Stripped Down (23 page)

I leaned back and told her to roll over onto her stomach. The sand stuck to her cheeks like two little bull's-eyes. With practiced ease I took hold of her hips with both hands and slipped into her.

“Let Daddy show you how hard he really can hurt, baby….”

I started laying into her, fingertips poised on the tightly stretched skin between her thighs, slamming into her at a rate that made her gasp for air and eliciting short “ah… ah…” sounds. One of her hands flailed at me viciously, but I grabbed it and held it behind her back.

“Quiet sweetheart,” I sneered in her neck, “before the neighbors hear you and I have to stop.”

 

Chris lay on his back, staring into the sky, cold beer can against his face to cool his raging hormones, inspired by the free show he and Mike had been fortunate enough to observe. Jacking off with a buddy under the summer sun—what could be more perfect? They'd been taking turns watching, both manipulating their hard-ons inside their trunks, till the distant approach of a beach patrol put an end to their surveillance.

“You know,” Mike said smilingly as he popped open another beer. “Only one thing could have possibly made that an even better experience to witness. Imagine that had been two chicks digging into one another.”

Chris nodded in agreement. “Now that would be worth getting arrested for.”

 

“I'm going to have to start taking you to the beach much more often,” Jo mused, smiling as she navigated traffic.

“Oh, believe me,” I observed as I adjusted my crotch, “it's got nothing to do with the beach. Absolutely nothing.”

RIDING THE WAVES

Rose William

 

 

 

 

I wasn't sure that I would like it. In fact, the thought of it made me nauseous. I couldn't imagine allowing a man to touch her, his cock growing hard and pressing against her. I couldn't stomach the thought of
watching
. Watching her kissing him, touching his chest, stroking his dick. And worst of all, she wanted him to fuck her, something I would give anything to do, if only I really could. But I loved her, and was willing to try it. For her.

So I let her choose the guy. I told her that I didn't care who it was or what he looked like, didn't care what she told him. I went along with what she wanted, gave her free rein, and removed myself from the planning.

Two months went by, and Elly didn't mention it again. I thought that she had changed
her mind. Perhaps she had realized that I only agreed to it for her. Our lives went on as usual. She taught and worked on her thesis; I worked at the hospital. We rented movies and had big weekend breakfasts and cleaned the house and went for walks and had sex. We settled into our lives as if she had never brought it up.

Then one day, on the way home from work, I stopped at the store and bought her mangos and frozen pizza. When I arrived home, there was a man sitting on the couch, drinking a Coke. I knew instantly why he was there.

“Hi,” I said cautiously, appraising him. I could tell he was tallish: several inches taller than me, and markedly taller than Elly. He had on jeans, worn thin but not holey. His hair was messy and sandy blond, and he wore a surf T-shirt. He wasn't anything like the guy I would have expected her to pick, and I wondered where she had even found him.

“Hey.” He smiled, annoyingly relaxed about the whole thing. He was casually settled into the red cushions, legs slightly apart, one hand at his side, the other holding the Coke and resting on his knee.

It was then, as I stood in the living room staring at a strange man, that she came into the room and we both looked at her. I wanted to cover his eyes—she was too beautiful for me to share, too beautiful to give to him. Elly is always beautiful, but sometimes she sparkles. She wore a clingy red tank top without a bra, and I could see her nipples sticking out slightly. Usually she thought her nipples were a nuisance. They were almost always slightly hard, and she bought padded bras to conceal them. But she also knew that their presence made her instantly sexual: she was inviting me—us—to look at them. Below the tank top she wore a white skirt with embroidered
flowers, and a layer of tulle peaking out. Her feet were bare, her toenails polished the same red as the flowers on the skirt.

But her sparkle didn't come from her clothes. It came from her attitude. She was at home in her skin. She wore no makeup but lip gloss and she probably hadn't brushed her wavy hair after that morning's shower. But she knew that she would be able to drive anyone wild. Especially me. I wanted so badly to touch her then, to feel her skin, to hold her close and wrap my arms all the way around her small frame. I wanted to lead her to our bed and pull her tank top over her head, to run my hands over her and take her nipples into my mouth. I wanted to hear her breath in my ear, and feel her respond to me. Instead, I just looked at her. She came to where I was standing, grocery bag still hanging from my hand. She looked into my eyes, and then flicked her gaze across my face, as if she were making a final assessment.

