Brezida waited half a minute before whispering, “Valentine?  Where the hell are you, you son of a bitch?”  Creeping out of the bathroom, she scanned the restaurant.  “I thought for sure Jack was going to see you scurrying beside the washroom door.”

Rising up from behind the bar, the man in black jeans and a turtleneck sweater replied, “I never have to deal with this bullshit when I shoot weddings.”

“Like hell you don’t,” she scoffed.  “I’ve heard all about those bridezillas—they’re a hell of a lot worse than me.  So, I guess you didn’t get any shots, huh?”

“Through the frosted glass?  How could I?  Well, I mean, I took a few but you just look like a pair of blobs.”

“Shit.”

“How was I supposed to know you’d end up screwing in the bathroom?  You said you usually fuck on the dining tables or on the bar.”

“We do,” she said, puzzled.  “Do you think Jack’s on to us?”              “Don’t ask me,” the artiste replied, fiddling with his camera before setting it down on the bar.  “Why are you after incriminating photos anyway?”

“I already told Carmina; do you two never talk?  There’s a rumour going around that if Jack wins the election, he’ll get his brother Paul to take over the restaurant.  Paul doesn’t know shit about the business, and on top of that he hates my guts.  I’ve poured too much of my soul into this place to see it crumble.”

“So, this is purely business blackmail?” Valentine asked, oozing with scepticism.

“Yes,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest.

“Nothing personal at all?”

“No.”

She stared him down, but he didn’t budge.  Valentine looked her over, up her legs, across her chest, through her hair.  “You could model, you know.”

Brezida rolled her eyes.  “Hardly!  My ass is huge…”  She turned to show him, giving it a little spank.  The clingy fabric of her dress rippled at the attention.  “But then, Carmina mentioned you were an ass man.”

“Yeah, but I’m distraught that you put your tits away,” he flirted.  “I heard through the door that they’re spectacular.”

“Jack seems to like them.”  Brezida shrugged, grappling with the images flashing through her mind, of Valentine fucking her doggy-style.  No, she couldn’t do her sister’s guy.  What a horrible thought.  “Come on, Valentine.  We shouldn’t be talking like this.”

“Why not?” he asked, stepping out from behind the bar.  He was hard already.  She could see that plain as day.

“You’re with Carmina.”

“And?”

“The family would roast me like a pig if they found out.”

“If they found out what?” he asked, taking another step forward.

She bit her tongue not to say the words.  If it were guaranteed Carmina would never find out, she would fuck Valentine in a heartbeat.

“I need to get some chairs out of the back,” she said, fleeing his melting stare.

When she arrived at the stack of plush dining chairs in the dark back room, Valentine was right behind her, so close she could almost feel his jeans against her dress.  He moved in, pressing his hard cock cloaked in denim against her ass crack.

“Ohhh…” Brezida sighed, leaning against the stack of chairs and pressing her butt back.

“Can I feel this Brazilian I’ve heard so much about?” He knew about the Brazilian.  He’d heard everything through the door.  He knew precisely which sounds Brezida made when she got fucked, knew how she talked dirty to her lover…

Taking his hand in hers, she slid it between her thighs; she hadn’t bothered finding her underwear in the bathroom, so she was totally bare right now.  Valentine cupped her mound, squeezing it, planting kisses at the back of her neck.  His fingers fell into her wet slit.

“Shit, that’s good!”  She whispered, as though somebody might hear them.

“You like that?” he asked, his breath warm against her shoulder.

“Yeah,” she replied, pulling up her dress.  His hands caressed the expanse of her flesh before he unzipped his fly.  Digging through her purse, she found a lubricated condom and threw the bag to the floor.  As he slid the latex on, she released her tits from their prisons of lace.  “Here, feel these.”

Valentine reached around, his cock resting between her ass cheeks as he squeezed his girlfriend’s sister’s breasts.  Brezida squirmed with anticipation as he fondled her tits, sliding his cock between two mountains of flesh.

“Fuck me, Valentine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she hissed. “Just do it.  Just fuck me and don’t tell anyone.”

“If you insist,” he chuckled, his big cock penetrating her ready cunt.

“Shit yeah!” she cried at the feeling of that huge thing parting the engorged flesh of her pussy lips, thrusting inside her body.

As his hips pounded her rear, his hands enveloped her breasts, moulding them like clay.  He pressed them together, hard, held them there as he fucked her.

“Fuck my ass!” Brezida cried.  She wanted it.

“Are you serious?”

She turned her head to look him in the eye.  “You don’t want to?”

Valentine’s face lit up.  “No, I want to!  I want to!”

“Then do it,” she cried as the boiler clicked.  “Just don’t tell anybody.  Don’t tell Carmina.”

“Like I would…”

His cock slid from her pleasured pussy, wet with natural lube.  It worked its way up until his head was poking rhythmically at her ass.  She knew how bad it was to do it like this, without loads of lubricant, but she just didn’t care.  Tomorrow, when she was split and sore, she would surely chastise herself, but right now?  Right now she wanted what she wanted.

Grasping her hips, Valentine pressed into her and the tip of his cock asserted itself, bullying a path inside.  His cockhead seemed to grow, inflate, and expand in all directions.  He was huge inside her ass, and it burned like she couldn’t take it, but she knew if she held out for ten seconds or so it would all be fine.  She pushed back against him, thrust her ass at him, because she needed to feel his cock further up inside her.  It didn’t matter that it burned a little; the pleasure licked the pain until the pain became pleasure.

The heating system clicked on as Brezida pounded her ass against the man she shouldn’t be fucking.  It clicked again as he whimpered and growled in alternation.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me do your ass!”  Valentine fondled her tits, thumbing her nipples, squeezing.  Hard.

“My ass loves devouring a big cock,” she cried as his fingers fell down to her wet slit.  When he rubbed her clit, she lost it.  She didn’t care about anything but the cock in her ass and the fingers massaging her.

Either did Valentine, it seemed.  He fucked her hard, whimpering and whining as a man in the corridor chuckled, “This is perfect.  Keep going.”

She knew that gravel voice all too well, and she froze at the sound of it.

“Jack!” Brezida cried, her heart turning to ice.

He stood at the entrance to the darkened room, Valentine’s camera in his hands.  What was he doing here?  Why had he come back?  And why the hell was Valentine still thrusting away?  They’d been caught!  It was time to face the music.

Her impulse to flee subsided as she perceived the look of pleasure in Jack’s eyes.  He licked his lips, watching the contortions of her face as Valentine pumped inside her.  She was getting fucked up the ass, and Jack was getting off on it!  When he snapped another shot, she gripped the stack of chairs.  Two sets of eyes and the camera lens loved her.  Caught in the act, she bucked back against her sister’s boyfriend.  Her whole body tightened up, her ass taking Valentine’s cock in a vice grip.

“Oh god!” Valentine yelped, squeezing her cheeks hard as he came.

“Thank you, my friend.” Jack addressed Valentine with utter calm.  “I would shake your hand, but I know where it’s been.”

“What are you doing here?” Brezida stammered, exhausted, as Valentine slid his cock from her ass.  She didn’t move from her rumpled position over the stack of chairs.

“Your sister’s going to love these shots.  The best porn is homemade porn, if you ask me.”  Jack clicked another picture.  “You thought you could catch me in a honey trap, but if you were smart, you wouldn’t have inserted yourself into the equation.  That was probably your biggest mistake, though hiring a close friend of mine to take the pictures wasn’t too wise either.  Next time, do your homework.”

She could feel her cheeks turning crimson.  “I’m sorry, Jack.  It was nothing against you; it was just business. I wanted to protect the restaurant.  We’ve invested so much of ourselves in this place.”

Pulling his pants up and fastening them, Valentine sauntered over to the corridor and stood behind Jack.  He snapped another photo before she could tuck her tits back into her bra.  “I know.  That’s why I was planning to sign the place over to you after the election.”

Weak-kneed, Brezida grasped the stack of chairs.  “You still could.  We can forget this ever happened, right?”

Handing the camera back to Valentine, Jack swaggered over to Brezida and traced his fingertips down her chest.  She froze as he leaned in close.  “You know what I’ve only just realized?”

“What?” she stammered, greeting his burn with a fire of her own.  “What is it, Jack?”

“I liked watching you get fucked up the ass even better than I liked fucking you.”

A wave of relief came over her.  “I liked you watching me.”

“I loved that look on your face as Valentine shoved his big cock in your little asshole.  You were hurting, you dirty little slut.  I loved it.”

“I loved it too,” she whimpered, running her hands down his chest.

Taking a step back, Jack scratched his chin, looking up like he was asking a question of the rafters.  “I think I will give you the restaurant after all.”

“Oh?”

“If and only if we can put an end to our ridiculous affair.  In its place, I want to watch Valentine fuck you up the ass every night.  How does that sound?”

“I could definitely get into that,” Valentine cheered.

With a malicious smirk, Jack continued, “This is all contingent, of course, on my winning the election.”

Pulling herself up from the stack of chairs, she stood tall before the two men. Brezida cleared her throat and smoothed her dress.  “Then I’ll go door to door for you.  I’ll be your number one supporter, Mayor Bannerman.”

