Smut in the City (Absolute Erotica) (16 page)

With closed eyes, their mouths met and water dripped down their lips as they kissed. Joan broke the lip-lock and reached for the soap, an orange, expensive-looking tube. She squirted some in her hands and rubbed them together to make it cream.

“Turn around.” Karen was beyond hesitation now. She just wanted Joan’s hands to spread the divine smelling lotion over her skin. Facing the window, she leaned back against Joan’s breasts to give her neighbour’s hands free reign. Joan let her fingers sneak down over Karen’s shoulders, exploring her skin along the way, until they reached her nipples. Simultaneously, Joan tweaked both, her fingers slippery from the foam. Joan’s breasts rubbed against Karen’s back and her pubes pressed against her buttocks.

Karen saw herself in the reflection of the window, as if she was watching from the outside but experiencing it all as an insider as well. She pictured herself on her balcony, watching as Joan fondled a woman. Only, she was the woman who Joan was stroking and washing and getting more and more moist in every spot.

Joan’s hands travelled down now, transporting the slithery foam between Karen’s legs. Her fingers slipped through her pubic hair and Karen followed the mirrored motions in the window. She witnessed her mouth opening wider when one of Joan’s fingers skated along her clit. Joan’s other hand was on her left nipple, rolling it between thumb and index finger while her mouth remained at ear-height.

“As far as bathrooms go,” Joan hissed. “This one has a prime location.” Her finger encircled Karen’s clit. “And you know how hard that is to come by in this city.”

Karen closed her eyes, blocking out the sight of herself getting more and more aroused by Joan’s actions and words. She forgot about the people that might or might not be watching. She slanted her body against Joan, who held her with a firm grip around her chest, her fingers at perfect nipple-height.

“Of all the times I’ve had sex in this apartment,” Joan continued and her use of the word ‘sex’, the way she let the ‘s’ sit on her lips before releasing it, made Karen’s knees buckle, “I would say seventy-five percent of them started here.”

Joan gradually increased the pressure on Karen’s clit. It was so swollen and lubricated by both her own juices and the soapy water that Karen knew she wouldn’t be able to take much more direct stimulation.

“It’s no surprise you’re getting so excited.” The pace of Joan’s fingers increased, half-hovering over and half-caressing her clit. “I’ve noticed how often you watch me.”

Karen’s nipple was just as wet as her pussy. Joan’s fingers kept manipulating it, squeezing it tightly and then releasing it to the same rhythm as her other hand manoeuvred around Karen’s clit.

“Come for me now.” Karen never had anyone say that to her and the sheer power of the words made her shiver with delight. Her clit throbbed against Joan’s fingers as she climaxed, her legs weak and her head thrown back on Joan’s shoulder.

“And that was just foreplay.” Joan kissed Karen’s neck and chuckled in her ear.

Karen caught her breath and checked herself in the window. Heat flushed her cheeks as drops of water streamed from her hair. She could give as good as she could get and she had every intention of doing so.

“You really love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?” Karen turned around and cupped Joan’s cheeks. “I know a thing or two that should shut you up.”

A mischievous grin spread across Joan’s face.

“Can’t wait.” Joan started to get out of the bath.

“Oh no, I don’t think so.” Karen grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back. “Right here is where I want you.” She brought her lips to Joan’s ear. “Where everyone can see you.”

“Fair enough.” Joan leaned in to kiss her, a wet slippery meeting of lips involving teeth and the sucking of tongues. When they broke apart Karen spun Joan around and gently pushed her forward until her hands rested on the narrow ledge above the tub. Her back was arched inward and her behind stuck out, giving Karen ample access.

Karen slicked her wet hands over Joan’s back while peering into the darkness of the city. Whoever was watching tonight was getting one hell of a show. She traced her fingers between Joan’s raised cheeks and wished she had a strap-on at her disposal. Joan probably had one on offer, but Karen couldn’t wait that long. This moment in the shower was theirs. Weeks of peeking had come down to this. She was about to plunge her fingers inside Joan and she had no time for interruptions.

Sitting down on the edge of the tub for stability and a better view - much better than the glowing buildings outside - Karen let her fingers dance across the length of Joan’s moist pussy. Drops of water trickled down her legs and clouds of foam clung to her skin.

“Fuck me,” Joan moaned and Karen had to obey. There was something in Joan’s voice, an implied authority impossible to ignore, that urged Karen to follow its commands. She couldn’t wait for Joan to ask her to come for her again. But she had some unfinished business to attend to first.

Karen positioned one hand close to Joan’s clit and the other at the entrance of her glistening pussy. She circled a finger around the rim a few times and then gently pushed inwards. Joan’s heat wrapped itself around her, clamping her fingers tight. Desire pooled between Karen’s legs again as she saw Joan’s back arch, like a trembling wire on a bow, to the rhythm of her thrusts.

