thus, the erotica that I find most effective keeps moving, has more overt sex than covert and isn’t so long that it works against my orgasm. Shorter stories also work better to get me in the mood sooner.

Although I’ve started this fairly negatively, it’s not a horrible collection. The stories are unique, well written and well edited. There’s a lot of creativity. I personally had not heard of any of the authors but, like any anthology, you can find additional information about them at the back of the book.

There were a couple of memorable stories, too. Holly Farris wrote a piece entitled “Lives of the Saints” in which two amorous saints visit a woman who experiences doubts about her relationship. Additionally, I was entertained by Kelsy Chauvin’s “Sexting: One Side of a Two-Way.” In this story, we see a number of sexual texts from one woman to another with whom she had an encounter. The timeline stretches over a two-week period, during which the women chat back and forth and have several more encounters. The format is extremely unique and easy to read. I also especially enjoyed “Shameless” by Kimberly Reed and Anais Morten. This two-part piece follows a lesbian couple as they perform in front of a pair of strangers who are men. Each character gets the chance to tell her side of the story as she performs for her lover.

Some stories were simply not my style because they weren’t direct enough or were perhaps too creative for me. I have no idea what actually happened in “Uppercasing” by Charlie Anders. I guess I need my sex and erotica to be a little more straight forward.

Some folks might think that this series may be suffering from a new editor or the fact that a bunch of musicians (Sorry, I’ve never heard of BETTY) chose the stories. Maybe it’s related, but I didn’t love last year’s edition, either. I know that erotica is subjective. You win some, you lose some sort of thing but I also know that really intriguing erotica stays with me permanently. I can name a handful of stories from other collections, including Five Minute Erotica, that have really stuck with me over the past year to eighteen months. I just don’t think this will cut it.

I’m still interested in erotica but I am going to focus on unique situational erotica and shorter stories from this point on.

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Categories: Books, Reviews

Best Women’s Erotica 2009

April 18th, 2010

Best Women's Erotica Book - 2009

Best Women's Erotica Book - 2009
$19.99 from Amazon

Okay, so I may be a year late but I am no hardcore erotica collector. I mean, I’ve enjoyed a story here and there, but I usually opt for a toy over a book. Still, it’s nice to switch things up a bit and that’s exactly what I did when I requested Best Women’s Erotica 2009 to review. Not only does it not vibrate, but it’s in a different series than any I’ve read before. ‘

This volume has a hot cover. It’s not entirely explicit, but it just draws me in. A dark-haired, fair-skinned woman lies on the floor in the corner with a fishnetted leg against either wall. At first glance, she appeared to be wearing ballet slippers, but they were, in fact, heels. The deep red of the wall is just a sensual colour.

The first few pages contain an introduction by editor Violet Blue. Even her introduction to the content of this book is a somewhat erotic story about mythological Persephone. This leads to an absolutely enthralling depiction of Peter Pan’s Tigerlily and her sexual frustrations. Although I do not particularly remember Tigerlily, Valerie Alexander does a stand up job of bringing a sexualized version of Never Neverland to life in “Fly.” It gets you excited for what the rest of the collection will have.

And then Best Women’s Erotica 2009 falls flat on its face, having done the exact opposite of “saving the best for last.” No, it gives it to you first and every other story pales in comparison. Sure, there are lots of themes: straight, gay and in between, BDSM, toys, anal sex, voyeurism, sex in public, roleplaying and more. And, in general, the writing is superb and the editing slick. Although, there is one story in particular, which I won’t name, that seems so sub-pay I can’t believe it actually made it into the book. There are authors whom I’ve read and enjoyed before. It’s safe to say that many have been previously published; this isn’t their first rodeo.

Yet, the entire volume is almost completely lackluster. Where it gets my attention at all, I find the stories to be too drawn out. Some of the pieces seemed to just go on forever and not even in the name of build-up; there were pieces that simply didn’t know where to end. I know that erotica is subjective, but there are usually 2 or 3 pieces that I really like in any given collection and a handful more I will enjoy upon rereading but may not necessarily remember. Most of the stories in this book, however, I forgot by the next time I picked up the book with only a day or so in between!