____________________

Giselle is a favorite author here on Every Night Erotica, read more of her sexy stories.

Eroticist Giselle Renarde is a queer Canadian, avid volunteer, contributor to more than 50 short story anthologies, and author of dozens of electronic and print books, including Anonymous, Ondine, and My Mistress’ Thighs. Ms Renarde lives across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head.

For more information on Giselle and her work, visit her website at www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/erotica or visit her Donuts and Desires blog at www.donutsdesires.blogspot.com.

But back to John’s ample prick—his glorious, thick and hard cock.  During conversations since the incident of our unexpected three-way my question of why the missus was letting her hubby’s memorable meat get rusty still went unanswered.  My flat-mate knew something.   Cherry’s secret, the one she didn’t let me in on was driving me bonkers.  No matter how much pleading (or finger-banging) I did my with roomie, she would reveal nothing more.

It was Tuesday, towards the end of January and by some stroke of Providence we both had the night off.  Rent paid, John’s cock still a memory we were sitting around the flat.  Cherry, lounging in her usual attire of long white tee shirt and nothing more spoke up.

“We ought to go out,” she said with a grin.

“I dunno,” I began.

“The rent’s paid, groceries in the fridge and there’s nothing on the telly.  Come on, let’s go have a few pints.”

“Any place in particular.”

She kept on smiling and the more she did it the more I got nervous.  Without bothering to explain her grin Cherry hopped up and went into her room.

“Remember to wear something nice!” she said over her shoulder.

****

The Cathouse was solely a lesbian pub/dance hall/meet-market sort of place.  From the thick woman working security at the door to the scantily clad barmaids it wasn’t hard to deduce the sexual preference of the clientele.  Dragging me inside Cherry got us seats in a booth near the dance floor where short haired dykes ground their bodies against lipstick lesbians.  The techno-beat of the music was assaulting my ears and made me yell across the table at my flat-mate.

“Why here?” I said.

“You’ll see,” Cherry replied with a shit-eating grin.

We ordered our drinks, the barmaid eyeing us as if trying to decide where to place us on the menu.  Cherry paid when the pints came.

“What do you see?” my roomie said.

“What?” I shouted.

“On the dance floor… what do you see?”

“It’s the usual… oh, my God!”

Amid the thrashing, sweaty bodies, towering above the crowd was a ginger girl who I’d know anywhere.  She was tall—and memorable.  Wearing a club dress that would’ve embarrassed Lady Gaga she swayed to the beat.  Her partner’s face was pressed deep into her half-exposed cleavage while they continued to grind crotches.  She was looking up, eyeing the ceiling like she’d spotted a hidden camera.  Her mouth hung open slightly—obviously in secret, sexual bliss. I began to wonder where her date’s hands where.

“T-that’s…,” I started to say.

“Yes, it’s Mrs. Huggins,” Cherry finished up with her reply, “she’s been coming here for a month now.  Likes her girls boy-like.  Notice the bird she’s dancing with?”

“Fuck me… she could be your sister, an older version of you!”

Cherry’s grin grew until I thought her teeth would fall out.  Giggling into my ale I suddenly knew the answer to my week-old question.

“She’s gay,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief.  “I thought she was out getting banged by some bloke.”

“Bi-curious at least—sound familiar?” Cherry retorted.

“No, I might be bi but she’d have to be a dedicated quim-muncher to miss out on that hunk of meat her hubby is sporting.”

“You really liked him, didn’t you?”

“You didn’t?”

“Of course, but he’s not my speed.  You, however always did like the older gents.  Finish your pint and head to the bathroom.”

“Why?”

“It’s a surprise. By the look of it you’d better hurry.”

She was right.  Mrs. Huggins was panting on the dance floor and not from keeping up with the music’s beat.  I downed my pint in an unreasonable rate, got up and went to the loo.  Ignoring the casual caresses across my bum, the inviting grins and seductive winks I went back to where the johns where.  Going into the last stall I sat there and waited, feeling damn foolish until the door banged open and I heard two women come in.

“I can’t wait.  I’m hungry,” one of them said, her voice thin and excited.

“Me either—been a long week,” I heard Mrs. Huggins say in an almost-sob.

“Quick—this one’s free.”

The door to the stall next to me slammed open and then shut equally hard.  I could see a shoe, a red high heel almost invaded where I sat. 

H-her legs are spread so wide that has to be…, I thought.

Leaning down I could see the bottom half of a skinnier woman kneeling between Mrs. Huggins’ thighs.  Then the sounds started.

A rustling of gathered up material.

Fabric ripping away like a zipper.

A hot, anxious moan.

The blubbering womanly sigh.

What began next was a symphony of public bathroom sex.  I heard the lapping, wet sounds of a tongue across a damp twat.  My own was answering in hot, sudden moistness.  The scraping of high heels against the floor, slow at first.  The gasping of the kneeling woman, taking quick breaths between her oral assault.  Mrs. Huggins’ long sighs—desperate and unabashed echoed in the bathroom.  Reaching down, sliding my hand beneath my knickers I found, shockingly how aroused I was.  My knickers were damp.   My fingers were in my quim, squishing and sinking with a frantic pace before I could say John Bull.

“Did I get you all hot and bothered on the dance floor, Em?” Huggins’ lover asked.

“Oh yeah, your fingers got me all excited,” the landlady cried.

She did have her hand up Mrs. Huggins’ dress! I thought.

“Do you like… this better?” the other woman asked.

“Ah! Y-Yes!  My clitty… more t-tongue on my… clitty,” my mean old landlady replied.

Clitty?  Sounds like she said clitty…

“Ooooh, my poor clitty… it’s been missing your mouth.  No one eats me out like you do, Marsha,” Em said with a shuddering sigh.

“Mmmmm, so good… so wet,” her lover Marsha answered. “Your clitty is so ready, Em.”

Huggins’ legs began to push faster against the floor, the sloppy cunnilingus was driving her closer towards orgasm.  I basked in what I could enjoy going so far as to suck my wet fingers.  The sights, sounds and smells were erotically divine.

A hot sob of ecstasy.

The aroma of aroused twat.

The salty-sweet taste of my own fingers.

Red heels flashing and thrashing in the gap.

Riding my hand I listened further. I was hoping to last, to stave off my climax until Marsha made Em come so I could join in, peeper-style of course.  The idea of being a voyeur was arousing my lust even more. So much more.

“Ah!  Yes!” Huggins’ wailed, “M-Marsha… oh my M-Marsha… e-eat me… a-alive!”

“Mm… so good… love your quim… so tasty,” Marsha murmured.

“Oh god… your mouth… t-t-tongue… I can’t t-take it.”

“Yeah, rub my nose in it.”

I could picture her face mashing against the hairy pussy of my landlady, her cheeks glistening with a glazed biscuit-like frosting.  The smack-slap of hands hitting the stall’s sides, the scuffling feet and rattle of the loo’s lid made me drive my digits into my quim so hard and fast I had to bite down on the heel of my hand to keep from screaming when my orgasm hit me.

“Ooooh…  y-yes… oh god,” Huggins’ blubbered. “Ah!  Y-your fingers… i-in my twat… two… you’ve never… done that… Ah!  Oh!  Aagggh!”

“You love it… a pair of fingers in your pussy… I can tell,” Marsha mumbled.  “How about this?  The Yanks call it… the Shocker… two in the pink… one in the stink!”

“Aggh.  So dirty… oh that’s so dirty…”

“Wait ‘til I take you to my flat… use my fist on… your quim… you’ll scream.”

“Ah!  Don’t w-wiggle it, Marsha… oh please don’t… never mind, love… finger-bang me good!”

“Mmmmm.”

“Ah, poor clitty… so s-sensitive… need to c-cum.”

“Mmmmm.”

Her feet rubbing across the floor went into a frenzy of motion blurring across the tile until I thought I smelled burning leather.  The loo began to make dry grinding noises, the walls of the stall shook in wild fashion. Looking under I could see her calves wagging back and forth like a dog’s tail.  She was so close, I could tell her climax would come any second now.

“Yeah… grip my fingers… here’s a third… like that?” Marsha slurred past a mouth full of twat.

“Oh god!” Huggins shrieked.

“THREE in the pink…. one in the…”

“STINK!  ONE IN THE… MY STINK!”

“And mouth on your clitty!  Clitty-clitty-finger-bang-bang!”

I knew that was the coup de grace, the topper.

“Oh… no… yes, yes, yes!  I-I’m gonna… gonna… C-CUM!” Huggins’ wailed.

It sounded like some blind mad bull was thrashing around the stall next to me trying to break free.  Standing up out of fear and pressing against the opposite wall I pulled up my panties and licked my fingers clean. Meanwhile Mrs. Huggins came.

Loud and vulgar.

Hard and fast.

Making me hotter and jealous.

“OH YEAH… STUFF ‘EM IN!” She screamed, “I L-LOVE IT… LOVE IT, I DO!”

