The Mammoth Book of Threesomes and Moresomes (44 page)

The sound and bite and clutch of the zip as it pulls the leather tight around my legs race through my senses. She moves from one leg to the other, humming softly as she does, her hand stroking the leather on to my skin. Her breath is warm against the back of my thighs as she moves, and I long for it higher still. My clit is already painfully swollen in the folds of my pussy, and I fight the need to squirm and rub myself.

She stands up behind me, drawing me upright too, holding my arms steady as I find the measure of the tall, spiked heels, lifting one and then the other as the leather settles against my skin. Her hands curve round my buttocks and she squeezes them tightly, resting a kiss against my shoulder blade before she ducks down to pick up the corset. She’s giving me the one that laces at the back, and I stare at Mac as she moves the garment around me, fleetingly squeezing my nipples between her finger and thumb. Mac watches all the while, his gaze hot. I have to close my eyes as I sway, delirious, savouring the touch of fingers and eyes on my body.

“Yo u ’re so horny tonight,” she murmurs against my ear, in a breathless voice that tells me how aroused she is too.

“Circumstances,” I respond, and laugh softly. When I glance Mac’s way, I find myself wondering what his cock looks like. The moment is surreal, but the fact that it’s happening is making me so hot and slick that the tops of my thighs are damp.

She pulls the corset into place, lacing it quickly. Mac watches, and the bulge at his groin is getting bigger. My nipples practically burn with pleasure. The leather is hard against my skin, so tight.

“I want you to dress me now,” she states.

She thinks this is dressed? No wonder it makes her feel even more undressed. Wearing only a pair of boots and a corset can do that. She shrugs her shoulders and her kimono falls to the floor, then she stands sideways to the bed. I kneel at her feet to zip her boots. They are PVC knee length, 1960s chic with massive, futuristic platforms. Dressed, she will look like a glossy manga diva. She is a chameleon, immediately at home in whatever time period she decides to adopt.

My hands shake as I zip the boots along the inside of her legs. With my hands around her PVC-clad calves, I glance at her shaven pussy, the urge to touch her there overwhelming. She’s looking down at me and responds with a naughty smile.

“Is my girlfriend aroused?” Mac’s question makes my stomach flip.

“Yes, very aroused. I think she likes this,” I say from my place at her feet. I have such a crush on her that I am aching from it.

“Do you think she would like you to touch her, to make it better?”

“Maybe just a kiss,” I whisper, the words catching in my throat.

“Naughty girl,” Chloe says. She covers her pussy briefly with her hands, playfully, and then puts her hands back on her hips. I stare up at her as I kiss her pussy, sinking my tongue into its groove to seek out her clit. Her body grows taut, and she moans. That sound makes my hips roll and I close my eyes, revelling in the taste and feel of her in my mouth. Her clit is swollen and her folds slick. She wants this; the knowledge of that fact sends shivers through my core.

“Corset now,” she murmurs, but I can see that it’s taking all her effort not to break with her plans – because they are plans, I sense that now.

I stand and take the garment from her hands, lean in and wrap the leather around her torso. She holds it loosely in place while I begin to lace it up from the waist. As her breasts are gradually pulled tighter, and higher, I sigh. “You look so hot.”

“So do you.” She points at the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door.

I glance over. Yes. We look strangely obscene and powerful, with shiny black boots and corsets, our naked pussies proudly on display. I can see Mac on the bed in the background, sipping his wine, watching us. Instinctively, I move closer to Chloe, moulding against her.

“Ladies, you’re not even laced up yet,” Mac chastises mockingly.

I reach for the laces again. Oh, but squeezing her breasts tight in the leather is hot. It takes a while, but when we are done, Mac nods and smiles. “Now you’re properly prepared.”

“Prepared?” I repeat.

Chloe looks coy all of a sudden and she nibbles on her bottom lip quickly before speaking. “It’s my birthday, and you’re what I wanted.”

My body tightens then liquefies inside a heartbeat. “Is that why you unwrapped me as soon as I arrived?”

She clutches at my elbows, holding me steady, which is just as well. Concern shines in her eyes. “Do you mind?”

“No. I’m honoured.”

“When Mac met you, he thought you might want to be here.”

Mac – the watchful one – he knew that I was interested, right back then. Perhaps they weren’t swingers after all. Perhaps they were just looking for their third? I hoped so; I wanted that.