I suspect that maybe I shouldn’t be reading “Women’s” erotica. Maybe I need something more direct, less sensual, shorter. Perhaps I am not the right audience. Maybe I want to read less about love and sweet encounters (not that there isn’t more to be found in this volume). I concede and accept that. I’m still sort of shocked I didn’t enjoy myself more.

In fact, as I try to recall just what it is that I liked about other stories I’ve read, it strikes me that Best Women’s Erotic 09 is deeply rooted in reality – save for the Peter Pan story. There’s no tentacle sex, bestiality, or other fantasy. Essentially, there is nothing really different or unique. In fact, some of the stories are more than a little cliche, like the one about a woman having sex with her dance instructor. I just need something more out of the box.

Maybe if you prefer in-the-box, reality-rooted erotica with more sensuality than you might normally have, you’d enjoy Best Women’s Erotic ’09. I don’t know.

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Categories: Books, Reviews

Not There

January 17th, 2010

At first, I don’t hear the key in the door. I am busy, distracted by the vibrations against my flesh and my soft moans. The door opens and when it closes, I hear it. I know it is him (who else could unlock that door) and that he will soon find me. I debate turning off and covering up but decide against it. I continue to thrust the toy in and out of my cunt, already slick with arousal and lube.

The atmosphere changes as he almost enters the room, stopping suddenly in the door way. My face is turned away and I pretend not to know he is there. I imagine his mouth hanging open and he’ll swallow his words to take advantage of the situation. I strain to hear him breathe just as he must be straining to control it, keep it quiet.

I moan for effect and slowly pleasure myself with the vibrator. I extract it leisurely from my pussy, running the tip along my lips and doubling back. I rest it against my clit, gasping at the sensation before sliding it back inside my body, angling against my most sensitive spots. I feel myself swell and back off, not yet wanting to release that flood gate.

Just in time, he distracts me, having moved from the door to the bed. His weight shifts the mattress and a shiver runs down my spine. From my position, on hands and knees, I cannot see him and I dare not look over my shoulder. I trail the vibrator from my clit toward my breasts, slowly circling my nipples. He moves closer and I can feel his breath, hot on my skin but not a word is spoken. We both know he is there, we both refuse to acknowledge it.

I tense, almost started at the touch of his fingers, lightly caressing my lips. I rest the toy on the bed, still on, and move my now free hand between my legs, careful not to touch his. I don’t want to break the spell. I plunge several fingers into my vagina. They are eagerly taken in and coated in my juices. I pull them out slowly, sure they are glistening and spread myself wide, sure he is watching. I retreat my hand from its revealed position, grasp the vibrator once more.

He takes the opportunity and I am surprised by his tongue on my clit, zoning in exactly where he needs to be. His tongue flicks and swirls; his lips surround my erect organ and he sucks it into his mouth. I respond with appreciative moans and he buries his face deeper, moaning as well, releasing soft vibrations against my flesh.

Still, we don’t speak, perpetuating the facade. He backs away and adjusts his position. I take the time to slide the vibrator back into my cunt, pushing it against my G-spot. This time I am ready and the pulsations begin the flow. Quickly removing the toy, I push the flood of ejaculate out in a healthy stream. I can feel a hand brush my thigh as he holds it between my legs but not for long. His mouth replaces his hands, drinking of me and he sucks and licks every last drop from my lips and my thighs, leaving them wet with his saliva.

I am empty, but not finished. Not yet. The vibrator finds it way between my legs once more, pushing at my clit. I rub, pressing feverishly to build myself to orgasm. This time he doesn’t touch, at least not me. There is the sound of a zipper, fabric rustling and I know his cock is in hand. I imagine its shape, its size, texture and taste. I am licking my lips without realizing, the sudden fantasy bringing me closer to the edge. I remember how his hard cock feels against me, inside me and pretend the vibrator is as good. It’s not but I pretend, anyway.

