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Exhibition Season

She is spread across the hood. Her skin glistens like the waxed paint. She flicks out her tongue and caresses her full lips, lingering at the corners where the skin pinches together, promising a crease of another sort.

I secure the ropes at her wrists and give those at her ankles a tug against the stakes in the ground. They hold. She purses her lips and pushes out her chest. The bikini barely hides her puckered nipples. I reach beneath her and untie the string.

The bikini tumbles away down the slick side of the car and her breasts fall free. I treat her to three quick laps to each nipple with my tongue; she squirms and her crotch, hidden by the bikini bottom, rubs against the hood ornament. I imagine the taste: metal, flesh, arousal. I’m getting hard.

I slide down her silky side and nuzzle the place where her torso meets her legs. She giggles, the first sound without an intention of sensuality, and I get rock hard. I catch her eye. Even though she tries, she can’t completely hide her smile.

Catching the string in my teeth, I tug the bikini bottom’s knot free, then the other side. I flip it over my shoulder so it lands out in the field. I hope she can’t find it. Some evidence of what we’ve done here should remain.

Now she starts to wriggle in earnest, testing the knots. I have done my job well and she gets no leeway. Leaving one last kiss right above her pussy, I step back to admire my work.

Her brown hair falls in curls around her head, pillowing her neck. Her face is red from exertion and arousal. She has a soft birthmark just inside her thigh. She is completely trapped against the hood of my Mercedes.

I step towards her and gather saliva in my mouth. I bend over her, centered over the hood ornament, and I begin to taste her. Slowly. With deliberation. With every stroke of my tongue, I think of a reason I love her.

For her part, she gives in. Trusts me. Her thighs blush with the blood rushing to accommodate her desire. I kiss them too, savoring each flavor of her skin, her sweat.

Finally I need her more than I can stand. I slide her gently to one side and, for the first time, stand on my toes so I can kiss her. She succumbs with a soft moan.

I am ready. She is more than welcoming, gaped open by the ropes but still tight with youth and care. I gather myself in one hand and slither to either side of her opening, the tip of my cock twitching with pleasure.

Inside, she is a shelter, a sanctuary. I find my way into her depths, pressing my body down on hers, listening for the telltale changes in her breathing. She pants; she wants it all. I give in, my cock relenting where my nature would tease her longer.

She comes first, flailing against the ropes, her face contorting into the beautiful, terrible intimacy of an orgasm. I follow her into bliss. For a moment, the universe exists for our pleasure. Not alone, but entangled.

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Multiple Equations

Pentagons and Parallelograms was the strangest name for a club, thought Dan, but he was a strange kid and felt welcome in the math department.  So he signed up with his phone number and went back to his room to wait.

His phone buzzed not thirty minutes later: Welcome to P&P.  Bring a towel.  Larson Building, Room D.

Room D was, very solidly, the basement of the Larson Building, where the math students clustered to give their long-winded presentations on high concepts.  Dan descended the stairs as softly as he could, though the pulse coming through the double doors in front of him voided the necessity for silence.

Dan put his hand to the door to go inside, but magically it swung open before he could touch it.  Inside was a cacophony of strobe lights, laser lights, and stage smoke.  Everyone was naked.

Dan actually gasped.  "Whaaat?  This is Pentagons and Parallelograms?“

"Indeed it is,” said a silky voice at his side.  He turned to see a girl no older than he was, her brown hair done up in huge movie-star ringlets.  Below bounced a pair of juicy, enticing breasts.  Hungrily, Dan traced her sleek shape down to her navel and below.  She was short-cropped and tidy and swollen.

She saw him looking and patted her mound with a teasing smile.  "I’m Stephie.  Come to enjoy yourself?“

"Show me everything,” Dan managed.

Stephie giggled and took his hand.  She tugged as if to lead him towards some part of the room, but stopped abruptly so that his fingers caught under her ass.  Glancing over her shoulder, she nodded her satisfaction.  "Good.  Start there.  Work your way around.  We’ll get you to the others eventually.“

Dan’s mouth worked, but he had forgotten how to string words together.  His eyes darted as he sought signs that this was more than a dream.  Men and women lay stretched out to five points on various pentagon-shaped mats laid out while others, one to an erogenous zone, stretched out around them and pleasured them with tongues and hands and their own bodies.  Other couples and triples lay spooning or rocking gently in sideways penetration.

