Authors: Violet Blue
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Anthologies (Multiple Authors), #Erotica, #Romance, #Contemporary
Sweet Danger (24 page)
Another one is fucking you now, his condom-sheathed cock shoved deep inside you while you moan and buck against him. One of the men in your mouth climaxes, and you slurp it up audibly. Another comes in your hand and shoots his load across your face. You lick and suck and lap and writhe in their arms.
While they’re all over you on the couch, I move the drinks from the coffee table to the mantle. Then I get the foamrubber pad and the extra sheet from the closet and lay it on the sturdy coffee table.
With only the slightest suggestion from me, they move you over onto the now-padded coffee table, stretching you out on it and spreading your legs. It’s just high enough that the one who first rolls on a condom and crouches over you can easily slide in your well-lubed cunt while your head hangs easily off the far end. Tipped down like that, it will be easy for you to deep-throat. You open wide, and three men in turn slide their cocks down your throat as the fourth crouches over you, fucking, and you jerk two more off with your hands. I crane my head to watch. Each man who throat-fucks you takes his time, letting you inhale, gulp, swallow, choke a little, struggle, and then take him down your throat. Seeing that, others want to get into the act. I think you must deep-throat eight of the ten in that unbelievably hot-looking position, and I crowd in to watch every sliding cock go down your throat.
The man fucking you comes. He pulls out holding the condom. Another takes his place.
I hand him a vibrator, the plug trailing a long, brown extension cord.
I’ve decided it’s time for you to come. You have no objection. He seems to know his way around a vibrator and applies it to your clit with firm pressure. You cry out as he enters you. He starts fucking you hard, vibrator pressed to your clit. Men trade off sliding their cocks into your mouth, fucking your tipped-back face as you get fucked and dish out hand jobs. It isn’t long before you let out a grunting yell around the cock you’re sucking. The one in your mouth pulls out so everyone can hear you come. You come hard, shuddering all over and making the coffee table rattle.
As soon as you’re finished, they’re back to taking turns with your face, and the man fucking you is back at that, too, vibe discarded. He fucks you hungrily, intent on his own pleasure.
One of them lingers in your throat, slowly fucking your face as you grunt, gasp, and moan. He slaps his cock across your face lightly and you maul at it, capturing it between your full, lipstick-smeared lips and thrusting yourself onto it. You let him fuck your face for a long series of thrusts, until he gasps and pulls out and strokes his cock off on your face. You stick your tongue out and lap at his jizz. Two men in your hands also grunt and groan and start humping against your grasp, their cocks lubed with pre-come, spit, and sweat. They shoot all over your tits. You smear it in and lick it off your fingers as the one in your pussy comes. Four more men are there to use you. For one, it’s not his first time—but then, who can blame him? It’s a gang bang, and there’s plenty of you to go around. What’s wrong with being a little greedy?
When the coffee table starts to creak and moan with the weight and the hard heavy thrusting, I spread out a blanket and you move to the floor, face-down, ass-up, moaning as you jerk and stroke and slurp and suck and get fucked.
It two a.m. before you’re finally sated. Or maybe it’s that they’re sated—you’ve worn them out. My cock’s been throbbing hard the whole time, and I could have joined in any time I wanted to. But that’s not the point.
When they’re finished, a few want to shower. Others dress, still sticky with your sweat and your juice and their come. At least half of them say “Thank you” to me, looking bewildered, like they’re thinking, “What does a man say to the husband in a slutwife gang bang?”
I respond by grasping their hands in a warm, friendly handshake, both our hands sticky with come, lube, and pussy.
“Thanks, man. Hope to see you next time.”
It’s fucking ludicrous, to treat something this sacred like a friendly neighborhood get-together. Or is it?
I don’t care. You’re squirming on the blanket, hips still moving, gone mad with the craziness of it all. Your hair is matted with come. Your face is sticky with it. Your pussy pours juice. Come runs in rivulets down your belly.
I pick you up in my arms and carry you to bed.
I’m going to bathe you, yes, but all in good time. We’ve got business first.
I pull back the covers and lay you out in our bed, soiling clean sheets with come. You lay there, spread and squirming and moaning. You’re naked. The shoes and the stockings and every last shred of your teddy are long gone. You’re bare. Your body drips.
I take off my clothes and make love to you tenderly. You’re completely relaxed, almost half-conscious, your cunt and your tits and your mouth and your throat raw with use. I go as gently as I can, and when I enter you—without protection, of course—you rise up to meet me even though I can feel the swollen roughness of your well-used sex. You still feel tight.
I fuck you very gently, but there’s not much I can do to hold myself back.
I last a minute at most.
You sense my climax arriving. You wrap your come-slick legs around me and pull me close and hard onto you. You grip me and moan as I come in your pussy. You caress me. You sigh.
You’ve got one last orgasm in you, I’ve decided. I lick my way down your body, tasting other men’s come.
It’s only lube in your pussy, of course—weirdly sweet lube mingled with my own come. I lick it tenderly, well aware that you’re hypersensitive. I go slow, take my time, and take
your
time. You’re exhausted, but you prop yourself up in the bed and look down at me, gazing into my eyes as my face works between your spread thighs. I lap at your cunt and then, when it’s time, I lick up to your clit.
your
time. You’re exhausted, but you prop yourself up in the bed and look down at me, gazing into my eyes as my face works between your spread thighs. I lap at your cunt and then, when it’s time, I lick up to your clit.