We pretend we are alone, he stroking his cock and me with the vibrator pressed against my sex. We are both hot and I am more than sufficiently wet. The bed moves with our movements but I ignore it. I am masturbating furiously as he breathes raggedly. We are both close. As I feel myself about to peak, he moans behind me. I imagine the look on his face as he does, a contorted mixture of pleasure and effort and am sent over the edge myself. I feel the contractions of my muscles, a quick succession of orgasm that fades not long after it begins. I am not immediately aware of the hot cum that he landed on the back of my thighs but it cools quickly and gravity pulls it down my skin.

I turn off the vibrator, drop it between my legs. We are still silent, except for the sound of our heavy breathing and his pants becoming zipped once more. He climbs off the bed and quietly makes his way toward the door. As my heartbeat slows and breathing quiets, I hear the door open and close, once more the sound of keys jingling in the lock.

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Categories: Stories

Just Pretend

November 10th, 2009

We’re playing and the scene is one in which he appears to have power but we both know it’s my scene, my power, my plan, my way. I call him “Daddy” and, at first, it sounds awkward. We stumble over our lines and I am incredibly aware that he is not my daddy and these are not our real roles.

“Come here,” here says, beckoning me over and I do trying to act the innocent daughter. I am anything but. He tells me to sit; I do. He launches a conversation about growing up, adolescence and the differences between boys and girls. My head still isn’t in it but I play along anyway. He asks me if I’ve noticed these differences.

“Yes,” I say. “I know I have a penis but you have a vagina, Daddy”. He nods, proud of me. I beam, getting more into the role. I tell him I have seen the pictures in school but they’re cartoony. He nods and looks disappointed, as though public education has failed me. We continue in our roles and he asks if I want to see a real penis, his penis. I am in awe that he cares so much about my knowledge; I nod meekly.

He slowly removes his jeans. I try not to stare as he unbuttons, then unzips. They lie crumpled on the floor and his boxers follow next. I see his penis, standing parallel to the floor. It’s much more detailed than the pictures in school show. I can see the shaft, rigid and straight and the end is bulbous with a funny ridge. He follows my gaze.

“It’s erect,” he explains. “It has filled with blood and increases in size, pointing up. Other times, it is not engorged and hangs limply.” I struggle to stay in the mindset, pretending I don’t already know this, pretending I haven’t seen his cock one hundred, one thousand times before. I try to convince myself I’ve never before seen his cock.

“Does it hurt?” I ask, in amazement. I reach out to touch it before I snatch my hand back, unsure if that would be a mistake. “Can I?” I ask hesitantly and he nods, smiles reassuringly as he explains it doesn’t hurt. It can feel quite good and I wonder how.

I gingerly reach for the head of his cock and he moans. I feel the skin, velvety smooth over the hard shaft. I wrap my fingers around it and he startles me, enclosing his larger hand over my own. He must see it as he puts a finger to my mouth to sooth me, silence me. Together, we stroke his cock. He breathes harder and thrusts his hips toward me. His cock slides in and out of my hand and I stare at it intently.

“Just like that,” he moans and my confidences are mentally boosted. I see the first drop of pre-cum ooze from his penis and ask him what that is.

“That means you are doing a very good job at making Daddy feel good but you know what would really make Daddy feel good?” I shake my head “No” and continue to stroke him.

“Take off your panties,” he tells me. For a minute I am stunned. I didn’t see that one coming at all. I drop my hand from his penis. “Take them off,” he repeats once more and I do, struggling to comply as quickly as possible. He instructs me to lie back on the bed and I listen, afraid of angering him anymore.

He presses his thighs between my legs, spreading them. His fingers travel along my inner thighs and I laugh as it tickles. “Do you like that?” I nod, biting my lower lip as his hands travel further inward. I don’t know what to expect when he reaches the warm area in between my legs. I have touched there before and sometimes it feels good. I am anxious.