"The faculty has no idea.  Well, except the ones who are here.”  Stephie brought his attention back to her by taking his other hand and stroking herself down her sides with them.  Dan found that his shorts were providing little cover for his massive hard-on.

“Oh?  You really wanna get started?”  Stephie clutched at his cock in her nimble fingers, making Dan swallow hard.

“Uh – yeah, yeah, I do.”  He pulled his shirt off, then stood with it dangling awkwardly from his hand.  "What about – “

"Clothes are for idiots,” Stephie said with an almost predatory grin, and she proceeded to remove his shorts.  Then she got down on her knees and tossed her head back so her hair fell away from her face.  Dan noticed there was a tiny gap between her two front teeth.  It made him smile.

It made him moan when she scraped those teeth gently down his cock, one hand clutching at his ass, the other slipping between his cheeks to tease the wrinkly skin of his asshole.

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Dirty Counters

“Aren’t you done?  I’m done.  Done done done.”  Alexa swung the whisk around, flicking bits of egg mixture everywhere.  "We wake up, there’s something to do.  We come home, there’s something to do.  We go out for a couple of hours, and we get back and we get glared at.“

Jensen hunched over his own mixing bowl, his fingers worrying at the half-frozen ground beef.  "Shhh.  Baby girl.  You think I’m not in the same boat you are?  Of course I’m done cooking for ungrateful people.  Just – light at the end of the tunnel.”

“I just – wish there was something we could do.”  Alexa tapped the whisk on the side of the bowl and dropped it into the sink.  "Y’know, for our own evil purposes.  Or whatever.“

"We could fuck on the counters.”  Jensen said it so quietly she had to lean towards him to hear it.

“What?”

“You heard me.”  He didn’t look up at her, but the corner of his mouth twitched playfully.  "I’ll fuck your brains out on the counters, and every time they cook, you can laugh to yourself.“

"Iiiii,” she said, drawing out the word as she slunk around the island towards him, “like it.”

Jensen slammed the bowl down on the stovetop, looking her hungrily in the face.  "I didn’t ask you if you liked it.“  He reached for her and took her shirt in both hands, wrenching it off over her head.  His lips locked with hers, and their tongues danced as he undid her pants and yanked them down her legs.  She went for his shirt, tugging it over his glasses, careful not to let it catch.

Jensen caught her up by the waist and hoisted her onto the counter; Alexa’s toes curled into the waistline of his pants and pushed them down over his ass.  His cock emerged, aching towards her.  She pushed aside some dishes and ignored the crumbs digging into her thighs.  Tugging her towards the edge of the counter so she was just balanced, Jensen teased her entrance and then entered her.

Alexa tossed back her head and laughed wildly.  "Sweet, sweet fucking revenge.”

Jensen grunted in reply.  He held her waist with one hand and the counter with the other, while she grabbed onto his shoulders and rested her other hand next to his against the polished counter surface.  Their skin slick with droplets of dishwater, they rocked until the knife block rattled.  Alexa tossed her head back, panting and laughing.

“Harder!” she cried out, and Jensen doubled his pace, his cock swelling and sweat beading on his brow as he strove for Alexa’s satisfaction rather than a quick finish.  She obliged, her inner walls clenching him to her, reminding him of her closeness.  He took a deep breath, thrilling at the smell of her hair and skin, and came.  He dropped his hand to make circles on her clit, bringing her to climax again, and they shuddered together.  She collapsed against him.

“I’m not cleaning the counter,” she giggled into his ear.

“Me either,” he murmured back, then drew back, touched her chin, and kissed her.

“I love you.”

“Always,” she said, kissing him back.

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En-Twinned

Clara and Tara.  They had always been Clara and Tara, twins extraordinaire, inseparable from the day they were born.  Their mother proudly hung a photograph of the two girls, tiny and newborn, their eyes tightly shut and their tiny hands intertwined.

Clara yawned and sat up, her perky breasts swaying on her chest as she leaned over the lump beside her.  "Morning, Tara.“

Tara’s green eyes fluttered open.  "Morning, Clara.”

