Slippery When Wet: A Novel (Zane Presents) (19 page)

And gasp.

“Oh, yes,” I whisper, pushing the plug deeper into me until the base presses up against the rim of my hole. Vivid images of a room full of naked women come into view. Colorful wet panties are tossed up on my desk. And the women are sprawled out around my office, fucking and sucking one another while I look on. I am a voyeur.

My fingers sink into my cunt, getting entranced in wetness and heat and imagination, as thick brown nipples are licked and nipped and sucked into greedy mouths; as soft hands spread open ass cheeks and fingers dig into dark heat; as hairy and shaved and bald mounds are being stroked by wet tongues, the sweet sensual sound of pussy
being licked and eaten; as cunt walls are caressed by thick, gliding cocks, being fucked into deep, delicious orgasms.

The explicit visions cause my breath to quicken.

“Oooh, yes…mmmm…fuck them sweet pussies…” I softly murmur, pulling in my bottom lip and using my free hand to pinch my nipples.

I shut my eyes tighter and, surprisingly—well, okay…it’s not a surprise since I’ve had these images of the stuffy bitch two office doors down from me pop in my head twice before. Ellen James—with her smooth, milk chocolate skin, full hips, small waist, and big beautiful ass, clutching her black Mikimoto pearls—comes to view. She’s peeking through the slits of the blinds covering the long glass window that looks into my office, watching my fingers click in and out of my wet folds with prying eyes—judgment and curiosity coursing through her body.

I imagine the prudish bitch dropping to her knees in her Joan & David pumps and knit pantsuit, crawling over to me, wildly flapping and flicking her tongue out as she makes her way over to me. She purrs, soft and kittenish. A possessed need in her eyes as she slithers in between my legs.

“Yeah, bitch, eat my pussy,” I hear myself sneering, snatching her by the back of her shoulder-length, Brazilian weave and thrusting my pelvis into her face with its high cheekbones and narrow chin.

Snotty bitch!

I smear my pussy all over her lips. Bang my hips into her mouth.

I should fuck your teeth loose, bitch
…

Ellen moans and licks my pussy in hungry, wet sounds.

Oooh, yes, lick my pussy
…

Frigid bitch!

I giggle at the image of Ellen’s full lips being glazed with my cunt oil as I am wiggling another finger, my third, inside of me,
lifting my legs and pushing the butt plug in and out of my ass, stretching heat into its tightness.

A gasp catches in the back of my throat.

Ellen and I were both hired on at our firm around the same time. And were in the same training program. From day one of meeting her, I disliked her. She seemed to turn her nose up at everyone, like she was better than everyone else. My first impression of her: She’s a phony bitch! And ten years later, nothing’s changed. She’s still phonier than ever. Still stuck up. And—from what I’ve overheard around the gossip mill—a bore in bed. An Ice Queen.

Hence her miserably single, lonely, sexless existence.

I imagine yanking her prudish ass up on her feet, spinning her around, bending her over my desk, hiking up her skirt and tugging her underwear down to her ankles. I envision her wearing some basic cotton panties—white, maybe or some other boring color, her cunt hairs neatly clipped.

I visualize myself pulling open her ass, pressing my clit into the center of her crack, my breasts rasping against her back as I lean forward and reach between her legs, playing with her slick cunt as I ride into her ass, my clit swelling with each thrust.

I groan, arching into the pleasure and pressure that shoots through me, flooding my beautiful pussy with liquid heat, pumping hard and fast.

I blink my eyes open, steadying my breathing. My face and body feels flush from the fire still burning inside my pussy. I shut my eyes, lean my head back, and finish riding out the flames.

•  •  •

“Miss Rice, there’s a Miss Swan on line one for you,” my assistant announces over the intercom, startling me. I quickly compose myself, reluctantly pulling my fingers out of my warm wetness.

A smile eases over my wet lips.

Tamara Swan, with her tall, voluptuous body and large breasts, is my fantasy fuck. Even though we flirt unabashedly with one another, we’ve not once slept together, yet, in the two years that I’ve known her. But there have been plenty of nights where I’ve fucked myself to sleep imagining her thick body pressed against mine and my legs wrapped around her waist as she fucks—what I imagine to be—her large cock, into me.

