Selena Kitt, Alison Tyler, Willsin Rowe, Sommer Marsden

Coupling Two.More Filthy Erotica for Couples

Part I

Selena Kitt

I've been married twice. The first time I was very young and in the kind of dramatic sort of angsty teenage love people make fun of-think Twilight, minus the sparkly vampires. Amazingly, that marriage lasted eight years, probably because we had two children together, and it only ended because one of us grew up. (Guess which one?)

So I'm now on my second marriage, and twelve years, four houses, two living children and one tragic late-term stillbirth and a medical bankruptcy later, we are still going strong. We've obviously had our obstacles (the above, I'm afraid, is just a short list!) but we are very much in love and committed to our relationship.

Couples, when they come together, invariably create a "we," or an "us." This is a third thing in every relationship that must be honored, or it will collapse. Like a stool with two legs, without the third, nothing will balance. So while we think of couples as a twosome, there is really always an unseen third between them-the relationship itself. And of course, it’s no accident that each author here has included three stories of coupling to share!

The three tales I've chosen have one thing in common-no one is giving up on their commitment, on the "us," no matter the circumstances or desires or needs of the two. In Cat Lover, we have a brand new couple whose lives change in a sudden, drastic way, but neither of them are willing to give up on their love. In The Flintstone Experiment, a married pair discover that not paying attention to that “third,” their relationship, can have serious consequences-boredom, anger, and resentment, to name a just a few-but in the end, they come to know how easy it is to turn back toward it instead of away from it, and make it come alive again. And lastly, in The Dirty Show, those of you familiar with my Baumgartner series will recognize Janie and Josh, although now we are ten years into their marriage, and these two sexually experimental individuals have found a way to honor their desires while still maintaining their loving commitment to each other, giving a whole new meaning to the word monogamy.

In the end, the key to "Coupling," in whatever form it takes, no matter your age, culture, sexual orientation, or even your species-swans, wolves, eagles, and even the far-traveling albatross are known to mate for life-is honoring the “we” that is created on the day you say “yes” to the relationship. In a world where everything seems transient and disposable, we often treat human beings and our relationships that way, much to our species’ detriment.

If nothing else, the one thing we learn in relationship when we’re willing to open ourselves up to another and, in many ways, let our egos dissolve into a broader, expansive “we” instead of staying confined in the illusory safety of an “I,” is that life, circumstances, and pain are just temporary conditions, but love-love is forever.

And it really does conquer all.

The Flintstone Experiment

If this didn’t work, Laura knew she was going to leave him. She sat, making herself even smaller in the narrow space of an airplane seat, looking out at the clearest water she had ever seen as they made their approach. It wasn’t anything like the small Midwestern town where she grew up. She should have been excited, but it was fear she felt curled up in a ball in the pit of her belly, and she put her hand there, as if rubbing it could make it go away.

“Are you cold?” Rick leaned over and tucked the blue blanket around her thighs. She smiled at him, not saying anything as she turned back to the window. As they neared the island, she could make out the coastline. She leaned over and started packing things back into her carry-on-her Kindle, a pair of headphones, the uneaten bag of peanuts.

“Here.” She handed their tickets to him. “We’d better start getting ready.”

Rick took the tickets and stared at them for a moment. “Maybe you should keep them? In your purse?”

Laura sighed, took them back and tucked them neatly into her handbag. “Do you even know the name of the place we’re staying?”

He shrugged, putting the Nintendo 3DS game he’d been playing into his carry-on bag. “You’re the one who planned this whole thing.”

“Yeah.” Laura sighed again, curling toward the window and watching the ground swell, as if it were rising to meet them. They were over land completely now, and she had a brief desire to be swallowed up by it. A crash wouldn’t be like that, of course, but that was the image-the plane just continuing its descent, plunging into the earth below until just its tail emerged and the passengers inside were all buried alive.

What’s the difference? I feel buried alive now.

The dry, stale air of the plane made her feel like she was suffocating.

“Are you all right?” Rick touched her shoulder.

She gave him another half-hearted smile. “I’m fine… Just fine.”

* * * *

“This guy is an asshole,” Rick reiterated, swallowing his orange juice in three huge gulps and signaling the waitress.

Laura pierced a grape in her fruit dish with her fork, watching him spread butter on his toast. Then it was on to the jelly. He ordered another orange juice, and she watched him squirt ketchup onto his ten dollar omelet. Lunch and dinner main courses were included in their retreat package, but breakfast and any extras were on their own.

“You know, orange juice is three dollars.” She crushed the grape between her teeth and made it squirt into her mouth. It was a bitter one, and she thought that was just about right. “Each.”

“So?” Rick shrugged, smiling at the waitress and thanking her when she set the juice in front of him. “We’re on vacation right? Why shouldn’t we have what we want?”

“Do you need anything else?” The waitress smiled at Rick. She was a tall girl, with short, stylish blonde hair tucked behind her ears. Laura grimaced at the girl’s clothes-a colorful blue sarong that matched her eyes, and a solid blue bikini top that barely contained the flesh spilling out of it. Clearly island-wear, and Rick was admiring it, while trying to look like he wasn’t.

“Could you possibly bring me a lemon wedge?” He held up his water glass, as if that explained his request.

“Sure.” The accommodating blonde reached for Laura’s empty plate. She had been through her egg-white omelet before Rick had even started eating and she was slowly working through her small fruit bowl.

Laura looked over the railing and down at the beach-clear water, like blue glass, with a white sandy edge that looked as if it belonged on a postcard. Probably was, somewhere downstairs in the gift shop, with the words “Welcome to Elysium!” on the front. She felt far from paradise.

“So why is he an asshole?” Laura pierced a piece of cantaloupe.

Rick, pouring syrup over his pecan pancakes, answered through a mouth full of eggs. “Because he is. I’m surprised you like him. He wants to send women back to the stone age. Is that what you want? You wanna be my Wilma? So I can be your Fred?”

She thought about the facilitator who had started the workshop last night. He wasn’t an exceptionally good-looking man-balding and rather scrawny-but there was something about him. When he looked at her, she felt like she was being seen into, seen through.

“It doesn’t have to be the Flintstones.” She sipped her water. “And yes… if men who live that way are like the guy who lectured last night… it is what I want.”

“Thanks.” Rick smiled at the waitress as she set a plate of lemon wedges next to his glass.

The blonde smiled back. “No problem-I’ll take this up when you’re ready.” The waitress slipped the leather case containing the bill in front of Laura, who looked at it with her lips pursed.

“I thought this was what feminism tried so hard to fight against?” Rick squeezed lemon into his water. “Men in control, women being subservient. You really want to be subservient to me?”

She sighed and pushed her chair back from the table. “I have to pee.”

Rick signaled the waitress again as Laura made her way to the bathroom. She closed the stall door and swallowed a scream. Her face felt hot and dry, her throat constricted-her whole body felt like one big clenched muscle. How could he not understand what it was that she wanted from him? How could he be so blind?

When she left the stall, she washed her hands, glancing at her reflection in the mirror as she held them under a dryer. The air blew her long dark hair over her shoulders. There were two rosy spots on her cheeks, the glow that always crept in whenever she was angry or upset. Straightening her blouse and tucking it into the waistband of her long flowered skirt, she wondered if this was just as good as it ever got. Maybe it was.

The check was still sitting there at the table, untouched. Rick used his last sausage to clean the syrup from his plate, smiling up at her and winking. On a whim, she pulled her chair around and sat next to him, her thigh rubbing up against his under the table.

“Hey, there’s my girl.” He put his arm around her and leaned back with a little groan, his hand covering his belly. “That was a good breakfast. You ready for another day in Bedrock? Maybe the Great Gazoo will be able to help us, huh?”

Laura laughed in spite of herself, letting her body relax against his side. Maybe good enough just was-good enough.

* * * *

“Why are you here?” The question stopped Laura, and she felt herself recoiling from it. She stared into the dark, penetrating gaze of the facilitator, who Rick called “The Great Gazoo,”-when he wasn’t calling him an asshole-and found she couldn’t keep the truth from him, as much as her rational mind tried to stop her.

Not in front of all these people! What are you thinking?

“My husband doesn’t know this…” She glanced guiltily over at Rick. “But I told myself that if this workshop didn’t change things between us, I was going to leave.”

“So is this your ultimatum?” Gazoo asked. Laura couldn’t help thinking of him as Gazoo now-especially since they had to choose “fake names” for themselves, and Rick had dubbed them “Wilma” and “Fred.”

“The Great Gazoo” looked down at Rick. Laura felt the eyes of the entire room on them-a thousand people, all watching.

“I guess.” Laura shrugged, talking into the cordless microphone he had given her. “I just don’t know how to get him to change. I try-I’ve tried giving him things to do, putting him in charge of things around the house…”

“Whoa!” Gazoo’s eyes brightened and he held his hand up to stop her, looking at Rick and raising his eyebrows. “Is that true? Has she put you in charge of things around the house?”

“Uh…” Rick’s gaze slanted toward his wife as Gazoo gave him the microphone. “Yeah. I guess. I was in charge of the bills for a while-but then she took it all back.”

“Well, after four hundred dollars in bounced check fees…” Laura started, but stopped when Gazoo held up his hand again.

“Does she ever tell you how she’s feeling?” he asked Rick. “Does she ever express her emotion spontaneously in the moment? The feminine is like water-she flows, all the time. One minute, she’s up, the next she’s down. She’s all over the place. Does that describe your wife?”

Rick swallowed. “Uh… no.”

“You don’t trust this man.” Gazoo turned back to her and Laura winced.

“Yes, I do.” She protesting, putting her hand on Rick’s arm. “Of course I do! He’s my husband.”

“You say you do.” Gazoo shook his head. “Look, you say you want him to be the masculine energy in your relationship, yes? You’re tired of being the one in charge, and you want to be able to relax into your feminine flow right? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

Laura nodded, in spite of the fact she didn’t like the way this sounded.

“But how can you expect a man to take charge, to be your direction and guidance, if you don’t trust him to lead you?”

Laura shook her head, but she had tears in her eyes.

“I have a practice for you, if you’re willing to do it.”

“A practice?” Rick sounded unsure.

“For the next twenty-four hours,” Gazoo went on. “I don’t want your wife to do anything without your guidance and direction. And I mean anything. She can’t even pee without you anticipating what she needs and wants.”

Laura’s eyes widened. “Can I talk?”

“You can talk if he says you can,” Gazoo replied. “But I suggest a non-verbal practice. So, if you can’t talk, how are you going to tell him what you need or want?”

Laura bit her lip, her gaze falling to the auditorium floor.

“Do you think you can do that?” he asked them. Laura and Rick looked at each other, doubtful. “Let me just get a show of hands. Who else thinks that this is a good practice for these two?”

Laura stared around in wonder as a thousand hands shot into the air. She didn’t like the idea-it scared the hell out of her-but she had told herself that she would do anything to change things between them. Was she willing?

“What do you say?” Gazoo asked. “It’s up to you. It’s not a mandate, just a practice. Twenty-four hours of your life.”

Laura grabbed the microphone from Rick, blurting, “Yes! We’ll do it.”

Her response had the whole auditorium laughing as Rick sat there, dumbstruck.

Gazoo chuckled too, his dark gaze settling on Rick. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, man. Is she always like this?”

Rick grimaced and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Not always…” Laura interjected, sitting forward. Gazoo held up his hand to her again, shaking his head.

“Did he tell you to speak?” The man raised his eyebrows. Laura’s mouth dropped open as he took the microphone from her. “Consider the practice started.”

Rick’s eyes widened and he looked bemused as he glanced over at Laura. Gazoo appeared satisfied and moved on to another couple. She crossed her arms and sat back in her seat, her face flushed.

Maybe this whole thing was like some strange time warp-she felt stifled and put into her place. That wasn’t at all how she imagined this would feel. She swallowed and glanced at “The Great Gazoo,” working his magic on another couple-if magic is what it was. I wish it was that easy, she thought and gave a deep sigh. Rick didn’t seem to notice.

* * * *

Rick had to come back for her at dinner time. She didn’t know how far he made it before he realized she wasn’t with him, but the auditorium was nearly empty and her stomach was growling. She saw Gazoo watching her, his eyebrows raised. She just sat there in her chair, arms crossed, waiting and fuming. She knew those rosy patches had appeared on her cheeks-she could never stop that.

She glared at Gazoo as he shuffled through papers on the podium. This was what she was supposed to do right? Wait for Rick to tell her what to do? She imagined she had laser beams for eyes to cut Gazoo in two for suggesting this little “practice” in the first place. Her jaw clenched and unclenched. She was so hungry she was getting shaky.

“You know…” Gazoo stopped by her on the way out, speaking softly. “There are nonverbal ways to communicate your feelings. Have you considered that?”

She looked up at him, opening her mouth to speak and then remembering she couldn’t-without Rick’s permission. She whirled to look for him, but he was still nowhere to be found. She turned back to Gazoo, sticking out her tongue at him.

“Yes!” He gave a little laugh. “Good! Gimme some more of that!”

She felt her anger welling, bubbling to the surface. She gave him the finger, eyes blazing.

“Yeah!” His voice moved lower. “That’s what I’m talking about. Give your man some more of that. He not only wants it-he needs it. Trust me.”

She glowered at him, reaching out and shoving her hand against his hip. He didn’t move, but she saw his eyes brighten and widen, with that same look she’d seen before, as if he was looking right into her.

“Trust him.” Gazoo grabbed her hand as she reached out to shove him again. “Just keep giving it to him, whatever it is-whatever you’re feeling. You’re doing great.”

His praise made her stop, and she turned as she heard Rick puffing down the aisle, jogging toward them. “I’m sorry.” He held a hand out to her. “I forgot. I’m sorry.”

She stood, putting her hands on his chest and pushing hard. He didn’t expect it, and he stumbled, catching himself on the back of a chair.

“Hey!” Rick’s brow wrinkled. “I said I was sorry.”

“Word of advice.” Gazoo walked around them. “Stop apologizing.”

Rick snapped his mouth shut, frowning.

“She doesn’t care what you did a minute ago, or a year ago,” Gazoo continued, saying it over his shoulder as he walked past. “She cares about what you’re doing now. Right now. Good luck, you two.”

Laura stood with her arms crossed, mouth drawn, feeling faint from hunger, her bladder full to bursting. They stood there, looking at each other, neither sure how to proceed.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. Laura nodded, fast and furious, taking his outstretched hand. He pulled her to him in the nearly empty auditorium.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he said into her hair, holding her so close she could barely breathe. “I’ll do whatever it is I have to do, whatever you want…”

Laura growled, wiggling and writhing against him.

“What?” He let her go and shook his head. “What did I say?”

She smacked her forehead, rolling her eyes.

Rick sighed. “Come on, let’s go eat.” He was nearly to the door again before he realized she wasn’t following, and he had to go back and grab her hand to pull her along.

Dinner was a disaster.

They were all supposed to eat dinner together in the island retreat center’s cafeteria, and she felt everyone’s gaze on them as they made their way through the line. Rick kept asking if she wanted this, or this, or this-and she just kept shaking her head. She watched his tray fill up with food, while hers stayed empty. They got to the end of the line, and Rick realized all their money was in her purse.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” Rick unslung her purse from her shoulder and looked for her wallet. He handed a twenty over to the cashier to cover their drinks, which were not included. “I thought you were hungry.”

Laura grabbed her empty tray and threw it on the floor. She threw it so hard the orange surface cracked as it skidded across the tile. Everyone was definitely looking at them now!

“Hey!” The cashier frowned. “What the hell?”

Laura stomped her foot, her arms crossed over her chest. She felt her cheeks burning with color, tears pricking her eyes. Her stomach protested-it was nearly seven o’clock and she hadn’t eaten since noon.

Rick stood with her purse in his hand, his mouth hanging open. The look on his face infuriated her and she screamed. It was something primal, rising from deep in her belly.

For the first time in days-weeks, months, perhaps years-her throat felt unconstricted. She screamed and stomped her feet, jumping up and down on the tray. She nearly fell, catching herself on the tray rails, and she shook those too, for good measure, although they didn’t move.

“Uh, Laura…?” Rick blinked fast, looking around at the crowd, his face turning red.

She screamed again, long and sustained, grabbing his tray and swinging it around, throwing it like a discus over her shoulder. The woman behind them in line yelped in surprise, taking an instinctive step backwards. The tray sailed through the air, spilling packaged rolls and fruit cups and salad as it went.

Laura was breathing hard, hands clenched into tight fists. Rick’s jaw tightened, and she saw the line on his forehead appear, the one that showed up when he was really angry.

“All right, Helen Keller…” He grabbed her arm before she could throw anything else. Laura gasped at the tightness of his grip.

“I’m sorry about that,” he apologized to the cashier. “Do you need me to clean it?”

The woman shook her head, waving him away. “Just… why don’t you have her go lie down or something?”

“Or something,” Rick repeated with a grimace, yanking Laura’s arm nearly out of its socket as he headed toward the exit. She stumbled behind him, glad her hair hid her face. She felt the room’s gaze on them as they made their way out of the cafeteria.

Rick was quiet in the elevator, but she knew his angry silences well enough. She tucked herself into the corner, spent, and watched the numbered lights counting up to their floor. When the doors opened, he remembered to grab her arm, pulling her along the corridor to their room.

He found the key card and opened the door, yanking and shoving her in front of him into the room as he turned on the light. He slammed the door and Laura sat on the edge of the bed, wincing when he threw her purse into a corner.

“What in the fuck was that?” he demanded. “I asked you, ‘Do you want spaghetti?’… ‘Do you want salad?’… ‘Do you want a banana?’… Did ‘no’ suddenly become ‘yes’ in your fucked-up version of reality?”

Laura sank to the floor, tears coming now. She wanted to speak, but realized she couldn’t, at least in terms of the practice.

“You tell me you want me to take the lead,” he went on, watching her slide down the side of the bed. “But ‘The Great Gazoo’ must have a fucking crystal ball, because he’s right-you don’t trust me to do it for a minute.”

She felt her whole body clenching again, and she pulled her knees up to her chest, hiding her feet under her skirt.

“You decide we should come here.” He paced, back and forth, hands behind his back. “You decide this relationship guru is the next magic thing.” His jaw clenched and unclenched. “You decide we’re going to do this stupid practice. What’s next?” He stopped pacing, breathing hard. “You decide you want to end our marriage? Is that the next decision on your checklist?”

Laura shook her head, sobbing and wiping tears away with her palms. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go at all.

“When do I get to decide?” His quiet voice trembled. “When are you ever going to trust me to make a decision?”

Laura screamed. It wasn’t a planned thing-it just came out of her. She grabbed her shoe and threw it at him. He dodged and it hit the wall behind him.

“I wanted you to make a decision!” she screamed, her voice hoarse from strain. “You spent that whole time asking me what I wanted-and all I wanted was for you to decide!”

“That’s great.” Rick snorted, shaking his head. “Except I’m not The Great Fucking Gazoo, ya know? I’m Fred Flintstone, babe. I ain’t got a damned clue what you want-unless you tell me!”

He sat on the chair near the desk with a sigh, leaning his forehead against his palm. “It’s like you either want to make all the decisions-fuck me and what I want-or you want me to make them all, but you don’t want to tell me how you feel about my choices.”

She swallowed hard, her lip trembling. She knew he was right but she didn’t understand it.

“Sometimes I think you pull stuff like that little Helen Keller incident downstairs just to sabotage me.” Rick rubbed his eyes with his thumbs. “What I really think is that you just want to find a way to blame it all on me when it’s fucked up.”

“Oh, Rick…” Laura felt something break open in her chest. It was like an iceberg dislodging from a glacier. “Oh my god…”

“And we’re failing right now.” He looked sad. “We were supposed to do this practice, and here I thought it would bring us closer. I’d finally get to hear what you want… and what happens?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered with a sniff.

“You know how often I’ve heard you apologize over the years?” He sat forward in the chair, hands laced together between his knees. “I think I can count your apologies on one hand.”

She didn’t look up at him. She couldn’t.

“I think I deserve that apology,” he said. “In fact, I think the entire cafeteria deserves that apology.”

“What?” she whispered, her eyes wide.

“Come on.” He held out his hand to her. She shook her head, but she let him help her up.

“My shoe,” she said, limping along.

“Forget it,” he replied, and she sighed, kicking off her other one, following him barefoot. “And you can stop talking. We’re still doing this practice.”

She swallowed, watching him poke the elevator button a few times while they waited. The trip down went much faster than the one up. Rick led her back to the cafeteria-she heard the low rumble of talking, the clinking of glasses and silverware.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, imagining how humiliating it would be to face everyone who had witnessed her childish tantrum.

“I said stop talking.” Rick pushed her in front of him as they went through the double doors. “It’s just two words, Laura. I think you can manage.”

She felt faint, and she knew it wasn’t from hunger. The thought of making a public apology made her dizzy with fear and shame. She hung back by the doors as Rick went over to “The Great Gazoo’s” table. Gazoo said something to the blond man next to him, who took off.

Pacing, she watched them talking, Rick squatting down next to Gazoo’s chair, listening to whatever the facilitator had to say. He was doing a lot of nodding. She glanced back at the doors, considering going back up to their room. Lost in the fantasy of escape, she imagined packing her suitcase, checking out, taking a taxi to the airport, changing the tickets.

Rick strode back toward her, pulling her with him as he turned and led her toward the other end of the cafeteria. She saw the tall, blond man Gazoo had spoken to standing there, and with dawning horror, she recognized the thing he was carrying-a cordless microphones.

“No,” she whispered.

Rick looked back at her. “Not another word, Laura. I swear to God.”

The blond guy handed the microphone to Rick and he took it. “Is it on?”

“This button.” He showed him.

Rick turned it on and there was a brief moment of feedback that seemed to get everyone’s attention. He cleared his throat and put the mic to his mouth.

“Excuse me.” He pulled his wife forward as she tried to shrink behind him. “Most of you probably witnessed what happened here earlier, when my wife threw her dinner tray.”

Laura stared at the tiles, biting the inside of her cheek so hard she could taste blood.

Rick leaned toward her with the mic as he spoke. “She’d like to say something to all of you.”

“Two words,” Rick whispered, holding the microphone up to her mouth.

Laura didn’t look up. She felt everyone’s gaze on her. If she had anything in her stomach, she knew she would have thrown it up. She almost wished that were the case-maybe it would get her out of this humiliating scene. Why don’t you just leave? That voice in her head nagged her. You don’t have to put up with this!

When she met her husband’s eyes, she saw he wasn’t angry, or spiteful, or even gloating. It was as if he could see right into her in that moment, like he knew just what she was thinking and feeling, and it didn’t matter-he loved her. He was making her do this terrible, awful, horrible thing, but he loved her. There was something in that. Her gaze fell on Gazoo in the corner, and she remembered his words: “Trust him.”

With that thought in her mind, she opened her mouth and choked out, “I–I’m… sorry.”

Her husband gave a satisfied nod, flipped off the microphone and handed it over to the blond guy. Rick had her by the hand, heading back toward the exit. Laura stumbled when she heard the first wave of clapping start, turning to look back at the crowd of workshop participants. Some were even standing in their seats and applauding!

She looked up at her husband and saw that he heard too. She had a brief moment of flushed pride but then she wondered-were they clapping because she had apologized, or because Rick had made her? The applause died down and Rick stopped at the cafeteria line.

“Can I get some fruit?” Rick asked the woman behind the counter. She was the same heavyset redhead who had witnessed the tantrum, and she stared at Laura.

“There’s a bowl of it down there,” the redhead directed, pointing, still staring. Laura shuffled after her husband and he stood there for a moment, pondering the bowl of fruit.

“I’m going to ask you some questions, and all you have to do is nod ‘yes’ or shake your head ‘no.’ Is that clear?” He slipped an apple and two bananas into his jacket pockets.

Laura nodded a vigorous “yes.” For some reason, her apology had given her a thrill. It hadn’t been as awful as she thought it would be-in fact, quite the opposite. Being humbled was exhilarating. How could that be?

“Do you want an apple?”

She shook her head no.

“Do you want a banana?”

She nodded, smiling at him. He took another banana and put it into his pocket.

“An orange?”

She shook her head.

“A peach?”

She nodded, and he put it into one of his now bulging pockets.

“Is there any other fruit you want?”

A vigorous “no.”

Rick looked over the counter at the redhead, still watching them warily. “How can I pay for these?”

“Just go ahead.” She waved him away.

“Thanks.” He took Laura’s hand and led her back out of the cafeteria. They made the same trip in the elevator up to their room, although this time, Laura noticed she felt much, much lighter than she had the last time.

Rick emptied his pockets, creating a fruit line-up on the dresser. Laura sat on the edge of the bed watching him. Her stomach was rumbling again, reminding her how long it had been since she had eaten, but the ache in her bladder was worse. She had been temporarily distracted from those sensations for a while, but they were back now, with a vengeance.

She reached over and tugged at his suit jacket as he slipped it off. He looked at her, his face a question. She made a small noise in her throat, pointing to the bathroom. Unfortunately, the bathroom was also the same direction as the exit.

“What?” He shook his head. “You want to go back out?”

Laura sighed, pointing between her legs and then back to the bathroom. He shook his head again, confused. She stood and crossed her legs, making little noises while doing what she used to call “the pee-pee dance.”

“Oh!” Rick’s eyes widened. “Right. Just pee?”

She raised her eyebrows, but nodded.

“Okay, you can go.” He waved her toward the bathroom.

She shut the door behind her, sighing in relief as she emptied her bladder. She heard him moving around out there, and now that the physical complaint had eased, all she could think about was the fruit on the dresser. She was starving! She washed her hands in a hurry, barely drying them. She noticed a banana peel in the garbage, and knew he must have eaten his.

“What are you doing?” Rick asked from the bed as she picked up a banana and started to peel it.

Oh, hell. She put it back down with a frown, her hands actually shaking with hunger now. When she turned to him, she saw he was naked from the waist down, his white button-down shirt undone at the collar, his tie tossed over his pants on the chair. The shock must have shown on her face, because he chuckled.

“Come here,” he said. “And bring that banana.”

She came to sit next to him on the bed, handing over the yellow fruit with a wistful sigh. He took it and set it on the other side of him, leaning back on a pillow and looking at her.

“One of the things I’ve always loved about you…” He stroked the hand she was using to prop herself up. “Is how proud you are. So proud of yourself-and proud of me.”

She smiled at him, wrinkling her nose.

“But sometimes I think it gets in the way…” He circled her wrist with his finger and thumb. She had small wrists and delicate hands. “Don’t you?”

She sighed and nodded. Her gaze skipped over him to the banana, her stomach growling loudly. It was loud enough they could both hear it.

“I know you’re hungry,” he said, acknowledging he’d heard the noise emanating from her middle. “And I’m going to feed you, if you’re a good girl.”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, blazing at him.

“There it is. That’s what I’m talking about.” He nodded, still smiling. “I think it’s time you swallowed some of that pride.”

“Here.” He pulled up his shirt tails, and held his cock, which flopped limply over his fingers. “Suck.”

She stared at him, open-mouthed. What? No way! She shook her head, her mouth set in an angry, thin line, glaring at him.

“Yes.” He sat up enough so he could grasp her by the hair, pulling her toward his crotch. She could have resisted, but it would have hurt her to jerk away. “Sometimes you don’t know what’s good for you. Trust that I do.”

She snorted, rolling her eyes. Good for me? A blowjob for him is good for me? What kind of twisted logic is this?

Looking at the banana on the other side of his hip, she took his flaccid length into her mouth. She’d been doing this, or some variation of this, to him for ten years and she knew exactly how to get him hard. Her tongue worked back and forth over the frenulum as she made a circle with her thumb and forefinger around him. When his cock began to swell, she started taking him in from base to tip in long, cheek-hollowing sucks, doing it again and again until he was fully erect.

“Look at me.” He moved her hair out of her eyes. She didn’t take his cock out of her mouth, she just tilted her eyes up to him. “I love you. Do you know that?”

She pulled her head off his cock, opening and then closing her mouth.

“Just nod, yes or no.” He smiled, sliding her head back down onto him.

Laura felt her throat closing with tears. She nodded, his cock pulsing against her tongue. She had heard those words a thousand times from him, but this was different somehow. Something had changed, and she didn’t know what it was.

“Do you love me?” He caught one of her tears with his thumb as it fell. She nodded again, unable to stop the crying. She had never felt it so fully and completely as she did right now. He nodded, watching her tears falling.

“Suck.” He pressed his hand against the back of her head. She took him into her mouth again, as far as she could. She had never been very good at deep-throating him-Rick wasn’t a small man, anywhere-but she tried, gagging a little, and it made her eyes water until she wasn’t sure why tears were running down her cheeks.

“Deeper,” he said, and she could feel him pressing in. Her throat constricted and she choked, gasping for breath.

“Just open.”

She found that when she relaxed her throat muscles, she could take much more of him, so she did, breathing through her nose as he thrust slowly in and out of her mouth. The longer she sucked him, the more open her throat became. When she looked up into his eyes, she felt completely connected to him, as if the cock in her mouth completed a circuit between them.

“Okay.” He eased his cock out of her mouth. The empty feeling she had when he took it away surprised her. His thumb wiped at her wet cheek again.

“Hungry?” he asked. She nodded, eager, and he smiled, reaching for the banana. He peeled it back a quarter of the way and offered it to her. She took a bite, moaning as she mashed the sweetness against the roof of her mouth. Her throat felt raw and tender as she swallowed.

“More?” he asked. She nodded and opened her mouth. He fed her another short length, and she moaned again as she swallowed it, her stomach clamoring. A banana had never tasted so good. She opened her mouth once more, waiting as he peeled it further, feeding her bit by glorious bit.

When it was gone, she made a happy, satisfied sound, practically a purr, and then watched him toss the peel onto the night table. She stretched out beside him, smiling. He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. His cock had fallen to half-mast but it was still pulsing and slick with her saliva.

“Still hungry?” he asked and she nodded against his chest. Her stomach was happy with the banana, but she was nowhere near satisfied. “Go get the peach.”

She leapt off the bed and went to the dresser, getting the soft, ripe peach and offering it to him. He took it from her, setting it on the other side of him again where the banana had been.

“I want you to undress.”

She raised her eyebrows but started unbuttoning her blouse from top to bottom, pulling it out of her skirt so she could undo the lower buttons. Her hands trembled, and she told herself it was because she was hungry as she peeled her blouse off her pale shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

Her bra was a front-hook, and she unclasped it, dropping it next to her blouse. Her flowered skirt unzipped in the back, and Rick watched as she struggled with it, finally getting it far enough down so she could wiggle it past her hips.