Clara leaned down and nibbled her sister’s ear.  "Are you ready to get up yet?  Cause it’s Saturday and I’m not.“

"Awww.”  Tara rolled over, pushing herself up on one elbow to smile coyly at her sibling.  "Are you a horny girl?“

"Maaaybe.”  Clara tried to arrange her features demurely, but Tara was laughing.

“Darling.  Don’t.  Just be yourself.  That’s what I love about you.”  She cupped her twin’s chin in her hand and tilted her face so their eyes met.  "Really.  You.“

Clara moved so their lips brushed, barely at first, then with more ferocity.  Tara’s hand slid up Clara’s bare leg, stopping when it encountered the insignificant barrier of Clara’s pink thong.  Nibbling Clara’s lip, Tara maneuvered her fingers to remove the thong in one swift tug.

"Mmm, you’re brilliant,” Clara murmured, her lip caught between Tara’s teeth.  "You’re going to make some little boy a very happy man.“

"Maybe,” Tara said, rolling onto her stomach and tugging back the covers so her sister’s bright, short-cropped hairs were visible.  Lazily tracing the outline of Clara’s mound with a red-tipped nail, she added, “Or maybe I’ll just stick with the one who makes me happy.”

“Sissy.”  Clara planted a kiss on the top of Tara’s bright blue hair.  "No promises you can’t keep if you’ve got the butterflies.“

"Until then,” Tara said, and buried her face in Clara’s lap.  She sought out the familiar, sweet, sensitive areas with her tongue, stroking them with all the love she could muster.  Clara tossed her head back, leaning against the headboard, and sighed.

“I would miss – ahhhhh! – waking up like this.  No man is as talented – ooohhhhhh – as you.”

Tara’s tongue darted in and out of Clara’s pussy at an impossible speed.  She lifted her head, her chin shining with Clara’s moistness, and grinned almost evilly.  "Nope.  And that’s the secret.  I can be into girls as long as I want and I’ll never be lonely.“

"I will never turn you down,” Clara said with a light laugh.  She pushed her sister so Tara sprawled, hair like a sea-colored halo about her head, her dusky skin contrasting the old quilt they had always shared.  Clara parted Tara’s lower lips with her hand and gazed admiringly for a moment.  "And I’ll always return the favor.“

She swiped her tongue across the length of Tara’s pussy, eliciting a shiver and whimper, and ducked to her work.

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The Vending Machine

There is already someone bent over the open vending machine when I creep down the empty hall with my quarters.  Cursing my bad luck, I stand a few yards away, weighing my options: I can wait until I get home, another five hours and a midnight away, or I can wait until the vending machine attendant is finished and get my goddamn peanut M&Ms.

I watch for another moment.  The man is black, clean-shaven, and appears to be well-built, even squatting down junk food scattered around him.  I’ve seen him before—he’s our regular stocking guy.  Perhaps, I think, palming my quarters, he’ll trade me something for an extra fifty cents.

The coins jangle and the man perks up.  I grumble, but it’s too late.  “Hi,” I say.

He sizes me up, getting in an extra long, lazy look.  The back of my neck warms.  “Well hello there,” he says, grinning to show very white, very straight teeth.  “I didn’t think anyone was workin’ this late.”

“Just me,” I say with a dramatic sigh.  I chuckle.  “Normally even I don’t indulge in night-owl shifts, but this project has to get done.”

“Ahhh.”  He straightens up, and I realize he is much taller than I am, and that his hands are rough but the calluses are worn down.  “Need some relief?”

“What?”  I almost don’t comprehend what he’s saying, but then I do, and the absence of my jacket is suddenly obvious.  “Oh.  Heh.”  A nervous laugh.  “I mean, I’m at work.  You don’t think—I mean, I guess no one’s—yeah.  Yeah.”   My hands go to my button-down shirt and flick open the top three.  “Take me against the vending machine.”  I kick my flip-flops against the wall.

His whole face beams.  “Yes ma’am.”  He undoes his pants, drops them down to his feet, extends his hand.  “I’m Trevor.”

“Michi,” I say.

He tries out my name and it sounds good coming out in his honey voice.  “Michi.  Pretty name, pretty lady.”

I’m down to a cami and skirt.  The latter I hoist above my waist, revealing the pussy I remembered to shave this morning.  Trevor gazes at it, gives an admiring nod, and then squats down just like he was when I first saw him.  Only this time his mouth is level with my clit, and he takes advantage of this fact.  In seconds I have one hand in his short hair and the other against the wall, and I’m moaning as he swirls my whole lower business with his tongue.

