Different in the Dark (Couple X) (2 page)

I must have made a noise, or a face, because he grinned wolfishly and nodded. “You’re gonna take all of me this time. I’m gonna go slow, gonna be gentle, but I’ll have your ass tonight. All of it.”

My head isn’t sure, but my pussy squeezes tight around his shaft, my body telling him in no uncertain terms that it’s on board. Warm anticipation floods over me as I surrender to desire. My lips part and a quiet sound of encouragement slips out.

He rears up and slides his hands to the back of my thighs. With a firm press, I’m folded in half, and his cock pops out of me with a loud squishing sound. I revel in that sound because I know he does too. He makes me that wet, just as I make him...
ooooh. That hard.

He’s fisting himself, teasing me, rubbing his engorged head at the entrance to my ass. I focus on the sphincter there, and breath out, willing myself to relax. To open. He presses just a bit,
just enough,
and like the scantest of kisses, he slips in.

It burns. He’s only in maybe half a centimeter, and it fucking burns. But I love it, and want more, because I bear down, without any thought, and my ass pulls him in a bit more, until I cry out and he eases back, not fully out, but just to the tip again.
Just the tip
. That’s how he got me to do this the very first time. s

Full anal penetration isn’t for everyone. Most of the time, it isn’t even for me, although on nights like tonight, it makes me feel incredible. But I think everyone should give a finger a try, and, with someone they trust completely, do this.

Ahhhhh
. “No, don’t pull out...” It’s the most I’ve said since he woke me up, but when he pulls out completely, it leaves me unbearably empty. It honestly makes me want to cry. I crave him inside me again. Need to see that look in his eyes as he has me folded over, completely open to him. To his cock.

“Shhhh, baby. Just need more lube.” A cold squirt, a touch of his fingers, and then the burn is back and it’s so good.

“Going in all the way this time, slow and steady. Breath deep, push out, yeah. Oh fuck, yes.” He slides in, reaching the second muscle with ease this time, and I try to keep my breathing steady as he leans in with his hips, but the burning floods my mind and my eyes roll back in my head. “Breath.”

His voice is sure and deep, commanding and utterly sexy. I drag a reedy breath into my lungs and push it out again, and again, until I feel his hips firm against my ass cheeks. He holds there, as I adjust to having all of him inside my rectum. He flexes his cock, involuntarily, and we both groan.

“You get so wet,” he mutters, his right hand trailing between my legs. This is why he’s always wanted my ass from this angle, so he can see my pussy.

“Touch me,” I whisper. “Feel yourself in my ass.”

He grins, his teeth flashing white in the dim room, and he slides two fingers into my pussy with ease. I buck against his hand, already on the edge, and he starts an easy rhythm, moving just a bit in my ass.

He pulls his fingers out and holds them in front of my mouth. “Suck.”

I do so greedily, both wanting to taste myself and have any part of him in my mouth. He hitches his thumb under my chin and presses firmly there for a moment before trailing his wet hand back down my body, entering my pussy again, this time with this thumb, leaving his fingers to rock almost accidentally against my clit.

It was almost too much, and not enough at the same time. I whimper and twist, wanting him to hammer hard. The burn has eased off, and now I just feel deliciously full.

“So tight, baby. I love that you give this to me. You’re beautiful, and so fucking dirty. No one knows that you love getting your ass pounded. Just me. My ass. My pussy. Mine. Mine. Mine.” His fingers flutter faster between my labia, around my clit, and I know he’s getting close, and he’s going to take me with him. “Fuu-uuhh-ck. Fill you up. Fuck. Here it comes. Oh. Uhhhhhhh--uh!”

He jerks hard, around me and inside me, and I shatter into a million pieces too as he slides his palm flat against my pussy. His head is thrown back, his thighs hard and tight behind my legs, and his hands tremble against my skin.

I let out a weak sigh of contentment, and he shifts his attention back to me. “Hold on,” he mutters, easing his dripping cock out of my ass. He rolls me to my side and crawls off the bed in an awkward crab walk, returning a moment later with a warm, damp wash cloth. He carefully holds my top leg, washing first my pussy, then my ass, passing twice there to grab all of his cum. He tucks me under the sheet and disappears again, this time closing the bathroom door. I hear him pee, and wash up, then he’s back.

“Go back to sleep, baby.” He kisses my ear and wraps one strong arm around my waist from behind. “You’ve gotta work in the morning.”

Letter to My Readers

If you enjoyed this peek inside Couple X’s bedroom, please share or recommend this book to others. If you email me ([email protected]) a link to your honest review, I’ll send you an ARC of my next ebook.

Later this summer, I’ll have another glimpse into the private ecstasy of these two people who have given themselves fully to each other -
Mine In the Morning
. Someone’s late for work, and it’s totally worth it.

Finally, I’d like to point you in the direction of my first short story,
Watching The Wilsons
, a delicious tale about neighbourhood babysitter Carrie and her sexual awakening. I’m working on the novella sequel,
A Week With the Wilsons
. I keep getting distracted while writing the menage scenes, but I promise, I’ll finish this one soon.

Your humble (and horny) scribe,

Naughty Young Becky

Other Works by Naughty Young Becky

Watching The Wilsons

Eighteen year old Carrie stumbles across a box of books while babysitting that fires up her sexual imagination. Front and center in her fantasies are her neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson - the very couple she's babysitting for that night.

When they come home from a night on the town, she has a front row seat for an erotic display that fills in all the details her imagination could only grasp at. Before the night is over, Carrie is planning her next trip to ski country.