Screams turned to moans, her moans whittling down to gasps and eventually to heavy breaths.  It was over, but it took forever.  I managed to exit the stall before the two of them got pulled back together and caught me.  I hadn’t made it out before hearing the post-match commentary. 

“Damn, Emma,” Marsha said, “You nearly broke my fingers.”

“I’ll make it up to you… later,” Mrs. Huggins replied her voice cooing.

“Promise to make me scream?”

“I bought a new toy—just for the express purpose of hearing you yell until you go hoarse.”

I departed while they giggled.  On shaky legs I made my way to the table.  Unlike when I went to the loo I almost, just nearly accepted one or two offers to dance.   Especially when one very attractive girl touched my still-quivering bum made me jump.  My legs weren’t up to dancing at the moment they were shaking too much.  But I memorized her face, for when I calmed down.  Perhaps she, Cherry and I could have a nice romp later and I could see what this Shocker thing was all about.  My bum shivered at the thought of it, John’s cock momentarily forgotten.  Eventually I arrived where Cherry was sitting… and smiling just like the proverbial cat that ate the canary.

“So?” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“You’re right.  She’s a bonafide lesbian,” I said, taking a sip of my refilled glass.

“Yeah, quaint isn’t it? I came last month with Toni, caught them in the bathroom just like you did.”

“Bloody hell!  I thought she was a dried up, sexless old bitch.”

“Nah, she’s just playing for the opposing team, she is.”

“So, what does this mean?”

“Wait until the first of the month. It’ll all be clear then.”

Cherry laughed.  I knew, sort of, what my roomie was up to.  Emma Huggins and the mysterious Marsha appeared.  The two women, one still brain-foggy from her orgasm and the other in giddy anticipation of more erotic fun passed by us not seeing who was watching.

But we watched, smiled… and made plans.

____________________

There’s more to Steph and Cherry’s story; read more of their sexy encounter here.

Christopher Newman has been a resident the same county all of his fifty years.  Currently he resides at Imagination Street and Depraved Boulevard.   A lifelong fan of sci-fi, sword-and-sorcery, horror, mystery, and erotica Chris has been reading and writing since he was first able to do both.  You can find more about him at www.christophercnewman.wordpress.com.

Read Christopher’s other sexy stories posted on Every Night Erotica here.

At first, I feel a surge of anger. This is my bar. If he’s going to come back to this town, he should know to stay away. There’s just enough liquor in my system that my lips are loose, and I’m in prime form to go tell him off for encroaching on my territory. But I don’t think he’s seen me, and if he has, he’s not showing any inclination to approach. In fact, he looks uncomfortable and a little sad as he sits there sipping his beer. I’m sober enough for my common sense to still be working, and I decide it’s best to lurk at my usual table rather than making trouble. Settling back and watching him, I avert my eyes when he turns in my direction.

Seeing him down the last of his beer and stand up, I can’t help but smile at the thought of having the place all to myself again. But rather than head for the exit, he turns in my direction, and it’s all I can do to not let my jaw drop at his audacity when he sits at my table.

“I hope I’m not interrupting, but I couldn’t help but notice you’re here all alone. I’ve been admiring you from across the room. I’m Jake.”

I have to restrain myself from throwing the dregs of my drink into his face. Even when our marriage was starting to dissolve, we still liked to play this game, in this bar, pretending we didn’t know each other, going to a hotel and acting like we were having anonymous sex. I want to slap him for his audacity to come to my bar and play this game. But it’s exactly that audacity that makes my body start to tingle, and I respond cordially.

“My name is Kate.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure. Gin and tonic, please.” Part of me thinks that this is a terrible idea. Another part of me thinks his ass still looks good as he turns to walk to the bar.

“Do you come here often?” he asks as he sets the glass in front of me.

I try not to laugh. “You could say I’m a regular. What about you?”

“Oh, I’m just in town on business. I work in California.”

“Doing what?”

“I’m in IT, in town for a few days supervising a project at my company’s regional office. This place looked nice, so I thought I’d stop in and get a drink.”

“Are you going to have any time for sightseeing while you’re here?”

“Well, it’s a work trip, but I’m hoping for a little time to tour the city.” His hand slips under the table and across my thigh. “Especially if I happen to find a good tour guide.”

“I’d be happy to show you around.” I know it’s the wrong thing to say, that I shouldn’t even be letting him talk to me, much less planning to take him around town.

“In that case, I seem to be a little disoriented. I’m not sure which route to take back to my hotel, and my rental car doesn’t have a GPS device. Could you possibly help me out?”

He’s so sincere that for a moment, I’m not sure he’s playing a game. Maybe he was in some horrible accident and has amnesia, and he has no clue who I am. But then he gives me a wink and a familiar half-grin as he puts down cash for the bar tab. Now I’m certain: he knows exactly what he’s doing.

The smart thing would be to tell him to fuck off, to go home. But I can’t resist seeing where this is going.

“I can give you directions. Where are you staying?”

“The Hilton downtown.”

“I know exactly where that is. Let’s go.”

I spend the next ten minutes navigating a city that I’m certain Jack still knows by heart. I’m grateful, though, for the fabricated need – it means we don’t have to make conversation, don’t have to run the risk of spoiling the game. We don’t say anything as we hurriedly navigate the hotel halls. Fortunately, the posh suite is a conversation piece.

“Nice place. Your employer seems to be treating you well.”

“They want to keep me happy. Would you like a drink?”

I’m nervous enough to want one, but I don’t want to get any tipsier than I already am. I’m pretty sure the drinks I had at the bar had at least some effect on my decision to come here, and I don’t need more alcohol facilitating bad decisions – I can make them perfectly well without liquid assistance.

“I’m fine.”

“In that case,” he starts, but I don’t give him the chance to finish his sentence. To quell my fear, I reach up and kiss him.

It’s as though the intervening years haven’t happened, as though the drama of the final months of our marriage had never come to pass. I’m suddenly hit by his taste and all the heat that comes with it. He has one hand on my hip, the other cupping my breast, and his teeth bite at my lip before he brings their sharp tension to my neck. My knees buckle and I sit down hard on the bed, the mattress bouncing with my weight and sending me deeper into the kiss. He climbs onto my hips, sending me flat on my back, but it’s not long before I flip him over, pinning his arms with my knees so he can only watch as I remove my shirt and bra. I keep my knees pressing into his hands as I lean forward and let my nipples brush against his chest. His cock reaches full hardness against my jeans, and I finally release him. My plan is to undress him, but he grabs me before I can roll away, unzipping my pants. I shimmy out of them and my panties, sliding up until my cunt is poised directly over his mouth. I don’t have to say a word; he tightens his hands around my thighs and starts licking, thrusting his face up to gently bite the hot skin, then sliding his tongue deep between my slit, gliding along the edges before focusing on my clit. He moves one hand away from my hip and eases it up inside me, hooking my G-spot with his fingertip, massaging in deep swirls that match the ones his tongue makes. As I come, I struggle to stay upright as as my muscles release their pent-up energy.

I slide back down his body to kiss him, tasting myself. Finally, I move to unbutton his shirt, unbuckle his belt, unzip his pants. Once he’s naked, I’m not sure what to do with him. It’s as though I’ve forgotten how to have sex. I can’t seem to remember what sorts of things he enjoys. But I try to shake myself out of it. There is nothing to fear. This is only a game. He’s not my husband or my ex-husband. He’s a stranger.

“Get on that chair,” I command, pointing towards the elegant desk set. He stands up, slightly unsteady, struggling to walk with his erection. Once he’s made himself comfortable, I climb over his lap and lower myself onto his cock, digging my nails into his shoulders as I start to thrust into him. We kiss again and his hands squeeze my waist so hard I’m sure I’ll have bruises in the morning, but I don’t care. I rise and fall on him, faster and faster, and as my breath goes ragged and I moan with orgasm, he throws his head back and gasps as his cock gives three final pulses.

I lower my head into the crook of his neck, feel his heart beating against my chest, wait for the awkward part. Back in the day, when we were married, orgasm signaled the end of the game. We’d kiss and enjoy the afterglow as a married couple rather than strangers. The rules are different now, but nobody explained them beforehand. Instinct tells me to go. It’s time. I stand up and head to the bed, reach for my clothes.

“I had a great time,” I say with the first genuine smile of the evening. “But I should probably be heading home.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s getting late. One question, though.”

“Yes?”

“Can I have your number?”

Part of me wants to ask if he’s serious, but I don’t want to break the spell, don’t want to ruin the fun. I don’t know what he’d want with my number, if he’s intending to call it, or what I’d say if I picked up and found him on the other end. But I find myself writing it down anyway.

“Thanks.” He hands me a business card in return. “I’m in town until the 19^th.”

“Maybe I’ll see you around.”

He smiles again as I open the door. “Maybe.”

____________________

Dorla Moorehouse has another sexy story published here on Every Night Erotica, read Good Gay Poets.

Dorla Moorehouse is an author and dancer living in Austin, Texas, where she shares a home with her husband and a small menagerie. You can read more about her work at http://dorlamoorehouse.com.

“Well,” I told him. “We’ll just have to rectify that, won’t we?”