He strokes to both sides of my labia; he pinches my clit between his thick lips and makes me squeal.  Finally, panting, I tap the side of his face gently.  “My turn.”

He obliges, draping his massive, cut cock over the top of his boxers.  I gaze at it for a moment, imagining taking its bulk in my tiny Asian cunt.  “Mmm.  I’ll manage.”  I tilt my eyes upwards and give him a conspiratorial look before taking as much in my mouth as I can.  I gag and he sighs, hands to my hair.  He rocks that way for a while and I experiment with my teeth, my tongue, my palate.

Trevor is grunting with every movement now and he knows he’s close.  He pushes me away and then grabs my wrists, pulling me up and turning me around so my back is to the vending machine in the same movement.  One hand toys with my breasts and the other brings his cock to the right level and he hovers there.

“Ready?” he asks, and I nod.  He pushes in.  He fills me completely; I can feel him pushing into the back of me.  I feel gloriously helpless, pinned against the warm glass of the vending machine.  Trevor flicks wildly at my nipples, his other hand massaging my mound, and then he comes, leaning into me.  I lean back and we feel like one creature, shaking together.

After a second, Trevor plants a kiss on the top of my head.  “Best day at work ever.”

“Agreed.”  I squeeze his elbow and, when he lets me go, start to collect my clothes.  “Hey, maybe I’ll start working later more often.”

“I’d like that,” he says, grinning, and rips the tape off a box of peanut M&Ms.

I laugh and hand him five quarters.  He hands me back a packet and tips an invisible cap.  I head back to my desk with new energy.

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Dimensional Attraction

Velvet touch.  Perfect rhythm.  Pierre closed his eyes and willed her to come all over him.  She obliged, her eyes flying open, her body overloaded.

“Captain!”  The computer’s flat voice cut in with a special note of panic.  “We’re leaking atmosphere!”

Pierre leaped up, flailing to cast aside the simulation.  It collapsed in on itself in a cacophony of scattered light and garbled sound.  “Fuck!  Get it sealed down!”  He groped at the edges of his jumpsuit, trying to force his disappointed cock back inside.

“Don’t bother,” said a silky voice beside him.

Pierre froze.  Someone was standing right behind him, her long-clawed hands draped over his shoulders like the ends of a very sharp scarf.  Her breath, like rose petals and old books, prickled at the spot just behind his ear.

There were no females, human or alien, on board his ship beyond the models contained in the AI for virtual reality.  He steeled himself against the distinct possibility of death as he turned around.

She was incandescent: sparks showered all around her, but these winked out of existence before they came into contact with anything real.  Her whole slender, black-clad body—or was she clad?  It could have been downy fur—shimmered as if not quite present.  If her claws hadn’t been digging into his neck, Pierre would have guessed she was a hologram.

“Down, boy,” she purred, and he tumbled back into the simulation chair.  Instantly she was straddling him, rubbing her tight-wrapped crotch against his cock, still dangling out of the jumpsuit.  Pierre shuddered towards her.

“Who the hell—”

“An inter-dimensional being hell-bent on getting laid.  Now, are you going to fuck me or what?”  The creature began to peel off her own suit, and Pierre saw that she did indeed have fur, but it was a rich blue and curled in tight kinks.  He reached up a hand without thinking and touched it; she hissed and snapped at his fingers, her teeth puncturing the air where his skin had been seconds before.

“You’ll break the slipstream,” she mewled.  “I’m riding behind a warship.  I’ve got about…”  She glanced down at something on her wrist, though Pierre saw nothing there.  “Forty-five seconds.”

He shrugged and tugged at his cock, his eyes taking her in.  She had no reason to be here, on his ship—there were hundreds within range, silently orbiting the Zeus station.  As if in answer to his unspoken question, she said, “Size matters,” and then settled her entrance right over the tip of his cock.

There was an audible rush of air, and he found himself sucked up inside of her.  He flinched, expecting pain, but instead a very active set of muscles rippled up and down the length of his shaft, bringing him to the brink in seconds.