I take a calming breath. “Thanks, Kristina,” I say, clicking over. “This is Ebony Rice speaking.” I slide my fingers into my mouth, licking them clean, then reach into my bottom drawer for my box of Wet Ones, tear open two packets, then wipe my hands.

“My, my, aren’t we the formal one today.” The minute I hear her rich, sultry voice on the other of the line, my pulse quickens. And I feel myself on the edge of another climax. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Oh sure. I’m sitting here with a wet pussy and sticky fingers
.

I lick my lips. “No, not at all. I was just finishing up lunch.”

“Mmmm, yum. What did you have?”

Pussy.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I tease, shifting the phone to my other ear. She lets out a soft chuckle, then tells me she tried reaching me on my cell before calling the office. I reach for my iPhone and see that I have four missed calls, and six text messages. “Well, I’m glad you called. I’m wet with desire hearing your voice.”

“Such the flirt.”

“I’m serious, Tamara. As much as I enjoy our cat-and-mouse play, why don’t we stop toying with one another and go right for
the kill. I wish you’d just take me and have your way with me already.”

She laughs. “Some things are best left untouched. For now, anyway.”

I grin. “So there’s still hope.”

“Maybe.”

“Ugh, you’re such the dream-killer.”

She chuckles. “Umm. Sweetie, I make dreams come true. So I would wait to hear my reason for calling you before you go labeling me.”

“Oooh, do tell, my love.” I swivel around in my seat. “You have me tingling with anticipation.” I glance out the forty-first floor window of my office, taking in the skyline.

“Oh, my darling Ebony. That’s not the only thing that’ll be tingling when I finish sharing what I have planned for you. Do you remember the night you shared your fantasy with me?”

My cheeks flush. How could I forget?

I replay the conversation in my head. It was several months ago after a night of drinking Apple Martinis when I blurted it out to her. We’d been out having drinks, sitting at the bar talking about sex and sexuality and the power of fantasies when I admitted to her about my own fantasy.

At first she looked at me like I was half-crazy. “Girl, are you fucking serious?” she had asked, sitting her glass down on the bar. “How could anyone in their right mind fantasize about being gang-raped?”

It was clear then that she had misunderstood me.

“
Gang-raped?
Girl, no. You got it confused. I
said
”—I glanced around the bar, making sure no would overhear me, then lowered my voice—“I want to be gang-
banged
. Big difference.”

I explained the differences to her. That the act of wanting to
be fucked, consensually, by multiple women is nothing like being forced into having sex, like in a rape-type scenario. I told her how I would never subject myself to something like that.

“But, I definitely would like to experience the act of being degraded. I want to be called whores and sluts and a bunch of bitches. Be told to suck dicks, and to bend over and take it in the ass.”

“Whew.” She shook her head. “Girl, you’re a mess. I can see having a threesome, or even a foursome, but a
gang-bang
…?”

“We all have our secret fantasies. And that’s mine. I don’t want everyone else fucking each other. I mean, it would be cool if they were sexing each other prior to me getting there. But once I stepped into the room, I’d want all eyes and cocks on me. I want to be the center of attention. The only one getting fucked while everyone else is standing around watching and masturbating, waiting for their turns to gut all three of my holes.”

Tamara gulped down the rest of her martini. ”Girl, I can’t with you tonight. I have heard it all.” She flagged over the bartender. “I need me another round.” We both stopped talking when the bartender came over to us, then eyed her when she walked off. “She’s cute,” she said almost as an afterthought.

“She is, but her hands are a bit mannish and she seems a little too masculine for me. I like my women with soft hands and feminine.”

She grinned. “With big dicks, huh?”

“No, with
good
dick, and excellent pussy eating skills. She needs to know how to work it.”

“Girl, yes. I’m with you on that. She has to know how to work a tongue over a clit and slit.” She licked her lips in thought, shaking her head. “Mmmph.”

The bartender returned with two more martinis, setting one in front of her and the other in front of me. She walked off as Tamara
lifted her glass and took a long sip of her drink, then set it back on the bar. “Okay, enough about pussy eating and women with good dick. Let’s get back to you and this fantasy
gang-bang
of yours. Would you want to be fucked by women you know?”

