Sex with a Sting: Six Erotic Fantasies with a Kink in the Tail (20 page)

“You’re enjoying
this, aren’t you, Ethan?” whispered Liz. “Can he answer, Maxine? Maxine’s
shaking her head. Can’t we just touch him a little bit, help him out with that
poor boner he’s got there? Maxine’s shaking her head. Just a couple of licks? A
couple of sucks? A couple of pulls? She’s shaking her head. Sorry baby, I
tried.”

“Fuck’s sake!” he
said and a second later he squealed in pain as Maxine landed a hard slap across
his chest once more.

“I did warn you
baby!” giggled Liz. “What’s she doing anyway? What’s she got over there? Come
on, you can’t just leave me like this, baby. Well, she’s taking off her bra. Oh
my God those boobs are
amazing
. Have to admit I’ve wanted to see them
for a long, long time. What do you think, Ethan? Oh, you can’t see, I forgot.
Well they are
incredible
. Big and natural and round. Mmm. Perfect. Okay,
now she’s taking off her suspender and her panties. And her stockings too. And
those high heels. Now, what has she got there? Aaaahhhh!” she screamed,
laughing. “I have never seen one of those! Not for real anyway! Oh fuck, are
you serious? She’s serious. She’s smiling at me. That naughty smile, Ethan, you
know the one. She’s smiling at me and she’s putting it on. God, it’s a
strap-on. That thing, it’s jet black, it must be at least eight inches. Are you
serious? You’re going to fuck me with that?

“She’s beckoning
me towards her. She’s taking my hand. She’s making me hold the cock, Ethan.
It’s in my hand now. She’s kissing my neck again. She’s fingering me at the
same time…” and then, she murmured, almost imperceptibly, “God I’m so wet, fuck
me, baby.” Ethan suddenly felt the bed jerk a little at the bottom end.

“She’s bent me
over. I’m facing you now. My hands are on the top of the rails of the bed. My
arse is up in the air. She’s feeling it now. She’s standing behind me, that
huge dick is just… oh, barely touching my pussy, teasing it… put it in baby,
please put it in… it’s sliding in,” she stopped and gasped. “Her hands are
gripping my hips and she’s pushing that cock inside me so… slowly… mmm all the
way, I can feel her body against my arse… now she’s sliding it out, slowly
again… in… out…” Ethan heard a slap.

“Ooh, my bum just
got a slap! Faster now, oh God. Yes. Harder baby…” Ethan could feel the bed
rocking as the pressure Liz exerted on it with each thrust shoved it back and
forth. He could hear them fucking, in his mind he could see it. It was
fantastic. “Oh fuck, yes, oh God! Fuck me!” Liz had given up commentary now,
all he could hear was her enjoyment at Maxine fucking her, the familiar sounds
he had heard before from Liz, only she was more vocal, her words filthier, her
moans louder. He loved it. “Oh yes, baby, fuck me, harder! Harder! Oh God, ram
that fucking thing in my
cunt
baby, make me come!”

“Oh fuck, you two,
I need to see you! I want you!” No one admonished him this time.

“Do you like this,
Ethan? Do you like hearing me get fucked like this? I’m so close baby, don’t
stop! Can you feel the bed moving? Can you feel me getting fucked? Is this what
you wanted, Ethan? Ohhh God! I’m going to come! Fuck!”

“Oh God yes! Fuck
her! I think I’m going to come too! Jesus, I’ve never felt anything like this
before!”

Liz was almost
screaming in pleasure now as she watched Ethan wriggle and thrash about on the
bed. She could see his cock engorged, straining. One lick, one tug, one stroke
and she was sure that he would orgasm immediately. “I’m coming! I’m coming!
Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES! NOW! Maxine! NOW!”

“I’m gonna come
too!” yelled Ethan.

Light. He could
see again. The mask had been whipped from his eyes. Everything else happened in
just a few seconds. He blinked for a moment, gaining focus. In front of him he
saw Liz, her knuckles white as she gripped the rail on the bed and her body
jerked back and forth, her face almost angelic, yet consumed with lust. She
stared right back at him, grinning. Behind her was not Maxine. It was a man. A
young man: slim, attractive. Naked. Fucking her. Fucking his wife. Hard. One
hand reaching around her body to cup one of her tits. Right in front of his
eyes.