“Aahhwraanbeffflisshhhhh,” he attempted.  The creature grinned and buckled down to the business of riding him.  Pierre fell into it, relishing the touch of real flesh instead of the half-hearted squeeze of a simulation; his head lolled on the simulation chair and he tried to size her up, figure out what kind of a being she was, whatever he could think of not to come too soon.

Her claws were dangerously close to puncturing his skin, but rested lightly enough that she never drew blood.  Still, she raked them down his sides, drawing responses from nerves he had never even known were in his body.  Suddenly, she rippled and faded, almost gone, her face contorting as her vagina tightened around him.

“Gods!” she screeched, and as Pierre’s whole body rippled with an orgasm, the tension released from his cock and he spurted into the air.  There was only a lingering scent of roses and ancient pages as the roar of a warship passed by.

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On Your Knees

Kenza slumped through the doorway and tossed her shoulderbag onto the couch.  It fell open and her new library books tumbled onto the floor.  "Shit,“ she said, kneeling to pick them up.

Orion’s soft footfalls made her glance up and clutch the books to her chest.  He yawned and rubbed at his scruff, taking her in.  A slow smile spread across his face.

"Home so soon?”

“Yes sir,” Kenza mumbled, trying to put the books back into the bag.  "Didn’t mean to wake you.“

"Well.  Now that you have,” Orion said, sprawling on the couch with his legs open, letting his cock dangle from the gaping leg hole, “you can make up for it.”

“Yes sir.”  Kenza pushed the last of the books out of sight.  Orion’s eyebrow rose.

“What did you check out?”

“Nothing,” she started, but then shook her head and said instead, “Technique books.”

“Oh?  Technique on what?”

Kenza slowly raised her eyes, finally letting a little mischief dance in her eyes.  "Better serving you.“

"Oh.  Oh I see.  Well.”  Orion threaded his hands behind his head and gazed back at the ceiling.  "I assume you pawed through them while you were browsing.  Why don’t you get up here and show me what you’ve learned?“

Kenza took her hair down and contained herself between his open legs.  She tugged at his waistline and he obligingly sat up enough for her to slip off the boxers.  His cock lay against his thigh, dark and warming.  She put her lips to the head and began to swirl her tongue.

Orion suddenly twitched.  Kenza froze, worried she had done something wrong, but then he had his fingers under her chin, gently tilting her head back to study her face.  "Hey.  Are you okay?”

The facade was gone.  A tear slipped down Kenza’s cheek.  "No.  Not really.“

Orion sized her up for a moment longer, then nodded decisively.  "Okay.  Then you can tell me about it after you finish with me.”

Warmth spread through Kenza; her dom – the love of her life – always knew exactly what she needed and when.  "Yes sir.“

"On your knees, bitch,” he said, and pushed her forward, pulling her yoga pants and thong down her ass.  Kenza closed her eyes, smiling and wincing at the same time.  He slapped her on each cheek, then licked his hand and dragged it across her pussy to moisten it.

“Take it,” Orion said, and thrust into her.

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The Preacher’s Daughter

Svetlana glowered at the droplet of sweat threatening to tumble down into her eyes.  She tried to blow at it but it stubbornly danced to the edge of her eyebrow, then plunked down on her cheek.  She sighed and prodded at another piece of garbage.

Community service was stupid, when you got down to it, especially as a punishment for bad behavior.  Svetlana refused to call it anything else.  Bad behavior just sounded so ridiculous.

“Hey, hon, you want a drink?”

The sweet voice caught her attention and she jerked her iPhone’s headphones out with an elbow.  "What?“

A pretty red-headed girl, tall and slender and dressed in a very modest green dress, stood at the doorway of the nearby church.  She waved, ensuring she had Svetlana’s attention, then cupped her hands over her mouth.  "I have lemonade!  Inside.”  She gestured and then vanished inside the church.

Svetlana narrowed her eyes.  The day was oppressive, but she had an irrational fear of all things religious.  But.  The girl was cute, whoever she was, and maybe she could drag out a break to cover some of the pesky required hours.

She left her stick and bags where they were and sprinted across the ditch to the church door.  Inside it was quiet and cool and smelled like old people.  She sighed and made for the one visible light, which turned out to be illuminating a kitchenette.

