And then, his thrusts stopped, his body grown as rigid as his swollen penis.
The poison had set in. Daisuke’s eyes were glazed with horror. I knew he was still conscious, though his body had frozen. I slowed my pace a bit, my pussy sucking sinuously around his thick shaft, gripping him tighter with my internal muscles as I slid up and down. That’s when my orgasm set in, shaking my body with an unholy violence. My hair was tangled, my tits and back dripping with musky sweat. “I could kiss you right now, and you couldn’t do a damn thing to stop me,” I informed his dying body. I squeezed again, and felt his final jolt of life spurt into my cunt, and I fucked his come deeper into my body, savouring the extra lubrication.
Daisuke was dead. I was completely fucked up, exhilarated, probably in some sort of shock, my body stinking like sex and death. I pulled on my grimy dress and climbed out the hotel window and down the fire escape. I didn’t want to be trapped in that room with the corpse of my lover, especially when there were men looking to kill him. Outside, the night air was warm and quiet. I ran away from the hotel, relying on my instincts to get as far away as quickly as possible. This must be how he felt when he killed those men, I thought, though I hadn’t truly murdered him. Assisted suicide, the Dr Kevorkian of cocktail waitresses. Somehow I managed to find a cab to take me home to the relative safety and comfort of shower and bed.
I was awoken from troubled sleep by the doorbell. No dream could rival the nightmare I’d already been through. Minako, I thought. I answered the door haphazardly wrapped in the sheet from my futon. Minako was in her early forties, tall like her brother, and curvaceous, with beautiful long straight hair and full lips. She wore sunglasses to hide eyes that were red from crying. She was wearing a long black dress and was perspiring lightly, exuding a faint spicy odour. She entered and closed the door after herself.
Once inside, she reached for the hand that had been clutching the sheet to my body, leaving me standing nude in my shabby apartment. Minako eyed my body approvingly, traced the purple bruise that marred my throat with one long, red, fingernail.
“My brother loved you,” was all she said. She handed me a package wrapped in red silk and tied with elaborately knotted gold cords. “I suggest you take the money and leave Tokyo as soon as possible,” she advised. “Where you go is none of my business.”
“Thank you.”
“There is one last thing he asked me to do,” she said hesitantly. She kissed me with her full red lips, probed me with her tongue. I felt electricity jolt from my mouth straight to my cunt.
“A last kiss from my brother,” she finished. She turned away to leave.
“Wait,” I called after her desperately. “Stay with me.”
She smiled. “Tokyo is my home. I can’t leave. And I am not Daisuke.” She closed the door after herself.
I fumbled with the package she gave me, yanking on the complicated cords like an overeager child. A hefty stack of 10,000 yen bills spilled out. And then, seven identical silver pearls rolled from beneath the money and landed on the woven straw carpet of the room.
I went to Thailand and had them made into a necklace.
Deserving Ruth by Mike Kimera
“My wife says you like to come in her mouth, David.”
We are only one drink into the evening and this isn’t the conversational opener I’d expected. I nurse my bottle of Bud and say nothing.
Lars puts his arm around my shoulders, leans his head down towards mine and says, “Mei Mei does have a talented tongue, but I always wonder about a man who is able to resist her tight little cunt. There’s something about the grip of a wet cunt on your cock that a mouth just can’t match, don’t you think?”
I am very aware of the heat of Lars’ body next to mine. He is dressed in Levis and tight fitting black T-shirt and he looks like six foot four of pure muscle. For a moment it occurs to me that he could snap my neck without breaking sweat, but he is smiling and from the tone of his voice we could be talking about cars or sports.
I glance over at Mei Mei. She looks small next to my wife, Ruth. They both have the same long black hair and have conspired to wear matching outfits, black silk shirt-dresses that stop inches above the knee and tie with a simple belt at the waist. Their makeshift uniforms emphasise how different they are. Ruth has a strong Slavic look; her breasts and hips seem almost swollen and overripe compared to Mei Mei’s compact Malaysian frame. The two of them are talking animatedly, leaning forward, their faces almost touching. Ruth’s hand rests on Mei Mei’s knee, her fingers pointing along the line of her thigh. Sexual intent seems to flash between them.
“Ruth has nice breasts, David,” Lars says, “You must enjoy pressing her tits together and pushing your cock between them.”
I feel the beginnings of an erection and I wish Lars would take his arm off my shoulders. I have never fucked Ruth’s tits, she has never let me, but I have often wondered what it would be like.
I continue looking at the women to give myself time to decide how to get Lars to move his arm without causing offence. After all, this is his house; I was brought up not to insult my host.
Ruth’s hand is now out of sight, underneath Mei Mei’s dress. Mei Mei leans forward and pushes her tongue into Ruth’s mouth. There is something staged about the kiss. The tongues are too visible. I know that, out of the sides of their eyes, they are looking at Lars and me, putting on a show for us.
Ruth is in charge, of course. Ruth is always in charge. She was the one who brought Mei Mei into our bed. She told me that they met at one of those Manchester sauna clubs that doubles as a swingers swap centre. Mei Mei was new and all the men had been trying to get her attention. Ruth pushed them aside, pulled Mei Mei’s head back by the hair and then kissed her. Mei Mei kissed back and opened her legs slightly. Ruth said that Mei Mei was so wet she could have slid her whole fist into her cunt. As it was, pushing two fingers in was enough to cause general applause from the watching men.
Normally Ruth doesn’t involve me in her promiscuous adventures, but she always tells me about them. She wants me to know the lengths that she goes to to find satisfaction.
Ruth has a set routine. Whenever she gets really horny she goes to the club and fucks. Then she comes back and tells me all about it. She makes me sit in the living room with the palms of my hands on the arm of the chair. If I move my hands she will walk out of the room and not tell me anything more. If I stay still, she will talk me through every detail, all the while coaxing my cock to get harder and harder. Then she’ll let me be her last fuck of the day.
I was in the chair, being told about the Malaysian girl who had nipples like rivets and hair like silk and I was getting nicely stiff when Ruth said, “You’ll love her mouth on your cock. She’ll swallow you whole.”
This was a departure from the routine. I was still trying to decide what to make of it when Ruth said, “You can come in now.”
Mei Mei came out of our bedroom. She was naked. She didn’t look at me, only at Ruth. Her look was full of longing.
“I told her she could only lick my cunt once her mouth was filled with your come,” Ruth said, as if she was describing some everyday instruction.
I said nothing. Speech was beyond me. Mei Mei knelt and looked up at Ruth.
“Keep your mouth open and your tongue out,” Ruth said.
Ruth began to work my cock with her fingers. Her grip was strong enough to hurt. She was interested in results, not finesse. She took care to rub my glans against the tip of Mei Mei’s tongue from time to time. When she felt that I was ready to come she pushed Mei Mei’s head forward so that I was in her mouth when the come pulsed out of me.