“Oh my God yes! Oh
fuck yes!” screamed Liz. And she finally came, closing her eyes, giggling,
breathing hard, making the whole bed shudder with the force of her orgasm. The
man came too, moaning loudly. In confusion, Ethan glanced to his left, and
there was Maxine, fully dressed, holding a bucket.

“What the fu…?” he
said, as she flipped the bucket upside down. A cascade of jagged ice cubes
tumbled out all over his stomach, his testicles and his thighs, sending a
powerful, intense, painful sensation across his body. He yelped in pain. “What
the fuck is going on! Get this stuff off me! Oh fuck! That is fucking
freezing!”

Liz and Maxine
were laughing hard. The man was smiling, looking a little sheepish, it had to
be said. Liz was standing up straight now, one arm round the man, the other on
his chest. She kissed him on the cheek. Ethan didn’t know where to look –
at the ice that was currently freezing his bollocks off, or at his wife
standing naked next to a man with a large, semi-erect penis. He wiggled his
body back and forth to try and get rid of the ice, but the girls just laughed
more as it fell between his legs, under his balls.

“I’m sorry, baby!
Where are my manners? I should introduce you! This is my new boyfriend, Andy.”
They both began to get dressed.

“Hi, Ethan,” said Andy,
quietly. Ethan struggled to find any words.

“Baby. Did you
really think I’d reward you for all your cheating by letting you fuck me and my
best friend? Really? You’re more arrogant than even I gave you credit for. You
didn’t even suspect anything while he was fucking me, did you? You really
thought I’d let Max do me with a strap-on to fulfil a fantasy for you!”

“Incredible,” said
Max.

“Anyway, my bags
are in the other room. I’ll come back another time for the rest of my stuff.”
She pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. “Right, I think that’s
everything.” She looked at him, powerless, in shock, covered in ice, body
stretched out on the bed. “Should we untie him?”

“I don’t know
sweetie, it’s your call,” replied Maxine.

“I suppose we
should. He might die otherwise, and we’re not monsters, are we?!”

“No, we’re not.
Okay, tell you what, I’ll undo one hand. He’ll be able to do the rest himself.”
She swiftly untied a knot. Ethan shook his hand about and then reached down to
brush the ice off his body.

“Oh look, poor
thing! He’s gone all limp!” laughed Liz. “Shall we go, boys and girls?”

He stared out of his office window. 8.50am. The
building felt like a tomb. Dark, dank, ugly, inescapable. Outside was like
salvation. The sun. A breeze. Kids laughing and screeching. He sighed and
checked his watch again. 8.51am. She should be along any minute.

He had been watching her every day for a couple of
weeks. She generally passed his office at about 8.54am, but sometimes she was
earlier. He decided that 8.54am was probably about the latest time she could
pass and still get her kids to the primary school down the road on time. Then
she would usually pass back in front of the office between 9.05am and 9.18am.
He imagined that when she passed at 9.18am or later, she must’ve been talking
to the other mums and/or dads at the school, gossiping about what their little
darlings had been getting up to and making plans to go for lattes later in the
week. Maybe they talked about starting a Book Club. Perhaps the mums got
together to read
Fifty Shades of Grey
, hoping it might improve their sex
lives.

He looked at his watch again. 8.52am. Other mums and
kids trailed past. He sighed. His office phone rang. He ignored it. A police
car crept past, as if looking for something.

8.53am. There she was! My God, there she was. That
vision. Springy blonde hair. Bouncing big tits. High heels today. Short white
skirt. She stood out a mile. Was it really appropriate attire for taking the
kids to school? Not that he cared. She was a fantasy made real, out there, just
metres away, the other side of the glass.

Her little girl diligently gripped onto her hand and he
could tell that the woman was nattering away to her, reassuring her, making her
laugh. The boy, a bit older, darted backwards and forwards as if not really in
full control of his thoughts. Now he was hiding behind a wall until they walked
past, now he was sprinting in front of them and spinning round, pointing his
fingers like a gun and making shooting noises. His shirt un-tucked, his hair
tousled. The little tearaway.