The girl was standing over the sink, pouring lemonade from a pitcher into two Dixie cups.  Svetlana could not contain her chuckle.  "Are those for midgets?“

"Sorry,” the girl said quickly, turning an apologetic smile towards her guest.  "They’re the kids’ cups.  It’s all I’ve got.  I can always top you off!  I’m Esther, by the way.“

"Esther,” Svetlana repeated, then held out her hand.  "Svetlana.  Resident punk.“

Esther laughed, and Svetlana found herself warming everywhere at the sound.  "I’m the preacher’s daughter, but there’s no need to pretend you’re awful.”  She reached for the pitcher again, but this time she spilled one of the little cups across her chest.  The dress immediately became see-through and clung to her skin.  "Oh gosh,“ she said, and rested her forearm between her breasts as if to preserve her modesty.

Svetlana’s eyebrows rose.  "My fault.  Want help?”

“Sure.  Yech.  It’s all sticky.”  Esther began to shrug out of her dress, and Svetlana almost withdrew her helping hands.  Almost.  She felt Esther’s silky-smooth skin as she lifted the sopping dress over the other girl’s head and left her standing there in granny panties and a loose camisole.  Somehow, it was the most adorable thing Svetlana had ever seen.

She realized she was posing against the counter.  "Hey,“ she said suddenly, as if just thinking of it, "can I kiss you?”

Esther turned hot pink, but the blush crept down her body and Svetlana knew she was not against the idea.  "I mustn’t,“ the preacher’s daughter said softly.  "It’s against God’s – ”

Svetlana crossed the distance between them and planted her lips very firmly on Esther’s.  She wanted to search out the girl’s tongue with hers, but restrained herself, waiting for a reaction.  Esther stiffened at first, but as Svetlana did not move away she began to relax.

They broke away for breath, both panting.

“Gosh,” Esther said again, and then in a move that seemed almost practiced, she reached to put her fingers under Svetlana’s chin.  "I’d best try again.  Just to see if that’s really – what God – didn’t…“

And she kissed Svetlana again.  They came together, body to body, keenly aware of sweat and lemonade.  Svetlana thought about how Esther tasted like lemons and sweetness, and she trailed her tongue hungrily along the other’s girl’s chin.

"May I?” she asked as she slowly crouched.  Esther bit her lip, nodded.

“Forgive me, God,” she whispered as Svetlana slipped her hand inside her panties.

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Allies

Jim was falling asleep over his half-emptied pint of beer, his forehead dotted with foam from the rim.  A gentle hand touched his shoulder and he started, his hand flying to his empty holster before he remembered he had left his sidearm back at the camp.

His alarm faded as he peered up at Lily the barmaid, a busty Scottish implant who had come down to take over her cousin’s pub when he joined the British ranks.  She smiled at him.  "Ach, poor Jim, too tired tae finish ‘is beer.“

"Tired, cold, and lonely,” Jim said morosely, patting the side of his glass.  "Right now in Mississippi it’s gettin’ warm and here I am.“

"Yer doin’ great things,” Lily reassured him, bending even lower so that his line of sight was filled with her pale breasts.  Escaped strands of her red-brown hair tickled them so the barely-visible nipples puckered.  "I ‘ave tae say, ye deserve better than yer cold room.  Wish tae join me?“

New energy rushed through Jim’s limbs.  "In fact I do, ma’am.”

“Lily,” she corrected with a laugh, “it’s Lily.”

She pointed towards a door in the back and went to turn the sign at the entrance to CLOSED.  Then she shooed him into the back, where there was a small cot and a generous pile of wool blankets.

Jim suddenly found himself self-conscious.  He hadn’t been with a woman in months – years, if you didn’t count the farewell blowjob his high school crush Miriam had given him before deployment.  He swallowed hard, taking in Lily’s ample form as she undid the fasteners on her dress and her breasts swung free.

She reached for him.  "C’mere, love,“ she said, and guided his mouth to her.  Grateful for the instruction, he lapped at the hardening nipple, nibbling it so Lily squealed.  After a moment, she gave him a hearty shove and he fell backwards onto the cot.

"Pants off,” she ordered, and he scrambled to obey.  He took his cock in one hand and was about to warm up when Lily slapped the hand away.  She reached up and caught all her hair in one hand, then leaned dramatically over him and swirled her tongue down the length of his cock.  Jim arched his back and struggled to keep from coming – so long with so little time to touch himself, and he was ready to explode.

