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Coming Out

Eliza’s hands were beading sweat against her fleece jacket.  She couldn’t meet Hannah’s eyes.  "So – yeah.  That’s it, I guess.“

"You’re a lesbian.”  Hannah pulled her legs up under her on her bed, cupping her chin in her hand.  "You like girls.“

Eliza nodded.  The prospect of the conversation had been terrifying, informing her closest female friend of her previously hidden desires.  Well, not for her.  Not necessarily.  Eliza steeled herself against that.  It was enough to come out of the closet to her best friend since three.

"That’s cool,” said Hannah.  "So do I.“

Eliza twitched, but otherwise her expression remained neutral.  She managed to say, with some semblance of calm, "You do?”

Hannah’s smile slipped from knowing to pleased.  "Oh yes!  Don’t get me wrong, I have a giant obnoxious crush on Jamie Bamber.  But…“  She shrugged, her smile ending on something beatific.  "There are beautiful people all over the place, and who am I to say no to a gorgeous pair of legs?”

“O-ohhhhhh,” Eliza said.  It was almost a moan.

“Look.”  Hannah put her hands out, palm up.  "I want you to answer something.  And if you can’t say it out loud, I don’t care at all if you just, well, answer how you will.“  Without looking up, she motioned at her hands with her chin.  "Ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you tell me first because you are attracted to me?”

The dreaded question.  But Hannah had asked her for an honest answer, so Eliza’s fingers crept forward across the bedspread and tickled the tips of Hannah’s.  Just so.

“And did you hope I would do more than not freak out?”

It hung in the air, heavy and still.  Eliza wriggled her fingers higher up into Hannah’s hand.  Now they were a full knuckle overlapping.

“Okay,” Hannah said, and engulfed Eliza’s hand in hers.  The girls locked eyes.  Hannah smiled.  "You’re so adorable when you’re flustered.  C’mon, Lizzie, you think I didn’t notice all those times you accidentally kissed my back, or my arm, when we were waiting on the wall to swim?“  Eliza’s face flamed red.  "And you think I couldn’t have moved down the line to avoid it, if I didn’t like it?”

Now her red face was for an entirely different reason as the possibility rushed over Eliza.  "Oh,“ she said.

Hannah pushed Eliza back onto the comforter, her head facing the door towards the foot of the bed.  She lifted Eliza’s plaid skirt and kissed the insides of both thighs.  Eliza, her eyes clasped shut and her balled-up fists sweating like crazy, could only shudder.  She knew her panties were soaked through, from nervousness and instant arousal, and clenched her face when Hannah began to peel them away.

"Oh please,” she whispered, “I’m gross.”

“You’re the loveliest I’ve ever seen,” Hannah said, and her voice said that it was true.  She began to nibble, a little bridge of kisses, and Eliza’s brain whirled with the possibilities of being with her first girl.

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Willpower

Alice’s knees were beginning to ache, but she held herself steady.  Without turning her head, as she had been explicitly instructed, she could see the newly-made bed and the closed door to the bedroom. She entwined her hands more thoroughly behind her back and held them to the small of her back.  A light breeze came in through the window and her nipples puckered in greeting.

“Alice.”  The voice was tinny but undeniably her lover’s.  She almost melted into the carpet with relief and arousal at the sensuous sound.

“Yes, sir,” she said breathlessly.

The walkie talkie on the bed hissed again.  "You may move your hands to your breasts now.“

"Yes, sir.”  Alice delicately unwound her fingers and brought them around with tai chi slowness to cup both of her small breasts.

“Look at them.  Catalog them.  You have five minutes.  When I speak to you again, I want you to tell me everything about your beautiful breasts.  Nod if you understand your assignment.”

Alice tilted her head so she could look into the shiny black eye of the camera mounted above teh door.  Then she dropped her gaze down and began to examine the delicate white skin.  The time crept by.

The sound of the walkie talkie made her start.  "Tell me, my little poet.“

"My left nipple,” she began in a raspy song of a voice, “is smaller than my right.  It dimples just north of center when I shiver.  They are both gently sloped, like foothills against a craggy mountain.  There is a single long hair that grows at eleven o’clock on my right areola.  You like to lick it when we fuck.”  She tipped her chin back to the camera again, sparks in her eyes.