I know your body well enough to make you come even when you swear you can’t. This time, you don’t swear you can’t. Your exhaustion has given way to a superhuman kind of need. You want to give me this. You want to grant me this last chance to please you.
Your thighs close tight around my head as you explode. You ride me as you come. I keep working my tongue on your clit until you’ve clawed away the contour sheets, and they go bunched and moist off under your back—until your moaning turns to whimpers.
Then I kiss my way back up your come-soiled body and kiss you gently on the mouth.
The last of the ritual has to wait, I guess. I had planned to bathe you gently in warm water, with sponges and flowerscented body wash. But you’re snoring before I can even discuss it with you.
So I stretch out next to you and feel the sticky warmth of your come-covered body against mine.
I kiss your neck and fall asleep.
Moneymaker
ISABELLE ROSS
You slam the motel room door and shove me up hard against it. My breath quickens. I watch in trembling fear as you reach around me and lift the chain lock. You put it in the notch and slide it home.
“I’ll need the money first,” I say, my voice trembling.
You push up hard against me, your cock stiff in leather pants. You brush my bottle-blonde hair out of my face and say: “You’ll need the money
never
. You work for
me
now.”
never
. You work for
me
now.”
I open my mouth as if to scream, but you get your hand across my face. You tell me, “Shhhhh” and put your hand up my skirt, squeeze my asscheeks, and kick my legs open.
You shove your hand into my panties and feel my cunt. I’m shaved and wet. You start fingering my pussy.
“How long you been turning tricks?” you ask me.
“A while,” I say.
You shove two fingers into me. I gasp and moan.
“Bullshit,” you say. “I know what a well-used cunt feels like, and this ain’t it. You’re fresh, darling. Not for long, but you’re fresh. I get to sample you. Now tell Daddy the truth. How long you been turning tricks?”
My voice shakes. “You’re my first,” I say.
“I doubt that.” You spank me, pull my hair. “Nice sweet college girl. Thought she’d dabble a little? Make some extra cash between internships?”
“Something like that,” I say.
You pull my hair and make me squeal. You smack my ass.
“You lose that smart mouth or I’ll bury it,” you tell me. “You got a boyfriend?”
“Fiancé.”
“He know what you are?”
“Yeah,” I nod.
“He know you’re a whore?”
“Uh-huh,” I nod.
“He know you suck strange cocks for money?”
“Yes.” I’m breathing hard now, increasingly aroused.
“He know you take strange cocks in your holes?”
I nod and moan.
“He know you take dick in your ass?”
I shake my head fervently. “I don’t. I don’t do Greek!”
You spank me, making me grunt in rising pain. “You do now. He get off on it?”
I gasp: “Who?”
“See? You’re forgetting about him already. Good girl. I mean your fiancé. He get off on fucking a whore?”
I whimper. You spank me again. You shove your hand around my body, up my skirt, into my panties, and finger me hard, grinding your stiffening cock against my ass.
“Kinda,” I say.
“Sounds like more than ‘kinda,’” you say, rubbing my clit. I moan and rub back against you.
You drag me away from the door and shove me over the bed, pinning me under you. You kick my legs open wide again and hold me there, spread and exposed, half on the bed with my high-heeled shoes dangling. You spank me five or six more times, making me wriggle and fight. You pull my hair and spank me harder in response. You start to finger me.
I’m wetter than when you started, much wetter.
“Your boyfriend the one who sends you out on the street to whore?”
“Fiancé,” I correct, and you pull your fingers out of me and spank my ass again, harder than ever this time, maybe ten times, sharp smacks echoing through the small motel room as you do. I cry out as the stinging pain gets too much to take.
You shove your fingers back in my panties and finger me.
“I asked you a question,” you say.
“Yes,” I say. “He’s the one who whores me out.”
“You like making money for your man?”
I nod, squirming on your fingers.
“You like making money for your daddy?” you say.
I nod more eagerly, pushing my ass up into the air to fuck myself onto your fingers.
“You like taking strange cock for your daddy? What was your name again?”
“Katrina,” I murmur, my words muffled by the pillow I’ve shoved my face into.
“Oh, don’t worry about screaming, Katrina. They hear all sorts of funny things here. They don’t ever call the cops. I asked you if you like taking strange cocks bareback and begging for it up your ass and sucking filthy men’s cocks for your big, bad, loving daddy, Katrina. You like all that?”
I throw back my head and gasp and squeal, on the very brink of orgasm. I shake back and forth. I hump on your fingers.
“I asked you a question, Katrina. You like all that? You like being a whore for your daddy?”
“Yes,” I manage to choke out, as I fuck myself up against your hand. I’m incredibly close. But you don’t let me come.
You pull me off the bed and shove me onto my knees. I kneel there, heaving and panting, as you sit on the bed and unzip your pants.
“Not anymore you don’t,” you say. “You like doing all those things for
me
. I’m your daddy now, Katrina. That old boyfriend of yours? Mr. Nice Guy? The one who wanted to put a ring on your finger?”
me
. I’m your daddy now, Katrina. That old boyfriend of yours? Mr. Nice Guy? The one who wanted to put a ring on your finger?”
Your zipper comes down and your cock comes out. Holding my hair, you guide my face to your cock and shove it in my mouth.
I know I should fight, but I haven’t got it in me. I start sucking obediently, my mouth leaving tracks of cheap red lipstick up and down your pole. As I suck, you hold my hair out of the way so I can’t hide from your cold, probing eyes.
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