So a few days later, I kicked open my bedroom door while he sat on the edge of the bed waiting for me.

“This is a bust,” I told him.

I had on my favorite stilettos and a brand new sexy little cop suit, complete with a pair of thigh-high black fishnets bearing little silver badges.

He glanced up, surprised. I cocked a hip, my cute little fake outfit shifting with me. I threw off the hat and mirrored sunglasses and told him he was under arrest.

Alex gave a shout of laughter and climbed to his feet.

“For what?”

“For this concealed weapon.”

When I ran my hand down the front of his pants, his hard-on was so rigid it felt like stone. I couldn’t wait to get it inside me, so I kissed him and wrestled him to the floor, pausing just long enough to slap him hard across the face.

He stared up at me, shocked.

“What was that for?”

“That’s for resisting.”

He grinned and rubbed his sore cheek as I smiled down at him. The longing and hunger overtook me and I jammed his pants down and shoved the tiny strip of fabric laughingly known as my panties out of the way. I grabbed hold of his cock and stuffed it inside me, then I slapped his face again.

He pulled me down and kissed me and I rode his cock with a slow, mean-ass grind. I quickened my pace when he started fucking me back, raising his hips off the floor to thrust deeper into me, as carried away as I was by then.

“Oh, Alex, I love you with all my heart. Please don’t ever leave me.”

For some reason this made him go crazy and he flipped me over and pinned my wrists over my head.

“I only wish I knew if you meant that,” he told me. “But why can’t we get off this itchy goddamn rug?”

“Let’s get up on the bed,” I told him. “I just thought of something fun we can do.”

A little while later, Alex was pleading from under the blindfold.

“Come on, Samantha. Are you going to tickle my balls with that thing all night, or what?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

He rattled the headboard, pulling at the silk scarves binding him to each corner of the bed.

“This isn’t funny any more,” he told me, his voice growing urgent.

And I said, “Shhh. Don’t get all nervous, Alex. Nothing’s wrong here.”

When he calmed down I took a little bit of baby oil and warmed it in my hands. I reached down and rubbed it all over his crotch, his cock, his sack, his asshole, and all the skin in between, in long, teasing strokes.

He writhed on the bed, unable to stretch himself far enough for true pleasure, and his voice turned husky, enticing.

“Oh, God, Samantha, please?”

“Don’t worry,” I promised. “I’ll let you come. I will. In a little while.”

He struggled to free himself again and I had the pleasure of watching him writhe and moan and swear his undying devotion to me, if only I’d please, please, please let him come.

“Not yet,” I told him. “I need to fuck your face first.”

He sighed in frustration.

“Come on. You’re torturing me.”

I laughed at his futile efforts to escape.

“There’s nowhere you can go,” I told him, climbing up and straddling his chin. “You’re stuck here, and now you’re my slave.”

To prove it, I grabbed onto the headboard for leverage and positioned my hot, wet pussy right over his mouth.

He became interested and touched his tongue to my slit, exploring me with the only tool he had available. His soft tongue darted in and out and I rocked against him, his nose stimulating my secret little nub as I rode his mouth.

“You’re mine,” I told him. “You’re my slave, my captive, my instrument of pleasure, and your tongue’s my little sex toy.”

He moaned into my cunt and I threw back my head, an unbearable tension taking over. My body and mind rushed ahead of me until at last I hit the wall, fucking his face frantically, grinding out every last vestige of orgasm I could.

When I finally climbed up off him, his chin was sloppy wet and I kissed him, tasting myself.

“I did mean it,” I told him. “I did mean what I said.”

He smiled, his lips trembling.

“Then can you let me up? My shoulder’s starting to ache.”

I immediately set to work, but it took a minute. All his thrashing around had tightened the knots a little, but when he was finally free, he pulled off the blindfold and smiled at me.

“That was amazing,” he told me. “What are you doing to me, Samantha? What kind of freak are you turning me into?”

I giggled, taking it as the compliment it was surely meant to be.

“The good kind, silly.”

After that we made love again, gently, calmly, just touching each other, caressing, soft whispers from both of us about how perfect we were for each other.

And okay, so maybe I didn’t go into much detail about how much I truly loved him, but I’m pretty sure he understood it without all those words. And I let him drift off to sleep when we were done, snuggling up behind him like I was the guy for a change and knowing how much my best friend would love hearing how badly I’m warping poor Alex when I told him in the morning.

___________________

Read Angela’s other stories published on Every Night Erotica, here.

Angela has penned two romances and is the author of the zombie blog After Old Joe.  Her stories and reviews have appeared on numerous websites and she sometimes writes erotica under her pen name, AR Shannon.  You may contact her at angiesargenti@yahoo.com or at www.afteroldjoe.wordpress.com.

After a brief pause, DoomChylde69 replied.  “I could say the same to you.  I don’t wanna unknowingly cyber with a chick.  Where’s the fun in that?”

Before Zeke could reply, DoomChylde69 sent another message.  “Or you could be really old with hair everywhere but your head.  That would be a major mood killer.”

“I’m not an old, hairy, bald guy!” Zeke shot back.  “I’m eighteen, for fuck’s sake.  And I’m not a chick.”

“Prove it,” DoomChylde69 responded simply.

Zeke sighed, running a hand through his spikey black hair.  “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” he typed.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” DoomChylde69 said, adding a winking smiley to the end of the message.

“Fair enough,” Zeke replied.  He poked around on the computer, trying to figure out how to activate the webcam attached to the monitor.  Technology wasn’t his strong suit.  More often than not, he just wound up breaking the stuff.  It didn’t help that the computer wasn’t even his but his friend Collin’s.

“Dammit, C-note, how do you work this thing?” he muttered.  He didn’t get a response.  Collin wasn’t home.  Zeke had snuck into his friend’s house, hoping to loot some booze from Collin’s parents’ liquor cabinet.  Seeing the chat program up and running, he quickly became distracted and decided to mess with people in a virtual way.  How he’d segued into cybering with some chick who may or may not actually be a chick, Zeke wasn’t sure.

But now he was committed to it.  If only he could get the webcam working.

“Ha!” Zeke declared triumphantly as a box popped up and let him see what the webcam saw.  “Good enough for you?” he typed into the chat window.

“For now,” DoomChylde69 messaged back.  A moment later, another box popped up, asking if Zeke wanted to view ‘her’ webcam.

“Let’s see what we’re dealing with here,” Zeke muttered before clicking on the accept button.  Another video feed appeared next to his.  He let out a groan of disappointment.  “Dude, not cool.  I’m not cybering with some twelve-year-old boy.”

“Hey!”

Zeke jumped as he heard the voice coming through the computer’s speakers.  The supposed ‘chick’ glared at him through the internet.  Zeke cursed, realizing the computer must have a microphone.  He looked at the mildly annoyed person on the video feed.  Hair shorter than his dyed a myriad of colors.  Sure, the facial features were a bit feminine, but that could just as easily be explained by a lack of hitting puberty yet.

“I’m a girl, dammit!” the person on the video feed persisted.

“You could’ve fooled me,” Zeke said.  “Actually, you are fooling me.”

“I’ll prove it,” DarkChylde69 shot back.  After a flutter of movement on the screen, an ID came into focus.  The picture on the ID was clearly the same person.  The name read: Louise ‘Lulu’ Mathews.  Next to gender was a single letter.  F.

Zeke squinted at the ID and smirked.  “Nice fake ID.  Look, I’m not into cross-dressers.”

“Oh, you dick,” Lulu hissed, tossing the ID down.  She yanked her shirt up, exposing her bare chest to the camera.

“Whoa,” Zeke gasped.  They were small, nearly nonexistent, but Lulu clearly had breasts.  “Okay, that’s mildly convincing.  But not a hundred percent.  I’ve seen moobs before.”

Lulu lowered her shirt and smirked.  “Nice try,” she said.  “Quid pro quo, motherfucker.  Let’s see what the skinny white boy’s hiding.”

“Fine.”  Zeke pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside.  “It’s warm in here anyway.”

Lulu grinned playfully.  “I think it’s gonna get a whole lot warmer real quick.”  She followed suit, tugging her shirt up again and slipping it all the way off.  Zeke leaned forward, taking a better look at her bare breasts.

Maybe he’d judged her too harshly.  Sure, she was the epitome of androgyny, but her tits – while small – were pretty juicy.  Light glinted off the barbells piercing Lulu’s light pink nipples.  Lulu laughed.  “You are a total noob.”

Zeke’s brow furrowed.  “I am not!  I’ve done things of a sexy nature before.  Why, just the other night – “

“Not interested in your previous sexual conquests,” Lulu interrupted.  “Also not what I meant.”  She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms under her breasts.  “Have you ever even used a computer before?”

“Huh?”

“Double-click on me.”

“What?”

Lulu sighed, rolling her eyes.  “Move the mouse cursor over my video feed and click twice.  In rapid succession.”

Zeke moved the mouse over Lulu’s digitized image.  He placed the tip of the arrow on one of her pierced nipples and double-clicked.  The image enlarged, filling the monitor.  “Sweet!”