She was past the window now. This was his favourite
bit. Watching her go. That walk. That wiggle. That arse. Jesus Christ, that
amazing
arse. It made the small hairs on his balls quiver. He leaned into the window
until she was out of sight, then returned to his desk.

He sent an email or two and made a quick phone call. At
9.04am, just to be sure, he was back at the window. Waiting.

A few mums straggled by in ones and twos, but she
always seemed to walk back alone. Once he did see her ensconced in a large…
well, what was the collective noun for a group of mums? A cuddle? A warmth? A
smother? A smother of mothers, yes. Just once, anyway. She seemed to like walking
alone. Collecting her thoughts. Deciding what to do for the rest of the day.

Today, she walked past at 9.11am. That was about
average. He noted the time down on a small pad. He had started scribbling down
the times on the third day of watching her. Was that creepy? He just found it
interesting. He liked thinking about what she did in the time between when she
went to the school and when she returned.

She walked slowly, like a relaxed cat. Almost
sauntering. The sun seemed to sparkle in her hair. She wore pink lipstick. He
could see it even from his window. He imagined her putting it on in the
morning. She wasn’t a mum who would drop the kids off in the car while still
wearing slippers and her hair in curlers. Did women still use curlers these
days?

He was on the first floor, so he viewed her from an
angle. As she passed, she looked up at him, quite suddenly. His instinct was to
hide, to duck away. But that would just look more suspicious. So he stayed
where he was, frozen to the spot. Surely she couldn’t see his eyes from there?
With a glare from the sun on the window? No. No chance. He could be looking at
anything as far as she was concerned. So he stood, hand in his pocket, a slight
thrill coursing through him. Then she looked away.

This had happened before. At first, he thought he was
imagining things. But now she had looked at least three times, maybe four. It
was as if she knew he had been watching her and she was trying to catch him
out. She never looked angry. She just glanced, almost checking that he was
there.

Was this wrong? He was married after all. Did this make
him a Peeping Tom? A pervert? A sex pest? Maybe. But it didn’t stop him
imagining running his hands through her hair or gripping her arse or carefully
placing his thick cock between those voluptuous tits…

Fantasies. Harmless fantasies.

She
knew he was watching. She had first clocked him a couple of weeks earlier,
looking out his window while she took the kids to school. The first time, she
just smiled. She could tell he was looking at her and she enjoyed the sensation
of being looked at. She could feel his eyes following her as she walked down
the road to the school.

After
that, she would try and sneak a look every time she walked past, to see if he
was standing there. He always was. She knew that he was waiting specifically
for her. Sometimes she would deliberately look right at him to try to make him
feel uncomfortable about his obvious voyeurism. Other times, to be coy, she
would pretend to ignore him completely, hoping this would drive him even
crazier.

She
never had a very clear view of him, she could never gather the nerve to stop
and get a proper look. But what she had seen, she liked. Smart, ironed shirt
and simple tie. Broad shoulders and no gut. Short, dark hair. Rough, designer
stubble. The eyes… she knew they would be blue, piercing, clear, somehow
betraying a primal instinct.

So
she started thinking a little more about what she would wear to drop the kids
off. A few weeks earlier, it would be whatever she could find that was
reasonably respectable in the few spare moments she had in the mornings between
showering, checking her husband had sorted out the kids’ breakfasts, getting
the kids ready for school, kissing her husband goodbye and gulping down a black
coffee. Now, she found herself rising 15 minutes earlier, just before the kids
woke at around six. She would go to her wardrobe and try to imagine what the
man in the window wanted to see.

Sometimes
it would be her skinny jeans, which she knew her arse looked phenomenal in,
because her husband had told her that many, many times. Once or twice it would
be a short, tight skirt, the kind she hardly ever wore these days and
absolutely not appropriate for a walk to school, but she was sure he would get
a kick out of seeing her in it. She wore fishnets. She wore a taut blouse with
buttons that strained hard against the pressure of her boobs. On one
particularly warm, sunny day, she wore a spaghetti-strapped top, cut off denim
shorts and sandals. That day, as she returned from the school, she looked him
right in the eye for at least three seconds, almost daring him to come and
speak to her. But he just stood there, impassive, staring back, hands in
pockets. She knew – she
knew
– that he was desperate to
touch his cock while he looked at her.