Leaning in, I kiss her. Her lips are so soft and they part easily, her hands closing around my naked hips as she melts into me. Pressing closer, I feel her bare pussy touch mine, and the shock-pleasure is too intense, like electricity sparking over my mound. I push her down on the bed and I’m on my knees in a fl ash, between her thighs, my mouth on her pussy, my hands stroking her PVC-covered calves. Her clit rears up from the swollen folds of her pussy. I circle it quickly, before nudging it back and forth.

“Oh . . . don’t stop.”

The thrill of hearing her say those words lights me. I reach out and flatten her on to the bed, my hand splayed beneath her breasts, my tongue barely breaking contact with her delicious pussy.

She lets out a cry of delight, her hips undulating. Sucking her off is hot enough to make me come, but she wants it all. Her hand lands on my head, and she pushes it up a little to lift me off. With the other hand, she clicks her fingers and moves two of them in a walking movement. I drop back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, licking her juices off my wrist while making her wait.

She purses those gorgeous lips of hers. “Oh you’re so bad, no wonder I want you. Now get up here and 69 me.”

Mac watches avidly, and I wonder if he’s just going to observe, or get involved. I guess I’ll find out soon enough. My heart throbs out a fierce rhythm. Climbing over her, I kiss her mouth, long and hard. Her lips part under mine as she relinquishes her strength to me.

“Let me have you,” she urges.

My heart aches for her, and that’s not all. Moving fast, I climb over her, turning as I do so, getting into position. The smell of leather and PVC and sex is ripe in the air. Hovering over her, I gasp when she latches her hands around the back of my thighs, where my boots end. My head drops and I breathe her in, my face between her thighs, my leather-covered breasts crushing against her. The combination of soft flesh and shiny black is so hot; my pulse thuds wildly in my groin, my nipples hard as nuts inside my corset.

Her mouth latches to my pussy, her tongue stroking me fast. Wild fire burns through me. My mouth on her clit, hers on mine, we are engulfed in each other. We move in time, leading each other on. Even as I sink into the total delirium, I’m aware of the movement on the bed. Mac is prowling. I feel his hands on my hips; he’s behind me. When he pushes a finger into my gaping slit, I react, shoving my tongue inside Chloe.

I hear the sound of a condom wrapper, and I know he’s going to fuck me from behind while this is happening. Chloe will be watching his cock going into me, and that makes my body squirm and my tongue move faster. Chloe’s hips buck under me, and when Mac eases his cock inside me, she answers with her own assault, as if it’s turning her on even more. She bites my flesh before ringing my clit with her tongue. Mac begins to thrust, hard and fast, filling me. Strung out on multiple sensations, I plunge my tongue inside her, my chin rubbing her clit as I do.

I hit home, my clit throbbing and my core in spasm. I hear Mac groan, and his cock jerks, his fingers tightening on my buttocks. Chloe’s thighs tremble with pleasure on either side of my head. I lick her liquid heat as it dribbles from her, and she shudders to completion. When Mac pulls his cock free, I roll on to the bed beside Chloe, and keep her fingers loosely knotted in mine as we catch our breath.

Mac strips off his T-shirt before he lies with us. Quietly, we explore each other with curious touches and hungry kisses.

“Enough for you?” Mac teases, eventually.

“No, I want to do this all night, preferably in front of the mirror.” I shouldn’t have said that. This was their party.

“I’ve got a camcorder, if that would help,” Mac offers.

“Oh, you say all the right things,” I tease, and smile his way.

He gives me a subtle nod as I continue to stroke Chloe.

She stares at me, her eyes warm with affection. “I’ve wanted to do this with you for weeks, so has Mac.”

“Really?”

She nods. “Really.”

Mac kicks off his boots. “I take it we’re not going out tonight?”

“Why spoil a wonderful evening?” Chloe purrs, fondling my breasts where they are lifting from the corset

Mac is at my back, and he kisses my neck, grazing me with his teeth. I arch in response. “It’s my birthday next week,” he says, breathing against my skin.

“Sure it is,” I respond.

“Oh, it is,” Chloe confirms.

“Do you want me to come back then, gift wrapped?”

Mac thinks about that for a moment, and I feel his cock getting hard against the back of my thighs. “I think you should just stay with us, all week.”

“Sounds good to me,” I say, and settle between them, and it’s right where I want to be.