His fingers make contact and his touch is gentle. He strokes my skin with one hand, all around my vagina, with his other reaches behind him. I hear something pop but I’m not sure what. I look at him quizzically and he returns my look; something in his expression says everything will be okay. His other hand returns between my legs; he spreads me open and applies something cold, wet against my flesh, inside of me. It feels tight but gets easier as he strokes.

“Don’t mind the cold lube,” he reassures. “Are you ready to make Daddy very happy?” I nod, wanting to please him, knowing my Daddy knows what is best.

I feign pain as the head of his cocks slips into me but we both know it’s fake. I contort my face, trying to look as virginal as possible. “It hurts,” I lie.

“I know but that will pass soon. I promise.” He strokes my cheek as he presses himself into me and I can start to feel him stretching, tearing. It doesn’t feel like he can fit, like he should fit. I let him know, biting my lip in pain.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” he consoles. “Daddy’s almost there.” He lets out an minimalistic groan, the likes of which I have never heard before. The pain, the tearing continues as he slides into me, inch by painful inch. Then it stops, I look down at his body over my tiny frame and I see that he is all the way in me. The hairs around his penis are long and fuzzy, tickle me slightly.

“Are you okay?” He asks, commending my bravery and performance. I nod, try to smile through the pain as it slowly fades. He begins to thrust his hips, pumping into me and I feel the head of his penis stroking against the different sensitive parts of me, inside of me. I think about how I hadn’t even known those parts existed and, in my mind, it’s like this is my first time.

He grunts, moans and grips my hips. I feel him fill me up and I’m not even sure how it’s possible. I look up at him and he leans down to kiss me hard. It hurts but it also feels.. good, somehow. The way he feels inside me feels differently, too. There’s less resistance and he thrusts come easier. It’s like my body is accepting him now and, without thinking, my hips thrust back toward his.

“That’s a good girl.” His words are muffled my my body as he nestles his face against my shoulder. A sound escapes my lips like none I have made before and I cut it off sharply.

“No, go ahead. Daddy wants you to feel good, too.” He reaches down, his fingers caressing around my vagina. His fingers press between the curves of my flesh and he begins to stroke that special button. “Do you like this, when I touch your clit?” I do and I let him know. He continues to stroke, to twist, to flick and the pain is long forgotten. I am moaning with him and, every time I do, it seems to elicit a moan from him.

He thrusts harder now, pressing against my clit harder. I feel the change begin to grow inside me. I’m not sure but I don’t have much time to think about it. Suddenly, his penis is no longer in me and I gasp. As I look down, I feel his erection rubbing between my thighs, against my clit. It looks silly; although, I’m not sure it should.

As quickly as he exited, he slams back into me and I wonder if I will even be able to walk after this. his fingers return to where they were playing with me and that strange feeling builds again. Something is going to happen but I’m not sure what.

Seemingly out of nowhere, I feel the muscles around my vagina, surrounding his cock spasm. They clench and release in quick successions. It’s only a few seconds but they are mesmerizing. I never knew I could do that. Apparently, Daddy is also surprised. He gasps as his own body shudders and he slumps down, weighing more heavily on him. Still supported by his arms, I look up at him, wondering what just happened to the both of us.

As he slowly withdraws from my body, I see his penis shrinking, losing its erection. I think I understand its anatomy more but I am jolted from my thoughts by the warm gush from between my legs. I wonder where it comes from as he stands beside the bed.

“Be a good girl and go clean up in the bathroom. You made Daddy cum hard.” So it’s normal, I assume, and he likes it. I beam once more, glad to have pleased him and head to the bathroom, my legs warm and sticky. I clean myself slowly as I consider what just happened. I know it must be good. We both felt good, very good and I know my Daddy would never do anything wrong. I smile, feeling on top of the world.