“More.” Joan’s voice grew hoarse as her moans increased. “Faster.”

Karen didn’t waste any time executing the command. She fucked Joan with three fingers while the thumb of her other hand inched closer to her clit. Joan was captured between her arms, at her mercy, like in the countless fantasies she had given in to lately.

The walls of Joan’s pussy contracted around Karen’s thrusting fingers. Karen could feel Joan’s climax approach as her pussy tightened around her knuckles, driving them together. Touching another woman inside like that, exerting such power over her pleasure, always drove Karen a little crazy.

Joan breathed heavily now. A syncopated moan crescendoed out of her throat and announced the arrival of her orgasm. She bucked down on Karen’s fingers one last time before trembling through the remnants of her climax.

Karen slipped out of Joan, a bit reluctant to leave the intense warmth of her pussy, and helped her up.

“Excellent handiwork,” Joan said as she shook her wrists to release the tension from them. “And excellent idea.” A sparkle twinkled in her eyes. Karen wondered what else her new favourite neighbour had in store tonight.

“Let me show you my bedroom.”

“Can’t wait to see the view.”

They scrambled out of the tub and exited the bathroom still wet from the deluxe shower.

The curtains were drawn in Joan’s room, only allowing for slivers of light to pierce through the cracks.

“Very modest.” Karen grinned and started to reach for the curtain, curious to see what lay on the other side. Joan yanked her arm away mid-stretch and pulled Karen towards the bed, where she waited with her legs spread and her skin hot and wet.

“It’s your turn now.” Joan let her back crash onto the mattress and dragged Karen on top of her.

“For what?” Before Joan could answer, Karen kissed her until her entire body throbbed with desire again.

“You’ve been ogling me for weeks.” Joan pushed Karen up by her shoulders, a dirty smirk plastered across her face. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been dreaming of this.”

“If I have.” Karen lowered herself and bit Joan’s earlobe before continuing. “The person in my dreams was never this cocky.”

With a swift movement, Joan eased herself out from under Karen and straddled her before she could protest. “Speaking of which.” Joan cast her glance to the night stand next to the bed. “I have a new toy I’ve been dying to try out.”

Karen’s pussy tingled at the thought of Joan fucking her, again and again. “I’ll be your guinea pig on one condition.”

“What’s that?” The last drops of water splashed down from Joan’s hair onto Karen’s neck.

“Open the curtains.” Just saying the words made Karen’s blood sizzle.

Joan snickered and found Karen’s ear. “Somehow I always end up with the shy ones.”

Underground Encounter

By Tamsin Flowers

It happened when I first came to London, as a student. Back in the early 2000s. I’d finally escaped my small-town hell and in the big city I was one hundred per cent focused on enjoying my new freedoms. I wanted to make the most of the fact that if I drank a couple of beers and played a game of pool, I wouldn’t have to explain myself to my father, and that if I happened to have a heavy necking session out by the bleachers, it wouldn’t be transmitted around my whole high school class in less than ten. No, when I arrived in London, I knew nobody and there were no connections that could report back on me to the old town. And that suited me fine.

I had come over on a scholarship to study particle physics at London’s Imperial College, but I wasn’t going to let that stand in the way of my fun. The guys on my course were pretty geeky, but London was my playground and if I spent my days with scientists, I didn’t have to spend the nights with them, too. My new roomie was also a studious type, a girl who wore corduroy pants and hand-knitted tank tops and spent most of her time in the library. I think her name was Lesley and she came from somewhere in the north of England called Coxhoe - but some reason I always found the place name easier to remember than her name. I couldn’t have been happier; all the time she spent book jockeying in the library left our room free for me to play jockey of another kind - and I certainly used my time well.

What it all boiled down to was that I was a hot, horny American chick, let loose in London, and I was damn sure I was going to have the most fun that I possibly could. And that was what led to one of the most exciting sexual experiences of my life, the one I’m building up to tell you all about. The one that remains seared on my memory. And I have to be totally honest, it’s the one I think about when I can’t sleep at night, when I need my fingers to do the walking and scratch that little itch... Then I remember every detail, every delicious moment of what I call my underground encounter.

In fact, it was a down to a dare. You know, the sort of drunken dare games you play in the bar. I was with a couple of girls that night who had the same attitude to study as I did - best left for the daylight hours. We spent our evenings down in the student bar, a grotty little dive where the beer was cheap and the girls were cheaper. It was a reasonable place for passing the time and picking up guys and it had the added benefit of being only five minutes’ walk from my dorm. If Lesley was out of the way it was just too easy to get a guy up to my room for a steamy session on my narrow single bed.