“You clicked on my tits, didn’t you?” Lulu asked, amusement in her voice.

“Um, maybe.”

Lulu laughed.  “Need more proof that I’m a girl?”

“Are you offering?”  Zeke wasn’t exactly sure where things were headed, but he liked the look of it.  His cock throbbed in his jeans.  Absently, his hand moved down to rub at the bulge.

Lulu raised an eyebrow.  “Are you gonna reciprocate?”

Zeke smirked.  “If I like what I see.”  He suspected he would like what he saw.  Who knew computers could be so much fun?

“You better,” Lulu said.  She scooted up in her chair and unfastened her pants.  Wiggling out of them, Zeke caught glimpses of boney legs and dark panties.  Lulu stood, the top half of her body leaving the view of the webcam.  Zeke stared, his breathing growing heavy as he watched Lulu hook her thumbs into the waistband of her panties.  She slowly pushed them down her legs.

Zeke gasped as he saw Lulu’s bare crotch.  His cock twitched in his pants.  She was most definitely a chick.  Zeke had his pants open by the time Lulu dropped back into her chair.  She looked expectantly into the camera.  “Well?”

“I take back all the bad things I said about you,” he told her, slipping a hand into his boxers and feeling the warm hardness of his cock.

“That’s nice,” Lulu said, nodding towards him.  “But I was asking about the reciprocation you promised.”

Zeke felt a spark of nervousness.  Exposing himself to the young woman on the other end of the computer seemed like a good idea a minute ago.  Now, he wasn’t so sure.  What if she didn’t like what she saw?  What if she was recording the whole thing to post on some website?  Another thought struck him.  Why wasn’t he recording this whole thing to post on some website?

The answer to that question was simple enough.  He had no idea how to make the stupid computer record the video feed.

“Helloo?”  Lulu snapped her fingers at Zeke, drawing him out of his thoughts.  “What’s taking so long?”

Zeke sighed, steeling his nerves.  “Alright, alright,” he said.  He lifted himself from the seat and pushed his boxers down.  “There.”

“There what?” Lulu said, mildly annoyed as she squinted into the camera.  “I can’t see anything.  You’re sitting too close to the webcam.  Scoot back.”

Zeke scooted back.  With Lulu’s image filling the screen, he couldn’t see his own, but he saw her eyes shift down.  She grinned.  “Not bad for a skinny white boy.”

“Shut up,” Zeke snapped, although there wasn’t much force in the words.  As he scooted back, so had Lulu.  She lifted her legs and rested her feet on the edge of her desk, giving him an unobstructed view of her pussy.  “A couple minutes ago, I thought you were a skinny white boy.”

“And what do you think now?” Lulu asked seductively.  Her hand moved between her legs, pushing her cunt lips apart.

Zeke’s fingers wrapped around his dick and pumped slowly.  He was having trouble coming up with an answer to her question, too focused on watching her.  Lulu moaned as she rubbed her clit.  Zeke’s hand moved faster against his cock.  Lulu reached up to cup one of her small breasts, tweaking her pierced nipple.  Zeke imagined it was his hand on her breast.  He could almost feel the soft warmth of her tit contrasted against the coolness of the metal barbell through her nipple.

Lulu’s question remained unanswered as they both focused on pleasuring themselves.  Their eyes focused on their monitors, watching the other masturbate.  Their breathing grew heavier.  Their hips jutted up from their chairs in mock fucking motions.

“Keep it together, white boy,” Lulu hissed as she pumped two fingers into her wet cunt.  “I want you to cum with me.  Alright?”

Zeke nodded.  Sweat dripped into his eye and he cursed at the sting.  His jaw clenched as he pumped his dick faster.  He hoped she was getting close, because he didn’t know how much longer he could last.

“I’m close,” Lulu told him, her voice husky.  Her thumb stroked against her clit, rubbing back and forth against the little nub.  Her face scrunched up and she let out a soft whimper.  “Oh, I’m so close.  Get ready.”

Zeke was ready.  He’d been ready.  He wanted to scream at her that if he was any more ready, he’d be done.  Still, he held on, waiting for Lulu’s cue.

Lulu’s back arched.  She inhaled deeply.  Her eyes fluttered into the back of her head.  “I’m cumming!” she shrieked.

And not a moment too soon.  Zeke grunted and let himself go.  He felt his hot cum splatter against his stomach, shooting a messy line up his midsection.  He groaned as the pleasure washed over him.  On the monitor, Lulu writhed in her own ecstasy, her inner thighs glistening with sweat and cum.

As their climaxes subsided, they each slumped back into their seats.  Lulu wiped sweat from her brow.  “That was fucking awesome.  Same time tomorrow night?”

Zeke cursed.  I so need a fucking computer…

____________________

Come back next Sunday for the conclusion of this sexy tale.

Indy is a favorite author here on Every Night Erotica, if you would like to read more from the XXX series click here.

Indy McDaniel lives in Florida and has been writing stories since he figured out how to scrawl letters onto dead trees. He’s been featured in such anthologies as ‘Fem-Fangs’, ‘Leather, Denim & Silver’, ‘How the West Was Wicked’, and ‘Sinisterotica’. If you’re interested in reading more of his erotic works, check out http://deathstalker.libriserotica.com/. His Twitter handle is @steelcorpfilms.

Six foot-tall, two-armed playing cards stand around me.  Some, like me, are royal blue.  Others, who serve Santiago Diamondking II, king of Cardspain, are carnation red.  Their picture-framed clothes are deep purple.

Santiago Diamondking II’s three-dimensional member caresses, spurts over the Heartjack’s open purple lips. 

The red Heartjack, whose name I don’t know, looks around.  Always thinking about better positions, those knavish palace jockeys!

Polly Diamondqueen, my Queen – in name only, she’s cuckolding consort to my sovereign – is lying in the middle of the central cushions, reveling in her lovers’ tantric antics. 

Trent Treyhearts, loyal to the Queen and stupid as a puppy, buries his face and tongue in her sex, making snarfling noises while one of Polly’ s chambermaids fucks his slightly rounded buttocks with a royal blue strap-on. 

Polly comes, clutching his head edges.  She pushes him away, forcing Darla Diamondeuce to surcease her almost-rapturous thrusts in Trent’s rectum.

Darla is a luscious, loving lay.  I, Stephen Jokerman, arranger of Polly’s get-togethers, share Darla’s bed when these soirees are done. 

It breaks my heart to set these get-togethers up for “polyamorous Polly” (as Darla calls her).  But if I tell my monogamy-minded monarch, Frederick Heartking IV, about it, he won’t believe me.  He won’t hear any criticism about his manipulative, scheming wife. 

Polly’s moans get louder.  Trent fucks her hard, the King of Cardspain watching, while he fondles his wine glass, his cock half-limp.

Polly screams, panting hard, and comes again.

Darla, giving me a sideways look, exits the chamber as a Jackspade Guard opens one of the wooden doors for her. 

Soon, I nod.  She nods back, half-smiling.

Someone taps quietly on the door.  One of the Jackspade Guards, blue and burly, opens it.

Two tall, skinny cards, members of the oft-feared Tarot, enter the Queen’s Orgy Room.

One of the Tarots, Charles Deathtarot, ink-framed with a sickle-bearing Grim Reaper, is friend and kin to my King. 

Charles snaps his fingers.  The seven red and blue Jackspade Guards drop to the ground, dead.

Charles smiles.  “Thank you, Stephen, for inviting us.  We’ll fix any problems with Frederick.  Now, go enjoy your honeymoon with Darla!”

As I leave, Charles’ companion, an unfamiliar Tower tarot, hums a Blue Öyster Cult song that sounds hit-familiar.

The Tower’s frame-picture frontside – a tower struck by lightning, above a falling man – addresses Polly, who, blanching, starts to get up.

“I’m James Lightningtower,” he tells her. “This, as you know, is Charles, cousin to your husband, your king–“

The wooden door slams shut.

She is so fucked.

____________________

This story was originally published, under the title Dreamrealms: blasphēmos gamisia, on the Erotica Reader & Writers Association website in October 2009.  It was republished in Steve’s anthology Charge of the scarlet b-sides: microsex stories & poems (available at Lulu.com).

Steve Isaak, also published under the name Nikki Isaak, lives in California.  He is the author of the anthologies  “Charge of the scarlet b-sides: microsex stories & poems” and “Behind the wheel: selected poems”. (available at Lulu.com).   He is also the author/editor of  www.readingbypublight.blogspot.com and the multi-author www.microstoryaweek.blogspot.com.

I started to pull out of her when she grabbed my hips. “Not yet” she said, and grabbed a handful of tissues from the bedside table. She wrapped them round my cock and wiped me as I pulled out, finishing by wiping herself.

“Very romantic.” I said.

“I don’t want to sleep in the damp patch”

She rolled on her side, her back to me, still wearing that little smile, and snuggled up close. I had an arm under her head and cupped a breast as we spooned. She wiggled her rump into my groin, rubbing my limp dick with her buttocks. Sunshine came through the open windows. Sex in the afternoon was rapidly becoming one of the pleasures of retirement.