As I exit the bathroom to climb back in bed, I see him leaning against the doorway, once more in his boxers. He puts his fingers to his lips, still in the role. We know to keep it a secret. I smile knowingly, not just in character anymore and crawl between the sheets, exhausted, and motion him to join me. He lies beside me, presses his body close and we wish eachother good night, our game over for now.

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Categories: Stories

Best Lesbian Erotica 2009

July 15th, 2009

Best Lesbian Erotica 2009

Best Lesbian Erotica 2009
$15.95 from Amazon

As my collection of erotic and “mature education” books grows, I’ve grown, too. I’ve become more aware of my preferences and, hopefully, this will help me determine what items are best for me to buy or review. Unfortunately, despite the fact that I know I like lesbian erotica, I was still disappointed in Best Lesbian Erotica 2009: because it’s not all encompassing lesbian erotica, it is narrowly focused butch/femme erotica.

Let me back up, though. This colourfully bound book called for me ever since I first laid eyes on it. It’s feminine and modern in purple and green (a la Joker, perhaps?) shades which don’t quite match the hair and fingernails of the scantily clad ladies on the cover but that’s okay because it’s still pretty. Really, the colour combination is one which I have always loved so it easily won me over.

It’s also the last edition Tristan Taormino will edit and begins with her foreword which both gives us a glimpse of what is to come in the book and what has come in her life because of her involvement with the series. It’s erotic in its own way, touching and appropriate. Following, is an introduction by Joan Larkin, the one who selected the stories (and as such, the object of my scorn). Following Tristan’s words, the introduction really pales in comparison.

The majority of this book is, of course, 2 dozen tales of girl on girl (and sometimes another girl) action brought to you by names lesser known and names instantly recognizable (such as Rachel Kramer Bussel). They are, undoubtedly, well written and edited; however, they do not necessarily provide “in your face” action. The settings and interactions are both profound and arousing: sometimes profound because they are arousing and sometimes the other way around. I particularly enjoyed, Shanna Germain’s “On Snow-White Wings”, a beach-side tale of how love can surprise a soul to the point of obscuring recognition.

However, the majority of these stories do little to veer from the theme of butch and femme interactions. Although some stories only implied as much, others were laden with stereotypes and pretenses to the point that I would read less than the first page of a story and skip past it thinking “Not another one”. You see, I don’t mind these stories. Many of them were extremely hot. I more than thoroughly enjoyed “Lipstick on Her Collar” by Sachhi Green and expect to enjoy it repeatedly in the future but it was the unique setting of the story: a butch woman serving in the Woman’s Army Corps during Vietnam, who enjoys a roll in the hay with a femme reporter, amidst the war around them (and perhaps, slightly because of it). No, I do not deny that these stories can be great.

I also cannot deny that several stories, in fact, fight those stereotypes. Teresa Noelle Roberts’ “Tough Enough to Wear a Dress” tell a story of a dyke man enough to shed the stereotypes and step out in a burgundy, velvet evening gown. As her femme counterpart explains, people will think she is

a dyke in a costume.. A fabulous, flattering costume–but one that enhances who you are instead of hiding it

What I argue is that they are not the entirety of the lesbian world, as this edition would have us believe. As I am not familiar with previous versions, I cannot say if it is simply this one which reflects upon lesbians so narrowly or if the whole series is at fault but there is a distinct lack of “vanilla lesbian” (I fretted long and hard about the most PC way to illustrate this concept, please forgive if it offends).

Newsflash!

Not all lesbians subscribe to those lifestyles. The lesbian population is not evenly divided in to butch or femme. Some are a little of both. Some are none. Both parties in a lesbian couple can wear lipstick. Silicone does not have to be an extension of ones self, it can simply be a sex toy. And those lesbians aren’t hiding, either. Neither are they any less significant part of the population. So why is it that this book seems to overlook them so?