But on the night when this whole thing kicked off there seemed to be something of a drought. No nice guys in the bar, only a couple of leering mathematicians that we’d been avoiding eye contact with for weeks. Sam, a big, brassy blond from London’s east end, decided to call it a night, but I was feeling bored so I suggested to my friend Tina that we take a bottle of wine up to my room and carry on drinking.

Tina was petite and dark, also American, but she was from NYC rather than some shithole in Idaho. We’d bonded early on in the semester and as she’d been in London a couple of months longer than me, she quickly became my mentor in learning about all things English. She taught me the slang and the swear words, as well as showing me how to travel on the underground system, or the Tube as locals call it, where to get the best chips and helped me actually understand the differences between crisps and chips and fries.

Slumped side by side on my narrow bed, we passed a bottle cheap red between us and naturally, as we weren’t getting any sex, the conversation turned to it instead.

“I love risky sex,” said Tina, raising the bottle to her lips.

“How d’you mean risky?” I asked. “Without a condom?”

She laughed.

“No way. I mean risky like you could get busted at any moment. Doing it where you shouldn’t be doing it, like in your parents’ bedroom or outside where someone might see you. It just adds that extra little something to the experience, don’t you think?”

I had to agree. The best sex I’d ever had so far was on prom night when my best friend’s boyfriend had banged me in the back of her car. Don’t get me wrong. I totally felt guilty afterwards but it felt so right at the time. So hot. He was super good looking and I could tell from the bulge in his pants he was huge. We’d been eyeing each other up for weeks and I think we both sort of knew that that evening it was a now or never kind of a deal. We got on that back seat together and all hell broke loose: his cock in my mouth, my finger up his arse, his tongue on my clit, his teeth on my nipples and finally as he rammed it hard into me I had the most explosive orgasm ever. Then I tumbled out of the car on the far side as my best friend came out into the parking lot to look for him.

Tina’s eyes glittered brightly when I told her about it.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” she said.

She handed me the bottle and got up from the bed. She stood in front of me, quickly pushed my knees together, and in one fluid movement was suddenly sitting astride my lap. I’ll admit I was a little surprised but I quickly put the bottle to my lips to hide it and took a long swig of wine. After that, she took the bottle from me and put it on the floor.

“I think you’re ready,” she said, staring at me long and hard with those deep brown eyes.

“Ready for what?” I asked. My voice cracked.

She placed both her hands on my shoulders.

“Ready for the Circle Line challenge.”

She laughed at my confusion.

“Okay,” she said. “This is what happens. You get onto a Circle Line train - it doesn’t matter which station, because you know it’s going to come all the way round in a circle. It takes about an hour to go round and your challenge is to find and fuck a man of your choice before you get back to the original station.”

I could hardly believe what she was suggesting.

“Fuck some guy, on the train?”

“You said you liked things risky,” she giggled.

“Have you done it?”

She shook her head.

“I’ve tried three times but I’ve never quite made it. But you, you could pull anyone in the space of a single stop.”

“But the train’s full of people, so what guy is going to do it with you in front of them?”

“You go for the last train at night,” she said. “Practically empty. You sit like this on his lap, with a long coat on that you can pull around you both. No one can tell.”

I laughed.

“You’re kidding, right?”

But she knew she had me hooked. She leaned forward and softly kissed me on the mouth.

“It doesn’t have to be a guy,” she whispered in my ear. “It could be a girl.”

I felt her hands slipping up inside my t-shirt and even though I’d never even thought about another woman touching me, it felt good.

But what happened with Tina that evening is a whole other story. This is my story about what happened when I took up the Circle Line challenge.

Two nights later, Tina was standing on the platform as I climbed onto the underground train. It was just about an hour before the end of service and we’d decided upon South Kensington as the starting point. I got into the first carriage, hoping that I’d be lucky enough to find the right man there; I knew the first and last carriages would be the least populated and I wasn’t hoping for an audience.

As the train pulled out of the station, Tina waved and I watched her shrinking on the platform until she turned to go. She was going to have a drink in a pub across the road from the station and then come back in an hour’s time to see what had happened. As the train picked up speed I went and sat down, wondering if I’d been mad to agree to this challenge. I suppose I wouldn’t have to do anything if I didn’t want to but there’s a competitive edge to my character that always makes me a bit reckless.

Not to mention the fact that I’d specially dressed for the event. I was wearing a long coat and a short skirt. And underneath that skirt, no panties; just stockings and suspenders. I wanted quick and easy access if I was going to manage to do this. But, of course, at this point my coat was pulled tight shut. Until I found a target I liked the look of I wanted to stay well covered. Just a normal girl on the Tube, going home after a late shift at work.