Last were her panties, and she hooked her thumbs under the elastic to peel them off. She couldn’t remember the last time she had stood in front of him like this, completely exposed. His cock was hard again, pulsing skyward.

“Put your arms above your head.” His gaze moved over her breasts, watching them as she lifted her arms. Her breasts were sweetly pear-shaped with dark brown nipples that ripened into fat buds when they were sucked.

Rick got up from the bed, grabbing his tie off the chair. Laura would have been a small woman next to any man, but next to her husband, she felt almost doll-like. He could easily grasp her wrists in one hand, and he did, wrapping the tie around them. He made a knot, wrapping some more and then making another.

“Does that hurt?” he asked. She shook her head, eyes wide. “Good. Can you lower your arms?” She tried, finding she could, leaving her wrists crossed in front of her navel.

He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching back for the peach.

“Kneel.” He tossed a pillow on the floor in front of him. Laura struggled to her knees, finding it harder than she thought it would be without the use of her hands. “Look at me.”

“Bite.” He offered her the peach. His hand brushed hair out of her eyes, flipping it back over her shoulders and out of the way as she sank her teeth into the fruit, tearing off a piece and moaning at its sweetness. The juices ran down her chin and although she tried catching them with her tongue, it was impossible.

“Suck.” He pulled his shirt tails back to expose his hard cock. She chewed the rest of the peach flesh, swallowing before eagerly taking him between her lips. Her mouth was cool and sticky from the fruit as she ran her tongue up and down his shaft. Rick watched, his gaze never leaving hers.

“Bite.” He offered her the peach again, and she took her mouth off him to take a large bite, juice flowing down her chin this time, running in rivulets between her breasts. She chewed happily, her gaze on him, flickering from his face to his cock. Her hands, crossed over her belly, longed to slide further down. She felt the heat of her pussy, growing wet and swollen between her legs.

Her face was full of juice now, and he watched her swallow the peach flesh and lick her lips before saying, “Suck,” again. She obeyed, leaning in to take his cock between her sticky lips. He tasted like peaches now, and she moaned around him as she tried to take it all, working her head up and down his shaft.

“Yeah,” he murmured, the hand not holding the peach going to her hair, pulling her in tight. She heard him groan when she opened her throat to take nearly all of his shaft, much more than she’d ever gotten into her mouth before. He pulled her head back slowly, looking down at her open mouth and eyes looking up at him as if she could devour him. That was just how she felt.

He took a bite of the peach in his hand, making an “mmm” sound as he chewed. She watched him, waiting.

“Almost as good as your little peach.” He grinned as he took another bite, making that same “mmm” sound. “Here. Bite.”

She sank her teeth in, once, twice, digging deep through the fuzzy surface to the slippery, succulent fruit underneath. Her face and chin and chest were soaked in peach juice. She watched Rick finish the last of the peach flesh.

“Come here.” He helped her stand. Turning her with his body, he pushed her so she was on her back on the bed. “Arms over your head.”

She did as she was told, feeling vulnerable and a little scared as she watched him standing above her, unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes never left hers. She had never felt so naked, or so seen by him. It made her want to squirm and she willed herself to stay still.

“Now you’re going to learn how to tell me what you want.” He put one knee between her legs on the bed. She felt the breath leave her body, and for a moment couldn’t find it again. “And you’re going to do it with just your body movement and sounds. No words.”

She stared at him, feeling helpless. She had discovered today in a short period of time that she could follow his lead, but what he was asking now felt impossible. Sex was often the one place she just couldn’t say what she wanted, and he knew it.

“Make a ‘yes’ sound.” He stroked her inner thigh gently with his hand in the way he knew she loved. Laura moaned, making a sound in her throat that sounded like a “mmmm.”

“Good.” He reached up toward her breast. “Now make a ‘no’ sound.” He squeezed and twisted her nipple hard and she squealed, a pained “nuh-uh” coming from her throat.

The look in her eyes was hurt, as if he had betrayed her. He whispered a “shhh,” stroking her breast now, petting her, calming her.

“That was perfect.” He thumbed her nipples. She gave a low moan, arching her back. He smiled. “You’re perfect.”

He knelt on the pillow, grabbed her legs and pulled her so that her feet were dangling off the edge. His breath was warm on her thighs and his hands pressed her legs open wide, fully exposing her.

“Now this is a ripe little peach,” he breathed. She had a bikini wax just before they left, thinking she would use the retreat pool, if not go swimming in the ocean-her skin was still completely smooth. He feathered kisses on her inner thighs, moving upward from each knee, back and forth.

“Do you want my tongue?” he asked when he reached her mound, kissing the silky skin there, too. “Make a yes sound.”

She wiggled and whimpered, finally moaning and making the “mmmm” sound in her throat. He rewarded her with his tongue, slipping it between her bare lips and finding her clit. She made the sound again, rolling her hips slightly as he licked her, moving his tongue slowly back and forth.

“More?” His breath was hot over her pussy. She made the sound in her throat, pushing her hips up toward his mouth. His tongue found her again, teasing the swollen bud between her lips, making light, barely-there strokes with the tip of his tongue. He slowly increased the pressure, making her moan and respond with several “mmmm’s!” in a row.

He slipped a finger through her wetness, sliding it slowly into her. She spread her legs wider, moaning as he moved his finger in and out, his tongue making wet circles over her mound. He slid another finger in, and she again gave him the “yes” sound, her hands gripping the covers above her head.

Pumping two fingers in her now, he covered her whole pussy with his mouth, making his tongue flat and sweeping over her clit, back and forth. She groaned, her hips moving back against him as he fingered her. When he edged a third finger into her, she gasped, making the “Nuh-uh!” sound-her legs closed slightly.

“Too much?” he murmured, slipping it back out and twisted two fingers inside of her. “What about this?” He followed her slit down to her pink, puckered asshole and rubbed a wet finger there.

“Nuh-uh!” She jumped so much his fingers slipped out of her pussy.

Rick moved up next to her on the bed, stretching out and tracing a lazy, wet finger around her nipple. She made the “yes” noise, her eyes half-closing. He traced the other nipple, making her moan, her hips wiggling in response.

“Taste.” He put his fingers, still wet with her juices, up to her mouth.

“Nuh-uh,” she said, her eyes wide. She shook her head for emphasis.

“Yes.” He rubbed her juices over her lips like gloss, making them shine. “Suck.”

She sighed, opening her mouth and letting him slide his fingers in. Surprised by the taste, she sucked on his fingers, her eyes on his. He was watching them go in and out of her mouth.

“Do you like how you taste?” He rubbed his fingers over her now-eager tongue.

“Mmmm!” she responded, licking between his fingers too.

“I’m going to fuck you.” He used his wet fingers to rub her nipples again. She groaned, spreading her thighs for him, and he smiled. “Not like that. Roll over.”

Laura moved, a little awkward, rolling to her belly on the bed. She felt his hand move over her back, up over the curve of her ass, and dip between her thighs. His fingers probed there, opening her lips, slipping inside.

“Mmmmmmm.” She arched her back, raising her bottom even higher in the air, letting him slide his fingers in a little deeper. They weren’t anywhere near enough now-she wanted his cock. Her whole body was aching with the need to be filled.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked. She met his eyes, swallowing hard. Why was it so hard to say yes? It was exactly what she wanted… and yet her throat didn’t seem to want to work. “Tell me, Laura. Show me.”

She went up to her elbows, the tie around her wrists making it impossible for her to get fully up on her hands and knees. Making a deep, “mmmmmmm” sound, she spread her thighs for him, rocking her hips and tilting her bottom up in the air.

“Good girl.” He stroked her ass with his hand as he slid behind her, positioning himself on the bed. She felt the head of his cock slipping between her wet lips, easing into her pussy by degrees. His hands gripped her hips, making it a slow, steady thing.

He stopped when he was about halfway into her and began to make slow, half-strokes. She wiggled back against him but his hands on her hips prevented her from getting her way. He continued to fuck her like that, only giving her half of his length, while she wiggled and squirmed beneath him, wanting more.

“Do you want more?” He teased her with a little bit more length.

“Mmmm!” She moaned, nodding against the bedspread as she dangled her head between her bound wrists. Pressing back against him, her hips rocked in his hands, begging him for more. He gave it to her, slipping his cock further between her smooth, swollen lips, driving as deep as he could go.

“Ahhh!” She squeezed all of her muscles around the length of him. Her pussy was throbbing for release, and the feel of him filling her was delicious. She rocked back on his cock, but he held her tight, his fingers gripping her hipbones like handles, using them to pull her back into the saddle of his hips.

She moaned and twisted in his hands, her pussy aching for release. Her clit hummed with lust, begging to be touched. She didn’t know how to tell him what she wanted without words and she whimpered her frustration, trying to arch against him, feeling the weight of his balls against her mound. There just wasn’t quite enough friction to take her over, and she buried her flushed face into her arms, almost sobbing in her dilemma.

He made little grunting noises as he fucked her, his cock sliding between her legs. The sound filled the room, a rhythmic slapping of heated flesh, and she knew that his easing off, his deeper breaths, meant that he was getting close and trying to hold off for her. She gripped the covers in her hands, twisting and pulling at them.

Then-oh, thank god! She felt his fingers sliding underneath her, searching through her wetness for her pulsing, aching center, and she sighed in grateful relief, moving a little to help him. There… right there… his fingers moving back and forth over her clit.

“Mmmmmm!” She moaned, squeezing his cock hard, making him gasp and thrust deep into her pussy. She made the noise again, a constant hum now in her throat, her breath coming faster as he fucked her, the motion of his fingers creating the perfect amount of friction to send her over the edge.

“Oooooooohhh!” She shuddered underneath him as she came, the quick spasms of her pussy making him groan and grab at her, driving in so deep that he collapsed her onto the bed as he came, filling her convulsing wet channel with his cum. His cock erupted with sudden, violent force, surging white heat deep inside of her.

“God,” he gasped as he rolled off her onto the bed, throwing his arm over his forehead and staring at the ceiling.

Laura pressed her flushed, hot cheek against the covers, searching for a cool spot. She looked at him through half-closed eyes, feeling the thick heat of his cum beginning to slip out of her, as if there were too much for her to contain. Watching his breath returning to normal, she found herself wanting him, to be next to him, to keep him with her.

As if he sensed her desire, he turned toward her, reaching for her hands. He slowly worked the knots out of his tie, freeing her wrists. Rubbing them, she met his eyes, seeing something there that she didn’t quite recognize.

“Come here, Wilma.” He held his arms out to her. She went to him, nestling her cheek against him, feeling something swelling in her chest. It almost felt like she was about to cry, but she wasn’t sad. She wasn’t sad at all.

“Fred needs a nap,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. She laughed, a bright sound, as she closed her eyes, listening to him breathe as they both drifted off.

* * * *

“She’ll have the egg white omelet, no onion, a small orange juice, and a side of fruit.” Rick smiled up at the waitress. He glanced over at Laura, resting her chin in her hand and looking dreamily over the railing at the clear water below. She lifted her face to the breeze, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes for a moment.

“Do you want coffee, baby?”

“Nuh-uh.” She opened her eyes to him with a bright smile.

“Did you want water with lemon?” the waitress asked him. It was the same blond girl from yesterday, wearing yellow today, a sarong and matching top, but Rick hadn’t looked twice at her.

“Sure, thanks,” he said, his gaze on his wife. The girl took their menus and left. Rick slid his hand across the table and he took Laura’s hand.

“How’d you like to go for a walk on the beach after breakfast?” He turned her hand over and traced the lines on her palm. “I think we’ve got time before we’ve gotta be back in Bedrock.”

“Mmmm,” she said with a little laugh at his Flintstone reference.

“Are you cold?” His eyes moving over her outfit-red bikini top and red flowered sarong. She looked like the girls down on the beach.

“Nuh-uh.” She shook her head, squeezing his hand and feeling flushed as she remembered his hands on her last night, the things he did when he touched her…

“You’re beautiful.” He squeezed her back.

She just smiled, turning her eyes back out to the beach that they were going to be strolling along after a leisurely breakfast. She couldn’t believe the difference twenty-four hours had made.

* * * *

“So, what kind of difference did twenty-four hours make?” Gazoo asked, holding the microphone out toward them.

“It was amazing.” Rick took it without hesitation. “It took us… me… a little while to get the hang of it. After I made her apologize yesterday at dinner…”

The audience around them started clapping and cheering again at that. Laura flushed, but she was smiling.

“We had some practice in our room that went… pretty well, I think.”

Gazoo looked at Laura. “Did he take care of you?”

She nodded.

“Did he let you go hungry, or walk in front of a bus?”

She laughed and shook her head.

“Do you trust him to make a solid decision with your best interests at heart?”

Laura felt tears coming to her eyes. She looked over at Rick, and he saw the expression on her face as she nodded and put her hand in his. He looked like he felt ten feet tall.

Gazoo nodded, looking satisfied. “I think that look said it all. Sounds like your practice was a success. Give them a hand, folks. It isn’t an easy exercise.”

The sound of applause made Laura flush again as The Great Gazoo moved on to another couple who had undertaken a practice yesterday.

Laura leaned in and whispered in Rick’s ear, “So, Fred… do you still think he’s an asshole?”

He chuckled, shaking his head and turning his mouth to her ear, whispering, “No, Wilma. He’s no dumb-dumb.”

Cat Lover

There was only one good thing about living with Katie in that little basement apartment-it was cool in the summer. Otherwise, it totally sucked. We could hear everything in the whole house. We knew someone had a dog, because he barked like a rabid Cujo every morning at seven, and of course, my first class didn’t start until ten. Plus, they used the back stoop and its very small area of grass as a doggie-toilet. It was really gross, and the landlord knocked on our door one morning (again, before nine-couldn’t people respect a college guy’s schedule?) demanding to know if we were the one with the dog.

It wasn’t us. The landlord was one of the few on campus who allowed pets. I didn’t even want to own fish but Katie insisted on cats. If it wasn’t the dog barking upstairs, it was the whine of the can opener from our kitchen. Every morning, six a.m.-reer-reer-reer-followed by a hundred thousand thumpity-thumps from every direction, accompanied by a cacophony of meows.

The other thing about the basement that sucked was that we lived next to the laundry room. The noise wasn’t bad-it was better than the cats and that damned dog-but it was the flooding that was the issue. Once in a while, a sock would get stuck in the wash tub and it would overflow during the rinse cycle. Someone’s brilliant design idea in re-vamping this old house as a rental had placed another door to our apartment between the machine and the drain. The carpet always had a faint mildewy smell to it.

One morning long before I should have been awake, I heard Katie doing that “here, kittykittykitty” run-on that cat lovers always used-like the cats ever came when you called them? She would have had better luck bringing the can opener. I was thinking all of this with the pillow pulled over my head to block out the light. There was one other good thing about our basement apartment-we seemed to get less light through the little windows near the ceiling.

“Bad kitty!” I heard her admonishing, but it was when I heard the splashing and knew the tub had overflowed again that I groaned and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Sebastian to the rescue! I just needed a super-suit. My bare feet squished on the soggy carpet. I was trying to remember where I’d put the box fan we used to dry it out while I pulled on a pair of sweat pants and opened the door to the laundry room.

The sight wasn’t a bad one-it could have been much worse. The floor was completely flooded, all right, but there was Katie wearing boy shorts and a tank-tee, half sprawled across the rumbling washer, reaching behind it for something. Her feet were wet and the water dripped down her legs as she grunted and wiggled on top of the machine. I stood in the doorway for a moment, admiring the view, until she slid off the washer into a puddle with a frustrated sigh, blowing a piece of dark hair out of her eyes.

“Hey,” I said, startling her. I sloshed my way through the flood, over to the tub, reaching in to find the culprit. “Whose load of wash is this?”

“I don’t know. Probably Cujo’s.” She sighed. “But Sassy’s stuck behind the washer.”

I held up the pair of pink panties that I’d pulled from the tub drain. “Hmm, nice!” I wrung them out and held them up. “At least Cujo’s owner has good taste in lingerie!”

“Sebastian!” She rolled her eyes, grabbing and tossing them behind her onto the wet floor. ust help me get the cat!”

I sighed. The tub problem had been solved. The water was going nicely down the drain again. Aside from the wet carpet in our apartment, which I would have been happy to deal with after another two hours of sleep, my worries were over.

“Please?” She leaned over the washer again, and I got a glimpse of her ass as her shorts rode up. “Just help!”

“Okay, okay.” I stepped up behind her, peering over the washer. I could see the luminescent eyes of a white cat glowing up at me, ears pressed flat against its head. Sassy saw me and hissed. “Does that one have claws?”

“Yes!” she scoffed, all horrified. Katie was one of those-altering an animal was horrible, blah blah blah. I didn’t know if it was cruel-I just knew I would have preferred picking up a soft-pawed cat to a fully loaded one. We had some of each kind.

“You know I can’t keep them all straight…” I edged around the other side of the washer to see if I could move it. I thought I could, without breaking any connections or pulling any hoses. Enough, anyway.

Katie peered anxiously over the washer. I noticed the way her pink tank-tee pulled over her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her nipples were hard. Probably from having wet feet and standing on the cold basement floor, but still-it was a nice view. Made me want to bend her over the washer right there, but I knew better than to try. Katie wouldn’t have any of that. I leaned over to turn the washer off and my hand brushed her shoulder. She slipped back off the machine, slanting her eyes, watching me.

I grabbed the washer with both hands, rocking it forward a little at a time. The cat hissed and suddenly bolted. Luckily, Katie had shut the door at the top of the stairs and it was trapped there. She ran after it, and I heard her cooing as she carried the cat back down toward me, cradling it in her arms.

“Thank you.” Her smile lit up her whole face in such a way that it even made me forget about her ass and I remembered again why I’d agreed to move in together in the first place, in spite of the fact that sex with Katie was minimal at best. “My hero.”

I pushed the machine back, turning it on. “Do I get a hero’s blowjob then?”

“Sebastian!” Katie blushed, nuzzling the cat’s fur.

“Just a suggestion.” I opened the door to our apartment, herding the four or five cats crowding the doorway, looking to escape. I could smell the mildew already. “I’m going back to bed. Don’t you have class?”

The cat in her arms was purring now, its eyes half-closed. “In an hour.”

“Still time for that blowjob…” My dick was hard watching her walk around in her tank and little shorts as I climbed back under the covers. The cats were everywhere, as usual. I had to shove them out of the way to make room in bed. I think at last count there were fifteen. It was a lot of damned cats.

Katie stood only half-facing me, still rubbing her cheek against the cat’s ear. “Sebastian…?”

“Hmm?” Damn my dick was hard. A guy should get a little reward for a rescue like that, I reasoned. But Katie knew I’d do anything for her, no matter what. She had me wrapped, although I’m not sure she knew it.

“Are you ever going to like cats?”

I groaned. “You know I’m not good with them.” My eyes were back on her ass, where the water from her feet had made little wet spots on her shorts when she was hanging over the edge of the washing machine. I was about to make one of my usual jokes about liking cats ‘braised in light cream sauce’ and then I remembered the way she had looked sprawled across the washer.

“Come here.” I reached my arm out for her and she sat on the edge of the bed, letting me slid my hand up under her shirt in back. “I may not love cats, but I love you.”

She smiled, just a little, letting the cat jump from her arms onto the bed. I winced-the damned thing just barely missed my crotch. But Katie was letting me rub her back, and I dared to slide my hand around to cup her breast, so nice and firm, her nipples still hard from standing in her bare feet on the wet basement floor.

“Mmm.” She sighed, closing her eyes, and for a moment my cock was sure we were going to get lucky. Then she opened them again, hopping up from the bed. “How about I make you a nice ‘thank-you’ dinner tonight after I get home from work?”

“No blowjob?” I reached for my crotch, imagining her mouth on it. She didn’t do it often, but when she did, oh fuck… my cock stood up at full attention just at the thought.

Katie smiled over her shoulder, on the way to the bathroom for a shower before class. “Mayyybe tonight…”

“Tease!” I raised my eyebrows but I was grinning. “Hey, don’t forget, the show’s tonight.”

“Oh right. Well then we’ll have to do dinner tomorrow.” She threaded her way through a congregation of mewling cats. I couldn’t help watching how her hips swayed before she closed the bathroom door, feeling my cock swell to bursting in anticipation.

* * * *

We were doing “Cleopatre,” and although she kept saying how much she wanted to hear me perform, Katie had missed it twice. This is her last chance, I thought as I paced backstage, my jaw working, teeth grinding.

“Ready for the big finale?” Anne’s speaking voice was as soft as her singing voice was loud. I’d never heard a woman who could project like she could, especially when she started out with something that seemed so small.

She smiled up at me, already in full costume, her eyes heavily darkened for the role. For a while, I thought she and I might hook up, but it didn’t work out. Performers had big egos, and they got in the way. Anne was too much of a diva for me.

“Sure,” I said, stopping in mid-pace. “You?”

“Look what Theo gave me.” She arched her neck, lifting a small pendant on a gold chain. “He told me you should go see him.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Finale gift?” Theo was known for his prudence when it came to putting on shows. My entire costume had been acquired from a Salvation Army thrift store.

“Sort of.” Her eyes were bright. “He’s got boxes of stuff in his office he’s giving away. He doesn’t want the university to get any of it.”

“Holy shit!” My eyes widened and I laughed. “He’s retiring isn’t he? Sly old fox.”

She just smiled. “Go see him.”

I shook my head, heading back toward his office. He growled a “Come in!” when I knocked.

“Hey, ol’ man,” I said, crossing my arms and surveying the stacks of boxes in his office. “I heard you wanted to see me.”

“Sebastian!” He poked his head up from behind his desk. “You talked to Anne?”

“She didn’t tell me a thing.” I grinned.

“Good!” It came out ‘Goot.’ Theo’s English was ‘goot’ but his accent was still very German, and he often slipped back into the language when he was angry. We’d all been berated in German more times than we could count-I was probably the only one, though, who had been called a “verfluchter hurensohn” and knew that it actually meant some approximation of “stupid son of a bitch!”

“Anything you want.” He nodded at the pile of boxes. “You choose.”

“I’d rather have you stay,” I said, meeting his eyes.

He shrugged one shoulder at me. “Can I help it if Italian men are opinionated?”

“Ah.” I poked through the box closest to me. It was full of the props we had used for Don Giovanni. “Sal wants to go back to Italy?”

Theo sighed, leaning back in his chair and taking off his round glasses to rub his eyes with his thumbs. “Europe isn’t what it was.”

“Nothing is.” I sifted through another box. God, the memories. These were the props from my very first performance as a freshman in Le Boheme, as a lowly Studenti. I went over to his desk and sat on the edge, swinging my Marc-Antoine sandal. It looked great under the toga.

“Truth is…” He put his glasses back on. “They’re bringing in someone else. An upstart-some kid-they want to modernize, the dean says.”

I frowned. “Great. We’ll be doing Carmen using cell phones and wearing leather chaps. They think modernizing means cultural rape.”

“Preaching to the choir.” Theo waved his hand at the boxes. “Anyway, it’s done. Take what you want. I wanted you and Anne to have first pick. After that, it’s to the vultures.”

“I don’t want anything.” I slid off his desk. “Just glad next year is my last.”

“Maybe you can come to Italy?” Theo asked and I glanced back at him. Singing at Teatro alla Scala? I could only dream of it.

“If that’s an offer, I’ll take it.” I noticed a sandal very similar to the one I was wearing sticking out of a box in the corner and I went over to investigate.

“If I can make one to you, I will,” Theo replied, standing.

The box looked like rejected props from “Cleopatre”-there were all sorts of Egyptian relics piled in with gold headdresses and jewelry.

“Where’d this come from?” I lifted the box and tilted it in his direction.

“Curio shop in town.” He leaned over to look out the window. It was still an hour until show time and the parking lot was empty. “Just junk we couldn’t use.”

I investigated further, past the tangled gold chains and vases decorated with hyrogliephs and little gold pyramids made in China. At the bottom, I found a small statue of a svelte cat. It had a winged figure carved on the front. I turned it over, looking for its “Made in Taiwan” sticker, but saw the word “Bast” carved into the bottom. It was perfect for Katie-I knew the minute I saw it that she would love it.

“I’ll take this.” I held up the little two-inch figure between my thumb and forefinger.

“Whatever you like,” Theo replied, his gaze still scanning the parking lot. “Ah, here’s someone. Our finale will at least have an audience.”

I saw the car and knew it was Katie. I headed for the door, smiling at his words, the cat figure still in my hand. “Isn’t that the best we can ever hope for?”

* * * *

“Malcolm, you’re an ass!” It was Katie’s voice, and she sounded-well, scared. I hesitated just a moment outside our door, wondering what in the hell her ex-boyfriend was doing in our apartment. I knew the guy by name and reputation, but we’d never actually met. “Get out!”

“All right, doll.” A guy’s voice. Obviously Malcolm. “Take it easy. I’m going.”

The door opened and I found myself face-to-face with Mr. Testosterone. This guy was twice my size, which would have been formidable enough, but he was also wearing leather chaps and chains and resembled a younger, less gentle Grizzly Adams. He didn’t even look at me as he shoved by, using his shoulder to knock me out of the way as he headed past. I stared after him as he clomped down the stairs, straight-arming the screen door on the way out.

“Sorry.” Katie apologized from behind me and I turned to look at her. She was hugging herself like she was cold, although it was still eighty degrees.

“Are you okay?” I frowned back at the door. I suspected Malcolm was the reason Katie was scared of everything all the time-especially sex. Having now experienced him in person, I started fantasizing about buying myself a gun. “What was he doing here?”

She shrugged, heading to the stove. “He just wanted some old stuff I still have of his somewhere. I told him I’d try to find it. I think we put it in that closet in the laundry room.”

Whatever she was cooking smelled even better in here than it did outside. I should have been used to the cats-they were everywhere-stretched out on the sofa, curled into those little cat towers, there was even one lying belly-up in the middle of the kitchen table. But after six months, it still annoyed me.

“Anyway, welcome home.” Katie look flustered, leaning over to give me a kiss as I put my backpack full of books on the floor and she led me into our little living room. She shooed a cat off a chair for me, and I sat in a thick pile of white hair. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Do we have any Coke?” I asked as the white cat I’d rescued leapt back up into my lap, her blue eyes checking me out as she turned around and flicked her tail past my nose. I wanted to push her off, but I knew Katie wouldn’t like it, so I tolerated the paws kneading against my thigh. “Why in the hell did you let that asshole in the house?”

“I bought some Coke just for you.” She stood in front of the open refrigerator on one bare foot, the other tucked behind her ankle. I could see her through the doorway.

“Don’t let him in the house anymore, okay Katie?” I winced as the cat’s claws dug into my leg. Katie handed me a can of Coke and sat across from me on the sofa with a glass of wine. That surprised me. Katie didn’t drink.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized again, looking toward the door. “He just kind of pushed his way in…”

I popped the lid and sucked off the foam. The cat perked up at the noise and then wiggled her nose against the can.

“He’s always been an ass like that.” She sighed, holding her wine glass against the side of her neck.

“That’s obvious.” I frowned, leaning back away from the cat in my lap and discovering another one draped over the back of my chair. “But I don’t like him in our apartment.”

“I don’t either, Sebastian.” She took a big swig of wine. I watched her slim throat working as she swallowed. She let out a soft burp, smiling apologetically. “I told you-he just pushed his way in.”

“Well next time call me,” I snapped as the black cat lying behind me starting making his way across my shoulder. “Or call the fucking cops.”

“Okay, okay!” She sighed and held up her hands in a warding off gesture as the white cat dug her back claws into my leg when she jumped off. I winced but didn’t make a sound. Katie made a soft noise in her throat at the cat striding toward her, and she picked her up and cuddled her against her cheek. The cat looked like it was tolerating it rather than enjoying it.

“What did he want, anyway?”

“Believe it or not, baseball cards. He says they got mixed into my stuff. They’re supposed to be very valuable.” She shrugged. “I think he wants to sell them.”

“So… what’s for dinner?” I changed the subject, watching Katie kiss the cat’s pink nose before dropping her to the floor.

“Lasagna. Oh! The garlic bread!” She jumped up and rushed through the doorway into the kitchen.

From where I sat, I could see her bending over to look into the oven. She wasn’t wearing her boy shorts, which I loved on her-too bad-but the cutoffs she had on rode up her thighs quite nicely. I liked the way her red t-shirt pulled up a little when she stretched to get plates out of the cupboard, and the way she had pulled her long hair up into some sort of pony tail configuration on the back of her head, all loose and droopy, like it could fall out at any minute.

I shrugged the cat off my shoulder and stood. “Want some help?”

“Sure!” She was plucking pieces of hot garlic bread from a cookie sheet and tossing them into a towel-lined basket, blowing on her fingers between each one.

I opened a drawer and pulled out a spatula. “Here.” I slipped the utensil under the rest of the bread and up-ended it into the basket.

“Thanks.” God, that smile. It reminded me once again why I put up with the fifteen cats, the menacing spectre of her ex-boyfriend and Katie’s endless bouts of frigidness. I just couldn’t help smiling back at her, even though it felt goofy to be standing there in our kitchen just smiling at each other. “You’re sweet, you know that?”

I shrugged, looking down to see what was rubbing against my feet, and Katie moved around me to grab the plates. It was the huge orange cat, fatter than any television Morris or Garfield. He always muscled out the rest of them at dinner time. I opened the drawer back up that I’d just closed and grabbed two forks.

Katie retrieved our drinks from the living room, shooing two cats out of the way as she went who were trying to make figure-8’s around her ankles. I got napkins from the counter and put the basket of garlic bread on the table.

“Wow!” My eyes widened, my mouth already watering as she pulled the lasagna out of the oven. “You went all out, baby! That’s not even Stouffer’s!”

She laughed, using the spatula to cut a huge corner chunk and plopping it on my plate. The fat orange cat was sitting at my feet, looking up at me and blinking like he was bored, but his tail swished and his gaze was on my plate. The lasagna was too hot to eat so I munched on garlic bread while I watched Katie serve herself about half my portion.

“So how was work?” I asked, although most of the time I didn’t. Katie was majoring in veterinary medicine and her internship often involved disgusting medical procedures she liked to discuss in gory detail.