I shook my head. “Oh, no. I don’t want to know them. I want the spontaneity and anonymity of it all. I’d rather not know their names or anything about them. All I want is for them to be different shades of beautiful and have varying dick sizes. I want small dicks, medium-size dicks and, definitely some big dicked women to pound this pussy out.”

I couldn’t believe how freely I had shared this fantasy of mine with her. It was actually liberating. And I could tell by the way she was licking her lips and shifting in her seat that the more I talked about it, the more turned on she was getting. I would have bet my four-hundred-dollar heels that if I would have reached over and slid my hands between her legs I would have found her panties were soaked.

“Girl, you have me beat. I can’t say that I’d ever want to be gang-banged, but I have fantasized about being in a threesome and even a foursome, but nothing more than that.”

“Been there, done that. I’ve already had several threesomes, and a foursome once.”

She blinked, shifting her weight on the barstool. She licked the sugared rim of her glass, then lifted it, eyeing me over the rim. “Girl, you’re freakier than I thought.”

I shrugged, lifting my glass to her. “We all have a freaky side.”

“I’ll drink to that.” We clinked our glasses. “So do you think you’d ever want to live that fantasy out?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean. I get so turned on fantasizing about it. But the likelihood of it coming to reality”—I shook my head—“I don’t see that happening anytime soon; if at all.”

A sly grin eased over her lips. “You never know. Some fantasies do come true.”

I lifted my glass to her. “Then let the fantasy begin.”

“Well, my beautiful friend, what if,” Tamara says, bringing me back to our conversation, “I told you I know how to make that freaky little fantasy of yours come true.”

I swivel my chair back around. “Girl, don’t play with my emotions. If this is your way of playing some sick April Fools’ prank on me, you’re two weeks too late. And so not right.”

She laughs. “No, hon. No April Fools’ prank. This is me wanting to do something special for you.”

“Get out. You’re kidding me, right?”

“No, I’m very serious. I—”

“Wait a minute,” I say, leaning up in my chair. “Why exactly would you want to do this? I thought you were repulsed by it.”

“Ohmygod, that’s a bit harsh. I wouldn’t say repulsed. More like shamefully turned on. After we left the bar that night, I couldn’t wait to get home to masturbate.”

“Ooh, I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that. Now who exactly is the real freak in the room? Do tell.”

She laughs again. “Okay, okay. I confess. Guilty as charged. That night you piqued my curiosity. And aroused a whole lot more than my senses. So I decided why not live vicariously through you by helping you live out your fantasy.”

It isn’t until my pussy starts throbbing that I realize I have the butt plug still lodged in my ass. I lift up and pull it out of me, licking it clean before wrapping it inside a few sheets of tissue, then slipping it, along with the lube, back into my bag.

I can feel excitement coursing through my blood, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. “I’m listening. Tell me more.”

“Well, without going into great detail, I’ll say this: I was out
having drinks with a few colleagues and I shared with them what you told me…”

I gasp. “Girl, no. I told you that in confidence. How could you?”

“Now don’t go getting your panties all twisted in a knot. I never mentioned your name. They don’t know anything about you. I simply told them that I had a friend who wanted to be gang-banged. And they
all
seemed quite intrigued and turned on by the whole possibility. And they were wondering…” She pauses, leaving me hanging on the edge.

“They were
wondering
what?”

“Oh never mind. I don’t even know why I called you with this.”

“Ohmygod, Tamara. If you don’t stop tormenting me I swear I’m gonna claw out your eyes the next time I see you.”

“Oh, alright, party pooper. Geesh. They were wondering if you were interested in living out this fantasy.”

My heart leaps in my chest. “And what did you tell them?”

“I told them exactly what you told me. Now the question is, were you serious? Is this something you really want to experience? Because if so it’ll go down this Saturday.”

I almost choke on my tongue. “This Saturday, like in two days away?”

“Yes. This Saturday.”

“Ohmygod. I-I…don’t believe this. This sounds all too good to be true.”

“Well, believe it, boo. And it will be good. So are you in or not?”

I pull in a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding in my chest, and my pussy. If what she’s telling me is true, I am in for one hell of an experience. She tells me she has secured a secret location far out in the woods of nowhere. That she’s rallied up a number of women who are ready to fuck me into a daze. The way she says it, it sounds deliciously dirty and dangerously sexy.