“And how was it for you?” she asked.

“Need you ask?” I replied, “I needn’t ask how it was for you.”

“Why not?”

“I could ask the neighbours, with the screaming you were doing.” I said, and she laughed, wiggling against me some more. If the truth be told, watching my normally self-composed better half lose all control and thrash and scream under me, my cock buried to the hilt in her is the best part of making love with her. It’s always the final stimulus to push me over the edge.

“It’s nice to be able to let rip. It wasn’t always all right.”

“No, I remember when we first got together. Sneaking down the corridor, tip-toe past your parent’s room to yours.”

“Then, making love without a sound, in the dark.”

“Hard work, that.”

“Damn hard not to scream when I came. I had to bury my face in the pillows.”

I laughed. “Yes, I remember. I was always afraid you’d suffocate.”

“And Mum knew, anyway.”

“She did? How?”

Said I always had a twinkle in my eyes at breakfast the next morning. Course, it was years later she told me.”

“No problems when we got married and had our own place though.”

“Not till the kids came along.”

“Waking them up at just the wrong moment?”

“We have a telephone to interrupt at that moment, anyway. And they got older, and had questions like ‘What are you doing to Mummy, Dad?’ Hard to answer at that particular time.”

“Well, now they’re grown and off by themselves, so no problems, anymore.”

She turned round and kissed me gently

“Don’t get too used to it. We are looking after the little one this weekend.”

“Oh? They off for a dirty weekend of rampant sex? Dump the offspring with the grandparents?”

“Like father, like son, I’d say. We did the same, remember?”

“Of course.”

“Barcelona.” She whispered.

“Rome.” I countered.

“Athens”. She trumped.

“Oh God, yes, Athens.”

It had been a scorching hot summer, even by Greece’s standards. Upper 40s, at least, and not much cooler come evening. The air conditioning in the hotel had broken, and we would lie naked on our bed, with the balcony door open, letting any breeze there was play over our bodies.

We would make love by the moonlight. The heat of the night and the sauna like quality of our room just fuelled the raw sex. We clutched each other leaving scratches from nails on hips and backs, pulling hair in our frantic need to be at each other. I would push into her as she wrapped her legs around me, lifting her hips and pushing against me in an effort to draw me deeper inside.

We clutched flesh to be defeated by skin made slick with sweat, our hands slipping off each other. At the peak I would climb over her, her favourite position, my weight on my hands, her rump would be raised up high offering her sex to me as I plunged vertically in and out. And she would scream her orgasm, thrashing her head side to side, with her hands screwing up the sheets on either side of us. As she came, I would too, pumping my cum into her with a yell from my own throat joining hers in a duo of wordless noise.

“We almost got asked to leave that hotel.” I remembered.

“Not my fault. They should have built the place with thicker walls.”

“Only one neighbour complained, though.”

“The other side would have, if they hadn’t been out on their balcony, watching us.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Most embarrassing moment of my life when I spotted them.” She giggled.

“Never stopped the repeat performances, did it?”

“No. I guess I kinda got used to an audience. After all, after the first one, there wasn’t anything they hadn’t seen, was there?”  She pinched my belly, playfully? “There’s a bit more of you these days than there was back in Athens.” I responded by squeezing her rump.

“Speak for yourself.” I said.

She slid her hand downwards. My cock had started to grow as the memories of Athens flowed through me. Her fingers circled the shaft and gripped. “And there seems to be a bit more of you here than there was just five minutes ago.” She breathed into my ear, which made my cock grow even larger. “Are you up for another go?”

“I think you’ve persuaded me” I said, dipping a finger into her pussy, and softly stroking her clit with my thumb. She took a sharp intake of breath as I did so, and gripped me tighter.

Wordlessly, she pushed me and we rolled over, with her on top. Her eyes were closed, and a smile played on her lips. She guided my cock, and moved the head up and down over her pussy lips, still slick with our earlier loving. Then she lowered herself onto me, enveloping me as she sank down. As my cock sank into her a deep sigh escaped from her. She rested when I was fully inside, just for a moment, and then we began the rhythm that had given us both so much pleasure over the years.

____________________

Read Roger’s other sexy stories published on Every Night Erotica, here.

You may find more of Roger here: www.rogertedman.info.

His gaze followed her to the clear glass basin where she washed her hands, glancing over her shoulder to shoot him a smile.  “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

“Looking forward to what?” he asked, rising to his feet.  The innocence of his tone bordered on snide.

“You know what,” she replied, unzipping her purse.  “All evening, I couldn’t wait to lock the front door, send home the staff and wait for the owner to corner me.”

“Brezida,” Jack whispered into her hair, hovering close behind her as she bent toward the mirror to freshen her lipstick.  Even on a store mannequin, that low-cut wrap-around dress would have given him a hard-on.  Oh, who was he kidding?  He’d be drooling if he caught a glimpse of it on a wire hanger.  But the classy striped dress, just barely clinging to Brezida’s flesh, beckoned him all through her shift.

“Brazilian Brezida,” he growled, digging her tits out of her black lace bra.  They were perfect.  Firm but yielding, they seemed to melt into his hands.  He pressed them together, watching in the mirror as her cleavage augmented threefold.

“I’m from El Salvador, you ignorant low-life,” Brezida teased, rubbing her ass against him.

He took in a sharp breath and the familiar scent of her perfume filled his lungs.  As she massaged his hard cock with her fleshy posterior, Jack ran both hands down the front of her dress.  “I wasn’t talking countries of origin.”

Brezida smirked, spreading her legs.  When he rubbed her pussy through the smooth fabric of that erection-enhancing dress, she writhed against his hand.  “You want a Brazilian?” she murmured, grasping his fingers as she lifted her skirt.  “Here it is.”

When he plunged his eager fingers beneath her sheer g-string, she guided them down her baby-smooth mound and between her soft lips.  Her slit was bursting with juice when he slid his fingers inside.  God, he couldn’t wait to fuck her, and she’d be begging for it in a minute, but Jack liked to take his time, to tease his managing partner.  He rubbed her clit, stepping backward and pulling up the hem of her dress so they could watch in the mirror.  Brezida let her g-string fall to the floor.  Her big tits heaved as she writhed against Jack’s hand.

Her stiletto heel stabbed his toe when she pushed against him, forcing him down on the sofa.

“You just can’t wait for it, can you?” he said with a devilish smirk.

“I can’t wait to fuck you.”  Her breath was hot on his lips.  “I can’t wait to feel your huge cock in my cunt.  I can’t wait to throw my tits in your face and feel your tongue all over them.”

Jack could take a hint.  As she fished a condom from the depths of her purse, he pressed his face into her breasts until he could barely breathe.  “God, I love your tits!”

“I love your cock,” she cooed, rubbing its drooling tip through his black slacks.  She undid his belt and the fly of his pants, his firm erection from his jockey shorts and stroking it between her palms. “Just taking this huge thing in my hands gets me so wet.”

“Does it?  Does my cock turn you on?”

“Oh yeah,” she growled, slipping a condom down the length of his firm shaft.  With the snap of latex, his cock pulsed against her palm.

“How about this?” he asked, sucking her aroused nipple into his mouth.

Brezida moaned, throwing her head back so her long black hair landed against his balls.  “I love that!”

“What else?” Jack asked, switching tits.  “Tell me what else turns you on.”

Smacking her clit with his sheathed hard-on, she turned toward the frosted glass of the women’s bathroom door.  Some figment of her imagination must have given her a fright, because she paused, distracted, staring at the brushed nickel door handle like it was about to turn.  She shook her head, sending black hair flailing.  “I think we have rats.”

“What restaurant doesn’t?” he replied with a shrug.  “Come on, now, sit on my cock.”

She hovered over him like she might change her mind, like she might decide she didn’t want to fuck him today after all. A keen smirk bled across her lips as she grasped the base of his shaft.  Falling on his firm cock, she let it pierce her core.  She cried out like its mass was killing her, and her thrill sent a shiver right through him.  Pulling her close, he sucked hard on her tits.

“You want to know what turns me on?” she cried, running her hands through his hair.  She spoke loudly, almost shouting.  “You want to know what really turns me on, Jack Bannerman?  That you’re here with me while you’re wife’s at home in bed.  I love that you lie to her.  I love that you fuck me every night after the restaurant closes and she’s totally clueless about it.”

“Yeah?” Jack asked with a breathy laugh.  “Really?  That gets you hot?”

“Oh yes, Jack Bannerman.  Or should I say Mayor Bannerman?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jack gushed, warmed by her confidence.  “The election’s two weeks away.”

“Oh, you’ll win it, Jack,” Brezida cried, hurling herself at his cock.  Her pussy devoured it all the way to the root, until he was swimming in her juices.  She was so wet her nectar streamed through his pubic hair, soaking his balls.  “Doesn’t it turn you on, Jack Bannerman?  Doesn’t it get you hot, knowing this whole town thinks you’re Mr Morality?  And here you are every night, getting fucked by a slut from the restaurant.”

