They’d never done that before. She’d never spoken like she had in his dream. He’d never indicated that he even wanted to try anal.
“Did I like it?”
“I didn’t fuck your ass right away. I made you wait for the big event.”
“Why?”
“So you’d be really desperate.”
“What did you do first?”
“I took you in the bathroom and bent you over the edge of the tub. I spread shaving cream between your asscheeks and shaved you so you were completely clean back there. Then I showered you off and licked your back door until you were moaning the way you do when I eat your pussy.”
“God,” Jennifer sighed. “Oh, fuck.”
“You couldn’t get enough. You actually were parting your own cheeks for me so I could get in deeper.” Jennifer couldn’t believe he was talking to her like this. This went beyond anything they’d discussed or tried in bed. The kinkiest time they’d experienced so far had been a slightly tipsy evening in which Charles had blindfolded her with a scarf and eaten her out. But this…this was different.
“What happened next?”
“I got you on your back with your knees to your chest and I licked your asshole until you told me you were going to come. You were so wild, thrashing around on the mattress, unable to keep still. I actually thought I might have to tie you down to make you behave.”
He was traveling in uncharted territory with every statement. They’d never considered bondage, never broached the topic. Jennifer felt as if she might melt into a puddle of lust. She was teetering on the brink of climax, so close, almost there.
“What’d you do?” The words were a whisper.
“I told you I was going to fuck your asshole.”
“Uh huh.”
“And that by the time I was done, I’d be fucking it as hard and fast as I do your pussy.”
“Oh, God,” she sighed. “What did I do?”
“You let me.”
Her hand between her legs was working faster now, rubbing her clit as quickly as she could. Charles’ words were beyond foreplay. He was fucking her with his story.
“I rolled you over on the mattress so you were ass-up. I had lube, and I oiled you so that you were nice and slick and wet. Then I gave you just the first inch of my cock, spreading open your hole so you could really feel the stretch.”
“Did I like it?”
“Oh, baby. You loved it. You told me to go slow at first, but pretty soon, you were backing down on my cock. You were fucking me.”
She shivered. The scenario thrilled her. Who knew that she’d want something like that? Suddenly, she felt his hand between her cheeks. He was touching her hole, just touching it. She felt her pussy tighten.
“I’m going to let you come now,” he said. “Just like this. And then we’re both going to call in sick and go back home. And I’m going to get out the lube and do to you exactly what I just described.”
Jennifer came on his cock and on his words. She shivered as the pleasure worked through her, and she could feel Charles climaxing a second later. He pounded into her at a rapid pace, holding onto her hips as he filled her. She’d never felt as close to him as she did right then. They took a moment to separate, then each used the sink and mirror in an attempt to look presentable. Jennifer could not wait to get home. She was dying to do exactly what Charles had promised her.
She exited the restroom first, heading out the door of the cafe to their car. Charles followed a moment later.
As the couple left, the waitress watched after them. Wouldn’t it be nice if more people set down their devices and spoke face to face? Like those two professional people. They would make such a pretty couple if they ever put their computers and cell phones down long enough to connect.
Performance Anxiety
By Alison Tyler
Josh said he wanted to watch me masturbate. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a man use that word before. The boys I’ve been with have always tended to say things like “jerk off” or “oil your oyster.” But not Josh. He possesses a serious, more clinical side, which I tend to like. He states his preferences in a no-nonsense way I can understand. And I’ll admit-I understood this. But that didn’t mean I could do what he was asking.
“What’s the big deal?” he asked. “You’re on stage practically every night, Rae.”
“I’m not jerking off on stage,” I said, mortified by the thought. The image came quickly to my mind: me in front of a crowd of fifty, parting my shaved pussy lips and stroking my clit while all those strangers watched.
“I might like that,” Josh said, as if he could see deep into my fantasy. As if he were one of those in the crowd, watching every dancing move of my darting fingertips. I narrowed my eyes at him. Exactly where was he going with this? He’d asked to watch me masturbate. He had said nothing of crowd-sourcing his pleasure.
“We’ll start small, babe, don’t worry,” he said to my look of trepidation.
“We haven’t even established we’re starting at all,” I replied. He’d only asked. I hadn’t said I would. He was taking my hesitation for acquiescence. He ought to have known better. After four years of living together, Josh knows me inside and out. Well, almost. I guess what he was asking now was to see me at my most undressed.
“You’re making a bigger deal of this than you should,” he said, “I’ve taken care of myself in front of you before.”
“It’s not the same.” But as I said the words, I realized I didn’t know why. I’m not sexist by nature. Why wouldn’t it be the same for me to watch him as for him to watch me? I thought of the different times I’d witnessed him pleasuring himself in the past. The first time he ever jerked off in front of me was by accident. I had walked into the bathroom, knowing the water was on and assuming he was taking a shower. He was taking a shower. But he was also taking himself in hand under the hot spray. For a moment, he didn’t seem aware I was there, watching. Then he turned and wiped the steam from the shower door, so I could see more clearly. Ultimately, he’d shot against the glass door, and I’d almost lost my balance, so invested in the impromptu performance that I’d momentarily forgotten how to remain upright. I’d found watching him a complete turn-on, and by the time I’d stripped and joined him in the shower, he was hard once more and ready to take me against the cobalt-blue tiled wall.
So why did I have a problem offering him the same type of show? Josh seemed to want to know. He looked at me curiously. “Is it because I’m a guy? And guys do dirty, naughty stuff like that but girls don’t.”
I blushed when he said dirty and naughty. I think he knew I would. Not that I blush easily, but when he said the words, I thought of the times I’d caught him.
“No,” I said, but I didn’t sound convincing. Not even to myself.
“You’re all rose petals and candy fluff. Is that it? You never would dirty your fingers with your own sultry juices.”
“I don’t think like that Josh. You know I don’t.” He’s seen me up on stage for so many years, has heard the type of hard-rocking songs I sing. If I were to describe myself, candy fluff would not fit into the write-up. We met after one of my shows. No groupie, Josh had been at the concert with two of his pals. He’d had the balls to hang out after to meet me. I’d been impressed with his confidence from the start. He’d discovered that the act I portray onstage-tough girl rock chick-is just that. An act. Off stage, I have a much shyer side that I show to few people. Josh found me out.
“I know you masturbate, Rae.”
Part of me wanted to ask him how he knew. And part of me wanted to tell him to stop using that stupid word. We could come up with a new term, a fresh term, something that didn’t sound so serious.
“How do you know?” I finally asked.
“Because I can tell. I know what you look like after you have an orgasm.”
“Come,” I corrected him. “After I come.”
“Yeah, right. Your cheeks take on this pretty flushed color, and your eyes are brighter, bigger somehow. Sometimes when I come-“ he hit the word hard and looked deviously at me-“home, I can tell that you’ve just been mastur…”