Prude

It’s the end of the day, and I’m heading home.

“Hey. How’s it going?” Dean calls out from his office.

I stop, lean against the door jam. It’s all I can do to keep from squirming, pressing my thighs together.

Dean has a deep, gravelly voice. Not Barry-White-deep, but a baritone timber that makes my pussy tremble. I shouldn’t be thinking about him this way. He’s a co-worker and fucking your co-workers is frowned upon.

Too bad.

I’ve had some pretty serious fantasies about fucking Dean; spent many nights fingering myself, imagining his thumbs spreading my pussy, his warm mouth sucking my clit.

He is slumped in his chair, shirt sleeves rolled up his forearms, one foot on his desk. Careless. Sexy.

“What did you think of the post?” I ask him.

He heard I was a writer, asked me for the address to my blog. I sent him a link to my mainstream site where I write relatively tame prose.

Last week, I posted a piece that was a little risqué and, knowing that I have several Christian followers, I posted a warning at the beginning of the post saying that it was a little naughty and to continue reading at your own risk. After all, I don’t need a god-fearing woman fainting when she reads the word ‘cock’.

I didn’t use the other C word, though I do love that word. Saying it. Touching it. Licking it.

*head shake* Focus!

“I didn’t read the post,” Dean says.

“Right. You’ve been busy.”

He shakes his head. “No. I can’t read it.”

“Oh. Sure.” My pussy weeps a little as I imagine him reading it at work, stroking his cock through his pants as he scrolls down the page, unable to leave his office until he softens. “Well, read it at home.”

Where you can stroke yourself until you cum, I continue in my head, though I really want to watch you do that that. And suck you until you shoot down my throat.

Jesus! Focus!

“No,” he says, blushing. “I can’t read that.”

“Why not?” I’m confused and a little amused. He’s my age and can’t possibly be that green. “It’s not that bad. It’s pretty tame, actually.” I do, after all, write erotica.

He’s embarrassed now. “No. I can’t.” He holds his hands up in submission. Possibly defense.

“Wait a minute.” I understand now and grin. “You’re a prude.”

He laughs. “I am.”

I think about my fantasies, how many times he has made me cum in my dreams, and I shake my head. “You just burst my bubble.”

He shrugs. “I’m a prude.”

I glance up and down the hallway, note the vacant cubicles, the dark offices. I look back at him. “I bet you’re not.”

“I am. Wait. What are you doing?” He pulls his foot off his desk, sits up in his chair.

I close the door behind me, flip the lock. I don’t want the cleaning lady to walk in on us.

“You’re not a prude.” In a few steps I’m in front of him. His eyes dart around, but he’s trapped.

I kneel in front of him, glide my hands up his thighs until they cup his hips.

“What are you doing?” He is panicked, but he doesn’t move.

I shift my hands down to the vee of his crotch and push his thighs apart.

“I can’t. We can’t.” He’s practically begging.

I look up at him, press my hand against his hard cock. “Who says we can’t?”

I flip the button of his pants, ease down the zipper, free his cock from his boxers. I lick my lips at the glorious sight of the bead of pre-cum that glistens on the fat head.

My eyes flick up to his in question. Do you want me to stop? I hope he doesn’t because I want to taste him. I need to taste him.

He stares at me, his eyes locked on mine, and I can see he wars with his demons. Then he grips the arms of his chair, as if he submits.

“Mmmmm.” I swirl my tongue around the head and he lets out a whimper. I wrap my lips around him and suck. He moans, thrusts his hips. “That’s it,” I say, encouraging him. “Fuck my mouth.” I drag my lips up and down the shaft, paying attention to the sensitive spot just below the head.

I grip his cock with one hand, take him in as far as I can. I glance up at him to find him watching me, mesmerized, it seems, as his cock glides in and out of my mouth.

I close my eyes and tighten my grip, pace my hand strokes with my mouth. His hips match my tempo, shy and hesitant.

“Yes,” he whispers. “Yes. Yes.”

Fingers curl into my hair as his thrusting becomes more urgent. He groans, deep and feral.

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” He no longer whispers.

He pumps into me, holding my head in place. His cock is rigid and I know he’s about to cum.

“Stop. Stop. Stop.” He sounds apologetic and desperate.

I cup his balls and continue to suck, humming to add a vibration.

“Oh God!” He grips my hair as he shoots down my throat.

Tangy and salty, I savor him as he relaxes into his chair. I ease off, sit back on my heels.

“See? You’re not a prude.”

He sighs. “You may have created a monster.”

I grin. “I hope so.”