But he waited until Lily tugged her dress over her head and swung her pale white legs to either side of him.  She put her hands beneath his uniform and clutched at his chest.  "Mmm, do I love a hairy man,“ she said, muffled, into the top of his head.  Planting a kiss there, she reached down and slipped him inside of her.

Jim gasped.  She was warm and soft and tight, and already he could feel her relief dribbling between his balls.  He planted his hands firmly in her ass and held her down while thrusting up, and she threw back her head, laughing a wild, warrior-girl laugh.

"Ahhhch, dear sweet Lord above, but I needed tae fuck,” she said between laughs, and Jim clenched his teeth and shot into her.  He held on, unwilling to let go, until the spots faded from his eyes.

Lily patted his stomach and smiled.  "Good fer ye.  Now yer gonna suck my clit, love, for I still ‘ave tae get somethin’ out o’ this.“

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A Matter of Ass

There were three bare asses in a row, the girls bent over a railing, their heads together and giggling as they waited.  The girl from the front desk touched Whippet’s elbow.  "It’ll be those three.  Showers are in the back, towels on the shelves, and just wrap yourself up and stand over there and warm up. Seriously.  You’ll do great.“  She gave him a brilliant smile and was gone.

Whippet gulped and slunk across to the shower room.  He hosed off, trying to stop shaking.  You didn’t even use your real name, he reminded himself.  No one will know.

The towels were big and soft, and he lounged in them for a moment, enjoying the steam from the painfully hot shower before he slipped back into the main room.  The girls hadn’t moved, and their asses jiggled whenever they shifted, beckoning him.  He dropped his hand to his cock and encouraged its hardening.

The doors banged open.  "Right!  So let’s do this.”  The man that Whippet knew as Sam, one of the producers at the studio, crossed the room in three big strides.  "Where’s our man?“  He consulted his clipboard.  "Whippet?”

“Here,” Whippet said in a tiny voice.  Sam glanced up, his eyebrows betraying his skepticism, but he shrugged and made a checkmark.

“Cameras,” Sam said, and the girl from the front desk was at Whippet’s side again.

“This way,” she said, leading him to the three bare asses.  She took his hand and rested it on the first ass, a dark, savory round one.  "Whippet, this is Daisy.“

The girl looked over her shoulder, flashing her very white teeth.  "Hi, Whippet.  You gonna fuck me up the ass today?”

He swallowed again.  "Uh – sure, yeah, I’m gonna – “  He looked to the front desk girl, who gave him an expectant look.  "Fuck you so hard.”

“Oh good,” Daisy said, and turned away to giggle with her co-stars.

“Honey, and Fuschia,” the desk girl said, putting his hand on each ass in turn.  "You’ll love them.  They’re sweethearts.“

"Sweethearts.  Right.”  Whippet fumbled under the towel for his cock.  Someone whipped away the towel and turned a heat lamp towards them.  Whippet found that his shaking was slowing down.

The director cried, “Action!” and the girls wriggled over the railing for a while before they stood and presented themselves to Whippet.  He reached tentatively for their breasts, but soon the timidity was gone as they rubbed their bare flesh against his.

Then Daisy rolled in front of him and presented herself, cheeks spread wide.  Whippet gazed down at the tiny puckered hole and licked his lips.

“Kiss it,” the director called.

Whippet put one hand on each cheek and spread her wide.  He hesitated, then flicked out his tongue.  Daisy’s flavor was sweet and aromatic, completely unoffensive and very arousing.  He worked his way around the perimeter, then someone dashed up and slickened his cock with lube.

He took a deep breath and let her wiggle against him for a moment before he pressed the tip to her hole and pushed in.  She opened to receive him, tightening around his shaft, and he groaned. “Oh god.  Godddd.”

“Mmmm.  I like you right there.  Go deeper in my ass.”

Whippet began to thrust, throwing his head back so he could concentrate.  When he looked down, Daisy’s soft back bobbing in front of him made him clench his nails into her thighs and squeeze.  She whimpered and shivered and Whippet found his vision going red.

Someone pulled him free and hands were on his cock.  He looked down to see Honey and Fuschia working him up and down, grinning.

“Can’t come too soon, lover boy,” Honey said, and he happily leaned into the mercy of their tongues.