Anal initiation

“What did he say?” Anna fixed her eyes on her old friend, in that way that had always made her spill whatever secret she was trying to keep.

“He said... he wanted... anal...” muttered Taylor, trailing off at the end and blushing scarlet.

“So what did you say?”

“No, obviously. Then he said I was a prude, and a daddy’s girl, and... ohhh. I don’t want to talk about it any more.”

Anna was stroking Taylor’s shoulders, and found her hands tensing up, almost squeezing too hard. She breathed deep to keep her body in check. That little bastard, trying to pressure her into something she didn’t want to do.

“OK, the problem here is that you made your boundaries clear, and he walked up and pissed on them. Tay, that’s not...”

“But then I got thinking. And part of the reason I was attracted to him was to shed the part of me that... doesn’t want to. I do want to. Well, it’s more the idea of doing something taboo.” Taylor was sitting cross legged on the bed, gazing away from Anna out of the window. Though she was avoiding eye contact, Anna could sense her determination.

“But it’s for the wrong reasons. Look...”

“So I was thinking. Maybe you could show me.”

“...”

Unusually, Anna found herself speechless. Her friend was propositioning her for sex? After all these years? She had to say no, obviously. Taylor was feeling vulnerable, it would be unthinkable to take advantage of her.

But Taylor always looked before she leaped. Even when she was leaping into something a little wild...

“Are you sure, Tay?”

“Well, I think so.”

“Well, if I’m doing anything you don’t like, speak up, ok?”

Anna had been in similar situations with apparently straight girls before, and she usually had no difficulty with helping a girl explore, especially cute redheads with freckles and white underwear. But they were usually both quite drunk, and they usually weren’t childhood friends. Anna felt uncharacteristically shy and unsure how to proceed.

“Here. Maybe a glass of wine will help,” Taylor said, and pulled a bottle of cheap white from her handbag. Anna smirked at her: it was the brand they had selected as having the best alcohol:taste:price ratio. The study had been a culmination of working together to their strengths: Anna with her dedication to drunken mayhem, Taylor with her love of gathering data and applying appropriate statistical techniques.

“I don’t have any glasses.”

“We can drink out the bottle. Or we can pour it on each other and lick it off. Isn’t that what lesbians do?”

“Sometimes...” Anna muttered, flushing at the idea of wine flowing over Taylor’s lovely breasts.

Taylor leaned back on Anna’s lap. It was a position they often assumed when watching TV. Anna gave herself a little internal shake. “Get a grip of yourself.” Taylor was extremely hot, and one of her personal tenets was not to turn down a hot person because of stupid things like common sense and trepidation. It didn't work, she was still terrified. She and her friend had practised kissing together, a long time ago. And they had always had open discussions about masturbation and sex (Anna knew when Taylor was going to lose her virginity before the gentleman in question did). But stripping her naked and making love to her beautiful body, and introducing her to the world of anal pleasure... it was a different proposition to say the least.

Her thoughts slowly unsnarled themselves, and relaxed like ripples gradually disappearing on a placid lake. Taylor had started to massage her shoulders and neck. That girl sure knew how to use her hands... she would make a good lesbian. Anna allowed Taylor to smooth out the knots in her upper back, then lay on her front, asking her to massage the rest silently. Taylor straddled her ("!" thought Anna) and began to work on her lumbar region. Anna had terrible posture, so the attention to her tortured lower back released moans of relief and gratitude. Taylor went on massaging until she could detect no more tension in her friend, and noticed that her breathing had become slower and deeper.

The wine and massage had done their work. Taylor rolled Anna over, revealing the smirk she recognised as the sign that she was on the rampage. Anna placed her hands on Anna's waist, returning the lower back massage. She gazed up at Taylor's body, all creamy skin and freckles in her smart, conservative blouse. It felt completely natural to sit up, and kiss her. Taylor kissed back joyfully, grabbing her friend's back and squeezing a little. They kissed for a little eternity, stroking each other all over, exploring, running hands through each other's hair.