“You don’t want to talk about that.” She smiled, tucking her foot under her as she sat. I looked at the pink instep and found myself wanting to kiss it.

“How did you guess?” I grinned, watching a grey cat appear from around the corner and jump up into her lap. She adjusted as it settled in.

“How was the after-party last night?” She blew on a piece of lasagna hanging off her fork. Her mouth made a little ‘o’ when she did that and it enthralled me.

“Not bad. Wish you could have stayed.” I took another bite of garlic bread and followed it with a swig of soda. Katie had begged off, complaining of a headache. “But Theo was all depressed and being kind of a dick to everyone. You know how bitchy he can get.”

“What do you expect?” She tested the pasta with her lips and found it cool enough to slide into her mouth. “I think you may be the only one in the entire performance who isn’t gay.”

“Just because I sing opera doesn’t mean I’m gay.” I tried out my lasagna. It was still way too hot. I knew I was flushing. I could feel the heat creeping up my neck. “Quit teasing me, Katie.”

“I like teasing you.” She reached for her glass of wine, smiling. She knew I was sensitive about it. Singing opera didn’t exactly make me a chick magnet-quite the opposite, since girls seemed to find it about as masculine as a guy sporting a tutu.

“Besides, I know it’s not true.” She licked a bead of wine from her lip. “Believe me, I know. I’ve always thought it was sexy. Italian, German, French… you sing in all the romance languages.”

She knew just how to twist me around her little finger. “You know, most opera singers don’t know the languages they sing in. They just learn the words… but you do.”

She smiled at me with those dark blue eyes. The cat in her lap had nearly identical ones, and they were both staring at me, blinking. “Fluent in seven languages and conversational in twelve.”

“Almost as many languages as we have cats,” I joked. “You really find that sexy?”

“Uh-huh.” She shooed the cat off her lap and I blinked in disbelief as she crawled across the kitchen floor, nuzzling my crotch under the table.

“Katie?” I said her name as if to check-who was this girl and what had she done with my girlfriend? The one who had to have sex in the dark with most of her clothes still on, the one who barely made a sound, even when I knew she was having an orgasm? Who was this Katie?

“Mmmm, I think it’s time for that hero’s blowjob,” she murmured, working on the zipper of my jeans.

I stared at her, wondering if it was the wine gone to her head. I didn’t want to even entertain that it might have been the visit from the ex that had precipitated her change of sexual mood. It had to be the wine.

“Oh god, Katie.” I moaned and she sucked and we forgot all about dinner and school and Malcolm’s unwelcome interruption. We forgot about everything but each other for a long, delicious while, and I decided that night, with Katie asleep in my arms, that I didn’t care if it would make her an alcoholic, I was going to make sure she had alcohol in her system as often as I could!

* * * *

I was lying on the sofa, balancing a bowl of Trix cereal on my chest. Deciding I was mostly done, I let one of the cat drinks out of the bowl. He lapped around the little fruity circles, his tongue soaking up the sweetened milk.

“That’s not good for them.” Katie didn’t even look at me from her perch in the chair. She was peering out the window. Since the surprise kitchen-table blowjob, things had been cooler than ever. I didn’t get it. I’d tried everything-including lots more alcohol, which just ended up with me holding her hair while she puked in the bathroom-but she went back to the quiet, frigid Katie I’d come to know. And after getting a taste of sexy-Katie, going backwards was particularly painful.

“He likes it.” I tipped the bowl so he could get more. He sneezed when some milk got up his nose.

She snorted, tilting her head as she watched a bird move skyward. “Just because we like something, doesn’t mean it’s good for us.”

“Tell me about it.” I pushed the cat off my stomach and sat up, setting the bowl on the end table. “The new director is a complete fuck-up. He emails line changes every night we’re supposed to learn the same day. I swear he sent me that virus. Hey, did you pick up my laptop from the computer shop?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot,” she murmured, absent-minded. She’d forgotten a lot of things lately.

“I’ll get it before rehearsal tomorrow.” I just shrugged. “Anyway, he wants me to sing baritone, and he refuses to put Anne in the lead. Although, I don’t know why she’d want to dress up as a cat anyway.”

“A cat?” Katie’s nose wrinkled and she did look at me then. She was sprawled across the chair by the window on her belly, her hands draped over the edge so she could look outside. Fall had finally come, and we’d been blessed with some cooler weather.

“The English Cat.” I snorted. “That’s our next production. He wanted us to do The Fairy Queen-nude. Like a Midsummer Night’s Dream version of Hair. The dean shot that down in a hurry. Now we’re stuck with this-what are you doing?”

Katie had rolled over and was leaning her head back over the arm and batting at the white filmy curtains. “Nothing,” she said, not stopping.

“I almost didn’t get the lead either,” I said, noticing how her sweater rode up when she was arched backwards like that, showing her navel. God, I missed summer, just for the sight of her tank tees. “New director nearly gave it to a freshman, and I found out later, it’s his cousin. Holy nepotism, Batman.”

I noticed that the cat had settled back in front of my bowl of cereal milk and was lapping away. The white cat, Sassy, was sitting below Katie’s chair and batting at her long dark hair hanging off the side.

“But you got the lead right?”

“Yeah,” I grumbled, leaning back on the sofa. “But this freshman kid is the new bane of my existence. Now he stalks me all over campus. I think he’s the one who’s been going all Hannibal on me and leaving dead animals in my car.”

Katie looked over at me, eyes wide. “You’re kidding?”

“Nope.” I watched her stand up, taking the bowl of milk away from the cat and shooing him off the table. I smiled, noticing that she was wearing the necklace I’d made for her out of the cat statue I took from Theo. I’d had a friend drill a small hole through the ears and had strung it on a soft leather tie. “I’m just so glad it’s my last year.”

“Then what?” She walked the bowl toward the kitchen.

“Sing or teach singing, I guess.” I put my feet up on the arm of the sofa so I could watch her. “Nothing else I’m qualified to do.”

“I’m thinking about changing my major.” She was standing at the sink, her back to me.

“What?” I sat up, stepping on Sassy’s tail as I stood. She hissed and bolted down the hallway. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Not kidding,” she replied. “I quit my job last week.”

“Why?” I leaned against the doorway, staring at her back.

“The dogs.” She turned toward me, still holding the bowl of milk.

“The-dogs?” I shook my head at her and we both jumped at a crashing sound from down the hall.

“Damn cat,” I said. “I’ll get it.”

I went to investigate, finding Sassy sitting on the bathroom counter, her tail swishing as she looked down over the edge-there was water everywhere.

“Stupid animal,” I muttered, heading back toward the kitchen for a broom. I turned the corner to the kitchen doorway. “Sassy knocked a glass off the-”

Katie was on her hands and knees on the kitchen table with my cereal bowl in front of her. Her eyes were closed, and I stood, transfixed, watching her tongue dipping into the bowl and then pulling back into her mouth as she lapped at the milk. I’d seen enough cats drinking to know what it looked like.

“Katie?” I whispered, still not quite believing what I was seeing. Her bottom was way up in the air, waving a little, and her hands were flat on the table as she leaned in to the bowl. When her eyes opened and she looked up at me, they were a huge, luminescent green and I noticed she had milk dribbling off her chin.

The pounding at the door made us both jump. Katie leapt off the table, eyes wide.

“Yeah?” I opened the door, still too stunned by Katie’s behavior to react. It was Malcolm. He didn’t say anything to me. It was like I wasn’t even there. Katie was standing in the doorway to the kitchen as he just barged in, stalking over to her.

“Where’s my stuff?” He leaned his hand above her head against the door frame. “I need my stuff, Katie!”

“I can’t find it.” Katie’s voice was small, and her hand was at her throat, fingering the cat statue there like it could protect her.

“Dude, I suggest you get the hell out of my house, before I call the cops.” It took everything I had to stay still and not make a move on the guy, no matter how big he was.

“Fuck you, Debbie Boone.” Malcolm snarled in my direction.

“Get out.” I opened the front door.

He laughed, looking back at Katie, and then stopped. When he turned back to me, his eyes were dark. “Listen, fairy boy,” he said, stepping toward me. I didn’t move back an inch. “You don’t tell me what to do.”

“This is my house. Get out of it.”

He snarled at me, and pushed me hard in the middle of the chest, slamming me against the door as he went out.

“This isn’t over! I want my stuff!” he yelled as I shut the door and hooked the chain. I hadn’t expected that to go so well. In fact, I’d expected to end up in the hospital. My heart was hammering in my chest.

“Baby, are you okay?”

She was collapsed on the floor, curled around herself, and I knelt beside her.

“Katie? Katie-did?” I used my nickname for her, trying to call her back from wherever she seemed to have gone. It wasn’t working. I tried to get her to stand, but she just went limp again, eyes blank. I listened for sounds of Malcolm coming back but didn’t hear anything.

I was no He-Man, but I got her propped over my shoulder and did a fireman’s carry to our bedroom, laying her on the bed. She curled up around herself like that again, her hand clutching the necklace I’d given her, and I just slid in beside her and curled myself around her too.

I held her like that, stroking her hair, waiting, half-listening for Malcolm to come back, wondering if I should call the cops. Or maybe an ambulance. Because Katie seemed almost catatonic.

“I’m sorry.” Those were the first words she said, and they startled me.

“For what?” My voice was thick and I realized that my hand had found its way up under her sweater and was resting flat against her bare belly. I started to withdraw it, but she tucked her hand over mine, pressing it there and then sliding it further upward.

“Oh, Katie.” I sighed. “No. Not like this.”

“Yes.” She slid my hand up over her bra and wiggled back against me. “Just like this.”

Turning in my arms, she wrapped herself around me as her mouth found mine. This was no chaste Katie-kiss-her tongue probed deep and her hands grabbed at my t-shirt, pulling it out of my jeans, seeking skin.

“Katie…” I groaned when her thigh moved between mine, rubbing there. I knew I should stop her, that I should call the cops about Malcolm, that we needed to talk, but the more she rubbed her soft body against me, the harder she kissed me, her mouth eagerly sucking and licking at mine, the further that part of my brain seemed to get.

She shoved my t-shirt up over my head and I let her as she nuzzled my neck, biting there, her teeth sharp, making me wince. She was sitting up on me then, looking down with greedy eyes in the half-light, pulling off her sweater, unhooking her bra. Her body was incredible. The necklace I’d given her swung between her high, pink-tipped breasts above her smooth, flat belly.

Part of me was still listening for Malcolm coming back, but that part of me was losing focus too. She grabbed my hands and put them on her breasts, leaning over to kiss me, grinding her hips into mine, denim against denim. God, the feel of her flesh under my hands, the way she moaned against my mouth when I squeezed her nipples, making her pelvis rock-I couldn’t resist.

I kissed her back, sucking her tongue into my mouth. Her belly undulated against mine, and I rolled over onto her, unsnapping and unzipping her jeans. My cock strained against the material as she rubbed her hand between my legs, scratching her nails there.

“Hurry,” she murmured as I tugged her jeans off. She was wearing a pair of pink panties, her pubic hair a dark patch underneath the pale material, and I remembered my comment in the laundry room about the neighbor’s pink panties. I wondered if Katie had gone out and purchased them just for me-but I didn’t have time to finish the thought before she was peeling them off, exposing her soft, glistening triangle.

“Come on.” She grabbed the waistband of my jeans as I knelt between her thighs, tugging at the snap, unzipping me, pulling them down my hips. It still wasn’t fast enough for her, and she knelt up, kissing me as she slipped a hand into my boxers, squeezing my shaft.

“Oh god.” I thrust into her hand and pressed her to me, her breasts flattening against my chest.

“Mmmm.” She hummed against my mouth, pushing me back onto the bed and then pulling my jeans and boxers off. My cock pointed straight up to the ceiling as she crawled up my legs on her hands and knees, her nipples grazing my thighs.

I groaned when she slipped the tip of my cock into her mouth and started giving me a hot, wet suck that seemed to go on and on. I couldn’t keep up with her-her hand and mouth and the eager noises she made. My breath came faster and faster, and my hand went to her hair, pressing in deeper. It just made her moan louder and the sound of her lust made me want to come in her mouth.

I held back, my eyes looking for a distraction. I could hear purring, and saw Sassy, the white cat, lazing on the dresser, watching us with half-closed eyes. Her motor was really running, and I wondered if cats knew when humans were having sex, what they were really doing and feeling. Ah, that was better-thinking about that helped hold off my climax.

I felt Katie’s nails scratching lightly over my balls, sending shivers through me. My eyes rolled back into my head as she continued to swallow my cock again and again, and I found myself petting her head, her hair soft under my fingers. Her tongue slipped underneath my cock as she sucked me, running under the shaft, and then she used her hand, pumping as she slid her mouth further down.

“Oh, Katie!” I cried, feeling her tongue moving over the sensitive skin of my balls. She lapped at me, long, rough licks that worked their way back up my shaft again. The skin there was tender, and her tongue was softly grating, almost irritating. The sensation was oddly familiar but somehow completely out of context. I couldn’t place it.

Jesus, what the hell is she doing?

My hand tightened in her hair, but there wasn’t anything to grip. I felt something softly pointed on the side of her head, moving, nuzzling, underneath my hand. When I looked down, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Katie’s eyes glowed a bright, luminescent green-that was the first thing I noticed and the one thing my mind seemed to want to stay focused on.

Blue. Katie’s eyes are blue.

My mind didn’t want to register the rest, and it was happening too fast for me to try to digest it. She slid her body upward, and I felt the skin of her belly and breasts, and that was all right, in fact that was incredible, but her thighs, spreading against mine, were so soft-impossibly soft, really, like she was covered in some sort of velvety down.

What the fuck?!

“Katie?” The light in the room was fading, but I could still see her eyes, that odd luminous green, as she nuzzled her way up my chest. Her body rumbled under my hands as she kissed me, her tongue rasping over mine, and I realized with a sudden jolt that it wasn’t Sassy I’d heard purring-it was Katie. The sound quivered through her and seemed to be coming from between her breasts as they pressed hard into my chest.

She sat up on me and pressed my cock between us, trapping me between her pussy lips and rocking. I gasped, looking up at her, my breath gone, just gone. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t think, I couldn’t possibly be seeing-was her hair pulled back? No-it was gone, just gone. My brain tried to assimilate the transformation, but there wasn’t enough blood left there as Katie tugged on my erection, which was still like steel in spite of my shock-it was as frozen as I was.

It was the long, black tail I saw swishing back and forth behind her back that brought my breath back, in one long groan, expressing both the pleasure of her sliding herself down onto my shaft and my sudden astonishment and dismay. Katie was purring louder now as she began to ride me, making little kitten noises as she rolled her hips.

Her eyes closed, concentrating on the sensation between her legs, and I started getting lost in my own. God damn, she felt good-I had to fight my first instinct to throw her off me in my shock, but I was starting to be carried away by the delicious, slick squeeze of her pussy. When I closed my eyes, I could imagine it was Katie-it was Katie-grinding herself on top of me.

My hands fell to her thighs, the long muscles in her legs working her up and down, and I felt the soft black fur there, running my fingers through it in wonder. She pressed her hands-paws? — down against me and began kneading my belly just like a kitten would. I didn’t feel any claws, but the sensation of her massaging my stomach while she made little circles on my cock was glorious.

She started making louder mewing sounds, little cries that sent shivers through me. I felt her muscles quivering around my cock, and I watched her face in the dimness, seeing the unmistakable shudder and tremble of an orgasm hovering there.

I wanted to be the one to take her there, and that’s what finally moved me. I grabbed her hips-oh god, she was covered in fur there too, luxuriously soft under my hands-thrusting deep up inside of her.

“Oh yes!” she cried, and I watched her knead her breasts, the tips of her fingers rubbing the nipples again and again. “Oh, Sebastian, yes!”

I groaned at the sound of my name in her mouth when she was so close, and I drove a little harder, a little faster, watching her ride the wave starting to overtake her. She leaned into me, biting her lip and gripping me with her thighs.

It happened like that, her body thundering with the quiet roar of her purr as she rubbed herself on top of me. I felt the rhythmic quaver of her cunt, the light fluttering of her muscles squeezing and releasing my cock as she gripped my shoulders, her claws sinking into my flesh, making me gasp.

“Oh god,” she whispered, and I winced as I felt her retracting her claws. I knew I had to be bleeding. It stung like a bitch. She was still purring like crazy, and I felt the wet pulse of her all around me.

I reached to touch her face as she rested against my chest. It was her face still, the delicate features, the little freckled nose, but there were whiskers emerging from her cheeks that quivered when I touched her and her ears twitched on the top of her dark head. The fur all over her body was sleek and black, covering every part of her except for her belly and breasts.

I looked at her in wonder, still not quite believing what I was seeing. “Are you okay?”

It was probably the dumbest thing in the world to say, but it was all I could think of. What was I supposed to ask? ‘Did you turn into a cat?’ My senses were telling me what had happened-it was my rational mind that needed to catch up.

“More than okay.” When she smiled and climbed off me, nuzzling my cock with her soft, furry head, like she wanted her ears scratched, my senses threatened to take over again.

When she turned around and presented her behind to me like an offering, and I saw her, open and exposed, her pussy lips swollen and wet, her black tail rising in the air and curving at the tip like a question mark, my senses weren’t threatening anymore-they overpowered everything else.

My cock knew exactly what it wanted and it jerked me up until I was kneeling behind her, spreading her lips with my fingers. I couldn’t resist tasting her, slipping my tongue into the softness between her thighs. It was a shock not to feel the wiry sensation of pubic hair against my lips, but rather a slick, light fuzz that gave way to the pink flesh of her pussy.

She purred loudly as I licked her from behind, lifting her ass high in the air so I could slide a finger into her wetness. Her tail twitched above my head, back and forth, putting her whole bottom on display, the pink tender flesh of her cunt and the little wink of her tiny asshole. I wanted to press my finger there, but I didn’t dare.

When I slid a hand down the fur along her spine, from her neck to her lower back, she arched, first down and then up, her pelvis tilting with the motion. When her bottom rose up again like that, I groaned, feeling my cock jump. I wanted her. I had to have her.

Kneeling up between her legs, I pressed my cock into the pink heat of her flesh. She cried out when I slid into her, burying myself balls-deep. Her tail swished slowly back and forth in front of my face as she arched, meeting my thrusts. The light was nearly gone now, but I saw her kneading the mattress in front of her, and I felt the roar of her purr deep in my pelvis. I could actually feel it vibrating my cock. It was extraordinary.

I grabbed her furry hips, feeling the shock of her fur-covered thighs every time I drove back into her. She made little mewing cries, louder and louder, and still the purring went on underneath, like a running motor, signaling her pleasure. She arched back, again and again, still massaging the mattress like it was clay or something she could shape and form with the heat and pressure of her hands.

“Oh god, Katie,” I groaned, feeling her tail curling around my back, the tug of it pulling me deeper as she rounded her spine and arched, again and again, purring and mewing all the while. I couldn’t stand much more, and I think she knew it.

“I want your cum,” she purred, the sound of her voice trembling with a soft vibrato. “Fill this pussy, baby.”

Oh, fuck! That was it-I jerked up hard against her fur-covered flesh, grunting as I thrust my cum into her, waves of hot, white fluid pulsing deep into her body. She mewed softly, and I felt the quivering of her muscles around me and I moaned louder as she came again around my cock, milking my shaft with her cunt.

When I slid out of her, she mewed again, a forlorn sound, and she turned around, nuzzling her head against my belly and chest, rubbing her velvety ears against me. Breathless, I collapsed back onto the bed and she followed, crawling up me and settling against my side, her furry thigh over mine, her whiskers tickling my cheek.

I stared up at the ceiling and listened to her purring, soft now, a low, contented sound. I waited until I was sure she was asleep before I tried slipping out from beneath her. She sighed and moved around on the bed a little, adjusting herself to my absence, but she stayed asleep. I could barely make out her outline on the bed now, but I knew what I’d seen, what I’d experienced. I grabbed my clothes, tugging them on as I headed out the door.

* * * *

I sat staring into the glowing square of the computer at the figure on the screen. I had typed one word into the library computer’s search engine: “Bast,” and had come up with 2,940,000 results. It wasn’t long before I found what I was looking for though. I clicked over to “images” and there it was-the little statue of the cat Katie wore around her neck.

It was the only explanation I could imagine.

The page read: “Bast is the daughter of Ra, and she is the intrinsic, instinctive rage of the sun-god. Bast is his instrument of vengeance. She is the cat-goddess of the Egyptian civilization who destroys vermin, but yet, she is approachable, if you are fearless, and she can be stroked.”

I sat there lost in my own thoughts for a long time. Too long. Students came and went. The librarian came over the speaker to tell patrons the library was closing in ten minutes. I didn’t think about Katie, alone in the apartment. Not until I pulled into our parking lot and shut off the engine. Sliding my keys into my pocket, I found the baseball cards I’d slipped in there. They were where Katie had remembered, but they were too high up on a shelf for her to reach, far in the back, in an unlabeled box. The pawn shop had confirmed their worth, all right. I was effectively carrying around $200,000 in my pocket.

I got out of the car, frowning at the house. It was quiet for a Friday night. That’s when I heard Cujo barking frantically upstairs.

When I rounded the corner, I saw Sassy sitting on our front steps, licking her paw and washing her ear. That was my first hint, and it jolted my numbed and overloaded senses awake again. I bolted to the top of the stairs to find the door wide open.

“Katie!”

I heard her crying. Oh, thank god. I closed my eyes for a moment. She’s alive.

I ran back to the bedroom, flipping on the overhead light. She was crouched on the bed, and I had a moment of deja-vu, remembering Sassy sitting on the step, washing herself. Katie looked almost the same, except that her black fur was matted in blood.

“Oh my god,” I breathed, seeing blood all over the covers. I looked her over to find where it was coming from. “Where are you hurt?”

“It’s not me,” she croaked, pointing to the other side of the bed.

When I peered over the side, I somehow already knew what I was going to find. It was Malcolm, his sightless eyes peering up at me, throat slit from ear to ear.

“What did you do?” I whispered, covering my mouth with my hand.

“I killed some vermin.” Those words jerked my head toward her, remembering what I’d found on the Internet, and I saw her green eyes flashing.

Katie’s eyes are blue.

I looked at the cat statue hanging around her neck for a moment, and then I looked into her eyes, wide with fear now.

I knew what I had to do.

“I love you, Katie.” I knelt next to her by the bed, taking her hand and turning it over, kissing a bare place on her palm where it wasn’t stained with blood. It was true, had always been true. Being with her was all I wanted to do, for the rest of my life. I’d been waiting patiently for months for something, not really knowing what it was I was waiting for, but now I knew. This Katie was the one I’d fallen in love with, the one I’d somehow known existed all along-buried, repressed, trapped, dormant. I didn’t believe in fate, exactly, but some part of me knew that none of this was an accident.

“I worship you,” I whispered, and that was true too. She’d brought me to my knees time and again, but I’d never given up hope for her, for us. “You’ve been my goddess since the day I met you.”

She gave me a small, trembling smile, the same smile I’d fallen in love with.

“Come on.” I stood and held out my hand. I knew I would do anything for her, even this, and was about to spend the rest of my life proving it. “We need to get you cleaned up.”

She cocked her head at me. “Where are we going?”

“Italy.” I pulled her up and headed toward the shower. “You’ll love it there.”

The Dirty Show

“Hey girl, this is crazy, and I know we just met, but…”

Janie blinked in surprise at the guy who took the stool beside her at the bar, instinctively backing away a little as he leaned closer. He was young, barely old enough to gain entry into the club, and while she was just ten years past that, this clear attempt to pick her up amused her greatly.

“Excuse me?” She crossed one leg over the other, letting her already-too-short skirt ride up her thigh, revealing the lace top of her thigh high stocking, enjoying his reaction. His gaze skipped from her hemline to the v-neck of her blouse, revealing far more cleavage than she was used to showing.

“Sorry, it was a just bad pickup line!” He had to yell to be heard, leaning in even closer, and Janie could smell beer on his breath. “Whatcha drinkin’? I’m buying!”

“Shot of Patron!” Janie yelled in reply and lifted her glass, tilting back the honey colored liquid at the bottom.

“Two shots of Patron!” The guy called to the bartender. She was a leggy redhead who raised her eyebrows as she poured the shots but she took the guy’s money and slid the drinks in front of them, moving on to the other patrons crowding the bar.

“What should we drink to?” Janie lifted her glass, enjoying the way he turned toward her on the stool so his knee brushed her thigh. He was tall, and the jeans and cowboy boots alone made her belly quiver. The silver buckle and the hat were just cherries on the cake.

“All I know is that we need to get hammered.” He clinked his glass to hers, grinning, still yelling to be heard. “Because I wanna nail you!”

“The first pickup line wasn’t bad enough?” Janie smirked, raising one eyebrow and glancing pointedly down at his crotch. “I don’t know, are you sure you brought enough wood?”

Her timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Tequila erupted from his mouth in a fine spray all over the bar and he choked behind his black shirt sleeve, eyes watering, but he came up laughing.

“I’m pretty sure you’d be happy with the timber, ma’am,” he replied, still grinning.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

She felt a presence, glancing over her shoulder at the dark, curly hair appearing behind her as he slid onto the stool on her other side.

“I’m Josh,” he said, holding out his hand.

Janie took it, smiling. “Janie.”

“Oh, she’s a tougher nut to crack than that, pal, believe me!” the cowboy remarked, using one of the napkins sitting under a bowl of peanuts to wipe up the tequila he’d spit all over the bar.

“Is that so?” Josh smiled. “I guess we’ll have to see about that. Hey, cowboy, can I borrow your hat?”

The cowboy frowned, but he took it off and handed it over, smoothing back his sandy hair.

“Thanks.” Josh put the hat over Janie’s still untouched shot of tequila. “I bet you a kiss that I can drink that without ever touching the hat.”

She cocked her head and eyed him skeptically. “One kiss?”

“Would you prefer a blowjob? I know I would!”

“Okay, one kiss.” Janie laughed, feeling her face flush. Beside her, the cowboy was watching intently.

Josh gave a nod and then crouched down, disappearing under the lip of the bar. Janie squealed as she felt his hands on her calves, a hot mouth pressed to her knee, making drinking sounds. The cowboy’s eyes widened.

“Ma’am? Do you need me to-?”

“No, no!” She laughed, waving him away as Josh reappeared.

“Taa daa!” Josh wiped the back of his mouth, dropping her a wink.

The cowboy scowled, reaching over to grab his hat off the counter, revealing the shot sitting, still untouched, on the bar. “Hey!”

Josh grabbed the glass, knocking the shot back in one tilt of his head. He turned to Janie, grinning. “Now about that blowjob…”

“Kiss!” she reminded him as he wrapped his arms around her waist, forcing her to spread her legs as his mouth came down on hers, slanting across with a wet, hungry heat she couldn’t resist. Janie put her arms around his neck, letting him draw her tongue in, suck at it, and felt the stiff press of his erection through his jeans.

“What the hell?” The cowboy was still scowling when Janie came up for air, face flushed, pushing her blonde hair back out of her eyes.

“I drank it,” Josh explained, grinning. “But I never touched the hat, did I?”

The cowboy looked from one to the other, puzzled. “But… you… are you…?”

Janie disentangled herself from Josh’s arms, turning on the stool toward the confused man. Leaning in closer, so she wouldn’t have to yell to be heard, she whispered into his ear, “Married.”

She saw the light dawning and slipped her arm around Josh’s waist as she slid off the stool, feeling his hand moving over her ass, squeezing, kneading her flesh. Her whole body was buzzing with heat, her nipples hard under her blouse. The cowboy’s gaze went there, in spite of the fact that Josh had already claimed her.

“You’re a lucky man.” The cowboy tipped his hat, his gaze sweeping Janie from head to toe, making her tingle.

“I know.” Josh leaned in and whispered into Janie’s ear. “I’ll meet you outside.”

“Thanks for the drink, cowboy.” Janie turned and walked away, hips swaying, feeling the heat of his gaze following her.

There were two guys standing outside trying to get a taxi, but the moment Janie appeared in her high-heels and short skirt, a yellow cab pulled up, stopping so fast it left a skid mark on the cooling pavement. She smiled apologetically at the men waiting as she got into the back seat, telling the driver their destination, and asking him to wait for Josh.

“So, what do you think?” Josh slid in beside her as the driver took off. Josh slipped his hand slowly over her stocking and up underneath her skirt. He lowered his voice and whispered, “Last bar for the night, my insatiable little slut?”

Her eyes widened slightly and she felt the familiar tingle between her legs. The driver wasn’t paying any attention to them, listening to a Spanish radio station. She looked at Josh, a little mischievous smile passing over her face, and leaned back in the seat slightly.

He looked out the window, seemingly uninterested in her, but his hand slid up further, feeling the heat between her legs. His fingers brushed over her panties and he began slowly stroking her.

Mmm, warming me up. She let her eyes close, feeling the tingle building as her panties grew more damp with each pass of his fingers. Only a small intake of breath indicated that Janie felt his fingers slide her panties aside and his fingers slip inside, seeking the hottest, wettest spot. He glanced at her, and she heard his breath quicken slightly. He loved it, she knew, almost as much as she did.

His finger moved around her clit, making easy, practiced circles. Janie met the cab driver’s eyes in the mirror. He was watching now, seeing the flush on her cheeks, the rosy glow spreading to her chest. She moaned softly, parting her legs wider and sliding her bottom down on the seat.

“It makes you hot, doesn’t it?” Josh leaned in to whisper into the shell of her ear, sending shivers up her spine. “Knowing he’s watching. You’re making his dick hard.”

She whimpered, nuzzling her face against her husband’s neck, squirming on the seat. He knew he drove her crazy, but that’s just where he intended to go. His fingers moved lower, slipping inside her slick pussy, probing deep. She sighed and arched, holding on tight to him as the cab made a sharp left.

“Taste your cunt.” He lifted his glistening fingers to her mouth, forcing them between her lips. The cab driver actually gasped, watching Janie eagerly suck her juices, rocking on the seat. “You’re such a little slut. Say it. Tell me you’re my cock whore.”

“I’m a slut,” she gasped, sliding a leg over his, spreading herself. “I’m your cock whore.”

“Yes, you are.” Josh growled, pulling her into his lap, forcing her to straddle him, her skirt riding up her thighs and over her ass. Janie glanced over her shoulder and saw the cab driver frantically adjusting the mirror for a better view. She arched her back, giving it to him. “Are you ready to give them all a show, you slutty little brat? Are you ready to give them a hot, dirty little show?”