A Night at the Opera

“I hate the opera,” grumbled Erica, as she furled and unfurled the two-page program. She had noticed two typos when she skimmed through it.

As the orchestra tuned up, random notes of mediocre music drifted through the audience, though the term audience was pushing it a bit. Forty-two people in an auditorium that held two-fifty hardly qualified as an audience.

But there it was.

And so was Erica. Sitting in the back row of a near-empty auditorium, waiting for a fat broad with humongous boobs to come out on stage and sing at an octave only dogs would hear. It wasn’t over until she did. That, my friends, is a known fact.

“You agreed to come with me tonight.” Jason’s face was deadpan as he reached over, pressed his hand on her bouncing knee. He pressed just hard enough to make his point. Stop making a scene. Or else.

Erica stilled her leg, slumped back in her seat. She had worn her favorite evening dress—a black mid-thigh flare—and a lacy garter. She had spent thirty minutes on her hair, twenty on her makeup.

For this. This small-town, amateur freak show.

“That’s better.” Jason rewarded her with a light kiss on her cheek as the lights dimmed and the orchestra played the opening notes.

Pouting in the dark, Erica watched performers with worn costumes and tired voices drag through their scenes.

She deserved to be rewarded for this, for sitting through singers that sounded like cats in heat. She deserved to be rewarded for giving in to Jason’s ridiculous whims, his drive to support local arts. She deserved…

Her head swiveled over to him when his hand creeped up her leg, under her dress, fingered the hook of her garter that rested well up her thigh.

Erica smiled into the darkness of the near-empty theater. She swiveled her head back and faced the actors, let her head tilt back and spread her thighs in carefree invitation. Oh, yeah, she deserved this.

Jason’s hand slid up her thigh, his pinky grazing the folds of her pussy.

“You’re already wet,” he breathed into her ear as he palmed her.

Two fingers dipped down, came back up—lubed—to stroke her clit.

She could only nod as wave after wave of need ripped through her.

“You like when I finger you, don’t you?”

She nodded again. “Don’t stop,” she begged, but it came out more like a whimper.

That didn’t matter. She knew Jason had understood her message when he thrust two fingers into her cunt and fucked into her.

The sucking noises of her wet pussy matched the tempo of the music. Her moans melted with the aria, seemed to harmonize with the players. And when Jason made her cum, her cries of release were drowned out by the ear-splitting falsetto of the fat lady.



Tied to her

The charity ball went late; the band was pumping music and everyone danced well past two. It was almost three when they got home.

She walked in ahead of him, stopped in the foyer as he let the door close behind him. He glanced at her over his shoulder as he flicked the lock.

Dusky light from the library washed the hall like candlelight.

She reached back, unzipped her dress. She shifted her left shoulder, then the right, let the dress fall down in a puddle around her feet. She took two steps toward him wearing nothing but three-inch stilettos.

He was instantly hard, rubbed a hand against his cock.

A breath apart, she pressed her hand against his. “Don’t. Let me do that.”

He dropped his hand, but she didn’t replace it. Instead, she dropped to her knees, helped him with his shoes. She unzipped his pants, nudged them down.

“Mmmmm.” She rubbed her cheek against his cock. “You went commando, too.”

She cupped his balls as he stepped out of his pants, swirled her tongue over the head of his cock, relished the fat bead of pre-cum that clung to him. She took him in her mouth, just the head, sucking him as she massaged his sack.

He wanted to take his time, enjoy fucking her mouth, but she felt so god dammed good.

He undid his cuffs, loosened his tie, unbuttoned the collar.

She pulled back with a loud pop. “You can take the shirt off, but leave the tie on.”

He grinned down at her. “If you keep the shoes on.”

She nodded. “Deal.”

She took him in, as far as she could take him, gagged a little. He let his shirt fall to the floor, his head drop back against the wall.

She reached up with one hand to stroke his tie, matching each thrust of his cock into her mouth. She yanked on it hard, as if she were cumming herself, when he moaned her name and shot down her throat.

Sixty-Nine

Your hard, fat cock presses into my mouth and I savor your musky, salty taste. Your hips pump as your cock fucks my mouth and you groan.

I squeeze the shaft, drag my nails across your balls in a soft caress.

You moan loader, press my pussy against your mouth, swirl your tongue in vicious circles around my clit. Oh, fuck, I love when you do that.

Frantic with need, I take your cock as far as I can, gagging just a little. I wrap my lips around you, stroking your glorious length. I twirl my tongue around the head when I pull back, massage your balls when I suck you back in.