Did it turn him on?  Jack growled like a grizzly.  He pressed her tits together and drove his face between them, licking them, sucking them, kissing them in a frenzy.  “Brezida!” he howled, bucking up at her so she bounced in his lap.  “Yeah, give it to me, you little slut.  Your tits are mine!”

“Shit, yeah, Mr Mayor.  My tits are yours!” she cried, licking his ear.

“You think you can give it up around town, but your tight cunt is mine.  You’re all mine.”

“I’m all yours, Mayor Bannerman!”

Releasing her breasts, he grasped her hips, holding her body still as he drove his hard cock up inside her.  She threw her head back and opened her sweet red lips.  Her tits heaved and fell, bouncing with every thrust he issued.  As her long hair fell against his throbbing balls, Jack pressed his face against her chest, crying out.

She pulled away from him, leaning back until her hands were behind her, resting on his knees, and he couldn’t reach her nipples.  “Say my name.”

“Brezida!” he cried, and she leaned forward so he could press his face into her luscious tits as he came.  Gasping, he looked up into her eyes.  “Wow!  That was fucking incredible.”

“Shit, yeah it was, Mayor Bannerman,” she agreed, lovingly petting his cheek as she assessed him with large hazel eyes.

Crawling from his lap, she collapsed on the sofa as Jack stood up to lose the condom and wash the tell-tale pussy juice from his pants.  She tucked her tits back into her bra and arranged her dress as he headed for the bathroom door.

“You’re leaving?” she hollered as he reached for the handle.

Turning on his heels, he asked, “Do I have your permission?”

She stared at the frosted glass door, wide-eyed.

“Afraid of the rats?” Jack laughed.

Snapping back into reality, Brezida teased, “If I had an aversion to rats, I wouldn’t be fucking you every night.”

Grinning, Jack opened the door and sauntered between the tables stacked with chairs.  “Hasta mañana, Brezida.”

____________________

Don’t miss Part Two of this sexy encounter posted one week from today.  Giselle is a favorite author here on Every Night Erotica, read more of her sexy stories.

Eroticist Giselle Renarde is a queer Canadian, avid volunteer, contributor to more than 50 short story anthologies, and author of dozens of electronic and print books, including Anonymous, Ondine, and My Mistress’ Thighs. Ms Renarde lives across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head.

For more information on Giselle and her work, visit her website at www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/erotica or visit her Donuts and Desires blog at www.donutsdesires.blogspot.com.

The news excited him. He completed his homework and waited.

Grandma came in with a girl. “Elsie, this is the young man I told you about.”

She looked at him and instantly liked him.

“Tomboy, show her around and talk away for some time.”

Grandma half closed the door and went downstairs.

Tom surveyed her. She looked charming in her vest, chatta and mundu, traditional Christian dress for women. Her blossomed youth seemed bursting.

Their fiery eyes met and flashed.

Feminine odor hit his senses.

Manly musk kindled her supple body. She smiled bewitchingly.

They moved to the balcony.

Standing together they looked around.

“People, cycles and bullock-carts looked small, smaller, and smallest as they disappear from the sight. Jesus! It’s magical.” She exclaimed.

“Let us go to second floor? You’ll be wonder-struck.”

They walked to a detachable ladder in the corner of the room.

“Are you afraid?

“No.”

He climbed up, reached the ceiling, and pushed the wooden plank. It moved up. A man hole appeared.

He got onto the floor.

“Elsie, come up.”

She climbed. He helped her onto the floor.

“Wow! What a secret chamber!”

He steered her to the northern window.

“Peep through.”

“How? It’s a foot above us.”

“Come nearer.”

She came closer almost jamming his back to the wall. He placed her hands on his shoulders. His hands held her buttocks tightly. In a trice he lifted her.

“Hai, I can see Thope Stadium, Lourdes Church and its bell tower. Oh, I see the Vadakkunathan temple far away in the city center. People on the road look like moving ants. Amazing!”

She suddenly giggled girlishly.

“What is that?”

“I’ll not tell you.”

“Then I’ll drop you flat.”

“Don’t. I saw a woman of my age taking bath in the open enclave on her backyard fully naked. Her boobs are large, belly big and round, maybe seven months pregnant. Do you like to see?”

“No. See around.”

“Marvelous!”

While she slid down her belly and breast rubbed his face. He led her to the Southern side. While he lifted her, her mundu slackened and fell onto the ground. She was half-naked.

“I see the front-yard of our Nestorian church and the bell tower of your church. How beautiful is the surrounding!”

When she came down, her pubic mound and heaving bosom kissed his nose and lips.

“I saw your black mound” She flushed.

“I’m sweating.”

Picking up her mundu she wiped his face and neck with it. While wearing it she grinned sheepishly.

When they came down she said, “You’ve a palatial house. You’re a rich boy. We’re poor.”

“Elsie, you’re rich in beauty and figure. You’re like film star Miss Kumari. You’re more beautiful than my Annie”

She blushed and queried.

“Who’s Annie?”

“Neighbor’s daughter.”

“Is she your sweetie?”

“Yes and no.”

“Is she married?’

“No.”

“Do you do anything with her?”

“We don’t do anything sinful.”

“Which class are you in?”

“I’m not in class but in college. Haven’t you gone to school?”

“I passed seventh. I couldn’t continue as our father got bedridden. I labor manually. It’s hard.”

He piloted her to his study.

He stood behind his revolving chair, she just behind him.

“See my workshop, dressing table, and bed. I study and sleep alone.”

“I wish I could be with you.”

“No problem. Stay here and help us. Shall I talk to Mama?”

“Not now.”

“At any time.”

His considerate words broke her moral ice within and warmed up her G-spot. She began to melt. She placed her hands below his sturdy shoulders and locked them below his belly. Pressing him against her packed bosom she tickled his navel.

“No Elsie, please…”

Her hands unbuttoned his shorts. It fell on the floor. Snaking over his bushy mound her fingers held his penis and fondled it. She rolled up and down its foreskin gently. It soon got enlarged and erect.

“Like it?”

“Um…”

“You showed places around you. I’ll show places around me. Shall I?”

“Sure”

She undid her mundu. It dropped on the floor. She made him a U-turn. Her eyes gleamed with love and lust, his face with adult curiosity.

“Push up my chatta.”

While he rolled up she pulled herself down.

In a minute it went over her head. He saw her effulgent breast squeezed in a cloth.

“Hay, what’s that?”

“Mulakacha (forerunner of bra). Your Mama has. Have you not seen yet?”

“Yes, not really, your mother hasn’t.”

“Elder women don’t wear it at home, only when they go out.”

She untied her mulakacha. It fell by her side. Her naked breasts sprang up.

“Wow! Elsie, your boobs look like creamy mangoes. Can I feel them?”

“Sure”

He held one in each hand and felt their fruityness. While he fondled them her nipples became erect and stiff. His eyes sparkled. He instinctively put his hands around her waist and pressed.

Bending her head she covered him with her long and bushy hair. She prayed, ‘Let not God see them’ She kissed on his lips. Her tongue darted around and about his stiffened lips, encircling them, nibbling on the tender rims for a while. She swallowed his tongue and sucked slowly, steadily and strongly. His body parts vibrated like the strings of a violin at the touch of the violinist. He moaned.

“Don’t suffocate me.”

“Isn’t it exciting?”

“Thrilling!”

“Melt me.”

He kissed her passionately. His tongue played around tasting her.

He felt pressure building up on his dick.

They stood glued to each other in a French kiss …

Elsie dragged him towards the bed. They lay on their back.

“Tom, mother revealed me everything about you and your wish.”

“Really?”

“Yes. So here I am. Lie on me.”

Pulling softly she placed him on her, his gun between her thighs.

“Hold my breasts, squeeze them, bite, and suck them like candy.”

He sucked them one after another for some time.

“Liked?”

“Yes. I got few drops of sweet water from your tits. Why no milk”

“My dear, cow gives milk only if it has a baby. I’ve no baby, so no milk.”

“I want to insert my thing in your urinal hole.”

She laughed boisterously.

“You’re over eighteen; still don’t know a little bit of Annie’s anatomy? You’re not putting into urinal hole but to universal hole.”

“Where to?”

“Into woman’s man-hole called yoni. All women have two holes. From one the urine comes out, and into the other man’s thing goes in.”

“Can I see them?”

“Sure. Make a U-turn. Place your legs astride my head, your head in between my thighs. Explore. You saw my mound. You’ll see a valley with soft black hairs stretching to my anus, in the middle is Ali Baba’s cave. Inside is my paradise. I’ll not reveal what it has…”

He u-turned. Bypassing her mound he moved on to the valley fuming exotic fragrance. Snaking over he reached the cave and opened its doors. He found large red hibiscus gleaming. His fingers unfolded its petals wide. A wine-red bud as big as a peanut, sprang. His tongue pressed it. It bulged. While tongue-tip lashed at it she jerked violently and her hip bent like bow.

“It’s my hot-button, baby, Lick slowly and suck gently.”

He turned a pussy cat.

“Do now faster and faster …”

He did

“Oh Jesus! You’re eating me. It’s heavenly boy!”