“Hi,” she said, and kissed my lips lightly. It was a casual kiss, the kind she'd give me if she were running to the post office. She took the plastic grocery bag from my hand and set it on the floor. She took my jacket and laid that on the floor as well.

And then she turned from me and walked to the couch. She took the boy's Coke and set it on the coffee table. She took his hand and led him to the bedroom, turning once to look at me. She wanted me to follow. At first I couldn't do it. I could only watch them disappear into our room. Our place. When I had forced my feet to move, and arrived in the doorway of our room, they were standing near the bed. She looked up at him and pulled his face toward hers.

And she kissed him. Ran her fingers through his messy hair and held on to the back of his head. My Elly kissed a stranger
in our bedroom as my chin trembled. I blinked slowly, stoically, willing the tears not to come.

He wrapped his arms around her, running his hands over her shoulders and down her back, grazing her ass, pulling her hips toward him. Her hands went under his shirt and she touched his chest. When he took his shirt off, I saw how smooth and well-developed he was. I imagined the hours in the surf had left him chiseled and lean. She touched her lips to his chest as he stroked the waves of her hair. She waved me to the chair and quickly glanced at me while she kissed her way down his chest and abs, and pushed him into a sitting position at the edge of the bed. I mutely moved to the chair, which had been moved slightly. I realized that it was in the perfect position for me to watch her blow him.

He was already hard, and when she unbuttoned his jeans, I saw that he was wearing nothing beneath them. They had
planned
this. Elly had ambushed me, not even warned me that today would be the day. My face felt hot.

Elly pulled her shirt off and I watched her full breasts sway as she leaned into his lap. She started with slow licks, from his balls up to his head, the way she had so many times with me. But he could
feel
her—his cock wasn't made of silicone. He could feel every lick, every flick of her tongue. As I watched, I thought of all the times she had laid me back and teased my thighs and belly with her tongue before finally sucking me. How I could almost, but not quite, feel her. How just watching her and pushing her head down, I could
almost
come in her face.

She finally stopped teasing him and took his cock into her mouth. He moaned, and I shifted slightly in the chair, realizing for the first time that I was wet. I looked at his swollen
cock, watched her perfect mouth as she bobbed up and down on it. And watching his face, the way his hips moved and his hand in her hair, I could feel her too. My pussy throbbed as she sucked him.

And when I knew that she could feel his cock throbbing, when she knew that it wouldn't be much longer before he came, she stopped and got to her feet. He groaned, turning up his head, looking at her. She slipped out of her skirt and when she picked up her foot to step out of it, I could see how wet she was. So could he. She tugged on his arm, pulling him to his feet.

“Take off your pants,” she told him, and while he obliged, she crawled onto the bed. She positioned herself on her hands and knees and my pussy flooded onto my scrubs. She was facing me, her brown eyes looking intently at me as he got on the bed behind her. And I knew. It had all been for me. Because she knew me better than I did. I had been right: the surfer wasn't really her type. He was
mine
—the kind of guy I'd fuck, the kind of guy I would want to
be
. She had known how wet I'd get, how I'd be able to feel what he was feeling, how watching him fuck her in my favorite position would put together the last puzzle pieces of my fantasies.

He pressed his head up against her wetness and gasped. I knew the feeling. I knew how wet she got, how she made my fingers slick, how she dripped down my wrist. As he slid into her, I thrust my hand into my pants and rubbed my clit. I moaned, that feeling welling up in me too soon. I wanted to come with him. I wanted to come inside her. I pulled my fingers away and squirmed in the chair. I realized that I was mimicking his rhythm, grinding in my seat. She reached for her clit, and I felt my eyes get hot and wet. She made quick
circles while he held on to her hips and thrust into her.