Warning: This erotic short story about voyeurism and coming of age will leave you wanting more, just like Carrie. Sex will never be the same!

6500 words

Explicit language and adult themes. 18+

Buy Watching The Wilsons at Amazon.com!

Preview of A Week With the Wilsons

Friday

Mr. Wilson worked at the community college where I was studying. He wasn’t an instructor, he worked in the finance department, and in the first seven months of my freshman year I had yet to see him on campus. The night before we left, however, Mrs. Wilson called and mentioned that they wanted to leave early, if possible, to beat traffic out of the city. She gave me her husband’s office number and I told her I could meet him there at noon, after my last class.

I had a massive duffel bag, plus all my snowboarding gear. It was a bit ridiculous, but I had a lot of trouble deciding what to pack and in the end, stuffed everything I had been considering into the largest bag I owned.

Mr. Wilson waved to me as I approached his open office door. He was on the phone, so I settled into the chair across from his desk and crossed my legs. I was wearing a black turtleneck and a red kilt over black tights, and high heeled mary janes. My business management classes had a dress code, but it wasn’t the most practical of outfits for travel.

“Ready to go, Carrie?” Mr. Wilson gave me a big, easy grin, obviously excited about a week off.

“Absolutely! I was just wondering if maybe I should change into something a little more snow-friendly.”

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes roving over me in quick appraisal. “No, don’t. You look beautiful, and we’ll probably go out for dinner when we get there. The kids have a team practice for a few hours, so we’ll pick them something up on the road, but I’d like to take you and Ellen out for an adults-only meal.”

I beamed at the idea. What a perfect way to start vacation.

***

The Bar and Grill was packed with college students, so we wedged ourselves in at the bar while we waited for a table to free up. Mrs. Wilson teased Mr. Wilson about being surrounded by so many hot young women, and he nuzzled her neck, reminding her that she was five years younger than him and totally gorgeous herself. I giggled and nodded in agreement. She smiled at me, not just with the curve of her lips, but with her whole face, her eyes crinkling with happiness, and a warm flutter of excitement rippled through my belly. I had learned a lot about that smile last year, how Mrs. Wilson uses it to seduce women, and I wondered if that’s how she meant to use it on me.

The barstool beside me opened up and Mr. Wilson slid on to it, pulling his wife into the vee of his legs, squeezing her into his body. He was much larger than her, tall and broad across the shoulders, and he was still wearing his fitted polo shirt and khakis from work. In comparison, Mrs. Wilson looked more like one of the college kids around us. Truthfully, even though she was in her early thirties, she radiated youthfulness. It wasn’t just that she was in amazing shape and had perfect skin that had never been abused by sun or smoking. She was a chameleon, and in this environment, her generic tight white t-shirt and dressy dark jeans made her look a decade younger. At home, she probably would have looked like the perfect soccer mom. Here she looked like a grad student being seduced by her professor.

A new wave of arrivals squeezed the remaining standing room out of the bar, and Mrs. Wilson wiggled into the gap between me and her husband. My legs parted to make room for her, and she looked down. “Oh Carrie, I’m sorry, you’re wearing a skirt. Here, let’s trade places.”

Before I could explain that I was fine, she slid her arms around my waist and pulled me into her personal space, our bodies pressed together between the stools, and then she rotated, pushing my back into Mr. Wilson’s chest. His hand snaked out to steady my hip as she slipped away from me to perch on the stool I had just vacated. She smiled again, pleased with herself, and I couldn’t help but notice that her nipples were standing hard at attention in her white t-shirt.

Behind me, I heard Mr. Wilson ask the bartender for three more drinks. His hand stayed on my hip, and I looked at Mrs. Wilson. A nervous thrill fluttered through my belly. It was probably another twenty minutes before our table was ready. Nothing else happened, but his hand didn’t move, and her smile just grew. It was infectious, and by the time we sat down and ordered, I was flashing my own grin right back whenever she looked at me. Like we had a special secret, only I didn’t think it was a secret anymore.

***

We picked up the kids after practice and went back to the condo. Mrs. Wilson announced that it was bedtime for everyone who wanted to go skiing in the morning, so the twins and Mr. Wilson went off to brush their teeth. I took a quick look in the fridge. There wasn’t much, so I mused aloud that we would have to go grocery shopping.

Mrs. Wilson come up behind me and rested her chin on my shoulder. “Hmmm, yes. Make a list, and we’ll go together tomorrow. We’ll have the whole day to ourselves, unless you want to go skiing?”

I swallowed hard. I did want to hit the slopes, but not as much as I wanted to spend time with her. “What else could we do?”

She gave me a quick hug, her breasts pressing into my back, then moved to the hallway leading to the master bedroom. “Whatever you want to do, Carrie. Everything’s up to you.”

I looked at her for a beat, then nodded. “Maybe we could go to the spa? Get pedicures, relax in the hot tub?”

She smiled at that, wide and bright. “We can hot tub right here, remember?” She nodded toward the deck. “We’ll decide tomorrow.” And with that, she disappeared into the bedroom she shared with her husband. I stood there for a few minutes, wondering if I might hear ... something. Anything. I didn’t, so I went to bed. I fell asleep, my thoughts swirling a tortured mix of disappointment and relief.

Copyright

Cover design by Zoe York

Different in the Dark
© 2013 Becky Young

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner for personal or commercial gain without the express written permission of the author.