“Yes!” She rocked against him, feeling the length of his cock even through the thick, denim crotch of his jeans. “You’re so good to me, baby. Ohhh so fucking good to me.”

The cab slowed and then stopped and Janie glanced up, the ache in her pussy unbearable, the excitement too much to contain. Outside, the air was warm, stifling even in the moonlight, and Janie frantically filled her lungs as Josh pulled her from the vehicle.

“You should wait.” Josh leaned down to the window to speak to the driver, who was clearly trying to keep some sort of professional expression on his face and failing miserably. “Come on in if you want to see a show.”

There were men crowded at the door, at least a dozen, maybe more. Janie felt their gazes on her as Josh directed them all to step aside so he could unlock the empty warehouse door. She saw the cowboy near the back, his eyes big in the moonlight.

Four of the men went in even before Josh. They were all huge, with broad backs and thickly muscled arms under their matching white tanks that shared one word across both the front and back: “Security.” One of these men posted himself at the door, turning on the stark, overhead fluorescents. The other three went over to the twin mattress arranged on pallets in the middle of the empty room.

“Ready?” Josh whispered. Janie just nodded, trembling, as he led her over to the mattress. It was brand new-the plastic had been removed that afternoon and discarded in a nearby corner. Two folding chairs stood beside it. Janie stood beside the mattress, head and eyes down, and waited. The men, murmuring and talking together, some of them joking, laughing, getting to know each other, followed them, making a semi-circle.

All eyes were on her until Josh held up his hands and announced, “The first rule of Fuck Club is you don’t talk about Fuck Club.”

It was quiet at first, the men shifting, looking uneasy, but then Josh grinned, shaking his head. “Just kidding.”

There was nervous laughter. Janie’s knees felt weak and she leaned against one of the bodyguards for support. His hand moved to her elbow, holding her up.

“You were lucky enough to be chosen or invited here tonight,” Josh went on. He was unbuttoning his shirt as he talked. “This only happens once a year, and if you’re lucky and follow the rules, you may get invited back again next year. The date and the location changes every year, so don’t get any ideas. If you’re not invited back, you’re out of luck. So I’d behave if I were you.”

Josh slid off his shirt, folding it neatly and putting it on a chair beside the mattress. “And if you can’t control yourself or follow the rules, these four bruisers are here to help you. Got it?”

There was a murmur of understanding.

“So what are the rules, mate?”

Janie recognized the voice of the Australian guy they’d picked up from the first bar they’d been to that night. That seemed like a million years ago.

Josh slid his belt out of the loops on his jeans, rattling them off from memory. “You can look, you can touch, but you can’t fuck her and you can’t kiss her on the mouth. If she wants to touch or suck your cock, she will. If she doesn’t, do not force her, or you will be removed.”

She watched, eyes still downcast, as her husband removed his jeans, leaving him wearing only a very tented pair of boxers.

“You can touch yourself, obviously. Or each other, if you’re into that. I don’t care.” Josh turned to Janie. “You can touch her anywhere else with your hands or your mouth, but don’t be too rough-unless she asks you to be. And you can come anywhere you like, except for her mouth or her pussy. She likes it when you come on her, so please, do feel free.”

She swallowed and blushed at his words as Josh sat down in the chair in front of her. He was half-smiling and she felt his fingers brush her wrist, a tender gesture. She shivered.

“And just like in kindergarten,” he said, not looking at the men at all now. Everyone was looking at her. “We play nice, we take turns, and we share. Got it?”

Another murmur of assent. Some of the men followed Josh’s lead and removed their shirts, their pants. Some hung back, still unsure, watching.

“There are folding chairs over there, if you want to sit back and watch.” Josh pointed toward the wall, his gaze never leaving his wife. “Or you can get up and get involved if you like, that’s up to you. This is an interactive show.”

Josh encircled her wrist. “Right, baby?”

“Yes,” she whispered, quivering with excitement-the room was alive with it, like a thick pulse, like the blood rushing through her veins. He turned her hand over, kissing her palm.

“Take your shirt off,” Josh ordered. “Show yourself to all these men. They’re all hard for you, baby. They want to see that hot little body you’ve been teasing everyone with all night.”

Another group murmur of assent. Janie unbuttoned her blouse slowly, glad the warehouse was warm, but her nipples were hard anyway. She hadn’t worn a bra. Her breasts were full and round, still firm, and there was a collective sigh as she revealed them, dropping her blouse onto the chair with Josh’s clothes.

“Turn around,” Josh instructed. He unzipped her skirt, sliding it down her hips, letting it pool on the floor at her heels. “Bend over.”

She grabbed the back of the chair beside him for balance, bending and stepping out of her skirt so she could spread her legs wider. Moaning, she arched her back when she felt Josh’s hand move over her ass, cupping, squeezing her flesh. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a few of the men already had their cocks out, slowly stroking. Some had pulled up chairs. The sight of them made her dizzy with lust.

“Your pussy’s wet,” Josh announced, his fingers pushing her panties aside to show the men who were watching. “You fucking slut. You love this, don’t you?”

Janie flushed, gasping, “Yes! Yes!”

The slap made her cry out, Josh’s palm coming down hard and fast, making her ass sting. The next one, on the other cheek, was less of a surprise, but she still yelped. Then he yanked her panties down to her knees, spanking her again, again, this time on her bare ass, leaving marks. Her bottom burned, almost as red as her flushed cheeks, she imagined.

One of the men, she didn’t know which, had come to stand by her head, stroking his cock. It was a beautiful sight, thick and straight and circumcised, revealing a fat, bulbous head. There was precum at the tip. Janie whimpered, feeling Josh spreading her pussy open from behind.

“See that hot pussy, guys?” He used both hands, pulling apart her shaved lips, wide, wider, giving them all a view of her pink. “Doesn’t that just make you want it?”

The guy in front of her gave a deep, longing sigh and Janie glanced up at see the short little science nerd they’d found at one of the dance clubs earlier in the night. She smiled in delight at the size of his cock-who would have thought he was hiding such an impressive tool?

“Come here,” she whispered, reaching a hand out for him. “Let me stroke it for you.”

He took a step closer and watched as she wrapped her hand around the shaft, groaning as she started to tug on him, rubbing her thumb over the precum at the tip. It was nice and slick, but she wanted it wetter, so she pulled him closer, using his cock to draw him near, and spit on the head, rubbing her saliva over the knob again and again.

“Ohhhh fuck!” The nerdy guy was trembling, thighs tight, knees threatening to buckle. She could feel him swelling in her hand as she stroked and knew just what was about to happen.

“Yes!” she hissed, pumping him faster, aiming him. “Come! Come all over me! On my tits! Do it! Come all over my fucking tits!”

He groaned and thrust his hips forward and Janie arched her back, watching the first eruption bathe her nipple, dripping down onto the cement floor. The next wave was just as strong, hitting her collarbone, the man letting out a low moan as his climax rocked the room, the first one of the night. It always doubled the excitement, giving everyone an idea of what the possibilities might be.

“Fuck! Fuck!” he whispered, shaking his head, eyes half-closed as he looked down at her, still milking his shaft. “Ohhh I didn’t want to come yet!”

There was a general chuckle at that, because of course, it was too late.

The geeky guy faded into the background and more men crowded around, slowly muscling their way toward her, careful of Josh behind her, still spreading her pussy, showing them all. Territory was negotiated without words, men with their cocks in hand surrounding her as she bent over, long blonde hair hanging in her face, cum sliding down her breasts and falling in white droplets to the floor.

“Go ahead, guys.” Josh gave them permission, flicking her clit for a moment, making her cry out. “Take her to the bed. Do what you want. But remember the rules.”

She didn’t walk over to the bed, which was set at just the right height so they could all stand around her if they wanted and she could easily reach their cocks. No, she didn’t move at all. It felt as if a hundred masculine hands were on her and they carried her over to the mattress, first on her belly, exploring every inch of her skin, probing fingers between her legs, spreading her thighs, and then onto her back. She could see them all now, a sea of faces, she counted ten in the front row, and then started on the back. There was the cowboy-she knew him even without his hat-the Australian, the dock worker whose typical New York accent had amused her so much back at the bar, even the nerd was back in line, and oh god, the taxi driver too! She lost count when someone put his fingers inside of her and began to pump them in and out, her eyes closing involuntarily.

Their words thrilled her as they talked about her like she wasn’t even there, admiring her tits, her pussy, the soft curve of her belly. So fucking hot… oh fuck look at that cunt!.. push her legs back… yeah like that… oh that tight little asshole!.. Fingers, hands, and then, as they grew braver, tongues, bathing her nipples, finding her clit.

“You have to fucking taste this, mate!” the Australian insisted, and then they all did, tongue after glorious tongue taking a turn, running up and down her baby-soft slit, sucking at her aching clit, some even taking a naughty turn down around her asshole.

“Ohhh please,” Janie moaned, begging, holding her knees back for them, feeling fingers gently pinch and tug at her nipples. “Oh make me come! Someone make me come!”

She didn’t open her eyes, but the guy between her legs fastened his mouth tightly over her mound and began to lick in earnest, focusing on her clit, his practiced tongue taking her right to the edge.

“Now!” she cried, arching, hands holding her everywhere, wrists above her head now, legs held open. “Ohhhh now! Oh fuck! I’m gonna come!”

Her orgasm rocked them all, her hips bucking on the mattress, and she shivered as she felt a shower of cum spread across her thighs, the head of a man’s cock slapping against her leg. Opening her eyes, she saw the Australian still suckling at her throbbing clit, the side of his face wet with someone else’s cum. There was a hush over the room, no sound at all except for the shuttling of their hands up and down on their hard cocks.

“Oh that was good,” she whispered, stroking his hair, wiping the cum from his cheek.

“Pussy is my favorite thing in the world, lil Sheila,” he told her with a wink as he stood looking down at her. His cock was hard as steel, pointing straight at her cunt. He sighed. “Just wish I could fuck it.”

“Come here.” She patted the bed beside her, inviting him up, and he made his way over to kneel by her head, watching as she took him in her hand and began to pump his cock. Someone else was tasting her again, oh god, that was so good, so practiced and sure. She knew that tongue… Shivering, she looked down and saw her husband’s head between her legs. He was watching her stroke the Australian’s cock with great interest.

“Faster, love,” the Australian urged, thrusting his hips forward, aiming. “Make me come. I want to come all over those gorgeous tits.”

Beside her a man groaned and exploded, leaving white ropy strands of cum across her throat. Janie gasped, stroking the cock in her hand faster, reaching out blindly and finding another and stroking that too.

“Fuck me,” she begged, looking down at Josh suckling between her thighs. “Oh please! Give me your cock!”

“You guys want to see me fuck her?”

The collective “yes” that went up was both heard and felt, echoing against the empty warehouse walls and Josh stood up between his wife’s open legs. Janie gasped as he grabbed her ass, pulling her to the edge of the mattress where he stood, cock in hand.

“Please,” she begged, her whole body flushed with heat. “Oh please, please.”

“What do you want, baby?” He teased her, up and down, slapping her clit with the head of his cock. “Tell me.”

“Fuck me!” she begged, her voice hoarse. “Do it! Put that fucking big cock in my cunt and fuck me until I scream! Oh please! Don’t tease me, baby! I want your cock!”

The man in her right hand exploded, shooting his cum over her tits in a high arc. Moaning, he thrust and bucked, and the Australian lost it then too, both of their cocks jerking in her hands as they soaked her tits with their cum.

Josh was inside of her, grabbing her hips and thrusting, telling them to hold her legs back so everyone could see, to spread her pussy lips, to pinch her nipples and play with her cum-covered tits. Janie whimpered and met him with every thrust, wanting more, more.

The Australian had kindly moved aside and another hard cock found its way into her hand, one on each side again, they were coming in all shapes and sizes and colors over her, on her, shuddering and letting loose with the wild sound of their climaxes, the echo trembling her spine against the mattress.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” That was the chant they took up, each word punctuated with Josh slamming his pelvis into hers, again, again, again. Janie cried out as the another cock erupted in her fist, soaking her wrist and arm with hot, sticky white stuff. It made the perfect lubrication for the next man who nudged his way in. Glancing up, she saw it was the taxi driver, his cock small and uncircumcised, but hard as a rock in her hand. She stroked him fast and hard in time with her husband’s fucking.

“Dios mio!” the taxi driver groaned and then he was coming so hard he overshot her completely, splashing the thigh of a man on the other side of the mattress. Janie watched it slide down his thigh and pool on the bed, feeling her own climax building, working for it, rocking to meet Josh’s thrusts.

“Gonna come,” she gasped, letting go of both cocks in her hands and reaching for him. Josh pulled her up, letting her wrap her cum-covered arms around his neck. He grabbed her ass as she sat on his cock, driving into her, her sticky belly pressed to his, and it was as if everyone else disappeared. There was no one but them, their mouths locked in a desperate, last-minute kiss.

When she came, she wrapped her legs around his waist, impaling herself as deeply as she could on his cock, her pussy clamping down on him with such sweetness there were no words, just a long, shuddering sigh into the crook of his neck. He held her, rocking her, until she could speak again.

“How many more?” she whispered, not opening her eyes.

He chuckled, whispering back, “As many as you want.”

“All of them.” She smiled, glancing around at the surrounding men. Many had come once already and were hard again. Some were missing-probably sitting back and watching, or perhaps they’d slipped out.

“Hungry little cock whore.” He kissed her neck, putting her back down on the bed. “Roll over, baby. I’m going to fuck your ass for these guys. Let’s give them a really dirty show.”

Janie moaned but she did as she was told, turning to her belly and putting her ass in the air. That alone set a few of the men off. She felt them jerking and coming over the small of her back, up over her ass, christening it before Josh even had a chance to.

“Rub it in, baby,” Josh instructed, and Janie reached back, sliding her hands through the sticky mess, making her ass glisten with cum. She glanced back and saw him squeezing lube onto his cock. She had no idea where the stuff had come from, but Josh had planned this, and he was always prepared.

“Want to see me fuck her ass?” His question was met with a resounding “yes!” God, there were so many of them. More than a dozen, she was sure of it. Janie pressed her cheek to the mattress, turning her head, and saw that one of the security guards had a hand cupping his crotch, rubbing at his jeans. She’d even made them hard, she realized, and the thought made her mouth water.

“Ohhh! Oh god! Baby!” Janie squealed, feeling Josh press the head of his cock against the tight ring of her asshole. She tried to relax, taking deep breaths, as he eased his way in. This was something they didn’t do often and it took a while for her body to remember.

“Easy, girl.” The voice beside her made her turn her head and she found herself face to face with the cowboy. “That’s it. Easy. Good. Let it happen.”

“Oh god. It’s so big. So … tight.” She panted, meeting the cowboy’s eyes-he was lying on the bed beside her-feeling his big hand moving in her hair.

“It’s okay.” He stroked her as Josh pressed his way in deeper, past that first tight ring of flesh. “That’s right. Just like that. You can take it.”

She moaned, biting her lip, feeling her husband’s cock slip deeper inside her ass.

“Do you like it in your ass, baby?” Josh’s voice, behind her.

“Yes,” she whispered to the cowboy, glancing down to see his cock fisted in his hand. He hadn’t come yet. “Oh yes. Fuck my ass. Please! Fuck my tight little ass!”

The cowboy groaned, and so did many of the others, as Josh began to fuck her, his balls keeping time with every thrust.

“Come here,” Janie whispered to the cowboy, reaching for his cock. She wanted it. Had to have it. He moved so she could take it in her hand, but that wasn’t enough. Janie slipped her lips over the head, taking as much of him as she could into her mouth. He moaned and let her suck him, his head going back in pleasure.

“Oh fuck ma’am,” he growled, thrusting faster, deeper into her throat. “You’re going to make me come! Oh! Ohhhh!”

Janie didn’t stop, although she knew she should have. Instead she continued, her head bobbing up and down in his lap, as he flooded her mouth with heat. She swallowed him, greedy, eager, feeling his body shudder with every wave of his climax.

“Yeah, that’s it!” Josh panted, still fucking her ass, filling her to bursting. “Ohhh I’m gonna come! Oh god! I’m gonna come so fucking hard!”

Janie whimpered as he pulled out, feeling the first hot blast of his cum against her still slightly gaping asshole, and his orgasm was like the trigger for a row of dominos falling. Everywhere around her men were coming, spraying her sides, her back, but mostly her ass. They’d all been crowded around, watching her get fucked, and now they exploded like firecrackers.

She rubbed the cowboy’s cock over her swollen lips, smiling up at him and he smiled back at her, his gaze soft and full of wonder.

“Can I lick your pussy, ma’am?” he asked so politely she almost laughed.

“I’m covered in cum,” she apologized, and it was true. Even though they weren’t supposed to come on her pussy, she could feel the cum of she didn’t even know how many men sliding down the crack of her ass through her swollen pussy lips.

“I don’t care.” He leaned back on the mattress-they were the only two on it now-up on his elbows. “Come here.”

She glanced back at Josh and he smiled, nodding, so she went to the cowboy, letting him pull her up, making her straddle his face. Her pussy quivered with anticipation, so very wet, but the cowboy went straight to work, licking and sucking hungrily. Josh came around to watch and Janie put her arms around his neck, letting him hold her up as she rocked her mound against the cowboy’s fluttering tongue.

“Oh god,” she whispered into her husband’s neck, feeling his strong arms around her. “He’s going to make me come.”

“Do it,” Josh whispered, stroking her hair, holding her close, closer. “Come for me. “

Janie cried out and trembled in his arms, feeling the cowboy wrap his arms around her hips, pulling her pussy deeper against his face. Josh kissed her deeply, as if he could draw every last bit of her climax through her mouth as the cowboy was suckling from her cunt. She collapsed in Josh’s arms, spent, and then the world tilted sideways, shifting, and she was drifting on a cloud.

“Who?” Josh whispered, feeling her starting to go.

“The cowboy,” she murmured. “And the Australian. And the guy who came first… the one…”

She was going, going, gone.

Hands held her, instructions were called out. The mattress was flipped, and Janie felt warm cloths washing her body, tender caresses, soft kisses. She opened her eyes to a sea of faces and closed them again, so tired she could barely move. She didn’t know how long it was before she opened them again, but she was fully dressed and Josh was beside her on the mattress, the only light coming from the moon shining in through the high warehouse windows.

“Happy tenth anniversary,” he whispered, kissing her temple.

“I love you.” Janie felt tears stinging her eyes. “You are so good to me.”

“I love you too. I think that was the best dirty show yet.” He nuzzled her neck, her breasts. “Same time next year?”

“Ten years,” she marveled, reaching for and finding his hand in the darkness, squeezing it. “Think we’ll still be doing this at twenty? I don’t know any other man who would do this for his wife.”

“Forever,” he assured her. “I’d give you anything you wanted-anything. You know that.”

Janie leaned over and kissed her husband in the silvery light of the moon and knew that he knew it too-there was no other man in the world she had ever wanted to be with more than him. There was no man who mattered more, no man who could compare, no man who could touch her, fill her so completely, as Josh did.

And that’s just what she told him without words, every day and every year on their anniversary. She proved it to him time and again. And that was all that had ever mattered, and all that ever would.

Part II

Alison Tyler

Kinky, filthy, dirty sex is my favorite way to play and my go-to genre for writing. But I like to add an often unexpected twist to many of my stories by placing that dark, sinuous sex in the life of a couple. A long-term, til-death-do-us part couple. Why? Because naughty, hair-pulling, back-alley fucking doesn’t only happen for strangers. And when you take two people who love each other madly, and give them permission to fuck each other raw, you have the type of incendiary story that I live for. Not only do I live to write this style, I simply live it. 17 years in, and I’m still wet when he walks into a room. To me, this is what couplehood stands for and what Coupling and Coupling 2 are all about.

Connecting

The dark-haired man sat at a table across the way from Jennifer’s. He was on his cell phone, coffee cup in hand, like most of the other customers in the cafe. He appeared serious-his face a mask of concentration-although he was toying with his mug, stroking his thumb along the rim in a way that was decidedly sensual. Jennifer stared at him surreptitiously. She wondered what type of underwear he had on-boxers or briefs-whether or not his cock was hard. Her laptop was open and a colorful pie chart filled the screen. She was supposed to be paying attention to the graphics and how they moved when she substituted different numbers for the various segments-always thinking in her mind that slicing the pie into more pieces didn’t make more pie, just smaller pieces. That’s how she felt about her busy days.

But thinking of pie made her want to put something sweet in her mouth. And thinking of something sweet, made her think about sucking cock. She looked back at the man. He was dialing again.

She could imagine riding him reverse cowgirl. Or maybe doggy-style. She could picture what it would feel like to have him holding tightly onto her long red hair, slamming into her from behind….

Her phone rang.

The waitress refilled her cup as Jennifer answered her phone, then mouthed whether she could get Jennifer anything else. “Pie,” Jennifer whispered back, indicating the cherry pie under the counter, and then she spoke into the phone.

The waitress headed to the counter and pulled out the partially cut pie. She looked around the restaurant. So many of the customers were on their cell phones. Didn’t people ever have actual face-to-face conversations anymore? She personally didn’t even own a cell phone. The telephone at her one-room apartment was an old-fashioned rotary. It hadn’t been that long ago when customers came in to the cafe without any devices that rang, buzzed, or vibrated. She was often surprised by the odd choices her customers had decided on for their cell phone ring. Why would someone choose a duck’s quack? She cut the pie and brought a piece to the pretty redhead with the sleek-looking computer. She wanted to tell the girl to get off the phone, to try to connect with a real, live human.

Cherry. Jennifer wanted to start eating it right then. Pie wasn’t what she usually bought. She was a black coffee/dry toast type of girl. But she wasn’t in a normal type of mood today. Yes, she had her computer out, and she was scheduled to be in a conference call in less than thirty minutes. But her brain wasn’t engaging properly this morning. She glanced at the businessman across the restaurant again. He wasn’t looking her way. She watched as the waitress strode over to him in her sensible white orthopedic shoes.

“Do you need anything else, Sir?” the waitress asked him.

Charles shook his head. He had his cell phone in his hand, and he was intent on his conversation. As the waitress squeaked away on her rubber-soled shoes, he turned slightly in the chair, so he was facing the faux-wood-paneled wall rather than the room. This was the closest to privacy he was going to get in the busy cafe. He could feel Jennifer watching him. He didn’t have to see her to know she was staring.

“What panties are you wearing?” he asked.

“The blue ones.”

He sighed. “With the black lace on the edges?”

“Yes. The ones we bought in Paris.”

He fidgeted with his fork. He didn’t usually fidget. But then, he didn’t usually make sex calls like this in the middle of a busy restaurant.

“Are you still wet?”

“Very.”

“Slut.”

She giggled. She couldn’t help herself. She was the least slut-like person she knew. If a stranger were to walk into the restaurant and pick out the “slut” in the room, Jennifer wouldn’t even be considered. But then she didn’t giggle that often either.

“Why are you wet?” Charles asked.

Jennifer swallowed over her hesitation. She’d never been adept at talking dirty before. But if he could play this game, she could, too. Her competitive streak kicked in. “Because I keep thinking about your cock, and how good it felt in my mouth this morning.”

Charles turned now to look at Jennifer. She was staring right at him. He stared back. She felt a shiver run through her that was as intense as when they’d first met at a dinner party, six years earlier.

“You suck cock well,” he said, and Jennifer smiled at him.

“You wanna feel my mouth again?” she teased. “It’s warm from the coffee.”

“You’re such a filthy girl, aren’t you? And nobody would ever guess.”

Jennifer turned to her computer. She entered a few quick keystrokes with one hand. In seconds, Charles had mail. He maneuvered so he was able to open up the message while still talking on the phone. He couldn’t believe what he was looking at.

“I went to the ladies room before,” Jennifer said, “and took a picture for you.”

It was her pussy, shaved and bare. He wanted to lick it on his screen, taste her cream. She’d never done anything like this before.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Maybe it was the way you woke me up this morning.”

He’d had a wet dream-well, practically a wet dream. He’d had a wet dream without the climax-an erotic sleeping fantasy. And he’d woken up with a hard-on so intense, he’d simply started to fuck her without saying anything, getting her wet with his mouth and then slipping inside of her. Since 5 a.m. they’d both been in a state of heat. He was grateful for it. After half a dozen years together, their relationship had spikes and valleys, like everyone’s. But right now, they were definitely in a spike. Oh, fucking hell they were. He thought of how warm her pussy had felt around his cock when he’d plunged, and how right before he’d come, she’d whipped around to suck him off, finishing the job with her mouth, draining him dry. That move had surprised him and his orgasm had intensified, seeming to go on for minutes rather than seconds. He’d never expected Jennifer to act like that, like she was so hungry for his cock she couldn’t control herself.

“What I really want,” Jennifer said softly, “is for you to fuck the daylights out of me in the bathroom.”

Immediately, he started to gather up his things, moving the papers to the laptop case, motioning to the waitress that he was ready for the check with that universal hand signal everyone knows-writing something in the air-something that looked like he was signing his name, when really he was writing fuck in invisible letters. He saw Jennifer packing her things up as well.

He met her at the lavatory down the hall, blocked her body with his so that nobody would see them entering together.

“Oh, God,” she whispered as he locked the door behind them. “I couldn’t take any more of that.”

“Don’t stop talking,” he said, and she looked at him surprised. He pushed her pencil skirt to her hips and started to touch her pussy through her stockings and panties. “Tell me what you like.”

“You know…”

“Just say it.”

For some reason, talking had been easier for her with the cell in her hand. There’d been a safety in whispering her desires over the phone. But Charles was looking at her expectantly, and she didn’t want to let him down. “I like when you touch me like that. With two fingers. When you rub up and down between my pussy lips.”

He was kissing her neck as he fingered her. She seemed to be having a difficult time staying upright. He loved how mussed she looked already, even in her neat navy blue suit.

“When my juices start making my stockings wet, I love when you slip your hand beneath the waistband and rub my clit directly.”

“Like this?” He did precisely what she’d described.

“Just like that.”

“Or this?” he asked, and now he pinched her clit between his thumb and forefinger, sending a shockwave of pleasure throughout her whole body. Jennifer sighed and pushed her hips forward. What was he doing to her? She felt completely disoriented, robbed of her mental facilities. Only moments before, she’d been an upstanding citizen in a suit, eating a piece of pie in a busy restaurant. Now, she was having her pussy rubbed in the ladies room. And all she wanted was more.

“Fuck me,” she begged. “Please, Chas, just fuck me.”

He couldn’t have waited much longer. He spun her around, and she put her palms flat on the tiled wall. Then he pulled her stockings to her knees and slid her panties aside. Jennifer’s breath was coming in short, staccato bursts. She turned her head, realizing she could watch the action in the mirror over the sink. That added an extra thrill to her world, staring as Charles undid his slacks and took his cock in hand.

“You’re so wet,” he said, placing only the head of his cock to her opening. “Your juices have coated your thighs, your stockings.”

“My pussy.” Jennifer finished the sentence for him. As he thrust in for the first time, she moved one hand from the wall and touched herself. There was no way she couldn’t. The whole situation was so erotic, she felt as if she were starring in a porno flick.

“What did you dream last night?” she asked. She’d wanted to know all morning, but after their early a.m. romp, they’d both been in a haze of erotic bliss. Showers, dressing, driving here-the entire routine had all felt like a blur.

“It was dirty,” Charles said, rotating his hips so that his cock seemed to hit places he’d never reached before. Jennifer groaned under her breath. She was having a difficult time not making noise-but she didn’t want to be too loud, didn’t want to be caught and forced to stop what they were doing. At least, not before she got off.

“Tell me?”

“I don’t think you’d want to do it.”

He was taunting her. She looked at their reflection again. The look on his face was new to her. They’d always been equals in bed. He looked totally dom now. She’d never seen him sexier.

“Tell me,” she begged.

“I was fucking your pussy,” he said, “just like this.” He continued to work her as he talked. Jennifer’s pussy was wetter than she could ever remember. Her juices had made the tops of her thighs damp. Charles’ cock slid in and out with ease.

“Then…” she prompted.

“And then you said that you wanted something we’d never done before.”

“What did I want?” she was begging.

“I don’t think I should tell you.”

She started to pull off him, her anger rising, and he grabbed her around the waist and thrust into her fiercely. He was showing her exactly who was in charge of this scenario, and her legs felt weak at the power in him.

“Please?” she asked, trying a different tactic. “Please tell me.” She stared ahead at the painting on the wall. A little sailboat in a sea of blue. It was an ugly, dime-store painting, but she focused on the tiny whitecap waves in the picture, and tried to regain her sense of calm. What did you call that type of blue? Cerulean?

“You told me that you wanted me to fuck your tight little virgin asshole.”

“I said that?” she was panting, shutting out the picture by closing her eyes. Seeing a completely different image behind closed lids.

“Yes,” he said, “you filthy little slut. You said, ‘Please, Chas. I’ll hold myself open for you. Put the head in and fuck my ass.’”

They’d never done that before. She’d never spoken like she had in his dream. He’d never indicated that he even wanted to try anal.

“Did I like it?”

“I didn’t fuck your ass right away. I made you wait for the big event.”

“Why?”

“So you’d be really desperate.”

“What did you do first?”

“I took you in the bathroom and bent you over the edge of the tub. I spread shaving cream between your asscheeks and shaved you so you were completely clean back there. Then I showered you off and licked your back door until you were moaning the way you do when I eat your pussy.”

“God,” Jennifer sighed. “Oh, fuck.”

“You couldn’t get enough. You actually were parting your own cheeks for me so I could get in deeper.” Jennifer couldn’t believe he was talking to her like this. This went beyond anything they’d discussed or tried in bed. The kinkiest time they’d experienced so far had been a slightly tipsy evening in which Charles had blindfolded her with a scarf and eaten her out. But this…this was different.

“What happened next?”

“I got you on your back with your knees to your chest and I licked your asshole until you told me you were going to come. You were so wild, thrashing around on the mattress, unable to keep still. I actually thought I might have to tie you down to make you behave.”

He was traveling in uncharted territory with every statement. They’d never considered bondage, never broached the topic. Jennifer felt as if she might melt into a puddle of lust. She was teetering on the brink of climax, so close, almost there.

“What’d you do?” The words were a whisper.

“I told you I was going to fuck your asshole.”

“Uh huh.”

“And that by the time I was done, I’d be fucking it as hard and fast as I do your pussy.”