I could tell she was close from the way her jaw slackened and her breathing changed. I started touching myself again, hoping he would come when I wanted him to. Her eyes didn't leave me until she started to come. As she squeezed them shut, I knew that her pussy was clenching around his cock. He cried out and held on to her, and as Elly rode out the last waves of her orgasm, he exploded inside her and I let myself go. I could feel it, feel myself coming. Not by myself on a chair, but in her. My cock jerked and throbbed as I filled her up with my cum. It was what I had wanted since the first time I laid eyes on her. I felt tears on my cheeks.

 

Like the perfect guest, he didn't overstay his welcome. Elly pulled a nightie out from under a pillow and slipped it on as he got dressed. She gave him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, and he let himself out, waving at me with a sheepish grin.

Elly came and sat on my lap, pulling my head to her chest and kissing my hair. My damp eyes left wet spots on her nightie as I pulled away and looked up at her.

“It was just what I wanted.”

PUPPY SLUT

Michelle Brennan

 

 

 

 

It was my first time cruising in a men's room, first time pissing in one too. The odor caught me off guard, strong and musky, heat-producing sweat, or maybe that was just my own adrenaline causing this surge. I sauntered up to the urinal, unzipped, and pulled out my cock. I'd played this moment over in my head a hundred times in the past hour, beer warming up in front of me at the bar. I knew if I didn't do this whole thing right, I'd piss all over myself and have to pass it off as some kind of golden shower fantasy to cover my ass. I had an extra pair of black Carhartts in the car, just in case I needed them.

He was tall and clean cut, with porcelain skin and sculpted dark sideburns, and his steel-toed boots looked as if they'd been
freshly licked clean by some lucky boy. Damn, did I want to be down by his boots right then. I didn't care that he'd yet to notice me or, if he had, was waiting for me to come to him. Maybe he knew I'd be waiting for him in the bathroom, whacking off, and that's why he sauntered in after me not a minute after I disappeared from my stool.

I glanced over at him, making sure he caught me looking, wide eyed and holding my shit right out in the open, wanting to kiss his boots and swallow his cock whole.

“Evening, Sir,” I muttered, caught off guard by his hungry stare, his eyes telling me, not asking, that my ass was his that night. I tried not to lose my confidence when he approached, and suddenly I realized where I was and what I had just gotten myself into: a men's bathroom, being picked up by this leather daddy, holding onto a hard cock attached to a sparkly blue harness. Mama always said stranger danger, but I was never one to take the advice of an elder, unless he was clad in chaps and smothering my face in his crotch. Which is exactly where I ended up. On my knees in a dank bathroom where musky sweat, cum, and leather overloaded my senses, and the adrenaline pumped through my veins as if hot lava had just flooded through my body. I could have suffocated and gone to heaven just then.

I grabbed at him with my paws, groping and working at his zipper. His hands, big workingman's hands that smelled of trucks and gas, grabbed my neck; petting my hair like a potential owner sizing up a new puppy. He gathered the back of my shirt into his fist and yanked me away.

“Where are your manners? You need a training leash, boy. Get the fuck up.” One quick slap across my left cheek told me to keep my mouth shut. I scrambled quickly to my feet, a
bit wobbly and disoriented, the hunger in my cunt consuming me, threatening to lash out impulsively.

One man, who'd apparently been watching the encounter, laughed out, “Got yourself a rabid one there, huh, daddy-o?” Then this guy was suddenly being taken care of by two other men who'd been lurking in the shadows while this encounter was unraveling.

“Fucking tourist bullshit faggots,” Daddy muttered as he dragged me out of the bathroom, his grip now tightening around my neck. “You think you can just give me those puppy eyes, paw at me a little, act completely disgusting back there, and expect that I'm just going to fuck a piece of trash like you?” he grunted into my ear as he pushed me past the other bar stools, and out into the late night air. It was cold on my face and the mark his hand had left on my cheek stung. The parking lot was quiet and scattered with bikes, trucks, and a few cars. He led me to his truck, reached in and grabbed a choke collar from the dashboard and slipped it over my head, then pulled his hanky out of his back pocket to tie over my eyes.