Her lover chuckled.  "You’re a cheeky little slut.“

"Yes, sir,” Alice said, inclining her head so her chin touched her neck.

“Now,” the voice went on, “slide your hand down your stomach and rest it there for a moment. Think about how sexy you are.  Think about how nice it would be to touch a girl with a flat stomach, and then enjoy the fact that you are doing it.”

Alice’s hand began to tremble, but she tried to recapture her sense of obedience and slid her hand down her skin.  She had oiled before she had entered the room, so it was smooth and luxuriously soft. Down the muscles in her taut stomach.  Lingering over her belly button, petite and puckered.  She closed her eyes and thought of other beauties, the girls her lover shared with her.  She thought of the lithe forms and her hand drifted lower.

“Good girl,” the voice said, and the walkie talkie spat as he left the control room.

Alice moved lower, lower, until her fingers began to circle her clit.  She teased herself, not allowing direct contact until she could stand the tantalization no longer.  Her fore and middle fingers squeezed together, she stroked herself up and down the length of her pussy, sometimes slipping inside to collect the natural lubrication.  Her breathing became ragged as, eyes tightly shut, she did not move from her kneeling position but came all over her hand.

The door flew open and her lover walked in, offering his cock.  She took it fully into the back of her throat and reveled in his hand in her long hair.

“Good girl,” he said again.

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Excuses, Excuses

Young Lord Crossway considered it his sworn duty, as much as arbitrating the affairs of his people or collecting taxes.  Some days he performed his duties in the silent dining hall.  Sometimes it was the great bedchamber with only the torches in their sconces to witness.

Today he was where he was requested: on the floor of the kitchens, rubbing oil into his cock and crotch.  Knuckles rasped at the door and the heavy wooden thing swung open.  Lord Crossway ironed out his face so he was smiling.

“Lord Trimble,” he said, inclining his head in respect.  He gripped the base of his cock tighter, forcing it to be erect and impressive.  His other hand pushed off the floor as he tried to stand, but the caped Lord Trimble swept into the room and put a firm palm against Crossway’s shoulder.

“Stay down there.  I have no need of an equal today.”  He took a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed at the deep lines in his haggard face.  "Today you will serve me.“

Crossway gulped.  "But m’lord.”

“Spare me your excuses,” Trimble scoffed.  His stringy gray hair had escaped from beneath his wig and he looked like he had not slept for days.  "Stand and prepare to receive me.“

Crossway winced as he stood, bent double.  Trimble wrenched down his pants and made a noise.  "Is this your excuse?  This welt?”

“Yes, m’lord.”  Crossway berated himself again for relenting to Lady Gibbons’ insistence that he go rolling down the grassy hills with her; the boulder had left a dent in his backside.

He screamed as Trimble slapped him hard across the wounded cheek.  "Let that be a lesson: you will keep your body for me.  I will not defile myself on lesser beings.“

"Y-y-yes, m-m’lord,” Crossway managed through the tears.

“Very good.  Give me the oil.”  There was a rustling of fine cloth as Trimble derobed.  Crossway held the oil bottle behind him until he felt its weight disappear and felt the cool tip of Trimble’s cock nudging at his ass.  He took a deep breath and spread his legs, making himself available for the older man.

Trimble probed him first with a finger, gently massaging towards the outside so he was ready for the lord’s massive cock.  Still, when Trimble pushed in with a heavy sigh of relief, Crossway had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out.  But as the oil did its job and Trimble slid in deeper, the wave of relief and pleasure came and the pain was forgotten.  Keeping his balance with his knuckles, he rocked back against Trimble, feeling the other’s soft hair dancing across his skin.

Suddenly Trimble flattened himself against Crossway’s back.  His breath, hot with the smell of fish and fruit, brought words to the younger man’s ears: “I give no quarter to my enemies, boy, not even when they have fallen.  Do not imagine that I expect less of you.”

His cock throbbed inside Crossway, coming hot and heavy.

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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.