“Oh, God,” she sighed. “What did I do?”

“You let me.”

Her hand between her legs was working faster now, rubbing her clit as quickly as she could. Charles’ words were beyond foreplay. He was fucking her with his story.

“I rolled you over on the mattress so you were ass-up. I had lube, and I oiled you so that you were nice and slick and wet. Then I gave you just the first inch of my cock, spreading open your hole so you could really feel the stretch.”

“Did I like it?”

“Oh, baby. You loved it. You told me to go slow at first, but pretty soon, you were backing down on my cock. You were fucking me.”

She shivered. The scenario thrilled her. Who knew that she’d want something like that? Suddenly, she felt his hand between her cheeks. He was touching her hole, just touching it. She felt her pussy tighten.

“I’m going to let you come now,” he said. “Just like this. And then we’re both going to call in sick and go back home. And I’m going to get out the lube and do to you exactly what I just described.”

Jennifer came on his cock and on his words. She shivered as the pleasure worked through her, and she could feel Charles climaxing a second later. He pounded into her at a rapid pace, holding onto her hips as he filled her. She’d never felt as close to him as she did right then. They took a moment to separate, then each used the sink and mirror in an attempt to look presentable. Jennifer could not wait to get home. She was dying to do exactly what Charles had promised her.

She exited the restroom first, heading out the door of the cafe to their car. Charles followed a moment later.

As the couple left, the waitress watched after them. Wouldn’t it be nice if more people set down their devices and spoke face to face? Like those two professional people. They would make such a pretty couple if they ever put their computers and cell phones down long enough to connect.

Performance Anxiety

By Alison Tyler

Josh said he wanted to watch me masturbate. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a man use that word before. The boys I’ve been with have always tended to say things like “jerk off” or “oil your oyster.” But not Josh. He possesses a serious, more clinical side, which I tend to like. He states his preferences in a no-nonsense way I can understand. And I’ll admit-I understood this. But that didn’t mean I could do what he was asking.

“What’s the big deal?” he asked. “You’re on stage practically every night, Rae.”

“I’m not jerking off on stage,” I said, mortified by the thought. The image came quickly to my mind: me in front of a crowd of fifty, parting my shaved pussy lips and stroking my clit while all those strangers watched.

“I might like that,” Josh said, as if he could see deep into my fantasy. As if he were one of those in the crowd, watching every dancing move of my darting fingertips. I narrowed my eyes at him. Exactly where was he going with this? He’d asked to watch me masturbate. He had said nothing of crowd-sourcing his pleasure.

“We’ll start small, babe, don’t worry,” he said to my look of trepidation.

“We haven’t even established we’re starting at all,” I replied. He’d only asked. I hadn’t said I would. He was taking my hesitation for acquiescence. He ought to have known better. After four years of living together, Josh knows me inside and out. Well, almost. I guess what he was asking now was to see me at my most undressed.

“You’re making a bigger deal of this than you should,” he said, “I’ve taken care of myself in front of you before.”

“It’s not the same.” But as I said the words, I realized I didn’t know why. I’m not sexist by nature. Why wouldn’t it be the same for me to watch him as for him to watch me? I thought of the different times I’d witnessed him pleasuring himself in the past. The first time he ever jerked off in front of me was by accident. I had walked into the bathroom, knowing the water was on and assuming he was taking a shower. He was taking a shower. But he was also taking himself in hand under the hot spray. For a moment, he didn’t seem aware I was there, watching. Then he turned and wiped the steam from the shower door, so I could see more clearly. Ultimately, he’d shot against the glass door, and I’d almost lost my balance, so invested in the impromptu performance that I’d momentarily forgotten how to remain upright. I’d found watching him a complete turn-on, and by the time I’d stripped and joined him in the shower, he was hard once more and ready to take me against the cobalt-blue tiled wall.

So why did I have a problem offering him the same type of show? Josh seemed to want to know. He looked at me curiously. “Is it because I’m a guy? And guys do dirty, naughty stuff like that but girls don’t.”

I blushed when he said dirty and naughty. I think he knew I would. Not that I blush easily, but when he said the words, I thought of the times I’d caught him.

“No,” I said, but I didn’t sound convincing. Not even to myself.

“You’re all rose petals and candy fluff. Is that it? You never would dirty your fingers with your own sultry juices.”

“I don’t think like that Josh. You know I don’t.” He’s seen me up on stage for so many years, has heard the type of hard-rocking songs I sing. If I were to describe myself, candy fluff would not fit into the write-up. We met after one of my shows. No groupie, Josh had been at the concert with two of his pals. He’d had the balls to hang out after to meet me. I’d been impressed with his confidence from the start. He’d discovered that the act I portray onstage-tough girl rock chick-is just that. An act. Off stage, I have a much shyer side that I show to few people. Josh found me out.

“I know you masturbate, Rae.”

Part of me wanted to ask him how he knew. And part of me wanted to tell him to stop using that stupid word. We could come up with a new term, a fresh term, something that didn’t sound so serious.

“How do you know?” I finally asked.

“Because I can tell. I know what you look like after you have an orgasm.”

“Come,” I corrected him. “After I come.”

“Yeah, right. Your cheeks take on this pretty flushed color, and your eyes are brighter, bigger somehow. Sometimes when I come-“ he hit the word hard and looked deviously at me-“home, I can tell that you’ve just been mastur…”

“Playing with myself.”

“Yeah, right,” he said. His foot touched mine in the bed. I liked that our toes were teasing each other.

“I never knew you knew,” I said softly. I’d always thought that was something one took care of in private. That hungry, desperate need to get off. I’d never been in a relationship where this type of situation was discussed. You fuck your partner. You play with yourself. You don’t really talk about either in any great depth.

“So how do you do it?” Josh asked, clearly not understanding my above rules, or choosing to ignore them.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you have a vibrator? Do you use your fingers? Do you do it in the shower?”

I took a deep breath and rolled over on the mattress. He rolled me back over to face him. “You’re not going to hide from me. I want to know.”

“I’ve got stage fright,” I told him.

“You never have stage fright. You love being in front of an audience, singing all of those emo songs, dripping with personal facts.”

“Not about my pussy.”

He laughed. “Good. I don’t want you singing about your pussy on stage. I want you to tell me how you take care of yourself when nobody’s looking. And then I want to be the one looking. Can you do that for me?”

I didn’t have an answer. Could I?

The second time I’d found Josh stroking himself was in the bedroom. He didn’t stop when I opened the door. He stood there in front of me, hand moving piston fast on his rock-hard cock. Just like the time in the shower, I’d thought the scene was sexy. In fact, I’d been desperate for him to fuck me before he could make himself come, begging for him to stop wasting it on his palm and give his cock to me.

“You liked watching, didn’t you?” he asked, trying a different tactic.

“You know I did.”

“You’ll like being the one watched. I promise. If you’re uncomfortable at any time, we can stop.”

I nodded. “Okay. Let’s stop.”

“We haven’t even started yet.”

“And I’m uncomfortable.”

“You’re not uncomfortable. You have performance anxiety.” He said the words as if he was reading them off a file.

“How is that different from stage fright?”

“You’re not exactly afraid. You’re more frozen. You need a little melting. I can help you. Start by telling me how you do it. Then show me.”

“Okay.” But I didn’t. I lay there at his side and I didn’t say a word. Josh got up off the bed and went rummaging through the bottom drawer of my dresser. In moments, he had my vibrator. He’d known all along that I had one. I pushed up on my elbows to tell him to put my toy away, but he already was playing with the controls, holding the shaft in the palm of one hand and fiddling with the knob at the base.

“Wow, that’s a powerful cock,” he said.

I didn’t respond.

“Maybe I should just guess how you do it, and you can tell me if I’m right or not.”

I grabbed the vibrator from his hand and turned off the power. “I don’t have a way,” I said. “Not one way. I do different things.”

“Like…”

I went mute once more as if Josh had pressed a button on my internal remote control. Josh went to my closet and while I watched, he plucked my favorite stage dress from the assortment within. “Put this on.”

“Josh…”

“Put it on.”

I stood and stripped, feeling him watching my every move. Then I slid into the champagne lace number and tossed my hair back. I was not about to admit this to Josh, but I found myself getting excited. I added thigh-high ripped stockings and my battered patent leather boots. My onstage look is fallen angel-pretty dress, destroyed accessories.

“Now your makeup.”

He knows my routine well from having watched me get ready for countless stage shows. I sat at my vanity and did my rock girl look-dark eggplant eye shadow, deep ruby lipstick, plenty of mascara.

“Your lucky jewelry,” he prompted. I put the chain with the silver heart locket around my neck. “What else do you need?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s not true. You need to have a mind-blowing orgasm… I mean, you need to come while I watch.” He handed me the vibrator once more.

“I need a drink,” I said.

He left the room and I could hear him walking down the hall to the kitchen. In seconds, I heard the sound of a champagne cork popping. While he was out of eyesight, I stared at myself in the mirror. Could I do this? He wasn’t asking for much, wasn’t asking for anything he hadn’t done for me. Why was touching myself in front of my man so difficult? Because he’d see me-really see me-in my most base position. But he’d seen me climax before. This shouldn’t have been such a big deal. I had that entire conversation with myself in the mirror before Josh walked back into the room with a glass of champagne.

“Cheers,” I said.

“Bottoms up,” he responded.

I could feel the heat between us. Maybe he would be happy if we just fucked. He always likes to do me in my stage clothes-especially right before I go out in front of a crowd. The thought that his wetness is still inside me, or slicking up the tops of my thighs, always makes him feel special. I took a sip and then kissed him. He let me, giving himself over to the kiss for a few moments before pushing away.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“You’re not going to get off that easy,” he said. “Show me.”

I sat on the edge of the bed. I looked at the toy. I looked at Josh. I pushed back until I was in my favorite position, head on the pillows, legs spread. Then I started to touch myself through my dress and my panties using the vibrator.

“You start slowly, huh?” Josh asked.

“This isn’t an audience participation show,” I snapped at him. He grinned back. I closed my eyes, blocking out his handsome face as I began to raise the dress to my hips so I could press the tip of the toy right against my clit through my panties.

Josh’s eyes were on me. I could feel him. Suddenly, him watching didn’t seem like a bad thing. I arched my hips as I teased myself with the head of the vibrator. Then I turned the controls higher so the vibrations came at a stronger, more powerful pace. I was getting wetter by the second, but I didn’t take my panties down until the desire built inside of me. When I started to pull down my bikinis, Josh intervened.

“Let me,” he said.

I could have barked at him once more, but when I opened my eyes, he looked so aroused, I didn’t want to deny him. I allowed him to work my panties down my legs and over my boots. He spread my thighs open for me and got between my legs to watch close up as I brought the toy back in play. First, I danced the tip around my clit, and then I slowly inserted the rounded head into my pussy. Josh sighed as I began to fuck myself with the vibrator. I worked the base in my fist, gradually gaining speed as the climax grew closer. Right as I reached the cusp, Josh took the toy away from my hand, surprising me. Before I could muster a moan of protest, he began to fuck me with the vibrator, and as he did, he brought his mouth to the split of my body and licked my clit. I couldn’t believe how good that felt. He was fucking me hard and fast, and licking my clit at the same rapid pace.

“Oh, fuck,” I groaned. “Oh, God, Josh, I’m going to come. I’m going to…”

“Do it, baby. Come for me,” he demanded.

“If you keep sucking me like that and fucking me like that…” He did as I asked, working the rod of the vibrator in and out of my pussy while locking his lips in a tight circle around my clit. I was out of my head with pleasure, but somehow I still managed to think-he’s watching me. I did it! I touched myself in front of Josh. I jerked off in front of my man. I succeeded in overcoming my performance anxiety!

The climax was overpowering. I shook the bed with the movements of my body. I could not remember ever being quite so turned on as I was by Josh working me with the toy and his mouth. When I finally floated back to earth, Josh was looking at me with a smile of total satisfaction on his face.

“I loved that,” he said. “I loved watching you give yourself pleasure. You’re such a hungry beast. I want to see you do that again and again. I want to watch all of your tricks, learn exactly how you like it best.”

As he said the words, I could see the action-I could imagine showing him how I use the shower nozzle to reach climax. How I like to sometimes go without panties for a day, so that I’m in total anticipation mode when I get home, all juicy and ready to come. There were so many new ways for the two of us to play. The door had only been opened a crack… all of the orgasmic bliss was ready to spill out.

I took a big shivering breath, and then licked my lips. “There will be an encore show in an hour,” I said. “But payment’s in advance.” Then I stroked his hard-on through his black jeans and prepared to receive the adulation of my number one fan.

Reunion

By Alison Tyler

“So, do you remember Terry?” Jill asked me. She was taking me on a trip down memory lane over the phone. Although I’ve always felt I had a decent memory, there were people from our college dorm I couldn’t recall. Not their names. Not their faces. They might never have existed-or Jill might have been making them up to tease me and make me feel old.

“You have to remember Terry,” she continued.

I had only just heard from Jill for the first time after hooking up online nearly two decades after we’d last seen each other. That’s something social media is good for: Making connections with people you were never really that close with in the first place.

“Terry,” I said, trying to place the name with a face, even if it was a face from twenty years before.

“You know. Terry. Terry who would sneak into the girls’ showers and act as if he’d accidentally walked into the wrong bathroom.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “Terry.” The shower story had jogged my memory, but I recalled the situation differently. I didn’t remember him sneaking. I remembered inviting him to come into the shower with me on a day that we decided to skip classes. We’d spent a lazy morning soaping each other all over in one blue-tiled stall, and I’d gotten one of my first real tastes of enjoying the male form. Prior to that, most of my erotic encounters had been fumbles in the dark. Terry and I, beneath the fluorescent lights and hot shower spray, had explored each other’s bodies endlessly.

The freedom of being away at school had not only gone to my head-it had gone to my libido. Terry had been one of the first college boys I dated. And by dated, I meant fucked.

I was on the University’s reunion page with Jill now, and over the phone we tried to refresh each other’s memories with snippets of our misspent youth. One of the problems was that we remembered these people from two decades prior, when they’d walked around in ripped jeans and t-shirts with obscene slogans, not business suits and designer brands. Back then they’d had all their hair and none of the middle-aged spread. Sure, some looked the same-and some clearly had been toying with Botox and other avant-garde fillers. But who among us looks like they did back in college?

“What about Danny?” Jill asked. “Did you ever do Danny?”

Somehow, our trip down Memory Lane had taken an X-rated side street into the red light district of our youth, and we were now not only talking about our former friends and acquaintances, but also our former lovers-and the different kinks they’d enjoyed.

“Danny…” I repeated. “Was he the one who only liked to fuck girls during…”

“Their periods!” she squealed.

“I don’t know how he was able to always nail my time of the month. He had an uncanny sixth sense. He always knocked on my door as soon as I went on the rag.”

“Crazy,” Jill said. “I went on a date with him and I tried to tell him we couldn’t, because, I was, you know…”

“And he liked it!”

“’Like’ isn’t even the right word. The aftermath was historic. My sheets looked like something Jackson Pollack would have created.”

Didn’t seem so off the wall now, but for an eighteen-year-old, fresh from the farmland, I had been baffled by the concept. I didn’t think you could do it when you were having your monthly visitor. Danny had changed all that.

“I got into it, too,” Jill confessed. “I felt totally like a woman, or something. I wanted to stand up on the mattress and call out ‘This is who I am, take me or leave me.’”

“And he took you.”

“Every month.”

“Like clockwork.”

“There were a lot of pretty kinky co-eds on our floor, weren’t there?” Jill continued. I realized we’d left the detour that was Danny and returned to the main drag. And speaking of drag, Jill was already talking about the shy boy who liked to cross-dress when he thought nobody was looking.

“You do remember him, don’t you?” Jill asked.

“I think so,” I said, stalling for time. “Why. Did you find his picture? Is he dressed like a girl?”

“No, he’s sort of… androgynous in the photo online.”

I caught up with her. Marcus. Sweet Marcus. When he’d come into my room during a progressive party, he’d drunkenly slipped on my cobalt satin bathrobe and asked if I’d do his makeup. We’d all thought that was a gas until I’d noticed he was hard. After the rest of the students had left, Marcus and I had made love. I’d gotten off looking at his dark eyes ringed with shimmery liner, his lips all red and glossy like cherries. I found his photo now, and I saw what Jill meant. He was good looking as ever, but there was a definite feminine sex appeal to the way he smiled for the camera. I got a little shiver remembering how it had felt to apply the lipstick to his full lips while sitting on his lap.

“Who else?” I asked, and my voice was shaking a little bit. I hoped Jill wouldn’t notice.

“Matt,” she said.

“Which one?” There had been two Matthews on our dorm floor.

“Take your pick,” Jill said. “They each were freaks in bed.”

“I only did the one who thought he was going to be the next David Bowie,” I told her. “He sang for me after we fucked.”

“Oh, Cool Matt. You didn’t do Matt the Stud?”

“No, what was he like?”

“He had to do it in front of a mirror.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“He actually positioned a mirror on the ceiling over his dorm bed. He had the top bunk.”

“I don’t remember any of this at all.”

“And he liked the girls to be on top, so he could see them and sort of see himself if the angle was right. He didn’t like dirty talk, but he requested that girls talk to him about how hot he was.”

“Damn. That’s all sorts of insecurities wrapped up in one hot package.”

“At least he was good,” Jill said with a sigh.

We both silently clicked for a minute, paging through the photos. One stood out for me, and I could tell when Jill had reached the page at the same time I did.

“Oh, there’s Rhonda.”

“Rhonda,” I breathed.

She’d been my first girl on girl experience. From the way Jill said her name, it sounded as if she’d been Jill’s, too.

“How did she get you?” Jill asked.

“You make it sound as if she was a predator.”

“Wasn’t she?”

I was quiet for a moment, remembering. How had I hooked up with Rhonda? There had been a party on the floor-there were parties every night in somebody’s room, students celebrating As or drowning their Fs, pretending to study or having a fuck studying event. Now that I thought back, I’d skipped that particular get-together, reading in my room in spite of the noise from down the hall. Rhonda had come looking for me, a bottle of wine in her hand, which had struck me as classy. Usually, we drank beer or hard liquor. She and I had spent the evening in my bed, taking sips out of the bottle, then taking sips from each other.

She’d undressed me with a finesse that belied her years. She had made me feel special, pretty, the way she’d been so delicate as she opened up my pussy lips with her thumbs, going right for my clit in a way the boys never did-the way the boys didn’t seem to know how yet. They were so focused on finding the right hole.

Rhonda. I remembered how she’d gotten between my thighs and licked my pussy in rapidly reducing circles, tighter and tighter around my clit until I came, until I thought I might actually pass out from the pleasure. She’d made a ring with her lips and sucked hard, then tapped the tip of her tongue right against my clit until she’d spiraled me into an unexpected second climax, something that had never happened to me at that point.

I realized I’d lapsed into silence. Jill had, too. What sort of experience had she shared with Rhonda? When I asked, she said, “You know, I was so fucking naive. I thought that the encounter meant I was a lesbian, meant that she and I were destined to be together.”

I laughed.

“I’m serious. I wondered how I was going to break the news to my parents. Would I have to dress differently? Become a vegan? And then I saw her the next night with her arm around a different girl, and understood that although I’d had a fabulous night, I hadn’t had a transformation and neither had she. Rhonda simply had a fetish for deflowering.”

We moved onto another page of alumni I could not for the life of me remember.

“So who was your favorite that year?” Jill asked. “Did one lover stand out for you?”

I hesitated, and she said, “I know who was my favorite.”

“Tell,” I demanded, knowing it would give me time.

“Do you remember Jason?”

“The R.A.? You fucked the R.A.?”

“Of course. Didn’t you?”

“Well, no. I didn’t realize he would have. I mean, he acted like a boy scout.”

“Yeah, that’s what he was so good with the knots.”

“Excuse me?”

“He was a bondage geek. He loved tying girls up. God, I miss college. Everyone seemed to wear their fetish on their sleeve. Do you know what I mean? You could tell when people were discovering something that worked for them.”

“I don’t know…” I drawled. “There was also a lot of shaving cream fights, and bringing beer into the dorm in big suitcases, and that incident with the Jell-o in the washing machine.”

“Sometimes people need a little beer to discover what works for them,” Jill said matter-of-factly. “Like after one of those shaving cream fights, Jason tied me down and shaved my pussy.”

“Are you serious?”

“He didn’t even tell me what he was going to do. He simply asked if I was okay being bound, and I told him I’d never been before. He took four ties-university ties, I swear-and he bound me down on his bed. Because he was an R.A., he didn’t have a roommate. We could hear the rest of the heathens running around like maniacs in the hall. But Jason very studiously used shaving cream, a bowl of water, and his own razor and shaved off all my pubic hair and then dried me tenderly with a towel.”

“And then?”

“Oh, God,” Jill sighed. “And then he went down on me for what felt like hours. I’d never shaved off everything before. I’d toyed around with a little patch, but I hadn’t ever gone totally bare. The first feeling of his tongue on my naked skin was electrifying.”

I sighed.

“Of course, the stubble grew in right during finals, and I had to try not to squirm in all of my classes.”

We laughed together at that, and then Jill said, “College is a time for firsts, isn’t it?”

“And lasts,” I said.

“Lasts?”

“Do you remember Bill Waters?” I asked her, finally ready to come clean.

“Bill?” I heard her clicking on the computer. She was obviously trying to find him on the alumni pages, hoping to jog her memory. “What did he look like?”

I smiled to myself. “Well, he’s six foot four, dark hair, blue eyes. Very well muscled. Handsome as a movie star.”

She was still clicking. “What was his deal?” I liked the way Jill thought. We all have our buttons, don’t we?

“He was the one who liked to know what everyone else was doing.”

“Oh, studious, right? Always watching.”

“And listening.”

I thought of Bill, one shower over, listening while Terry and I fucked. The image sent a shiver through me as it had two decades earlier. Bill had said to me, “Ask him, love, and I’ll sneak in before. And while he’s fucking you, I’ll be jerking off in the next stall. Think of that, Betty. Think of my hand working my cock while he fucks your sweet, slippery pussy. Think of me splattering the tile wall with my come while I picture the two of you fucking.”

“Listening?” Jill asked.

“Yeah.” I thought of the times Bill had been in the closet, door cracked open, while I’d had a lover in my bed. Sometimes, that had taken a little bit of effort. The night with Rhonda, I’d had to make an excuse to get her out of the room and him into the room before she and I had gone all topsy-turvy on the bed. But it had been worth it. He told me later that watching Rhonda eat me out had taught him more about going down on a woman than any dirty video he’d ever seen. He had forced himself not to come, so that when Rhonda ultimately left for her own room, he’d climbed into the bed with me and done me right, fucking my pussy that was still all slippery from her tongue.

“Oh, I found him,” she said. “William Waters.”

“Yup.”

With Marcus, Bill had tried something new. He’d asked me to set up a tiny video camera surreptitiously on my desk. Bill was always good with gadgets. He hadn’t known Marcus would be my next lover, but the boy had worked perfectly. The fact that Marcus had his own kink-the full face of makeup-had made our amateur X-rated video that much sexier. Although the camera was fixed, we were still able to get a fairly decent movie of Marcus and I together, even if we were out of the frame from time to time.

“Wait,” she was confused, I could tell. “You’re Betty Waters now?”

“Uh huh.”

“You married him?”

I giggled. “Yeah.”

I looked at Bill, who was on the bed next to me, his big thick cock in his fist, stroking fast and furious. Our talk of prior lovers had definitely amped him up. He’s always been like that. Ever since college. What turns him on more than anything is seeing me with other lovers. Hearing me talk about fucking other people is a close second. The whole conversation with Jill had been foreplay to Bill.

Now he pushed my skirt to my waist and pulled my panties off. For a moment, I thought he’d start fucking me while I was still on the phone, but instead, he began to lick my pussy.

“So I’ll see the two of you at the reunion?” Jill asked.

“I don’t think so,” I told her, happy to keep the past in the past. I worked to keep my voice steady as Bill lapped at my clit. “But thank you for the trip down memory lane.”

Then I hung up the phone and fell back onto the mattress as Bill took me on a reunion of our own.

Part III

Willsin Rowe

A lot of what I write is “from life”. That’s not to confirm nor deny that I’ve done all the things I write about. But the motivations and interactions of my characters tend to be drawn from how I feel. And though I’ve written some menage, I always find myself drawn back to the intensity of a couple relationship. It’s both a womb and a wall. It protects and contains, it nurtures and adapts. For the two people involved, it’s the most exclusive club in the world.

Midge

The phone rang a couple of times before Jen picked up.

“Hello?”

I put on a southern accent. “Hi there, little lady. Is your mommy home?”

“Yes, sir, she is. But she’s in my bed with Mr Ridge’s cock up her ass.”

“Dammit, Jen…how do you always know it’s me?”

“A little thing I like to call ‘Caller ID’.”

“Oh, that old trick…” I lost my voice for a second.

“Sweetie? Have those pilots been misbehaving again?”

“Aw, a couple of cowboys with more cock than pit. Plus a freak windstorm hit about midday. It was all I could do to keep ’em in the air.” I never see the faces, they never see me. So it’s abstract and impersonal. But on the bad days I swear I can feel the weight on my shoulders. The thousands of lives I hold in my hands. All depending on me to make every decision right. And today had been a bad day.

“Jen…I…”

“Did you try some creative visualization?”

“That never really took.”

“There’s that new yoga place. Give that a try?”

“Yeah…I guess…”

“Sweetie, if it helps…I just put a lamb roast in the oven.”

“That’s…” I couldn’t think about food. There was something I needed so much more. “Jen, would you…”

“Hmm?”

“Would you let me see Midge tonight?”

“Wow. That bad a day, huh?”

“Please? You know I love you, right? It’s not about that.”

“Of course. And I love you.” She didn’t sound hurt, or worried, which was a good sign. She sighed, and I could almost hear her head shaking. “Okay then, sweetie. Just…save some for me?”

“You’re the best, Jen.”

* * * *

I pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. My hands shook just a little as I stepped down from the cab. Jen had been at me for months to get rid of my big old beast, maybe get one of those hybrid cars. Truth was, I didn’t need a fucking behemoth like this, but if my father or brother ever saw me in a hybrid, they’d probably hold an intervention for me.

I knocked quietly, the way Midge prefers it. She called out in her sweet voice, telling me to wait a minute.

I pulled out my cellphone and turned it off. All part of the rules. I leaned against the wall as a minute turned to two. The sun’s heat was still in the bricks. It seeped through my jacket and into my skin. She’d come open the door when it was time.

Already I felt the tension easing. It wasn’t just the warmth on my back. It was the anticipation. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love Jen; her style, her drive and efficiency, her caring nature. She’s a beautiful modern woman.

But Midge is something else. She evokes those times when my biggest worry was scoring enough weed to get through my exams.

I heard movement close to the door, and seconds later she drew it open.

I smiled at the vision before me. Her petite frame always looked so inviting in the cinched waist of her floral house-dress. Blond hair tightly bound in a bun. Her high, high heels brought her up almost to my shoulder. I could pick her up, throw her over my shoulder and still run the hundred meters in under 15 seconds. Not that I ever would.

“Come in, Marcus.”

I did exactly as I was told, walking into the living room and stopping. “How are you, Midge?”

“Oh, I’m dandy, Marcus. Won’t you take a seat?”

I fell heavily into the soft cushioned sofa and moaned with relief.

“Take off your shoes.” She never says ‘please’. I never say ‘no’. “Socks, too.”

“I’m so glad you’re here, Midge. I had some trouble today at work. It was-”

“Shh…” She sat on my lap, side-saddle, and started working my buttons. My shirt came away from my shoulders and she pulled me forward, drawing it completely off. “You’re very handsome, Marcus.”

“Thank you.”

She traced her fingers down through the hair on my chest and thumbed my nipple. I squirmed with the uncomfortable thrill as she brought it tingling to life.

I felt my breath and my pulse juddering against each other as she spread my thighs and knelt between them. Her hot breath coursed over my skin as she leaned across to take my nipple into her mouth. She sucked gently on it as she squeezed the other. She let it slip from her lips with a liquid sound that spread a fire across my chest.

Her little hands worked my belt open. “Stand up, Marcus.” Of course I did as I was told. She dragged my pants and boxers off, leaving me standing before her, naked in the afternoon sun that streamed through the windows.

Midge stood and turned her back to me.

“Unzip me, Marcus.”

My hands trembled as I worked her dress open. My breath faltered as she stripped it from her slender body.

“Sit back down, Marcus. I do believe some fellatio is in order.”

I sat and breathed, unable to concentrate on anything but the hardening of my cock. Midge turned back to me and cradled my cheek in one hand, squeezing her stubby strap-on in the other. She pressed her thumb past my trembling lips.

“Open for me, Marcus.”

I let my mouth hang loose and welcomed the thrust of the slender toy she wore. She pressed inside, filling my mouth and holding herself there, blocking my throat for a moment. The serenity of her expression seemed at odds with the insistent thrusting of her hips. The scent of her pussy crept up into my nose and mixed with the taste of silicone.

“There you go…relax into it.”

I reached up to grasp the soft shaft but she blocked my hands.

“No.”

She slipped her fingers into my hair and pulled my face forward, pressing her cock right back as far as I could take it.

“That’s it, Marcus. You’re very good at this. I love it when you get dirty.”

To all the air passengers, I’m nobody. In my job, I only ever get noticed if I fuck up. But the sweetness of Midge’s voice, and the delicacy of her praise, was beautiful. I soaked myself in the moment. I let my eyes fall closed, but all I could see was a room full of screens. Radar. Readouts.

“Your mouth looks wonderful wrapped around me, Marcus. Show me your tongue. Show me how you work it.”

Sometimes I got lost in the moment. With the heat of her palms against my temples, the steady rhythm of her cock between my lips, I could just fall out of life and believe the fantasy. In these moments, I belonged wholly to Midge.

“All right, Marcus. Reach into that drawer there.”

She pulled loose from my mouth as I slipped off the sofa. The drawer was in the low coffee table, so I crawled across to open it. As I scooped up the little tube of lube I felt Midge’s palm stroking my upturned ass.

“My, you’re a big boy, Marcus. Beautiful muscle tone.”

“Thank you.”

“Here, pass me the lube. No, don’t get up.”

I felt my breath catch in my chest. There’s little that can make a man feel so vulnerable, so open, as having his bare ass in the air. The snap of the lid opening made me jump, made my knees tremble against the rug.

