Vesti la Giubba

It's stupid how fast he turns me on. Even fully clothed. When he grabbed my ass and told me to wear the gloves, just like that I was hot for him. Elegant on the outside, maybe, but underneath? Just another weak-kneed, wet-pantied girl, aching to be fucked.

He knew it, too. He slipped the usher a twenty to stand watch, then closed the curtains to our private box. The music began and so did he, smooth and slow so as not to draw attention. The zipper was easy. Shimmying out of the dress was tougher, but soon I was sitting there without a stitch on. -- Wait, I'm lying. I still wore the gloves.

I kept my eyes forward, prayed no one would look over. I was shaking: aroused, ashamed, my nipples hard, pulsing like twin beacons in the dark.

He waited until the applause to grip the back of my neck and pull me down face-first into his crotch, and when he forced his cock between my lips I could feel it in my cunt. Suddenly blissfully mindless, I slipped off the seat, knelt in front of him.

All at once, his come was hitting the back of my throat and somebody was slamming into my pussy from behind. I bit back a moan before he clapped his hand over my mouth. I twisted in pleasure, came so hard it was like I'd been punched in the gut.

Sighed.

Then wanted more.

Shameless.

He snickered, pinched a nipple, commanded, "Encore."

[written for Alison Tyler's pin-up girls contest]

[The cover girl that inspired the piece is here.]

(Fund) Raising the Roof

Wandering around the museum had been amusing for a while. Dinner was decent. But now, deep into the silent auction, I was bored as hell.

And then. His voice.

What he said wasn't important. A car with its headlights on or something. It was the deliciously gravelly, slightly drawling, disembodied voice itself that got me.

I found him at the information desk. Tickets were usually sold here but tonight it was just him, a lone guard keeping out the riffraff.

He looked at me, leered really, and I blushed. He beckoned me behind the desk and without a word started to touch me, sliding his hands under my dress, stroking me through my panties. I gasped, sighed, instantly wet. His mouth found my nipple and his fingers parted my pussy lips. I moaned, incoherent with sudden desire. He leaned me against the desk, undid his pants and began to fuck me, finally, finally murmuring in my ear. Cock and voice both drove into me, propelling me upwards. I came hard, dimly aware of being way too loud, my cries echoing in the entranceway like Muzak for perverts.

Later someone told me: our sounds had been piped throughout the building. Who knows whether I'd leaned on it accidentally or he'd purposely flipped the switch, but that entire crowd of hoity-toity rich folks had heard me pant and groan and wail my way through orgasm.

The benefit did better than ever that year. Turns out no one particularly likes a silent auction.

[written for Alison Tyler's sound and hearing contest]

Test Drive

This time, our little ritual may actually get us kicked out. This time you're really pushing it. Usually we just lie down together, bouncing experimentally, making a show of scrutinizing prices and features. The truth is we can't afford any of these beds, but we like to pretend.

But tonight something's gotten into you. Tonight when we lay down on the most plush and pristine floor model in the place, you pulled me close and kissed me lingeringly. You acted like we were home alone, in our own creaky hand-me-down bed. Tonight you teased my nipples, slipped your hand between my legs, made me squirm and shudder. The store was deserted, you said. No one would see.

Tonight when the salesman told us the store was closing, you made me ask how much weight the bed would hold, because I wanted to have two men at once. Tonight you invited him to touch me and watched while he stroked me through my panties. Tonight you pushed my face into the mattress and told him to finger me until I begged to be fucked. Tonight I begged and you shoved your cock into my mouth while the man thrust roughly into my pussy and I came for what felt like forever and I took it all and didn't spill a drop of come onto those clean white sheets.

Tonight we bought a bed and you made sure that tomorrow, when they bring it to our house, they'll send two delivery men.

[written for Alison Tyler's beds contest]
[The bed photo that inspired the piece is here.]

Stranger Things Have Happened

"So," you say, "let's go over this again."

I nod wordlessly, leaning into you.

"I go up to that stranger"--you let the word hang, knowing it's the whole point of the fantasy--"invite him over for a drink, and he comes to our table."

"Mm-hmm," I murmur, and you suck on my earlobe, making me sigh.

"I unbutton your blouse," you continue, "and then I undo your bra, let him look at your tits." Your fingers brush my already-hard nipples, and I shiver. My pussy's throbbing.

"I hike up your skirt, spread your legs so he can see your panties," you go on, sliding a hand across my thigh, grazing my clit. "Then I pull them aside so he sees how wet your cunt is." You feel for yourself, and I can't help moaning.

"And then I let him have his way with you," you finish. "There's just one thing," you say, and I look at you. I'm so dizzy with desire it takes me a moment to recognize what you're holding: the belt to your raincoat.

"I don't trust you to keep your hands to yourself," you chide, drawing my wrists behind my back and tying them securely.

I don't know what to say. This wasn't part of the plan.

You make quick work of the blouse's buttons, of the bra's clasp. I feel cool air on my exposed skin, my torso now bared to the waist. And then you're gone, walking toward the bar.

I wait, trembling.

[written for Alison Tyler's "tie me up" contest]