It’s a shame because some of the specifics within these stories (S&M, shoe fetishes, stranger sex and escorts – just to name a few) are spectacular but I found it impossible to ignore the overwhelming presences of rigid butch/femme stereotypes. Maybe what I want would be considered boring; maybe I’m not “hardcore” enough to appreciate Best Lesbian Erotica 2009. Maybe I want a man’s lesbianism and need to look elsewhere. Maybe, just maybe, I’m right

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Categories: Books, Reviews

Three

June 13th, 2009

My legs are spread, knees bent, feet planted flat on the bed as she knees between them. One hand probes inside, fingers curling upward to caress that sacred spot. She does it well, evoking sensations I didn’t even know existed. I think she may know my body better than I ever will. Her tongue dances across my clit, a touch much lighter than I am accustomed to, much lighter than I would usually want. From any other person, this attention would only be teasing and I would find myself frustrated but she is a pro and the pleasure she gives dwarfs that of pleasure I’ve had in the past. I know now, it’s only the tip of an iceberg.

I restrain myself, with a bit of caution, from grinding against her face. Not knowing what her reaction might be to such demand. I couldn’t if I wanted to, anyway. His body is leaning over mine, his familiar weight and smell and skin gracing my senses. There is little room for my escape, not that I want it.

His tongue joins hers, lavishing my clit. Teeth gently pull at my lip; I’m sucked into a mouth. His, I assume. The touch is rougher than she has been so far. He knows I like strong sensations. For a moment, I wonder if their eyes are meeting, or closed or awkwardly avoiding eachother. I wonder where his hand, the one not supporting himself on the bed, is. I think to myself that it’s probably traveled to her ass and crack a smile. There is a sound, guttural and heavy. I realize it must be me, moaning.

My back arches off the mattress as I push my hips toward their hungry mouths. I am wet. My pussy is wet. My clit is wet. The aromas of arousal and spit mingle, and fill the air. It is not an entirely pleasant smell but I turn my attention away and run my hand across his skin. It’s also so smooth and nearly hairless. I’ve always liked that and my hand glides effortlessly down his chest, his stomach and light to the tip of his cock. He moans in response, his cock long sprung to life and I wrap my finger around his erection. He feels so silky in my hand. I have been constantly bewildered by the erect penis. Soft on the outside, hard within. It boggles my mind yet I love it.

I slowly stroke his shaft, following my hand with my eyes. In my position it’s difficult to look at much else besides his body. Precum has already decided to make an appearance, sliding from the head of his cock and I rub my thumb over the droplet, spreading it over his flesh to leave his cock glistening.

I haven’t forgotten about the mouths on my cunt. Who could? She still works her magic on me, diligently. She still knows exactly what buttons to press. That’s what they say about fucking a member of your own gender, isn’t it? That they know how to opperate the equipment best. He has trailed kisses up and down my thigh, interspersed with licks. His other hand makes its presence known, sliding beneath my ass and squeezing it tightly. He lingers there for a moment before adjusting position so that he is kneeling besides me. His hand moves toward my crack and, before I can respond, he is inside me. I don’t always love anal play. Maybe it’s the situation. Maybe it’s her tongue expertly breaking down my defenses but I don’t mind, not this time. In fact, I nearly cum. Not yet.

I feel her breasts brushing against my thighs as she works. Her nipples are erect, easy to feel against me. I reach for his cock, once more, stroking the shaft as it reaches toward the sky, tinted red from the blood coursing through his veins. Simultaneously, she is stroking me, bringing me closer and closer to orgasm. Very close now.

And then it hits, waves of pleasure crashing inside me, muscles spasming and hips bucking and she licks and strokes, he still fucking my ass with his hand. As I cum, I reach for his hand, sucking his fingers into my mouth so I am completely filled. I feel heat wash over my pussy, and I am wetter but not as unbelievably wet like in porn.

She quickly laps as my juices, cleaning up my orgasm. He moves in but she has made quick work of it. Instead he kisses her and there is a twinge of guilt which is quickly overcome by the sheet naughtiness of them sharing the taste of me. I fall back onto the bed, tension suddenly rushing from my body, overcome with weakness.

To be continued..

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Categories: Stories

Image © MisterUnlucky; used with permission.