“Look at me, Marcus.”

I turned to see the syrupy lube cascading from the tube and into her palm, overflowing and oozing down, like a money shot. My lungs trembled as I watched her hand slide down to her cock and start stroking, coating it. Her slender arm flexed, her tight breasts juddered as she pumped at her toy. Her small stature did nothing to lessen the power that radiated from her. The serenity of her countenance never faltered, but I was sure mine betrayed my twinned fear and excitement.

With her cock all juiced up, Midge held the tube above my ass and squeezed it. The drips landed right at the top of my crack like weighty tears. My head grew light as my cock grew heavy.

Midge brought her thumb down and made circles in the lube, each orbit widening and deepening, delving further into my no-man’s-land. My own gasps of shock thrilled me, though Midge seemed unmoved by them. She stopped with her thumb resting right against my hole.

I lowered my head to the floor, ready for what was to come.

“No, Marcus. Show me your handsome face.”

I looked back at her again. I thought I could see a tiny smile dance across her mouth for a second before the insistent drive of her thumb forced my eyes closed.

I groaned as the pleasure warred with the fear. I knew how this would look to my father…my brother. They always made it clear what made a man a man, and where a woman’s place is. But as Midge’s knuckle spread me open I simply didn’t care. I lost myself again to the sensation. No decisions. No abstract pressure. Just tangible bliss.

“Relax, Marcus. Open for me.”

As her skillful thumb made little circles inside me, I could feel it. A heat that started right where she entered me. A heat that was gradually spreading, liquefying tension and loosening muscle. I pushed back against her, welcoming her inside me.

“No, Marcus. I’m driving.”

I grunted some kind of reply, and she slid her thumb deeper. The head of my cock pulsed against my belly as she pushed and rolled, getting me ready for what was to come. She twisted her hand around, the sensation thrilling against the sensitive bud of my ass. Her small fingers stretched down and tickled at my heavy balls, gathering them up until she held them tight. She pressed them against me as she thrusted her thumb, awakening a fresh mix of fear and pleasure. I was completely at her mercy.

I wanted it so badly, wanted her smooth cock inside me, to fill me until there was no room for thought. I moaned, long and deep as I felt the slick shaft tickle its way up the inside of my thigh. My breath shuddered as its snub nose pressed against my cheek. My voice failed as she slipped her thumb loose of me and nudged the tip right up into the heart of my ass.

There seemed to be no sound but Midge’s breathing as she pressed forward, inching her firm shaft inside me, making demands of my body that it still wasn’t used to obeying.

The few times I tried yoga, I loved how a good stretch used to burn all over my back and legs. This was like that, the same kind of burn, only it was concentrated. Distilled heat, just an edge of pain to it, and instead of being spread across my body, it was all crammed into my ass.

I swore I could almost feel little fingers reaching out and tickling me inside. Midge grasped my hips and rolled against my butt, tiny thrusts that bloomed inside me.

As her cock slid deeper in I felt my lip curl over clenched teeth, and I closed my eyes. I pictured myself as a tall glass of lemonade, still fizzing from being poured. In that glass, a single cube of ice. I watched that cube as the summer heat curled around it. I studied the way it melted, how the sharp corners began to round off. How as it grew smaller, it was as if the glass grew bigger.

By the time the cube had melted, Midge’s smooth hips were bumping against my ass. Each little thrust seemed to ease my tension a little more. As if it was driving away, person by person, jet by jet, all the weight I’d brought with me from work. My heart and my head grew light until all I could feel was the radiance of Midge’s smile, all over my back.

“I love your body, Marcus.”

She bumped my reply out of me in little chunks of sound, somewhere between words and moans. Then she pulled out, leaving a cold feeling inside me.

“But you have such a gorgeous face, too. I want to see it.”

I rolled onto my back and held my legs up. She slotted her shoulders into the backs of my knees and drove her cock back inside me. I squinted with the pleasure of being taken. The bliss of being the prey and not the hunter.

Now, behind my still-closed eyes, there was nothing. My body was just a receptacle, my pleasure just ancillary. I gasped as Midge curled her hand around my cock and ground her thumb into the hair-trigger patch of skin just below the tip. She rubbed little circles across it as she bounced her hips, and I almost sobbed with pleasure.

“You’re beautiful, Marcus. You make me so hard.”

It suddenly felt as if every thrust she’d made, every word she’d said, had gathered at the base of my spine. All the stray jagged pieces of my stressful day seemed to rub together and ignite, sending a wall of heat up my body, fusing my bones and muscle into a machine again. Wiping away doubt, and replacing it with lust.

I found my voice, and it was deep. “Do I also…make you wet?”

“Wet? Always.”

She pulled out of me with a quick roll of her hips. Grabbing the strap-on, she looked at me quizzically. “I think my work here is done?”

“Thank you, beautiful. But Jen asked me to save her some.”

* * * *

She stepped out of the harness and stood with her eyes closed for a moment. She pulled the clip from her hair and shook it all loose. When she opened her eyes again, her smile was as radiant as the day I married her.

“That’s right. I did.”

I fell to my knees and planted my face into the fragrant heart of her pussy. She whimpered and weakened, collapsing onto the sofa with her knees hooked over my shoulders. I swept my tongue over her, nipped at her lips, sucked on her clit. She mewed with desire and pounded her heels into my back.

With my mouth still against her, I barked out my needs.

“Roll over, Jen.”

She untangled from me, turned onto her front and slipped her knees down to the floor. I nosed my cock up against the slick mouth of her pussy and pressed, much more firmly than she’d done. She cried out in pleasure as my hard hips punched into hers. She squeezed my cock inside her, sucking the breath from my body as I ground out my desire on her.

“Oh…Jen…”

She bit into a cushion as my hands bit into her hips. Her muffled squeals called to an ancient part of my brain. The part that relentlessly chased. That held its prey in iron fist and clenched jaw until the voice of hunger took over.

With my hand curled around her shoulder I pumped into her, returning all the strength Midge gave me.

Jen moaned with the wavering lilt that meant she was just about to climax, and she clutched herself around my cock so tightly that I drove over the cliff with her. Every thrust bloomed inside her with a fresh wave of pleasure. I bawled my ecstasy skyward, in a surrogate “fuck you” to all the nameless, faceless people I’d guided through the day.

As my voice trailed away, the arching strength in my back turned to mush. I fell forward, gliding my body over Jen’s back to nibble on her ear.

“Thank you, honey.”

“Any time, sweetie. Especially if you’re gonna come back at me like that.”

“Yeah…lost myself a little there.”

I slipped out of her and sat on the floor. She draped her small frame across me and kissed my lips.

“You’re a good boy, Marcus.”

I smiled at the floor.

Jen lifted my chin and kissed me again, much deeper. “But you’re a wonderful man.”

Her Majesty

Serena fiddled with the car radio like an insect on speed, trying to find a station that didn’t suck almightily. She left it sitting on something with a country twang for a moment.

“No, I have too many teeth for this.” She reached for the dial again and I slapped her hand away.

“Stop it! I can’t drive!”

“You’re telling me.”

“Bitch.”

“Slut.” She flashed me a smile, but at least she left the radio alone. “Are we there yet?”

I rolled my eyes but she was staring out the window by then. She rubbed lightly at the new space on her finger, and I put my hand on her shoulder.

“You did the right thing, Serena.”

“I know, Kimmie. I do. It was a long time coming, in fact.”

“Really?”

“You sound surprised.”

I made a wordless noise, trying to keep things neutral. In truth, I was so glad she’d called off the engagement. I never knew what she’d seen in him. Wade Wainwright. Too many ‘w’s for my liking, although I could use a few more to describe him. Wally. Wanker. Womanising wanna-be.

I tried to gauge her mood, but she was still scanning the landscape. I snaked my hand into her hair and just toyed with it. Letting her know I was there for her, but not going anywhere I couldn’t come back from.

I never told Serena how I felt about him, but she’d picked up on it pretty early.

“Yeah, he was a tool, Kimmie. But he was so pretty.”

“And he abused it.”

“I know.” It was more sigh than voice. “Truth is, we’d been living separate lives for months. Hannah was just the catalyst.”

I almost laughed. “Ah, yes. My evil twin.”

That at least got a quick giggle out of her. Hannah and I were always being mistaken for sisters. It amazed me that Wade had been fucking her. He’d always made it clear he thought she was both stupid and annoying. Then again, guys are weird in matters of the heart. Well, matters of the cock, anyway.

Like when he’d kissed me. I think I’m in love with you, Kim. Ha! Drunk, my ass. He knew what he was doing. I figured he’d gone after Hannah because she looked so much like me.

My knuckles were white against the steering wheel as I rolled the memory across my mind. I blew out a quick breath.

“I’ve never understood guys. He has you…you…and he wants a scrawny little chicken like Hannah?” Like me. “She can’t hold a conversation unless it’s about either herself or a Kardashian!”

“Oh, Kimmie. He’s a guy. He never cared what came out of my mouth. Just what went in.”

“Ewww. Come on, girlie. I can’t block my ears when I’m driving.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Ha!”

“Okay, I didn’t only mean that. He was always at me to eat less, get some exercise. He stopped taking me to work functions. Like the size of my ass was embarrassing to him.”

My knuckles actually cracked a little this time. “I wish I had your ass. Hell, I wish I had an ass.”

“You’re being silly. Stop it.”

“Whatever you ask, your majesty.”

We managed a few moments of silence, but I could sense the pressure of the words inside her. We’d been like strangers for months. Ever since Wade had stuck his tongue in my mouth and I’d kept it secret. I’d wanted them to break up, but I didn’t want to make them break up.

“Plus he saw a couple of grey hairs last time I…last time he had a close look at the top of my head.”

“No way! He didn’t say it…during?”

She began toying with the tan line on her finger again.

“Serena, I found my first greys four years ago.”

“Kimmie, you’re not Italian. It doesn’t show in your hair like it does in mine.”

That was true. You could lose your car keys in my frizzy mane.

“Besides, your grey hairs didn’t matter to Wade. Only mine.”

“Oh, god, Serena. What did you ever see in him?”

“Whatever it was, he was lying about it.”

We cruised the freeway in silence for a while. Then, in a little-girl voice, Serena asked a question which felt heavy with age.

“So how long is it since you’ve had a boyfriend?”

Since I fell in love with you. “Oh, about a year…maybe a little longer.”

“We’re not getting any younger.”

“We’re 24!”

“Still…we can’t afford to be too picky.”

“I’m not picky. I ask for nothing more than perfection.”

“Perfection, huh? And how exactly would you define that?”

Five foot eight, hair like wine, laugh like a song, wit like rubber bullets, eyes like stained oak, lips like a sofa, throat like caramel, hands like hummingbirds, breasts like mangoes, hips like traffic, ass in the seat right beside me.

“Oh, I guess I’ll just know it when it makes me come.”

“I thought I told you to stop being naughty.”

“You said ‘silly’.”

I didn’t have to look. I could feel her smile all over me. We sat in silence for a moment before she pulled on my arm, drawing my hand off the steering wheel. She curled her perpetually warm fingers into mine, and I felt like it was a signal. Maybe it was time to come clean. Tell her why boyfriends were no longer an option for me. I took a deep breath, but she beat me to it.

“Thanks, Kimmie.”

“For what?”

“Just being here, taking me with you. Just for being you.” She squeezed my hand and I caught my breath. “You’re my best friend, you know?”

Friend was good. Best friend was better. But neither was enough for me. I had to fight the urge to bring her hand up to my lips. Instead I squeezed back, a show of solidarity. “I know.”

“Is this our road?”

“Shit!”

Lost in my thoughts I almost missed the turn-off. Serena giggled at me as I fought across the three lanes to make the exit. It was so wonderful to hear her laughing again I didn’t even mind the near-death experience.

We pulled into the main street of the small town.

“Ah, crap.” It was so old-fashioned they still had on-street angle parking. I pulled the car up on the street and gave Serena my puppy-dog eyes.

She ruffled my fringe and shook her head. “Why the hell do you drive this tank if you can’t park it?”

“It’s big. Which means it’s safe.”

“Not with you at the wheel.”

“Poo-head.”

“We wouldn’t even be here if I hadn’t helped you push start this whale.”

“Did I already say poo-head?”

She shucked her ass across the bench seat and shooed me out the driver’s door. It’s always been this way. The whole trip had been my idea, and I’d driven all the way. Then, when it got complicated, I couldn’t bring it home. Always been my trouble. Like our little greeting card business. My idea. But all I ever seem to have is ideas. Serena’s the one who makes stuff happen.

In seconds, she had the car slotted home and had thrown the keys to me.

“Ow!”

“Slipped through your fingers again?”

I couldn’t read her smile, but it gave me ideas. Dirty ideas.

We cruised the main street for a couple of hours, undermining the quiet charm of the town with a constant stream of chatter about, basically, nothing.

As if choreographed, we both spotted the thrift shop at the same time. I looked at her, and she at me.

“No prisoners?”

“No prisoners.”

We hit that place like a sledgehammer. I don’t think the locals had ever seen such a display. These small towns have such great retro fashions and kitsch. Serena simply glowed as I dressed her in a skin-tight jumpsuit straight out of the 70s.

“Oh, god, Serena. I’d kill for just one of your boobs.”

“Well, I’d love to go jogging without putting myself in a coma, so shut up.”

I handed her a pair of tan aviator sunglasses. “Try these on.”

“What do you think?”

“I think Sophia Loren just got jealous.”

“I believe I told you to stop being silly.”

“Momentary lapse, your majesty.”

The septuagenarian lady behind the counter smiled at us as if we had concealed weapons. It felt like it had at school when the principal busted us for smoking and it was all we could do not to laugh out loud.

“Now, Kimmie…you need me to drive?”

“Bitch. I can drive just fine. Forwards. Besides, I need you to read the map.”

We drove in easy silence, broken only by Serena’s assured directions, each of which was accompanied by a little pat on the arm. Every touch gave me a shiver at the base of my belly.

The cabin we’d rented couldn’t be seen from the road, which was perfect. Not that it really mattered, since we hadn’t seen a car since we left town.

It finally felt like we’d escaped. The driving, the shopping, they were things we did every day. This — the cabin, the beach, the isolation — this was a world apart. For all we knew, civilisation had ended.

The back of the cabin was practically on the beach. I tore open the sliding glass door and the fresh tang of salt air buffeted the musty smell out of the place.

Serena moved right up beside me and draped her arm over my shoulder. The smell of her hair mingled with the ocean scent. She pulled in a deep breath and let it back out, humming the very word I was thinking.

“Heaven…”

“Uh-huh.”

She stood for a moment, leaning her head down on mine as if I could hold her up. I curled my arm around her waist. Then she kissed me.

It was nothing, really. She just pecked the top of my head. But I held my breath, anyway.

I leaned in against her and soaked up her warmth. The waves caressed the sand and we watched as if hypnotized.

“Swim, Kim?”

I couldn’t help laughing. I turned to go inside, but she pulled on my arm.

“Come on.”

“I’m getting my swimsuit.”

She smiled my brains out. “It’s just you and me. Nothing we haven’t seen before.”

“Jezebel.”

“Prude.” She pulled her loose sundress over her head and tossed it, walking down to meet the water.

I felt exposed enough in my tank top and cutoffs, so I simply tagged along, as usual.

We dipped our feet into the tongues of water. It was cold, despite the heat of the afternoon.

Serena shucked off her bra and dumped it on the sand. She squealed as she quick-stepped out into the water and then dived into a breaking wave.

I inched out after her, cursing my cold blood. Serena rose like a Roman goddess, the sun winking from her golden skin.

“Come on, Kimmie! Just dive in.”

I shook my head. “You know me. All Anglo, all the time.”

“Pussy!”

I bit my lip instead of responding. As she stood, I realised that pussy was all I could focus on. White panties, black hair, sea water…a very heady mix.

I walked out until the water reached my knees. Waves swept past me and slipped up my thighs like nightclubbers’ hands until I bit the bullet and sat. I shivered and squealed as the cold water bit into my skin. Change has always been hard for me. Even when it’s just the change from dry to wet.

Serena came up and sat beside me. “If you can’t be yourself now, when can you be?”

“Uh, wh…what?”

“I’m just saying…loosen up. Do what you feel, not what you think.” She hooked her finger into the neck of my tank top. “Your body doesn’t scare me, you know. I won’t be offended.”

“I thought this weekend was therapy for you, not me.”

She shrugged, her breast carving a dizzying oval against the surface of the water. She seemed to lose herself for a while, just drifting against the push and pull of the water, her eyes scanning the horizon for memories.

“Serena? Where did you just go?”

She lowered her gaze to the water roiling around her body. “I know about you and Wade.”

“Me and Wade?”

“The kiss.”

“It was all him, I swear. I only slapped him because I didn’t think my knee would reach his balls.”

“No, I know. It just hurt that you never told me.”

I drew patterns in the water. “I didn’t think it meant anything. He was drunk. And male. It was before Hannah.”

“‘Actually…it wasn’t.”

And I’d thought he couldn’t sink any lower in my eyes. “What a pig.”

She kept her face down. It was wet, but I was pretty sure it was all ocean. No tears. She brought handfuls of seawater up to eye level and let it trickle through her fingers back into the ocean.

“You know, I went to see her.”

“Her?”

“Hannah.”

“What?”

“I wanted to know. What it was she did that I didn’t.”

I gave her forehead a little slap. “Let me guess…red wine?”

She batted my hand away. “Just the one bottle.”

“And?”

“Let’s just say I left unsatisfied.”

“You should’ve called me, babe. I would’ve been there for you.”

“I couldn’t, Kimmie. We barely saw each other outside of the business.”

“Because of him.”

She nodded sadly. “I know you didn’t like him. He had a real thing for you, though.”

“I don’t wanna know about his thing.”

“He told me once that you asked him if you could join us.”

“Join you?”

She looked up from the doodle she was making in the water, the rich brown of her eyes almost blending with her black lashes. “In bed.”

I snorted out a very unladylike laugh. “What a fuckwit.” I held her gaze but I couldn’t read it. “I never did. You know that, right?”

“Hm.”

I let a couple of waves pass us by. “God, what must you have thought of me?”

She stood up and took a couple of steps back toward the cabin before pausing. “I thought it was weird.”

It felt like she’d kicked me. “But…I…”

“I mean, we’re best friends.”

“I know…”

“Why wouldn’t you have asked me?”

She started walking back to the cabin again, and I sat still for a moment, running the last minute through my head, looking for every possible meaning.

Didn’t matter it was a lie. She would have thought it was true. Was she pissed because I’d supposedly asked him and not her? Was it because she hadn’t wanted to share Wade? Or because she had no desire for me?

I slapped my hand into the water a few times. I’d done nothing wrong, other than hold back a secret that might have hurt my best friend. Wade, with his selfishness and his stupid fucking cock-dwelling brain, had messed up everything in Serena’s life. Now that looked like spilling over into my life, too.

I went back to the cabin, coming in just as Serena finished in the shower. She didn’t look at me as she walked into her bedroom, but I didn’t know if that was on purpose. I jumped into the shower to wash the salt from my body.

With the water running I didn’t hear Serena come into the bathroom until she spoke.

“Ugh!”

“Fuck, you scared me!” I pulled open the shower door and caught my breath. She was naked. With her bottom turned toward me, appraising her hips and thighs in the mirror.

“Wade was right. I’m getting huge. I look like gnocchi.”

I squeezed my lips together, but the words forced themselves out.

“I love gnocchi.”

She smiled and looked at me.

“I’d love a body like yours, Kimmie.”

“What, this old thing? Got it cheap from a ten-year-old boy. He’d grown out of it.”

Her breasts vibrated as she laughed. “I mean it! You can wear anything.”

“Yeah…dolls’ clothes, those little puppy sweaters…”

She frowned and faced me. “You’re being silly again. Stop it.”

“Whatever you ask, your majesty.”

She turned back to the mirror and studied her face for wrinkles. Fucking Wade had done such a job on her self-esteem. “Hey, Kimmie…I’m sorry about out there.”

“Forget it.”

“No, it wasn’t fair of me. It was Wade’s mess. We both just stepped in it.”

I grabbed my towel and teased my hair with it. “It’s okay, girlie. I don’t blame you for freaking out.”

She pushed her hair behind her ears and looked at my reflection. “So…you haven’t asked me what I said.”

“Hmm?”

“When he asked me…that.”

I took my tension out on my poor towel. “And?”

She laughed again. “I said no, of course.”

Relief and sorrow warred within me. “Yeah…yeah…of course.”

She turned to leave, but stopped at the door. “No way I’d share you with a cunt like Wade.”

“What? Wait…Serena…”

I scurried after her, back to her room. She sat at the end of her bed, her nakedness apparently not bothering her. It was having quite an effect on me, though.

I sat behind her, my hand on her shoulder. I thought of what she’d said out in the surf. Do what you feel, not what you think. Your body doesn’t scare me. And it felt like it was time.

A small shiver ran through her body as I pressed my lips to the side of her neck.

“You knew. Didn’t you?”

“I was pretty sure.”

“That’s not why…why you and Wade…”

“There really hasn’t been a ‘me and Wade’ for months. Turns out we both…fell in love with the same person.”

I let my towel fall and I stood in front of her. With my hands on her shoulders, and my pussy only inches from her face, it was the bravest thing I’d ever done.

She looked up at me. There was apprehension in her eyes but no fear.

I bent down and tickled my lips across hers, gentler than a sea breeze. Her eyes were closed when I stood up again. My fingers dipped into her hair and held on for fear of floating away. I pulled her against me, resting her head between my breasts.

“Oh, Kim. What are you doing?”

“Whatever you ask, your majesty.”

Her perpetually-warm hands curled around my wrists and I was prepared for nothing. Her breath pulsed over my bare belly. She slowly moved her head and I closed my eyes, hoping to save this moment for eternity.

I pressed her shoulders back until she was laying on the bed. I followed her with my body. My lips met hers again and we kissed like virgins, all pucker and no push.

Serena felt stiff against me, but her mouth opened just a little. I rested my hand against the heat of her throat and she gasped, coaxing my breath into her body. I slipped the tip of my tongue in behind it and she didn’t seem to mind.

All I could smell was her freshly-soaped skin and the ocean breeze. I pulled away for a moment and held myself up, just to be sure it really was Serena, that I wasn’t dreaming, or high.

Above her like that, it was like I was floating. Maybe it was just an adrenaline rush. Fear tingled between my shoulder blades and across my chest. But there was a pulse that rocked me lower, and deeper.

I let myself fall again. For all my fear, I felt safe with Serena. Maybe it’s because she’s bigger than I am. And every time I fell, her lips were open to catch me.

She cupped my ass in her hands and squeezed. I slipped her beautiful brown nipple into my mouth and tugged.

“God, Kimmie. That feels so nice.”

Her hip pressed up against my pussy and I ground myself on it. The ocean breeze pulsed across us and with it came the scent of my arousal, and something else. It was more than just a mix of sea and me. It was Serena. And suddenly, the tingling fear grew stronger.

It was like this morning. When the car wouldn’t start, and we had to push it downhill. It got so big and fast and I didn’t know if I could catch it or control it. And I wondered what would happen if I just rolled with it.

This moment had suddenly gotten very big and very fast. I could barely remember getting here.

Serena pulled on my shoulders, anxious to get me back down in reach of her mouth. I held firm, though, scared of what this might all mean when it was over.

“Kimmie?”

“Huh?”

Her low voice curled its way up to my ears. “Loosen up.”

I sucked on my lip and tried to stop worrying. Serena’s hand on my hip made me jump. Her thigh against my clit was like a spark.

She wrapped her fingers around my arm and pulled me onto my back beside her. I thought I might shake apart as she pressed her hot palm to the side of my face. It felt so natural when she slipped her mouth over mine and pulled on it, as gently as if it were a baby bird.

It was like it always was. I get all the brilliant ideas. Then when it gets complicated, I just can’t bring it home. It’s Serena who makes stuff happen.

Her mouth on my skin was ecstasy. Her hands so soft and warm, so big against mine. I’d fucked guys who were smaller than her, but it was never like this.

She kissed my belly like it was a destination, not a shortcut. She lured my nipples into her mouth. She took nothing, just freed me to give everything.

When her fingers reached my pussy I moaned my desire across her tongue. I clawed my little hands into her shoulders as she coaxed my thighs apart without touching them. She held my breath as I sighed into her mouth.

Even with her fingers inside me I didn’t feel conquered. I felt shared. Even when she got rough, it wasn’t abrasive. Even at her strongest it was finite. Gliding, not stabbing. Squeezing, not squashing.

Finding. Not taking.

Serena slipped her mouth off mine and laid a patchwork quilt of kisses over my breasts and belly. I pulled on her arm in apprehension.

“Wh…where are you going?”

She kissed my hip bone and bit her lip. “I’m not sure. But I think we’ll both know when I get there.”

Serena pillowed her lips and blew cool air over my skin. She brushed the edge of my bush with her nose and looked straight at me.

“So pretty.”

She weaved her fingers through mine and squeezed. Her pursed lips pressed into the hardness of my clit and my body buzzed. The curling wetness of her tongue fanned out across me and spread the tingling sensation straight up my spine. The hair on my head and neck shrugged across my skin as she kneaded my clit with her mouth, rolling her fingers around inside me.

I arched my back as she teased sensations from deep inside me, my voice catching against my ribs as I moaned out my climax. Serena matched the pulsing of my orgasm with the sucking motion of her mouth, shooting tiny shocks up through my body until I collapsed.

“Perfection…” I could barely voice the word.

She kissed my pussy a couple more times. “Hmm?”

“Told you…I’d know it when you made me come.”

She crawled up and lay beside me, running her moist fingers over my belly. Her smile was as content as if she’d been the one coming. I took a moment to catch my breath and then pushed her down with a strength that I rarely admitted having.

I traced her sensuous lips with my fingers, her tongue snaking out to moisten them. She swept them into her mouth and drew on them, attacking them like she was ravenous. I kissed her through the cage of my fingers, feeling deliciously dirty sucking my own juices from her.

I couldn’t wait. I had to please her. I swept my hand down her body and pressed my slick fingers to her pussy. She squealed as I touched her, and sobbed as I entered.

For all that she’d loved me like a woman, I couldn’t help getting manly with her. I hauled my knee up and pumped the back of my hand with it, driving my fingers inside her, pressing the knuckle of my thumb up against her clit. She held me, open-eyed and open-mouthed, her fingers squeezing my hair as I grunted with effort.

Her voice erupted inside my throat as she came. An ascending wave of sobbing moans filled my lungs as desire filled my heart. She squeezed the life out of my fingers and I didn’t care if I never got them back. They were hers, anyway.

Serena loosened up all over and I fell on her, my face against the unbearable softness of her breast.

“Oh, god, Kimmie. You’re everything I knew you’d be.”

I kissed her throat, her chin, her pretty mouth. “Knew?”

She smiled at the ceiling. “I’m so glad we’re here. And it’s just us.” She stared at her hand, at the tell-tale space, and I held my breath.

She glanced at me, saw where I was looking. Read my expression perfectly. She threaded her slick fingers through mine.

“Kimmie, don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t let this slip through your fingers.”

“But…what if…”

“Uh-ah.” She pressed me flat on my back and hovered just above me. Her breath washed into my mouth. “You’re being silly. Stop it.”

My lips vibrated on hers as I replied. “Anything you ask, your majesty.”

This, I Can Do

Lungs of steel. That’s what we should have named her. “Abigail” is far too refined for my little bundle of energy and noise. But Bradley insisted his daughter should have a family name, and I never could say no to that man. When he rolled over this morning and put his hand on my hip…well, if he’d asked, I just might have succumbed. It would have been our first one since becoming parents.

The night still weighed heavy on my eyelids. Those tiny nubs of teeth poking through Abbie’s gums caused havoc in every part of my daily life. I can barely feed her, I can barely sleep, I can barely hear myself think. Her pain is my pain, in every way. But when she screams and I’ve hardly slept, I just want to put her in a soundproof room and chug booze straight from the bottle. I eyed the pantry. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d had a drink this early, but I hadn’t done it in years.

I held my little caterwauling cutie, and bounced her in my arms out of habit more than hope. I desperately needed it to be nap time. She was tired, for sure. She hadn’t slept any better than I had. But she was still going strong.

Desperation won out and I laid my little noisemaker in her crib. She pulled herself to her feet and stared me down balefully. Abigail could always make herself clear, even though she had no words yet. Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, mommy?

I scanned the room, looking for her pacifier. It wasn’t on the changing table, where I always leave it. A spider of panic stretched its legs through my belly.

As if sensing my distress, Abbie screamed a little louder and grabbed my finger.

“Oh, sweetie. Give mommy two minutes. Please.”

I pulled loose from her desperate grip and scuttled out to the phone, dialing Bradley’s number as I hurried back to Abbie’s room.

“Charles Electronics, Richelle speaking.”

“Hi, Richelle, it’s Teresa. Can I please speak to Bradley, please?”

“Sorry? I can barely hear you. Is that a fire engine?”

“No, it’s the latest club mix. All the kids are getting down to it. Can I please speak to Bradley?”

Richelle sighed and muttered something I wouldn’t have heard even without Abbie’s noise. I almost wet myself with relief when I heard Bradley’s voice.

“Charles Electronics, Bradley- woah. My little girl’s really got a head of steam going, huh?”

“So’s your big girl. I need to know where you put her pacifier.”

“In the trash.”

“What?”

“She killed it. You know we can’t use it once it’s torn.”

“Oh, fu-…uh, phooey. That was the last one.”

“I’ll get out at lunch and pick up some more.”

“And a quart of tequila.”

“Done.”

I closed Abbie’s door, just to get a tiny break from the wall of noise. “Bradley, I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

“Oh, Tez.”

“I don’t mean just this morning. I mean…” I was scared to finish that sentence.

“How long’s she been going?”

“Since just after you left. You must’ve woken her.”

“Well, there’s no way I’m going to work without saying goodbye to my baby.”

“Maybe next time, you should take her with you.”

As if she could sense her missing daddy on the phone, Abbie started squawking like I was murdering her. Even with the door closed I had no hope of hearing Bradley.

“Babe, I’ll have to call you back. When my headache goes to sleep.”

I hung up without waiting for a reply. Times like this I wish I’d taken him up on his offer to stay home, and let me go back to work.