She quivered.

“Stop…”

“Why? Am I hurting you?”

“No. I don’t want climax now.”

“Where is the urinal hole?”

“It’s just below.”

He saw a tiny hole with pink mouth. He bent his head closer and got a whiff of urine.

“It’s small and closed. Will you open up? Can I drink little?”

“You’re a nut!!”

“I want to taste.”

“Okay dear.”

She pressed her bladder hard and her vagina flooded with light yellow liquid mixed with her juice. He drank a mouthful.

“How’s it?”

“Sweeter and less sour.”

“Liked it?”

“Yes. Your man-hole?”

“Little down”

Unearthing a small cavity he unfolded its orifice. He saw the gulf laced with bunch of tender and elastic muscles vibrating. It was balmy and welled up. His mouth over it he tasted her juice.

While his tongue dived deeper into her yoni she played with his dick. Peeling its foreskin she put its knob into her mouth. She sucked him slowly and steadily giving him pleasure-waves.

Silver stars exploded in his head and volcanoes erupted in his waist. He began panting and sweating profusely.

As she sucked his cock faster he jerked violently and ejaculated liberally into her mouth. Divine bliss gripped him. He buried his face in her yoni and lay motionless. She religiously swallowed every drop of him She felt dazed.

When orgasmic waves ebbed out his eyes were opened. Instinctively he licked and sucked her yoni. His tongue ran all over her vulva. His lips bit her clitoris and squeezed.

“Do it fast and faster.” She cried out in delirium. His tongue and lips worked hard. She jerked and twisted sideways. Her hips sprang up and down. She shook violently and moaned. She lay beneath him like a deflated balloon.

After some time she pushed him down. He faced her.

“Elsie, who taught you erotic games?”

“My colleagues and husband.”

“You’re married? What’s he doing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why?”

She kept monastic silence.

He saw her biting her lips and her eyes welling up.

“Forget about him now. Liked my paradise?”

“It’s fascinating, its smell and taste stimulating. Did you perfume them?”

“I applied Tulasi oil to my hair and body, sprinkled Inchipul balm on my pleasure garden. Want more?”

“Sure”

“Climb on me. Hold firmly and kiss me gently.”

He returned her ‘French Kiss’.

“Don’t kill me. My breasts are aching for you. Suck them dry.”

His tongue ran all over her breasts. He swallowed her nipple and sucked one after another.

Her yoni welled up and her juice began to drip.

“Caress and squeeze my tongue.”

While he kissed her fervently she guided his throbbing dick to her yoni.

“Gently push”

He shoved. It did not go in but slipped away. She de-frocked its head and piloted it onto the yoni-mouth.

“Push it hard.”

“It is paining.”

“That’s because of your foreskin, and my hole isn’t large. Now try.”

With pain and passion he pressed hard. Splitting and rupturing her inner skin he entered.

She sighed twice and moaned several times when pins of pain pinched her inner walls. She bit her lips. Sweet and sour sensation waved and raged over her body.

He felt tight inside gripped by her inner muscles.

“Tom, gently push and pull. We’ll soon reach seventh heaven.”

He drove in and out.

“Do faster and faster.” She pleaded.

While he changed rhythm to top gear she locked her legs over his back, raised her hip up and down corresponding to his forceful thrusts.

“Jesus! Yoo…very nice, boy”

“Elsie, I feel extremely good.”

She jerked violently and collapsed.

He emptied himself into her. Orgasm was so intense that he almost fainted.

Exhausted and tired they lay dead in a tight embrace.

***

“Children….”

Grandma’s shouting woke them up.

“Tom, how was it?”

“Superb in your tight pussy! You?”

“Enjoyed well, after several months.”

She felt his semen oozing from her yoni and streaming over her thighs.

“Give me a cloth.”

He gave her his kerchief.

She wiped his penis, and then her pleasure spots.

They dressed. He powdered and perfumed her.

“You look like a bride.”

“Thank you.”

He offered thirty rupees.

“No. I did not for money. We enjoyed. That’s enough.”

“It’s a small present. Keep it.”

She placed it beneath her mulakacha.

“Happy?”

“More than. Thank you.”

“Children, rush. Your Mama may turn up at any time. Don’t’ spoil the day.”

They hurried down. Grandma was all smiles. They filled out their stomach with snacks.

Elsie left happy and contented.

____________________

Read J. Kaval’s other stories published on Every Night Erotica, here.

Joseph Kaval (K.L.Joseph) a freelancer since 1960 writes essays, criticisms, book-reviews, short stories (incluing erotic ones) and novels both in English and Malayalam his mother-tongue. He has published 200 short stories and five novels in Malayalam, and around seventy short stories and a novel in English. He has been featured in dozens of magazines, journals, newspapers, and other publications in India and abroad. He conducts classes on creative writing for college students. He edits and publishes Katha Kshetre an international literary quarterly in English from Bengaluru since 2000. You may find Joseph here: www.josephkaval.webs.com.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

His voice carried softly, blending with the melody of midnight. She smiled. She knew he’d be searching for her. Their fight had been a gruesome one; they’d both been angry and stubborn. She’d been afraid. In the end, she’d run. Her fear had overpowered her and she’d allowed it to control her actions.

“I’m here,” she responded, not turning to find him.

His breath warmed her ear, “I’m sorry, Love.”

She paused. He was apologizing? Her macho mate was taking blame? “I was afraid.”

His arm slipped around her from behind, “Of what?”

“You. Everything happening between us.” She sighed. Honesty was hard for her. Especially when it came to her emotions.

He nuzzled her neck, his lips tenderly gliding over the tender flesh. “There is no reason to fear.”

Her heart raced. She trembled. Slowly, she turned to face him, her eyes searching his.

“What we are, that alone is enough to bring fear.”

“Onyx,” he dropped his head to her bare shoulder, his lips lingering, “what we are does not change who we are.”

She nodded as her body reacted to his attention, goose bumps slowly making their way over her flesh. She wasn’t ashamed of her nakedness, it was as it always was when she was here. She hated the restraining clothing she had to wear. It wasn’t normal for her kind. She leaned into him, her skin rubbing deliciously against his. “Who are we?”

His hand wandered across her tight stomach, caressing, as his lips trailed up her neck and across her jaw, “We are Onyx and Zane. We are Immortals.” He kissed her lips, sucking her bottom lip gently into his mouth, “We are mates.”

She responded by kissing him back, her teeth grazing his tongue as it sought hers. She danced with him, to the same lover’s music, as their bodies intertwined, falling into the grassy knoll beneath them.

Onyx’s heart pounded. Zane was everything she could want in a mate. He was strong, big, powerful. He towered above her; his body emanated strength; but his eyes were soft and sweet. He was every bit a predator. But with her, he was simply a lover, her lover.

And at that moment, her lover was tasting a trail of her salty flesh, making a path from her chin to her collarbone, then lower, taking one puckered nipple into his mouth and rolling it between his teeth. She whimpered, arching into him, her hands tangling in his ebony hair.

She ached. Her entire core was on fire, burning for him. She tilted her hips, pressing the softness of her belly into his hard shaft. When he bit down, his teeth grinding into the tender skin, she cried out, her fingernails digging into his scalp.

His fingers traced wavy lines down the sides of her thighs as he lowered his head, dipping his tongue into her belly button. She protested the loss of his body covering hers, but that died in her throat as he blew into the neatly trimmed curls above her most secret place.

His tongue snaked out, teasing her labia, first sweeping up one lip, then down the other. She let go of his hair and dug her fingers into the grass on either side of her quivering body.

Lifting her legs over his shoulders, he parted her, opening her like a blooming flower. She was wet, her honey dripping to slicken her folds. His finger circled her entrance as he found her swollen clitoris and sucked it into his mouth.

Her head thrown back, Onyx sobbed, calling out his name. The orgasm took her quickly, shaking her body and forcing every muscle to contract. Zane rose above her, his engorged cock throbbing. He stared down at her, an arrogant smile plastered on his face.

“I want to fuck you, Onyx,” he growled.

Still caught in the throes of ecstasy, she nodded, juices flowing from her pussy.

Grasping his dick in his hand, he positioned himself at her glistening hole. He looked down into her eyes, his possessive animal revealing itself. He thrust, one long smooth motion, filling her to the brim. She screamed his name as he stretched her, his cock thick and pulsing. He pulled out, took a breath and slammed into her, mercilessly, over and over again.

“Mine,” he snarled as he came and she screamed his name.

___________________

Read Brandy’s other sexy stories to appear on Every Night Erotica here.

Brandy Fee says this about herself: “A 30-year old Advanced Certified Paralegal, I’m a writer of all sorts. My collection currently includes over 75 poems, 100 flash fiction stories in multiple genres, a small sub-collection of short stories, and I’m currently working on both a novel and a novella. Erotica is a newer direction I have taken and I also enjoy writing short emotional tales, as well as romance and supernatural fiction. I often write under the name “ShadowedHeart”. I write because it’s a part of me, as much as breathing; only I think I could stop breathing before I could stop writing!” You may find her here: www.shadowedheart.writing.com.