I scanned the carriage: two middle-aged women, talking louder than they needed to because they were nervous of being on the Underground so late at night; a young guy with his hood up and earphones in - too young and too ugly for a second look; a corpulent business man with a ruddy face and straining shirt buttons. He brazenly met my gaze and leered, so I scowled and turned away. That was it for the first stretch. There were twenty-six stops in all before I got back round to South Kensington and number one had drew a blank. As the train slowed down for Sloane Square, I got up and stood by the door. Time to move carriages.

The doors opened and I skipped out, quickly re-boarding the next car. This time there were more people, so I started slowly walking the length to get a good look at them. A gaggle of kids at one end tried to outdo each other with their iPod volume; an earnest young couple, intent on each other and desperate to get home together; a single girl tapping texts into her phone.

The train lurched off and I stumbled slightly.

A hand reached out and caught my elbow, preventing me from falling.

“Thanks,” I said, looking round, hoping this might be my man.

He was tall and good looking. Tight jeans and an even tighter t-shirt showing off well-honed pecs and a flat stomach. I took a breath; he even smelt good. I grabbed the same handrail as him, keeping us close, swaying in unison as the carriage rounded a bend.

“Pretty dumb to come on the train in these,” I said with an apologetic smile and a nod at my feet. If he was a high-heels kind of guy, this should get to him. Pointed black stilettos that flattered the arch of my foot to perfection.

He looked down and I could tell he liked what he was seeing, so I let my coat fall open a little at the bottom, just to show off a little more leg. He raised his eyebrows appreciatively.

“Cute,” he said, “but this is my stop.”

The train drew into the station and before I could think of anything that would persuade him to stay, he’d hopped off onto the platform. I sat down in an empty seat feeling a little dejected. Why did I think that I would be able to seduce someone on a moving train? Tina hadn’t managed it in three attempts and although she’d sworn that there were people who had, she didn’t actually know any of them. Perhaps this Circle Line challenge was nothing more than an urban myth. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked for signal; we were still above ground so I sent Tina a quick text.

No luck so far...

A moment later she replied.

How much leg are you showing?

I laughed. Perhaps she was right. A more aggressive approach but at the moment there wasn’t anyone in the carriage worth trying it on. Okay, at St. James’s Park, the next stop, I would change carriages again and in the new car I’d be a bit more brazen. Show off the wares a little, tempt whoever might be a likely prospect.

Next station, new carriage. I looked around me as we pulled away. At the far end, three young men were sitting in a row, laughing loudly as they showed each other pictures on their cell phones. I made my way down the carriage, stopping a few feet away to eye them up a bit further before going closer. They were all in jeans and casual shirts, you know in that way that close friends almost start to dress alike, but in looks they couldn’t have been more different.

The one nearest to me was picture-book handsome: brownish hair with a copper tint, dark brown eyes, a wide smile that almost split his face and sprinkling of rusty freckles across his nose. Next to him, the guy in the middle was obviously the shortest of the three, even though they were sitting; black hair and olive skin, dark sensuous lips and heavy brows. As I stared at him, his eyes met mine. One brow arched and I could see a smile playing across his lips as I quickly looked away. The third one was oriental; a slim athletic build and a handsome open face underneath brush-cut black hair. It was his phone they were all three looking at but I couldn’t see what was so funny. And with these three to choose from, I didn’t really care.

I carried on down the car and sat down in the seat opposite the centre guy, carefully letting my coat slip open just far enough to give them a glimpse of my stocking tops. Their conversation stopped in a heartbeat, six eyes stared and three mouths fell open. I studiously pretended not to notice, rifling through my bag, searching for something, who knows what. Then they all three started talking at once, looking at each other, looking at the adverts above the train windows, in fact anywhere but near my legs. I nearly burst out laughing as I realised they were quite a bit younger than I’d thought at first. This could be child’s play.

As we drew into Westminster, the oriental boy stood up.

“See you tomorrow, guys,” he said to the other two, shoving his phone back in his jeans pocket and briefly slapping hands with them. Then he was gone.

I looked at the other two and they looked at me. I re-crossed my legs, letting a little more thigh come into view.

The boy with the freckled nose turned in his seat and whispered something to the darker one, who shot out of his seat and just managed to slip through the gap in the doors as they were closing.

As the train pulled out of the station, the boy’s eyes locked mine in a lingering gaze. I ran my tongue around the edge of my lips; those brown eyes were making me hungry. I’d found my target and from the way he was looking at me, I had a feeling that maybe things would work out. If he didn’t try and get out at the next stop...

His eyes slid down to the V-shape made by the collar of my coat, to the tiny crack of cleavage it showed. Self-consciously I put a hand to my neck, pulling at one side of the collar as I scratched an imaginary itch on my shoulder. His stare was unremitting, his eyes two limpid brown pools that were starting to play havoc with my breathing. I slowly looked away but my heart carried on pounding, almost loud enough for me to hear, and it was more than I could do to avert my eyes for long. His wide mouth, even unsmiling, drew my gaze back to his face.