Abbie kept squealing, each note of pain shriller than the last. I slapped my hands over my ears and squealed back at her, which made me feel better in a very childish way. Of course, all Abbie heard was a challenge to her position as head screamer, and cranked it up another notch.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I usually avoided swearing around her, but I reveled in the fact that, for a few more months at least, I still could.

I slapped Abbie’s door a couple of times. “Cry it out, sweetie.” So far, Abbie had won every battle, but maybe this time…maybe.

My own tantrum in full swing, I stormed off to take a hot shower.

The white noise of hot water cascading over me was more beautiful than a symphony. Just because of what it was blocking. It was rare for me to shower this late in the morning. Usually I squeeze in a quick one between when Bradley wakes and when he leaves for work. Not today.

It suddenly occurred to me that since I was committed to leaving Abbie alone until she dropped off to sleep, I didn’t need to just hose myself down and then run. I could take my time. Then the memory of Bradley’s hand on my hip lit a tiny fuse inside me that I’d almost forgotten was there.

I decided to skip the bar of soap, opting instead for the gel. I didn’t want anything getting between my fingers and my skin.

Just resting my hands against my breasts felt like an indulgence. Treating my body like more than just a feeding, carrying, caring machine — like it was okay to receive as well as give — was absolutely luxurious.

I bit my lip as my fingers dripped southwards, slow as molasses, and warm as regurgitated breast milk.

“Dammit!” I couldn’t even last two minutes before being a mommy interrupted me. I pushed my head back under the stream of hot water, trying to wash out any maternal thoughts so I could focus on sexy ones. God, it’d been so long. I had to mix fantasy with memory. The gush of Bradley’s breath against the back of my neck. His palm on my skin, his teeth in my shoulder. The push of his cock against my ass.

I pressed my clit, sending out a thrill that pulsed through my body like a shockwave. An intense jolt of pleasure that my heart knew was perfect, even as my brain tried to tell me that mommies don’t do this kind of thing.

With Bradley’s cock still on my mind, I plunged two fingers inside myself and explored. I’d never been afraid of my own body before, but now this felt more like a sin than ever. As if I believed my own mother’s crap about childbirth being a miracle, and motherhood being somehow holy. Like I always told her: people have been making babies a whole lot longer than they’ve been making religions.

The pleasure of playing like this was remarkable. It was a little like visiting an old friend…in a new house. So much was still the same, but giving birth had clearly…performed some renovations.

I figured that, while this was a little selfish luxury, I still had so much to do today. With a few trips around my little nub, I worked myself into a sweet climax that relieved the tension a bit. Okay, so it wasn’t like the earth-shattering ones I got with Bradley, but at least it was something.

I shut off the water and listened. Fuck. Even over the exhaust fan I could hear she was still screaming. I leaned my head out the bathroom door to check the time. Just gone ten. I hadn’t been very long in there, but to come out and hear Abbie still going made me feel like the biggest heel ever.

I grabbed my towel and pawed at my hair, ready to make a nude wet dash to Abbie’s side, when…she stopped. A gurgle. A giggle. I froze in place. Had someone switched babies on me?

And then something else. Maybe a voice? The fan was loud enough that I couldn’t make it out. Still naked, I sprinted up to her doorway, fingers curled ready to scratch eyes out. And ran straight into the broad, dress-shirt draped back of my husband.

“Bradley? What are you…?”

He turned to face me, his gaze dripping over my body far slower than the water had.

“Hey, Tez. You sounded so strung out on the phone. So I took the rest of the day off.” He pushed my wet hair back from my forehead. “How come you don’t welcome me like this every day?”

I felt like sinking into his touch, but then remembered the stretch marks on my Buddha belly, the cellulite on my ass and thighs, and I whipped the towel over myself.

“Richelle’s not gonna be happy.”

“That’s when she’s happiest.”

“Seriously, though, babe. We can’t afford you to miss work. Or get fired.”

“It’s all cool, Tez. I told her: if she fires me, I’ll quit.”

“Strong argument.”

He kissed my forehead and my knees shuddered. “But really, Tez…it’s all cool. No, she’s not happy, but she could see it on my face how important it was for me to go. Even if she thinks parents are idiots for bringing this on themselves.”

“How can someone have such a dislike for kids?”

“She’s barely stopped being one. But it’s okay.” He picked Abbie up, tickling a gorgeous giggle out of her belly as he did so. “I’m used to being ordered around by younger women.”

I almost melted as Abbie smacked at Bradley’s cheeks. An enormous grin split her face in two, her teething pain apparently reserved only for her lucky mommy. The connection between the two of them made me jealous, sometimes, but I still wouldn’t have it any other way.

Bradley lifted our daughter right up above his head. “So, miss Gabby Abbie…I hear you’re making life tough for your mommy. What can we do about that?”

Abbie squealed and flapped her arms like a chubby flamingo.

“Bradley, don’t rev her up. I’ve been trying to get her down for over an hour.”

“Oh, we don’t want to get her down, maaaaaan…we wanna peace her out.”

“Babe, you’re about four decades late.”

He pulled Abbie back down into a bear hug, then leaned over to me. He curled his strong arm over my shoulder and dragged me around to the other side of our daughter.

“Abbie sandwich!”

I rolled my eyes, but the silliness of his mood was contagious.

He kissed Abbie on the forehead, then did the same to me. “Mommy, could you please reach into my pocket?”

“Pardon?”

“I have something down there you’ll loooo-ooooove…”

“Hmph. I’ll be the judge of that.”

I slipped my fingers into the pocket of his trousers and felt a little paper bag. Inside it was a tube of teething gel and a brand new pacifier.

“And the quart of tequila? That in your other pocket?”

He kissed my cheek and took the items from me. “Go. Sleep. I got this.”

There was a big stubborn streak that told me I shouldn’t go. I should look after this myself. We’d decided — I’d decided — that I’d be the stay-at-home parent. But the thought of catching up on some sleep was more appealing to me than anything else right now.

“Husband…will you marry me?”

“Any time, wifey.”

I kissed them both and turned to leave.

“Oh, God, Tez. You have a beautiful ass.”

I’d forgotten to wrap the towel right around behind me. “That’s not my ass. I borrowed it from a pink hippo.” I still hadn’t gotten used to the changes that pregnancy had imposed on my body.

I glanced back at him, but despite my instincts I didn’t hide myself. I struggled to remember the last time I’d let Bradley see me naked. I think it was when I was laid up, pushing seven pounds of human out of me. Watching Bradley ogling me felt as decadent as my shower had. And the smile he was barely wearing was the sexiest thing I’d seen in ages.

“Sorry, Tez. I can’t help myself. But please, go. You need the sleep.”

I settled on the bed, just as Bradley’s voice came sing-songing through. “By the way…I heard you in the shower.”

“Oh, that. I was…cleaning it.”

“I bet you were.”

The bed was comfortable and the morning was warm. With the blinds closed, the room had a twilight feel about it. The night had been awful, and my beautiful husband was tending our beautiful baby. Conditions were perfect for a long and well-deserved sleep.

So it was sweet torture to realize that I was horny like I couldn’t believe. My shower interlude had done less than nothing. It was like killing one ant, only to awaken the entire colony. The tickling want in my pussy had only one cure, and it was the one that, after months of discomfort and then 19 hours of agony, scared me the most.

Bradley’s cock.

Everything was quiet in the house. Either Bradley had left with Abbie, or he’d done the impossible. Actually gotten her down.

“Babe?” I remembered my sister using that voice. The one you try to project three rooms away without actually making any noise.

He nudged the door open. Abbie was still in his arms, but with a gel-coated pacifier in her mouth she was finally, blissfully asleep. Or maybe it was the warmth and strong pounding of her daddy’s chest. Hell, I’d long ago lost count of the times I’d fallen asleep listening to Bradley’s heartbeat.

“Babe, why don’t you put her down?”

“I don’t get to hold her like this all that often.”

I drew the covers slowly down and showed him where my hand was. “Oh. Okay.”

Bradley moaned as he once again studied my naked body. “Oh, God. I’ll be right back.”

Abbie stirred as he placed her back in her crib. She let out a plaintive little moaning cry and I felt my belly tense up. That was it. She was back awake. I knew it.

There was a little bleating, and I could hear Bradley cooing at her, and then…silence. I held my breath as if the sound of it would wake her. Then, there he was. My knight in shining drool. The sexiest thing I’d seen in…forever.

“You did it. I don’t know how, but you actually did it.”

He made short work of his messed-up shirt and started on his belt. “You made the play. I just scored the touchdown.”

Unable to resist any longer, I rolled up off the bed and threw myself into him. He curled those big arms around me and slipped his hands down to cup my huge ass.

“Oh, Tez. I’ve missed this.”

With my head resting against his chest, right where his “Abigail” tattoo sat, his deep voice boomed in my ear. It wasn’t making me sleepy, though.

I stripped his belt out from his pants and pulled him free of them. His cock felt like a soldier returning from war, hot and hard and oh-so-ready. “Oh, babe…” I slipped free of his arms and fell to my knees. The warmth of the day had given him a sheen of manly sweat that spiced up the taste of his cock.

“Tez…Tez…” Just that. It was like he had no other words. His body trembled as my mouth worked him. I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to stop. This was the most powerful, and capable, I’d felt since Abbie was born. This, I could do.

Bradley cupped my head and squeezed my hair the way he always did. The way I showed him to. Not directing me, not controlling me, just holding on and enjoying the ride.

With all that beautiful upper-body strength of his, he slid my mouth off him and picked me up. He did it so easily, I felt like I was the baby. But the kiss he gave me was adults-only.

He finally came up for air. “Now, Teresa Ross. It’s ‘you-time’. I’m putting you on the bed, and then I’ll be putting my mouth on you in a very carnal way. You will not argue. You will not stop me. And you will not — repeat not — hide your beautiful body from me.”

“Oh, no, I don’t-”

“Was I not clear?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He draped me across the bed and sank his fingers into my knees, dragging me open, revealing to him all the changes that childbirth had wrought.

“My God, you’re beautiful, Tez.”

“You can’t possibly-”

He silenced me with a look. “Please, Tez. Don’t lump me in with all the men you women say ‘Men!’ about, okay?” He curled his fingertips into my wild bush. “You think because models and porn stars look a certain way, then that’s the only thing men find attractive? That all men want the same thing?”

“No, of course not.” I wasn’t sure if I was lying.

His fingers described wider and wider arcs, flicking across the tender flesh of my lips. “I’m a strong man, but you make me so weak.” He held up his hand, showing the tiny moon-sliver scars that I’d given him as Abbie came out of me. “You are more beautiful to me than you’ve ever been.”

“And you to me.”

He kissed the softness at the inside of my knee. “And this-” He pointed at me and back at himself. “This works. Because you do what I can’t. And I do…what you can’t.”

His eyes closed and he ran his tongue up the length of my thigh, stopping only when he had my cunt in his mouth.

And he was right. Oh, fuck, was he right. His tongue was magical in a way that my fingers had never been. He always did what I couldn’t. Quakes of pleasure erupted from the heart of my clit and pulsed through my body. It felt like my limbs were stretching, though they were barely moving.

Bradley’s low-level moans buzzed against my pussy. He dug his fingers into my belly, really sinking them into the flesh that hadn’t yet returned to pre-motherhood tautness, and maybe never would. I grabbed at his hand and pulled it away, embarrassed at the rippled texture and the oceanic waves.

Without missing a beat, he replaced his hand with his mouth, planting deep, open kisses all over the breadth of my stretch-marked stomach.

“Babe, what…?”

He said nothing, just slipped a couple of fingers inside me while he made love to my skin. With his thumb on my clit I lost the power of speech. And in truth, the adoration he clearly felt for my big belly worked a magic on me that no words had.

I felt his mouth inching higher, traipsing wide paths over my skin. He peppered my breasts with sharp kisses while his hands became acquainted with all parts of the new me. He kissed my nipples with a tenderness that bordered on neglect.

“Oh boy, Tez. Our little girl’s been working you hard, huh?”

“You can try them if you want. You might get a little more than you bargain for, though.”

He kissed each one again, and smiled. “Aw, I’m not gonna steal from Abbie. I’d have to share my beer with her to make it fair.”

“Turkey.”

He silenced me with a deep kiss that curled my toes. I devoured him, every part of him, from the remnants of his aftershave to the scratching of his already-there stubble. From the weight of his body on me to the lightness of his touch inside me.

He pulled back and just looked at me for a moment. I could feel tears in my eyes, and was surprised to see them in his, too. I slipped my hand against his neck. “I’m sorry, babe.”

“What for?”

“For being so scared for so long.”

He moved my hand down to his chest. “You feel my heart? I’m petrified.”

“You’re scared? What of?”

A few heavy tears landed on my lips and I swallowed them. I don’t know if they were mine or Bradley’s.

“Hurting you.”

“Trust me, babe.” I dropped into a stage whisper. “I’m not a virgin.”

“Not like that. Turkey.” He held up his hand again, the one with the little scars on it. “I’m a man. I’m a doer. A protector.”

I kissed his hand, kissed all the little marks I’d made. “You are. You do.”

He pressed his fingers to my cheek, ran them slowly down my body, coming to rest on my hip.

“I know it was all happening to you. The pain was yours, the vulnerability, the anger. But there’s still pain for a man. To see the woman you love more than life itself, tearing at the bedsheets, clawing at the world, because she’s hurting so bad and there’s nothing you can do about it. It wouldn’t be one-tenth of what you felt. But it’s the greatest pain I’ve ever known.”

“Oh, babe.” I reached down and stroked him, though he was as hard as I’d ever seen him. I pulled on him lightly, just drawing him in, guiding him home.

Suddenly, he was right there. One little push and he’d fill me.

I moved my hand out of harm’s way and pulled at him with my feet. He slipped easily into me and I gave his shoulder some little marks to match the ones on his hand.

“Oh, babe…I’ve missed this. So fucking much.”

I could sense him holding back, as if his strength would somehow hurt me. Now…or in nine months’ time.

“Babe, stop.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I want this. Hell, I need this. But not this way.” I pushed him over on his back and rolled up on top.

I grabbed his wrists, held his hands down beside his head, draping my breasts all over his face. When I’m a mommy, I feel like my life is out of control, like every moment is a challenge. But in that moment, astride my bull-strong husband and directing the play, I was the alpha. The driver. This, I could do.

Anchored in place, I ground my hips over Bradley’s, took his cock deep inside me. His face sizzled with intensity and want, and it made me ride him even harder. He nipped at my heavy breasts and bunted at my wide hips. He pushed up with his hands but couldn’t break my grip.

I bit into my lip as I squeezed his body with my thighs. The waves of pleasure that arced from my clit seemed to reach deeper and wider than they had before pregnancy. As if the pounding of my contractions had beaten down walls, opened new channels within me.

Bradley’s breath came in short, punching blows, and I knew he was close to coming. The desire on his face turned to beautiful pain as the heat of his climax burst inside me.

I followed right after, my orgasm erupting with a power that astonished me, but that I finally understood. Because, yeah, childbirth had been hell, but I’d beaten it. It was no longer some formless monster hiding around that next corner. It was something I could do. And knowing I had that strength made me feel sexier than any lingerie ever could.

I fell into Bradley’s arms, my hair sticking to my face. Neither of us had the breath to speak, nor the words to say.

As if on cue, Abbie began to cry again. I lifted my head and groaned, but Bradley steered me back down off his body and onto the bed.

“I got this, Tez.”

He slipped off the bed, pulled on some shorts and left the room. I knew the moment he arrived at Abbie’s door, simply by the squealing giggle she let loose.

“Hello, Gabby Abbie. How’s my little wonder? Oh, you’re a hungry little thing, huh?”

He laid her down on the bed beside me and she latched on like there was no tomorrow. Bradley sat and watched us, his smiling face glinting with a sheen of tears.

“God, you’re perfect. Both of you.”

I held my hand out to him, and he kissed my fingers.

“You know, Tez, I bet Ray would give you your job back in a flash. If you want it.”

I pulled him down so his body and mine shielded Abbie from the world. “No, babe. Everything I want is right here.”

“You sure?”

“Uh-huh.” I stroked Abbie’s impossibly soft hair. “This…this, I can do.”

Part IV

Sommer Marsden

Coupling-being a couple-is a hard thing to define. It’s great, it’s hard, it’s wonderful, it’s daunting. It’s not all good, but it is all worth it. I think that’s how I look at it. Being one half of a whole (and that is how I think of us. One unit.) can often be frustrating beyond belief. But, if you flip it over (already it’s sounding dirty), it can often be the most amazing thing you will ever experience.

My husband-“the man” to those of you who read me regularly-is my best friend. That’s a huge part of being a couple, if you ask me. He’s my lover, my partner, my friend, my teacher, often he’s the only person on the face of the planet who can understand where I’m coming from…and still love me.

I’m sure there are days that the urge to kill me-or at the very least, duct tape my mouth shut-is nearly overwhelming. And I have similar days, I won’t lie. I think that’s pretty damn normal, because marriage, even wonderful ones (17 years and counting as I write this), can be hard to maintain. It takes a lot of work and a lot of love and a lot of…really knowing each other.

Put that last component in the bedroom and you have a recipe for awesome. I have discovered and developed *ahem* interests since I met the man that I never had before I met him. Things that I once would have socked a man for suggesting we do, turn me on with him. There have been many firsts since we met and I’m sure there will be many more. And that’s saying something since I was 23 when I married him and he was 30. We were not, by far, virgins. But like I said, firsts-we’ve had ‘em. Which is all that matters to me.

I’ve discovered a lot about myself inside and outside the bedroom thanks to him. Every day, I continue to discover, which is really all you can ask for in a relationship.

Am I the same person I was when I married him? Nope. Is he the exact same man I married? Nope. Do I love him? More than I can describe with words, and words are what I do all day every day.

What amazes me most is how we’ve grown together and how the unit we formed so many years ago seems to keep shifting and evolving and yet never waivers. It just gets better…because we work at it. Lots of sex helps, but damn, so does lots of talking and lots of laughing and lots of patience. And did I mention sex? I did. Oh. Sorry. But it is super important.;)

Rug Burns

“Looking good, Mac,” he said, playfully. Slipping the long handle of the paint roller extension beneath the lip of my gray shorts, Hampton whistled. “Sweet ass.”

“Focus,” I growled. But I tried not to smile. “We have to finish this today. I really can’t sleep on that pull-out bed another night. My back is in knots. My ass is in a kink. My neck feels like a mule spent the night kicking me.”

I continued to smear the navy blue paint in sweeping arcs across the wall. My roller needed to be redipped, and I hung my head. Exhausted. Defeated. Who the fuck had wanted to paint? Oh, yeah. Me.

“Buck up Mackenzie. Don’t be defeated,” he called in his best Terminator voice. His Arnold accent was the worst in history but never failed to make me smile.

When I squatted down to get more paint, he slipped his bare toe beneath my shorts this time, lifting. I swatted at his hand. “Stop. You can’t possibly be flirting with me.”

“Flirting?” he gasped. His big arms flexed as he rolled the paint on in even lines. He was so much more graceful than yours truly when it came to doing this stuff. “I am not flirting.”

He glanced down and grinned at me. My heart crimped up in my chest. Even after all these years that grin of his did funny things to my stomach. Did instantaneous and naughty things between my thighs.

I squirmed, not so sure I wanted to stand up at the moment. A glance at our bed showed it still nearly buckling under boxes and boxes of stuff we needed to get out of the way to paint.

I sighed. “I’m glad you’re not flirting.” I rested my roller in the paint pan and sat back for a minute, crossing my legs criss-cross applesauce style.

“I’m begging,” he growled and propped the extension roller against the already blue wall. “I’m pleading. I’m…desperate,” he ground out and dropped to his knees, coming at me like a big animal.

I snorted laughter, but seeing that movement, hearing that tone, my skin prickled into goose bumps and a warm rush of fluid escaped me, making me overtly aware of my now plump and slickening nether lips. My god, he was turning me on. And then some. I’d officially lost my mind.

“Stop,” I said, but it came out in a whisper. I put up a half-hearted palm to keep him at bay. Hampton immediately crashed right into my open hand and forced my arm back. He crushed to the front of me, buckling me under his weight and driving me onto my back on the carpet. Only the edges of the room were draped in plastic and where I sat the tarp had gotten shoved aside.

“The carpet!” I gasped.

“The carpet!” he echoed, mocking me. His lips found my throat. He dragged his teeth lightly over my pulse, making me jump at the sensation. I went warm all over, especially between my thighs where a steady pulse of arousal now beat.

“Ham-“

He kissed me silent, big warm hands shoving up under the edges of my shorts to cup my bottom. I was bare underneath. I mean, how much does a person need to dress to paint walls and get dirty?

Get dirty…I laughed.

“What?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking about being…” I shook my head.

He waggled his fingers against my naked flesh and his blue eyes went dark and he smiled at me. It was a big bad wolf smile. It made my blood thump wildly. “You appear to be…” His fingers climbed higher, rerouted and slid around to find the moist folds of my nether lips. I couldn’t suppress a sigh. “Naked under these tiny shorts. And a bit aroused.”

“I’m fine.” I lied.

“You’re lying.” Hampton dipped his head, hiding his eyes from me, and bit my nipple through my faded white tee. It was a thousand years old and had the now washed out slogan PEACE across the breasts. He bit me right on the C and a shiver worked through me, my pussy clenching tight around nothing. I found myself wishing he’d put that finger inside me.

Instead, he bit me again and gently rubbed the tip of his finger over my swollen clitoris. I moved my hips up to meet him and Hampton chuckled. “Fine, eh?”

“We have painting to do,” I managed, but his fingers did what I’d wished. One finger, two fingers, drove into me with enough force to make me lift my hips a little to accept him. The movement slammed his palm against my clit and I found myself bearing down to get more friction. I held my breath, moving my hips as he flexed his fingers.

“I think we have fucking to do first.”

“But…tacky paint. Weird patterns will get on the walls. Streaks. Um…” I was losing my stream of thought because Hampton was pulling my tee up and my bra down. His mouth settled, hot and wet on my nipple. When he sucked, I felt the draw and tug echo in my pussy. “I-”

He cut me off with a nip to the tip of my breast. I started, squirming beneath him as he pushed me firmly to the carpet. “Stop moving, Mac.”

“No,” I sighed as he added a third finger to the mix. I had to put up a good show, didn’t I?

I didn’t fight him when he tugged my shirt off and popped the front clasp of my bra to remove it. I wasn’t very good and protesting, it seemed. He skimmed his hands along my skin and down my arms softly. He squeezed my hands and stared me down as I looked up at him. I could sit up if I wanted to, and yet…I didn’t.

“No,” I said again, just for show. I grinned at him and he grinned back.

“Yes,” he cajoled. He slipped his lips along my shoulder and my clavicle. When he found my nipple with his teeth, tugging out taut so that I hissed, he thrust deep again with his fingers. My pussy clenched up tight around his probing digits and I moved my hips just enough to trigger soft warm places deep inside me that needed it.

An almost-orgasm tightened me up around him and he grinned.

“Say no, again, Mac.”

“No,” I said, not meaning it at all.

His lips came down on my lips. A rough, demanding kiss that was all bullying flicks of his tongue and sharp nips of his teeth. My cunt flickered around his fingers. I moaned, giving into it all. I needed this, the stress release was welcome.

“Do it,” I pleaded. And Hampton knew what.

He kissed me once more and chuckled. “What, oh what, would you do if I said no?” But he didn’t. He covered my throat with his free hand. The heavy mitt of his palm and fingers trapped my pulse and I felt the blood whooshing and thumping in my head.

The trust was humbling, the arousal all encompassing. I have never trusted or loved easily, with him I’d found I did both. He curled his fingers just a bit more so that I felt the slowing drag of my breath in my lungs. Just a bit more effort needed to draw a deep breath than should be present. His fingers in my cunt curled in unison. The internal yang to the yin of the fingers on my throat.

I came, gasping for air as he continued to thrust his fingers deep inside my wet recesses.

Me asking him to do that never failed to get him off. Work him up.

“On your belly,” he growled, when the final spasm passed. But Hampton was past the point of waiting. Even as he said it, he flipped me on my stomach and I pushed up on my knees and elbows for him.

“Good girl.” I heard the zipper of his busted out painting jeans complain. The soft whisper of well-worn denim hitting the floor. The heat of him pressed up close behind me as he got into position. I hung my head as he swept the head of his cock up and down the slick split of my sex. He nudged inside of me-just the tip-just enough to make me hold my breath.

He palmed my ass, calluses dragging across my flesh, working a shimmer of sensation up my spine. Hampton moved forward slowly, driving into me with agonizing laziness. His cock, parting and filling me as he moved at a snail’s pace just to make me crazy. He knew what drove me nuts-both good and bad-and used it to his advantage.

“Jesus…please,” I whispered, my hair swishing against the carpet. My elbows slid as he grabbed my hips roughly and thrust deep. I gasped at the friction, both inside and out.

“Ouch,” I sighed.

“Shall I stop?” He rocked his hips from side to side, his cock pressing deep inside on magical places that lit me up from my very center. The repeated pressure on my G-spot had me on the verge of coming, my limbs heavy with pleasure. My head light with anticipation.

“No, no, don’t stop. I’m fine.”

“You love it,” he chuckled and smacked my ass hard enough that I bucked.

He was right, I did love it. And he damn well knew it.

I pushed my forearms to the floor, resting my head on top. Every time the thrust, he drove me forward a bit. I inched my way toward the sheeted plastic even though Hampton had my hips in his tight grip. His fingers bit into my skin and I felt my pulse banging beneath the restriction. I’d have a purple fingerprint or two to show for our mid-day fun.

I pushed my ass back, moved just so, trying so hard to entice him into doing it again. I didn’t like to ask for things aloud. Not even with Hampton. But he knew that and sometimes he made me.

I wiggled again, driving myself back against his cock, impaling myself on his length. I pushed my bottom into his hands to try and trigger another blissful sharp blow.

It didn’t work. He was on to me.

“Got ants in your pants?”

“Please,” I said, wistfully.

“Please, what, Mac? You’ve had such a stressful week. What is it that you need from me?”

“Do it again,” I said so softly I barely heard myself.

He’d stilled. His big body not moving at all but for a small rocking back and forth motion that inched me closer and closer to coming without actually triggering an orgasm. Hampton covered me with his body, draping himself along my back and cupping my breasts with his hot hands.

He was doing the opposite of what I wanted. Damn him.

“It what, baby?”

“Spank me,” I said between gritted teeth. But my voice broke at the end. I was failing at my tough girl facade. “Do it again, please.”

That was all he wanted. For me to ask. For me to admit. A rain of blows came down on my bare skin. Fire licked at the edges of my perception as my skin tingled with heat and prickling pain. I was so tight, so wet, so…close. I kept my head down and when he started to move again, I felt the awful raw drag of the rug on sore flesh.

Rug burns.

Another blow came down and coupled with the sparkling bite of my raw elbows, I came. My body milked at him eagerly and I heard the rush of air out of him that said he was close too. He was playing it cool, but he was close.

My forehead pressed heavy to the carpet so I could feel and hear my thundering heartbeat as small sparkles of pleasure continued to work through my pussy. When I shut my eyes, I could see it. Little dancing magic lights in my darkened vision that matched my heartbeat.

“You’re pretty red, Mac,” he said, sounding almost awed. Now his touch on my bottom was gentle and humble. He stroked tender flesh that stung and I winced. “Some welts.” He traced them. “A bit of purple freckling of bruises. The way you like…” He touched what I presumed to be those tiny bruises and my cunt spasmed. Almost came again, but not quite.

The way he touched me spoke volumes. He knew when to be rough, when to be calm, when to be tender. It made my throat close up a little. I’m such a girl.

“Just the way you like,” he said again, almost to himself. I said nothing. Just moved back for each lazy thrust he gave. Hampton was trying to hold off.

“You do like that, don’t you, bad girl?”

I pressed my lips together, not answering.

He gave me one more blow and it was a hard stinging slap that made my head snap back and my cunt grip tight and my ears ring. It was perfect.

“You love it,” he said, answering for me.

He couldn’t see my smile, but he could feel my body’s response. His thrusts went from easy to frantic. His body a chaotic bounce and slide of aggressive motions designed to bring pleasure. If someone looked at us-were we to make a homemade girl-and-boy-next-door fuck tape for viewing-I was sure it would appear awkward and way too rough. When in fact, what it was, was the perfect dance of fucking and loving that worked for both of us. We’d been together so long, we found our natural rhythm. On any given day it could be wildly erotic to funny to rough or gentle. It was a constantly shifting tide of lust and love and need. Symbiosis.

My elbows, grated raw by carpet, stung the perfect amount as he slammed into me brutally. My trembling fingers found my clitoris. I worked myself with a practiced touch. After two much-needed orgasms, I needed a harsher hand. I alternated swirling circles and straight blunt strokes until I was panting and pushed almost flat to my belly. I barely managed to dig in with my elbows and knees as Hampton grunted and growled, his thumbs sweeping back and forth over the dimples he adored right at the small of my back. A rhythmic, metronome motion that turned me on and soothed me at the same time.

My orgasm arrived just before his, triggered by him pressing just a bit too hard as he thrust. His cock nailed my G-spot with the exact amount of pressure I needed. “Come on,” I growled and I heard him laugh.

“I can do that,” he said, pulling free of me at the last moment and painting my ass and back with warm jets of his come.

I squawked like some giant bird as the copious hot rain of semen splattered my back.

“You said come on,” he reminded me. Then he flipped me to my back before I could gain my balance. I hit the bunched up plastic and felt the come smear along my spank-reddened flesh.

“Oh, you are so bad,” I hissed, wiggling and feeling the stickiness spread even more.

Hampton pressed down on top of me, pinning me there with his weight. He kissed me-rough at first but then gentle and reverent. “You love it,” he said. His words were light but his face was serious. He put his thumbs to my raw elbows, making me tremble a little from the bite of pain.

Just the way I liked.

“Love. It.”

I turned my face away to try and hide my smile. But he caught me and laughed. I laughed too, because he knew me too fucking well. He’d known how badly I’d needed this afternoon tussle before the thought even entered my mind. Almost spooky-but in the most treasured way.

“We need to paint,” I growled.

“I know. Tacky paint! Weird patterns! Streaks!” he mimicked me.

“Shut up and help me.”

“Careful, girls who talk like that suffer consequences,” he said, pulling on his low-slung, beat-up jeans.