More Than a Mouthful

Rachel Kramer Bussel

Sometimes all I want is a good fuck – or a good suck, I’m not picky. I know that as a modern woman, I’m supposed to ask for the whole package – a kind, sensitive, man who does his share of the housework and is gentle and patient, who also knows what to do with his dick – but there are moments when his package alone will do, and the bigger, the better. I just want it somewhere inside me, anywhere to quench that seemingly insatiable, overwhelming urge, the kind that can only be satisfied by a dick that’s aching just as powerfully for me. Yes, there are times when I want to make love, to luxuriate in the sensation of skin on skin, of hard and soft, of his hands and lips grabbing me, taking me. Other times I just want it down and dirty, I want to be a whore of the highest order. Usually I get exactly what I want, but sometimes things don’t go quite according to plan. What happened last week was an example of the latter.

I had just tried to wake long-term boyfriend, Hunter, up with a blow job. That’s one of my favourite times to suck his cock, when he’s sleeping like a baby, blissfully unaware of my intentions, and I get to take him from resting to aroused. I never feel more powerful, more full of womanly wiles, than I do when he hardens between my lips. Sometimes I just stare at him sleeping, his big body scrambling for air, loud snores wracking his frame, like he’s afraid to settle into the true peace sleep can offer. I can stroke his shoulder or even plant a soft kiss on his back without him noticing. His dick and I do our own private dance as he stays in dream world until eventually the excitement awakens him. But sometimes, my oral approaches are less than welcome.

“That feels great, baby, but it’s OK,” he mumbled, pushing me off and turning over, the quilt clutched more tightly around him, shielding him from me. “I’ve got to get to work.” He rolled away from me, shuddering as if something utterly distasteful had just occurred, or at least, that’s how it felt to me. He rose and, without looking at me, pulled on boxers and a T-shirt and made his way across the room.

He didn’t seem to notice the clear disappointment on my face, the way I stared up at him, not pouting, just hurt, rejected. And I didn’t say a word. I just stumbled into the bathroom, sat on the toilet, and let silent tears crawl down my face while I listened to him boot up his computer.

I vowed that that would be the last time I’d try to wake him in such a way. If he wanted his cock sucked, he knew where to find me; by then I wasn’t even sure his was the cock I wanted to fill me up. I stormed out of the house filled with pent-up sexual frustration and anger that I had let myself fall for someone so uninterested in sex he could reject me like that. I was better than that, deserved more from the person I’d pledged my heart and body to, damn it. My anger was all well and good, but it didn’t lessen my desire to have my mouth stuffed, filled, used. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that not getting to be the good little cocksucker I can be was a deal-breaker, and if I couldn’t get it from him, I was going to find someone to give me what I craved. I’ve always required some kind of oral stimulation, always found it exciting beyond belief to let a man trace his fingers over my tongue, to lick my way along a salty forearm, to tease an inner thigh with my teeth, to suck a finger (or two) when I’m getting fucked.

After that first morning of stomping down the street in my tallest heels with a pout on my face, slamming things around at my office – I run my own time-management consulting firm – I didn’t stress about it any more. I felt a sense of calm wash over me. It wasn’t an obsession so much as something I knew would happen when the time was right. After all, women like me who live for going down don’t often go neglected for long.

Plus, the more I was made to wait, the more I’d appreciate it when I finally got that fat, juicy cock in my mouth – and, boy, was I right. My chance didn’t come until four months later, an agonizing time during which I did my best to keep things cordial but never over-the-top with Hunter. We fucked, but in an understated way; we didn’t paw and claw each other when we walked in the door. We were content to wait, where we hadn’t been before. If he missed our more passionate days or thought I was in any way aloof, he didn’t say anything, which only solidified my intention to sate my hunger elsewhere.

And elsewhere turned out to be a Caribbean cruise – a work thing, as it turned out. I was asked to speak to a group of business executives about time management. The pay wasn’t great, but since it included a free trip, and I was overdue for a vacation, albeit a working one, I figured I couldn’t say no. I did ask if Hunter could get comped along with me, but his boss said no, and part of me was relieved. I needed some time apart from him, to see who I could be without him clinging to me, a sensation that had been plaguing me since before the blow-job incident. I certainly wasn’t about to pay for him myself, and he seemed more than happy to let me go by myself – much happier than I’d have been about unleashing him on a group of strangers for a week, all trapped on a confined vehicle, save for the times we’d be frolicking on sunny beaches in skimpy outfits (even work-related cruises have their downtime).