You reach around my ass; a finger strokes my hole, teasing. I moan, take you in, squeeze your thick cock with my hand. Your mouth sucks my clit hard as you fuck my mouth.

You feel so fucking good. I love sucking your cock and you eat my pussy like a god.

I rock my pussy against your mouth, groaning, balanced just on the edge of release. Then you press your finger into me and it sends me over the edge. My ass convulses around your finger as I cum on your face. I swallow your cock and moan as you shoot down my throat.

That Extra Push

He pulls back, almost all the way out, until he sees the crown of his cock. She lets out a quiet whimper.

“Put it back,” she says.

He thrusts into her and she pushes back, matches his pace, her pussy dripping with need and greed.

“Fuck me,” she begs.

“I’m fucking you, darling.”

“Not just my pussy.”

He grins. He loves his greedy girl. “My pleasure, darling.”

He lets saliva drip from his mouth, aims it to coat her anus, then presses a thumb into her ass.

She pushes against him, groaning, adds a small rotation.

“Harder,” she demands.

Not one to deny his woman, he slams into her, her tight cunt squeezing his cock like a vice. His thumb drills into her ass until she spasms around him; her ass clenching his thumb and her cunt convulsing around his throbbing cock.

He gives one final thrust. “That’s it baby,” and pours into her.

Can't Get Enough

He squeezed her breast, thumbed the erect nipple. She fisted his hair and pushed him against her. His hot, wet mouth devoured her pussy.

“Harder,” she panted. “Harder. Harder.”

His tongued dipped down, teased her asshole and she moaned.

“Yes. Yes.”

His finger slid through the folds of her wet pussy, pushed into the heat of her cunt. Her hips thrust up, begging for release.

He pressed his mouth on her pussy once again and she groaned. His mouth was relentless against her clit, as his finger pressed into her, made slow, easy strokes into her tight ass.

“Oh, fuck, yes!”

She came hard, her ass convulsing around his finger, her pussy dripping honey into his mouth.

“Again,” she begged. “Make me cum again. I can’t get enough of you.”

Not Done

He presses his cock inside me, gliding easily into the wetness.

“Fuck yes,” I groan.

He pumps his hips, thrusting into me, dragging me close to climax. But I hover just at the edge, the blissful release held at bay.

“I need you inside me,” I whisper in his ear.

“I’m inside you baby.”

“No.” I take his hand, press it against my ass. “Here.”

His finger circles my pink rosebud, teasing, stroking.

“Put it in,” I beg, reaching back and pushing his finger into my ass.

He pumps into me–cunt and ass–and the effect is immediate. The orgasm rips through me, and I cry out.

“Fuck!”

I drop onto him, limp.

“I’m not done,” he says.

I smile into his neck. “Good. Neither am I.”

Do it again

His cock presses into me, slow at first, then faster and faster. Hard, fierce thrusts drive me to the edge where I hover.

“I need you inside me,” I groan.

“I’m fucking you, baby.”

I close my eyes, press down to take all of him inside me. “You know what I mean.”

He kisses my mouth and grins. “Yes I do,”

His hand caresses my ass, squeezes one cheek, then inches over until his finger finds my anus. He circles it, teasing me, until I groan. Then he presses into me.

“Yes!” Triumphant, I lean back, let him ride my pussy as his finger fucks my ass.

In only five strokes, he makes me cum.

“Do it again,” I beg.

Salty Spasms

I lick your balls, suck each one into my mouth, roll it around my tongue.

Pre-cum drips down the length of your cock and I fist my hand around your hard shaft, stroke your glorious length while I suck your balls.

You pull my hair, shift my head and tap your wet cock against my mouth. I flick out my tongue, taste your salty goodness. My lips open, take your head into my mouth.

Your head drops back and you thrust your hips, push into my mouth. I groan, close my eyes, wrap my hand around your cock. As my mouth fucks your hard cock, my hand grips you like a vice. Faster and faster, I take you in, your hips rocking as you shove in and out of my mouth.

You hold my head in place, grunting, egging me to suck you harder.

“That’s it,” you chant. “That’s it. Yeah, that’s it.”

With a final vicious thrust, you shoot into the back of my throat. I wrap my arms around your ass and take you in as far as I can, reveling in your salty spasms.

Over the Edge

You rub your fat, wet head over my clit, teasing me until I’m begging you to fuck me. I open my legs wide.

“Please,” I whimper.

You press into my cunt, slide in slow and easy. And you wait as I pant. You press in further, flick your thumb over my clit.

I groan and that–thank the gods!–is what sets you off. You yank my hips up and fuck into me hard, ramming into me over and over until I cum hard.