I turned away presumably to find my shorts. It was really to hide yet another smile, because that’s what I was counting on. Consequences. And as I pulled up my shorts, I could feel his intense gaze on my hot red ass. I loved it.

In the Line of Duty

“Mitchell called me but told me not to come,” Ro said, barreling at me.

I let the front door drift shut and opened my arms to her. I prepped for the impact and when it came I tried not to wince. My breasts were sore, my solar plexus, a line of bruised fire burned down the center of my belly, an invisible zipper of pain. She crushed herself to me and feeling her heartbeat calmed me. I dropped my gun belt by the front door and it felt like dropping the weight of a piano.

“You would have just had a lot of boring waiting and by the time you got there they’d have been letting me go.”

“You’re bruised,” she said, pulling back to look at me.

“I’m fine.” I gently disengaged and locked the door. “But I am beat. Beyond beat. I’m fucking whipped.” I took her hand and slowly walked down the hall.

“Wine?”

I shook my head. “Nah. They checked me over for a concussion because I took that tumble down the fire escape after…”

“After you were shot!”

I winced again but this time from the fear in her voice.

“After I got hit,” I amended.

“By a bullet!” Ro reminded me. Loudly.

I tried not to sigh. She was scared. Of course she was. “It’s all in the line of duty,” I said.

Sometimes that line calmed folks. They recognized it. I grabbed a cold soda on the way to the bedroom. My bullet proof vest had been taken to the station by my captain. My shirt had been cut off of me. I wore a scrub top from the ER and my uniform pants. I felt like I’d been hit by a train.

“People also get killed in the line of duty,” she said, the anger gone from her voice. Now she sounded softly terrified.

“They do. But I didn’t.” I pushed into our room. A warm cocoon of big fat white bedding that Rowena had chosen and very pale lavender walls that were nearly silver in hue.

“But you could, Harley,” she said.

I turned to face her, giving her a big kiss. It was a quiet lazy kiss, nothing passionate. “You knew that going in and so did I.”

“I know. I did…I do. But it still scares the fuck out of me,” she said.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She sighed mightily but then smiled. With trembling fingers she helped me take off the scrubs and then she skated her long delicate fingers over the already black and blue bruises on my torso. Where the bullets had hit the vest I had actual welts, one of the bullets puncturing deep enough in the Kevlar to raise a pretty nifty egg on my skin between my small breasts.

Ro bent her head, her jet black bob swinging forward to hide her face for a heartbeat. Her lips touched the colorful skin, pressing just hard enough to feel good and hurt at the same time. “Take off your pants,” she said. Her lips brushed my shoulder and then she was working the big belt buckle at my hips.

Together we got the pants off, me flinching with every pain-tinged movement. Finally I stood in boy shorts, ugly dark blue socks and my work boots.

“Nice,” Ro snorted. “Sexy look.”

“Oh hush,” I chuckled. A glance in the full length mirror on the back of the bedroom door gave proof that it was certainly a giggle-worthy look.

Ro dropped to her knees and something in me broke and something in me stirred. She looked so concerned and yet, so god damn beautiful. Her sheer black tee showed the white tank decorated with tiny skulls underneath. Her black skinny jeans hugged her ass and her Docs made her legs look somehow more delicate instead of clunky. We were quite a pair-no one every pictured us together. The cop and the Goth artist-like some bad romance novel.

“Lift your foot so I can get this clodhopper off,” Ro said. There were tears in her voice, still, so I laughed to lighten the mood.

“Look who’s talking. The girl who wears Herman Munster boots.”

“Please,” she whispered, “Herman Munster would be thrilled to own my shoes.”

I sighed and let my head fall back. The girl was a mess. Funny. Perfect.

She stole my socks and then my underwear, her pale pink lips kissing a tender trail from one hipbone to the other. When she stood she started to strip her clothing as quickly as I’d seen her shred sketches that made her unhappy.

“What’s up, buttercup?”

“I’m getting in the shower with you. You wince when you blink, you’re going to need help. And you’re…” She brushed debris out of my hair.

“It was a long fall down that fire escape. I took out several flower pots along the way.” I meant it to be funny but her eyes filled with tears. “I’m fine,” I reminded her.

She nodded. “Yep. I know. Now shut up and come on.” She took my hand, tucking her tiny hand in my bigger one and leading me to the shower.

I felt like I had been dipped in concrete. My body heavy and exhausted. My scalp sang with pain, the scrapes on my face felt tight and raw and my body thumped uncomfortably with every move. But I followed her because she needed this. More than me.

“In,” she pointed to the shower. She’d turned it to hot and already steam was billowing around us. I spared a glance at her pale, small body. She was a true hourglass and the flare of her hips never failed to turn me on. The small waist, the heavy breasts, the slim legs. I trailed a finger over her belly button and she gently swatted my hand away.

I got in. I surrendered to Ro and her soapy natural sponge. I let her brush me down with water and fragrant bubbles until some of the fear and tension left my body. It was only after the shots, after the fall, that adrenaline had flooded me. When my partner had led my attacker off in cuffs, I’d felt real stabs of fear. The realization of how things could have gone had hit me full force-more of an impact than the bullets. My mind had gone to head shots, gut shots (that sweet spot where the vest can ride up). Anything that would have made the heavy vest I wore daily null and void.

“Stop,” she said.

“Stop what?” I played dumb as her small gentle hands worked around from my back to sweep the rough sponge along my bruised ribs, up my belly, over my breasts. She used her empty hand to smooth a trail after the sponge. Stroking my nipples so they stood on end. Her lips brushed slowly along the back of my neck until I shivered from the sensation.

“Stop going over it in your head. If I’m not allowed, neither are you.”

I smiled. “Deal.”

Ro washed my hair with that peppermint shampoo of hers, massaging circles on my scalp, getting my short blond hair clean. “Now turn around.” She squirted me down with the shower head and I shut my eyes against the spray.

“I feel like a circus animal getting hosed off.”

She tsked. “How about feeling like a woman who’s loved and is being taken care of?”

Being taken care of usually gave me a rash. I wasn’t a fan. I’d rather take care of someone. But tonight…I wanted it. I’d never admit it, but I did.

I toweled off, watching her do the same. Watching the flare of her ass as she pulled one leg up to dry it. She always did that, stood like a crane to dry off instead of bending over to dry. She caught me looking and smiled. “Don’t say it. This is the way I do it.”

“I know.”

“Now go get in a tee and drawers and I’m tucking you in.”

“Oh mommy,” I sighed, trying to sound sexy but just sounding very, very tired. Then I snorted, “Drawers.”

“I’m a hillbilly, what do you want. Underwear equals drawers.”

I touched her face, feeling a sudden need to feel her skin under my fingers. Brushing my lips over hers and briefly touching my tongue to hers, I whispered, “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Ro deepend the kiss, her lips parting, her tongue sliding slowly against mine so all the nerve endings in my body tingled to life. This time in a good way, not spurred by fear.

“Get in bed, Harley. You need to rest,” she said, pulling back. The look on her face said it was a hard move for her to make.

Her nipples had drawn up into tight buds and she moved her thighs together the way she always did when she was aroused. I was feeling pretty lit up myself. Despite the pain and stiffness, I bent to lick the nipple that tempted me most. Her left one always got harder, stood out longer, than the right. I captured it between my teeth and tugged the way I knew drove her crazy.

“Get in bed, Harl. No sex for you.” She pointed but I could see her wavering. And I found that the lust I thought I was too far gone to feel was alive and well.

“Life affirming,” I said.

“Bed,” she growled. Her tiny finger pointed the way. I went dutifully. I pulled on my police foot race 5K tee and a pair of candy cane striped boy shorts. I shoved my feet into white slouch socks and fell into bed. The fall jarred me all the way up to my molars.

“Jeesh, move a little slower, Officer,” she sighed. Ro pulled the white down comforter up around me and she slid in next to me. “Are you hungry?”

My hand found her smooth skin under the comforter and I stroked around her belly button. I knew it would make her wet. It always did. “I am.”

“Not for that,” she sighed, swatting my hand, but I saw the desire in her eyes.

“Yes, for that.” I dragged my finger over her shaved mound and felt her legs fall open just a bit. It might’ve been by accident, it might’ve been because she wanted me to touch her.

I touched her.

I curled my finger against the smooth knot of her clitoris and watched her face go peaceful, her pretty cheeks, bare of makeup, grow flushed.

“Not for food,” I said. “I’m too keyed up to eat…or sleep.”

“It’s only ten,” she said.

“Then why are we in bed?” I slipped my moist finger into the tight hot wetness between her legs.

Ro shrugged, her eyes going sparkly with unshed tears. “I don’t know. I just wanted to…take care of you.” It came out on a sob.

“Oh, baby,” I whispered. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m allowed.”

I laughed. “You are allowed.” I tried to lean over and kiss her but my muscles protested and I groaned.

“Oh, Lord,” she sighed, but she smiled in the low light of the bedroom lamp. “Let me.”

She pressed her body up against mine, shoved her fingers into my damp hair and kissed me. Hard.

I hissed when her lips pressed to the cut on my lips but when she backed up I pulled her in again. “No, no, it’s good. It’s a good hurt. Reminds me I’m alive and that I got to come home to you.”

She shook her head, said nothing. I knew it was to keep from crying.

Her fingers explored my skin under my tee. She touched gently along the small swell of my belly, up over my ribs, finding my breasts with her strong hands, she pinched my nipples until I shifted a little. It always got me off, when she was rough with my nipples. That pleasant bite of pain never failed to make me soft and hot and ready.

“The one place on me that’s not bruised,” I joked. She shook her head again.

“Harl-” She meant to scold me but I put a finger over her lips.

“If you don’t let me joke, I’m going to fall apart. And I can’t handle that.”

She nodded and went back to kissing me, stroking my tongue with hers. She took her time, slow and easy, so that I could taste sweet wine and what tasted like chocolate on her tongue.

“Help an old woman out,” I sighed, twirling one midnight colored lock around my finger and tugging. “Get over me so I can taste you for real. Please,” I added, because manners counted.

“Not tonight. You’re too tired.” Ro kissed a wet line from below my ear to my clavicle and my breasts puckered with goose bumps under her warm hands. She squeezed me. Sighed.

“No I’m not.” I put my hand over hers, trapping them under my shirt and against my skin. So she could feel my heart. “I need this. To feel alive and safe and honor what I have with you. I have you still. Still here. Still alive. Now fuck me,” I snickered, to make her smile.

Ro rolled her eyes, bit her lip in that way that makes me nuts, and finally gave me a short nod. “Take your clothes off.”

“Oh bossy, bossy. First you tell me to put them on, now you tell me to take them off.” When I grimaced from trying to take off my tee, she kissed me on the forehead and helped me take off what I’d just put on.

“I am bossy. Aren’t you used to it by now?”

I ignored her because when I was nude again, she kissed the very tops of my thighs, pushing her hot fingers against my nether lips. Parting me and stroking me and then finally touching me right in my center where I needed her. My hips moved up, forcing a shiver of pain through me, but I didn’t care.

“Come on, get up here.”

“It’s been ages since we did old school sixty-nine,” she teased. She pushed her lower body over my upper body as she said it. Her milky thighs parting for me, Ro lowered herself just a smidge so that I didn’t have to crane my already sore neck. I smelled the sweet rich scent of her pussy and let it wash over me, a soothing smell that made me think home. I dropped a single gentle kiss on her pussy and she stilled.

“I might cry when I come,” she said, her voice barely contained emotion and classic Rowena honesty.

“Me, too,” I said.

That seemed to satisfy her because she let me push my lips to her nether lips. I parted her with my tongue, gathering all her sweet wetness with my mouth. I sucked boldly, drawing that swollen pink flesh against my lips and teeth and tongue and when Ro groaned it rumbled up through me because she had put her mouth on me. Her silken lips brushing, soft like rose petals, on my tender sex.

I couldn’t help myself, I drove myself up to meet her mouth. Even though it hurt me to do it, I did it again. And she took me, latching on, sucking, finding a way to push her small fingers inside of me and flex them so I came hard and fast out of nowhere.

“Jesus,” I said against her. My tongue never stopping, not even when I said the word. My orgasm had taken be by surprise-swift and brutal-primal. No doubt a response to my brush with death. She lapped at me softly, knowing I was tender. Knowing it would be too much, but even too much, I relished it. I shoved my fingers, a thick greedy bunch of them, inside her cunt. I thrust hard, latching onto her clit and giving it my mouth’s undivided attention. When her knees started to shake and she had stopped licking at me to gather her ‘reward’ as she called it after I came, I knew I had her. And God, how I wanted her right that way. Under my spell, shaking for me-mine.

She was mine and I was so fucking glad to see another day of her being mine.

Ro pressed her forehead to my knee. Her upper body bowing down to press my legs as she mashed her pussy tight to my seeking mouth.

When she came it was all sweet wetness and soft cries. She let me clean every last drop, her body pressing to my face so all I could hear in my head was my own tongue and my thundering heart.

Until I heard her crying.

She rolled away but I caught her ankle even through the tangle of bed sheets and my discarded clothes. “Come on up here.”

“I’ll be right back-” She sobbed, tried to flee.

“Come up here Rowena,” I said, using her full name.

She crawled to me, tucked herself up against me, let me hold her. “It’s okay, don’t cry,” I said.

“I’m crying, deal with it,” she huffed.

It made me smile.

“Fine.”

“Dealing with it’s in the line of duty,” she said, her voice catching, though I could tell she was trying to make a joke.

“How so?”

“In the line of duty of being my girl,” she said, kissing me. Her mouth was trembling and we both pretended not to notice.

“Then I’ll gladly deal with it,” I said, stroking her hair.

Evil Streak

I was primping and Elliot was digging for cufflinks. Who the hell wears cufflinks anymore, you ask? My man. That’s who.

“I told your mother you’d come and meet her new beau this weekend,” I said, chewing my lip to keep from laughing.

He stilled and my pulse picked up. His fingers that had been tickling through his nightstand debris stopped and he looked up at me. His cool green eyes were curious and starting to darken a bit with approaching annoyance. “You what?”

“She calls me all the time!” I said, trying not to smile. I knew it was cruel, but I’d done it anyway. A bit of a payback for his constant overtime as of late. I felt neglected and lonely and my revenge had been to toss him to his mom and her new boyfriend Bob like tossing a wounded antelope to a particularly hungry lion.

“So?” He started to move his hands again, but I felt him watching me.

“So, why doesn’t she call you and ask you to meet Bob? Bob who boats, Bob who golfs, Bob who collects vintage beer cans.” I put my earrings in, spritzed myself with perfume and straightened my necklace.

When I turned to him, he was watching me. Fiercely. Now I felt like the antelope.

“So you tell her that. Mother June, call Elliot yourself.”

“Mother June,” I snorted. “What is this, the fifties?”

He almost smiled.

“Now you ruined my plans for the weekend,” he said. Something in his voice made me hesitate.

“What do you mean?”

Elliot shrugged. “Nothing. Can you help me, Lex?”

He called me Lex instead of Alexis, he couldn’t be too mad.

“What are we looking for?” I hovered over the drawer and sighed when his hand came up to stroke me behind my knee. His hand whispered across my nylons and the touch was perfect. Not too hard, not too soft. Not too innocent but not too rough.

“The small TARDIS cufflinks,” he said, grinning.

“God. The Doctor at dinner, even,” I said, but I laughed. “I don’t see them…”

“Here, sit. Maybe I left them in the bathroom.”

Elliott stood and I sat, pushing around the stuff in his top dresser drawer. Antacids, pens, a small travel packet of aspirin, lube, a pair of fur lined handcuffs…I laughed at that and wondered where the plain steel pair was. I pushed back a book on cocktails, a cigar catalog and a pair of nail clippers. No cufflinks.

I felt him take my hand, and I smiled. Until I felt him take the other and heard the missing plain steel cuffs make their clinky ratcheting sound. “Elliott!” I yelped.

His lips were pressed in a tight line and in his eyes danced a glimmer of amusement. But there was also annoyance there, I wasn’t so self delusional as to miss that. “You ruined my plans,” he said again, tsking softly and shaking his head.

I watched him pull off his tie and my mouth opened and closed on its own. “I…what…Elliot!”

“I know I’ve been working a lot lately,” he said. He grabbed the handcuffs by the short bit of connecting chain and raised my arms up. The motion made my breasts jut out and press fully into the black bodice of my dress. His eyes danced over the modest but enticing bit of cleavage there. He tugged and I watched transfixed, my normally big mouth not moving a bit.

Elliot stretched my arms back just a hair more and hooked my cuffed hands over the knob of our bedpost. Gravity and the fact that the bedpost was just a bit higher than my arms meant I was stuck like this until he let me out. I felt instantly claustrophobic and…wet. A thrill coursed through the center of me and moisture pooled in my fancy silk panties. I’d dressed up to go out and now I was tethered to my own bed.

“Well…you have,” he said. I was mortified to find that my eyes were tearing up.

Elliot studied me and nodded once, briskly. “I’m sorry. I had planned, this weekend, to keep you in bed for the duration. Eating and lounging and reading the paper.” He idly pushed my bodice down just a bit and pulled my breast free so it rested on the crushed, bunched up fabric. His thumb swept back and forth over my tender pink nipple and I watched, transfixed, as it pebbled, puckered, and beaded up into a knot under his soft touch. It was like a magic trick and if it weren’t for the spears of pleasure working their way under my skin and inching down to settle between my thighs, I’d wonder if he was actually touching me. It felt more like being mesmerized by a trick of the eye.

“Oh,” I said. Because it was the most intelligent thing I could think to say.

“I was going to touch you,” Elliot said, his voice a soft, sensual caress. The other breast was positioned to his liking and he proceeded to tease that nipple to attention as well.

My pulse was now pounding in my chest, my temples, my throat…my cunt.

“And taste you…” Elliot squatted and quickly-with his deft surgeon hands-shimmied the skirt of my dress up my thighs and over my hips. Above my thigh high stockings my bare thighs prickled with goose bumps.

“And fuck you,” he said, leaning in to place a chaste kiss right on the gusset of my black panties.

My breath caught and I noticed the sting and ache in my shoulders. But more than that, I noticed the thump and bang of arousal in my pussy. Elliot pinned me with his gaze, his bright green eyes brilliant and amused. He slid a single finger under the elastic of my panties and found the center of me, my wetness. He slid that finger in slow and easy, never looking away from me. When I tried to swallow, my throat clicked. I realized I was holding my breath.

His finger curled inside of me, triggering a cascade of pleasant spasms in my pussy. I tried to move against his hand but he withdrew his finger and pressed the slick digit to my clitoris. I whimpered.

“But now,” he sighed, sitting back on our pristine white carpet. “I have to meet Bob.”

“I…oh, God. Elliot! Don’t-” I was shaking my head, babbling. He’d brought me down to desire and sensation. I couldn’t even form a fucking sentence.

“Hold that thought, lover,” he said and got to his feet. He kissed my forehead and left the room. Left me there. Arms bound, stomach turning, panties soaked, breasts bared. I’d never been more turned on, or more frustrated.

I shifted, trying to get my dress down. Or fuck, even up would work. It was trapped right above my panties. But not all the way up to my waist. It was surely my imagination, but the lick of cool bedroom air to the front of my damp panties was maddening. I shifted and it only served to agitate the growing need between my legs.

“Elliot,” I gasped. But it was soft, I was too stubborn to actually call out to him.

I heard him downstairs, moving around in the very deliberate way of his. None of Elliot’s movements were wasted. So this was his plan-me sitting here, stewing in my own juices, lacking what I needed. All the while, I was right where he needed me.

I heard his big booming voice. A rich baritone that I’d often joked deserved to be showcased on the radio. It was moving toward me and I had a moment of panic. Who was he talking to? Was someone here?

Then he entered the room, smiling, the kitchen portable pressed to his ear. “Yes, mom. She told me and I had to call. Right. To say…” He paused for June to speak, I could hear her through the tiny speaker. “I can’t wait to meet Bob,” he said and winked at me.

My stomach bottomed out. Damn, damn, damn. I had maneuvered myself out of a weekend of fucking and orgasms and lounging because of my brattish move. I bit my lip.

Elliot hung up and put the phone on the nightstand. “How you hanging in there, Lex?”

My stubbornness reared up and I straightened my back to relieve the pressure. “I’m fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yes, fine,” I said. Against my will, my hips moved just a touch. Just enough to make me slicker, warmer, more eager to be fucked. If that was possible.

“Let’s see.” He said it softly, almost to himself, the way he did when he was dictating surgery notes in the home office downstairs. Elliot leaned in slowly, I had time to study the freshly shaved terrain of his face, the strands of silver just starting to sprout in his almost black hair, the laugh lines around his bright eyes.

His mouth settled on my nipple and he sucked. That tug wormed its way through the core of me. Traveling fast and searing like heat lightning from my nipple to my belly to my cunt. My internal muscles flexed tight and I felt myself slide closer to an orgasm. Small pleasurable pulses worked through me and I almost opened my mouth and begged. But not now. Not yet.

Being very deliberate, very controlled, very maddening, he moved his way across to my other breast. His lips leaving a warm comet tail across my skin. His big hands, hands I was often obsessed with, clutched the tops of my thighs to keep me still. He knew how I worked. I’d move and try and get myself off. I’d shift and move and shimmy and clench. I knew that and he wouldn’t let me. Knowing he wouldn’t let me was enough to almost get me off anyway.

“Ah, behave now. No cheating.” His thumbs swept back and forth above my stockings. Then, as he kissed my throat, my clavicle, the valley between my small breasts, he unhooked the garters from my stockings and started to push them down. One at a time. Super slow. So I found myself holding my breath yet again.

I would not ask about his mother. I would not ask about Bob. I would not…But in the back of my mind, I wondered what he’d said. What was going on. The thought fled my mind when he finally gave into my secret wish and reached around behind me to unzip my pretty-and now wrinkled-dress.

“Hmm,” he said, eyeing me. “You’re tethered. So I either have to let you stand for a moment to get this thing off you or cut it off.”

My eyes went wide and he chuckled. “Don’t worry. I bought this lovely frock for you, Lex. I’d never cut it.” He tugged my arms up for a moment, unhooking the chain from the bedpost. When my arms went slack, pins and needles instantly erupting in my painfully tight shoulder muscles. “Stand,” he said, tugging the cuffs.

I stood and let him push the dress down my body. Thank God it was strapless, because otherwise he might have cut it. I didn’t see Elliot taking the cuffs off until he was damn good and ready.

I stood there in my panties and my garter belt. I had yet to put my heels on. Elliot smiled at me, took the time to hang my dress over the back of the easy chair in the corner. Then he kissed me, big hands in my hair, lips soft but demanding. “I’m sorry, Lex,” he whispered against my lips. “I’ve been way too busy for way too long.”

My throat closed some with emotion so I didn’t anticipate it when he pushed me back gently with tented fingers. Three little fingers applied to my sternum and push…down I went on my bottom. He tugged the cuff chain back up and hooked it over the bedpost. “Still, you were out of line by promising my mother I’d come meet Bob.”

He chuckled when he said Bob and I almost smiled.

“You were bad,” he said.

“I was bad,” I agreed. I nearly rolled my eyes. I was shameless.

“That evil streak of yours needs to be contained,” he said.

I nodded. “Yes,” I agreed.

I moved back and forth just a bit and a small moan escaped me. That pressure, that friction, made me want him so much more. More than I already did. Which was downright impossible.

He undid his button and I watched, fascinated, as his long fingers dragged the silver zipper pull down. Elliot watched me, watching him. He smirked a little and I wanted to be offended. I wanted to be angry. Instead, I licked my lips, wanting his cock in my mouth. I wanted that silken smooth hardness trapped between my lips. I wanted him fucking my mouth and then I wanted him fucking me.

“Open your mouth, dear,” he said and grinned at me. It was lupine in nature, that grin, and I wouldn’t have been surprised had he leaned forward to eat me up in two big bites like the big bad wolf. Instead of balking, which I think we both expected, my mouth popped open.

“Oh, look who’s tame tonight.” He chuckled, running the tip of his cock along my lower lip. He spread a small salty dot of pre-come across my lip like gloss.

I stuck my tongue out to touch his cock and he sighed. “You know you really were bad, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered, taking the length of his cock as he slipped into my mouth. I sucked and he sighed and started to move in small gentle thrusts. He never hurt me. He just controlled me and it worked. Worked for me, worked for him, worked for us.

He surged into me, deep enough to gag me a little. Far enough down to make my eyes stream with tears. All the while his fingers played at the soft hairs that curled against my face. I watched his eyes grow darker, his jaw grow tighter, his control grow fragile. Then he pulled from me and grabbed the cuffs, pulling my arms up and the chain off just enough to free me.

“Stand up, Alexis,” he said.

My skin erupted in bumps and I bit my tongue. I knew what that meant-the use of my full name, the stern voice, the tight jaw. My nipples studded against nothing at all, seeking friction, contact, sensation. He brushed them gently with the tips of his fingers so my stomach muscles fluttered in sympathy. With a jaunty flip of his wrist he turned me, his own little jewelry box ballerina, bound with handcuffs.

Elliott sat on the bed. “Over my knee, Alexis.”

I didn’t say a word. I didn’t even think about saying no. I slowly lowered myself with his help and positioned myself over his knees. His black slacks were smooth under my belly, his big hands warm when the palmed my ass, still sheathed in panties. As if that made me safe.

“I think you need to say something to me, Alexis.”

“I’m sorry,” I blurted. And not just because he was about to spank my ass, but because I was sorry. That I’d robbed us of a weekend in bed, alone, just being lazy and together.

“Good girl. I think you just earned a short one instead of long one.” I felt the achingly slow drag of my panties being pushed down. He only pushed them down to mid-thigh so that they bound my legs together and kept me still.

The first blow was not so bad, but I wasn’t fooled. The second blow was a bit harder, bringing blood and tingling to the surface of my ass cheek. The third blow crossed them both and made me jump. Heat began to pound under the surface of my skin. I whimpered.

“What was that?” he asked.

I hadn’t said a thing but I took the chance to say, “I’m sorry” again.

“I know you are.” He broke off from the flurry of blows to push his fingers inside of me. Two thick fingers invaded my pussy and tested me. He stretched my inner walls a bit and then shoved his fingers deep so that he brushed my G-spot. I sagged over his lap.

“Just a few more to go and I’ll be fucking you. I’m mad, but I want you, Alexis. Do you see the things you do to me?” He waited.

“Yes,” I barely managed as he moved his fingers to give my pounding clit one fast tickle.

“Now let’s get back to what I’m doing to you.”

Fire rained down on my bottom. Behind my closed eyes I imagined his cherry red handprints on my pale flesh. Welts and tiny purple freckles from the blows. I’d admire any marks he left for days. My wrists clanked as I tried to steady myself, still bound by cheap metal. All I could think about as the final blows rained down was him stuffing me full of himself.

He didn’t say a word, just pulled me up by a trembling elbow and laid me back. His fingers clicked over the release mechanism on the cuffs and he freed me. Face to face, we regarded each other as he pulled my panties free of my body. Next came the garter belt. I found him with my hand, squeezing his hard length to feel the heat and heft of it.

“Now it’s my turn to say I’m sorry,” he growled.

My hands warred with his to get him bare until he finally told me to stop and I let him do it.

Elliot slid into me on one smooth thrust. Filling me to the point of mindless need. I moved up under him, a gasp escaping me. Capturing my calves in his hands, he pushed my legs up high so that my thighs nearly pressed to my breasts. Holding me completely open, bare and exposed, he drove into me and watched each moment where his body disappeared into mine.

“I’m sorry we’ve missed so much time together.” He grunted, stilling long enough to rock his hips from side to side in a good hard rhythm. Something he knew got me close to coming almost instantly. My fingers curled against his powerful forearms and I chewed my lower lip to keep from coming. Not now. Not yet. It had been weeks for us, I didn’t want it to be over.

“Me, too,” I said. My voice caught and I turned my head, I didn’t want to come undone.

He turned my face back so we were eye to eye. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Don’t,” I said. “It’s fine. I don’t want to cry.”

Elliot grinned. “Then don’t. How about you come instead?”

He kissed me before I could answer. His mouth bullied mine and then he nipped my lower lip so I jumped. My pussy contracted and I was close-so fucking close-to coming I thought I might lose my mind from it. His teeth skated along the slope of my throat as he pushed my thighs even higher to bare me to his thrusts. Every time he drove into me, the root of his cock banged my desperately thumping clit and I felt myself grow tighter.

When his teeth found my collar bone and nibbled me hard enough that I was sure he’d leave a mark, I was right on that line. I was just about to go. When he moved his mouth lower and found my nipple, sucking once-hard and greedy-before biting me with his pretty white teeth, I came. A long slippery orgasm that seemed to unwind forever deep inside of me. Heating my body from the inside out. My pussy milked him even as the heat curled through my belly, my womb, my limbs.

It was my turn to kiss him. I grabbed his handsome face and kissed him, mumbling, “I’m sorry too,” over and over against his lips. I clenched my inner walls tight around him, relishing the way his cock brushed my nether lips every time he withdrew to drive back in.

I kept myself tighter and then tighter still until he said, “Damn” and gave into his body’s will. Then I was laughing. His final thrust setting off a smaller but sweet orgasm.

Elliot pressed himself against me and kissed my forehead. His heart-the heart of a good man-pounded wildly. I could feel it against my chest, an echo of mine.

“I’m sorry I ruined your plans,” I sighed. “I was being…evil.”

He touched my nose. “You were.” He kissed where his finger had just been and then rolled to his side, pulling me along with him so he had me tucked up against him.

“I just-”

Elliot cut me off. “I rarely reward bratty behavior,” he said and I froze. Shutting my mouth. Opening my ears. “But, I figured, overall it’s my fault you did it. So, I told my mother I had something I couldn’t get out of this weekend. I’d have to meet Bob next week.” He looked at me, giving me a half-grin. “And that I can’t wait to meet him.”

“This thing…” I said, hopeful. “The thing you can’t get out of? What would that be?”

“Oh, my dear Alexis, that thing would be bed of course. How can I get out of it when I have a beautiful willing woman in here with me?”

Content

Selena Kitt, Alison Tyler, Willsin Rowe, Sommer Marsden
Coupling Two.More Filthy Erotica for Couples

Part I

The Flintstone Experiment

Cat Lover

The Dirty Show

Part II

Connecting

Part III

Midge

Her Majesty

This, I Can Do

Part IV

Rug Burns

In the Line of Duty

Evil Streak