Taylor stood up for a second and removed her blouse. Slowly. Anna gazed, hypnotised by each button popping open. When her soft, beautiful breasts were revealed, Anna moaned a little. Taylor smiled, turned her back and leaned over, pulling away her trousers as she did so. Her bum loomed into view, covered with cute little boyshorts. The sight of her arse flaring out just so from her hips, and the way her shy friend was taking charge of the situation, drove Anna wild. She undid the clasp of her bra, and ran her tongue down her spine. Taylor gasped in surprise at this action. It seemed so... wanton, like Anna was hungry for her and couldn't wait to taste her. Her bra slid off, and Taylor turned round, allowing Anna to take one pale, sensitive nipple into her mouth, rolling the other between her fingertips. Taylor moaned so loud that she felt briefly paranoid the neighbours would hear. But she was soon beyond caring, as Anna sucked as much of her breast into her mouth as she could, tracing her other hand down, tracing the roundness of her belly, before touching her, gossamer soft, on her pussy.

Taylor sat back down on the bed, her parted legs showing how rapidly she was dampening in response to her friend's attentions.

"Your turn to get naked."

Anna obligingly pulled her top up-- she wore no bra, so Taylor was immediately delighted by the sight of her tanned tits, her areolae plum with paler pink points. She gave one a lick, and was rewarded by a moan. Anna removed her skirt, and then her underwear. Taylor was inexperienced with girls, so was rather shocked at the intense craving she felt when Anna exposed her cunt. She wanted to taste her, fondle her, feel her spasm around her fingers. She had almost entirely forgotten she was here for a gentle introduction to anal. She was sure they would get around to it, but not before she had touched and licked and stroked every inch of this luscious creature’s body.

Anna took control again, kissing her friend deeply, relishing the feeling of their tits against each other. She pulled Taylor’s underwear down her legs, revealing her entirely. Taylor spread her legs instinctively, but Anna didn't immediately dive to taste her (as she would have done, she admitted to herself). Instead she gazed at her lying spread and innocent on her bed. Taylor felt suddenly very exposed and vulnerable.

"You're so beautiful. I can't believe you're naked in my bed."

"I know I said I wanted anal instructions, but..."

"... that's not all? Don't worry, I intend to give your bum the time of its life. But I'll be giving that to the rest of you too, babe."

Taylor purred as Anna turned her attentions back to her tits, sucking each nipple alternately for a few seconds. Her hand stole back down to her crux, sliding between her lips, feeling the wetness of her cunt and scooping the wetness back to her noticeably swollen clit. She rubbed at it in slow, teasing circles. The combination was delicious. Taylor allowed her mind to empty. The fingers of Anna's other hand reached into Taylor's cunt, crooked, and stroked at her G spot. The feeling of the other woman's hands and mouth as well as the excitement brought Taylor to the edge. At first she couldn't breathe, such was the intensity, but then she started gasping and bucking, letting Anna know her appreciation by coming around her fingers. When she opened her eyes, Anna was grinning at her.

"So you liked that, huh?"

"Y... yes"

"That just the hors d'oeuvre. No, that was just the bread they bring round beforehand."

Taylor smiled wide.

"You didn't touch me there. And I didn't get to taste you."

"You want to... go down on me? Wow, that's some advanced lesbianism. I thought you just wanted your anal cherry popped in a secure environment?"

"Aw, Anna. I don't know. I just know what I want to do."

"Well, like I said, we've only barely begun. Haven't you got a nine o'clock lecture tomorrow morning?"

"I'll be very disappointed if I'm in any condition to make it."

Anna chuckled.

"OK. So you want to go down on me. May I suggest ze soixant neuf? Ze soixant neuf, weeth a tweest!"

"Enough of the stupid accent, you fanny."

The banter was interspersed with Anna positioning them into the classic position, with Taylor on top. Taylor squeaked in joy at the sight of her friend's treasure. It was slick with wetness, though it hadn't yet been touched. The hair was closely trimmed, and she had a sharp, barely musky scent. Taylor leaned in to taste her first woman.

Anna let out a silent scream as her friend tongued her, experimentally, curiously, but more and more greedily. Taylor’s wet cunt and nether hole, suspended temptingly above Anna’s lips, twitched in arousal at the taste and feel of her. Anna slid a finger in her cunt to better feel her contractions before withdrawing and circling that finger around her arse.

“Oh, that feels weird. Not in a bad way, just different...” said Taylor, her words rather muffled and indistinct.

Anna said nothing-- she had far better things to do with her tongue. She ran it up and down Taylor’s slit, tasting the moisture that came from the orgasm she had given her, and her excitement at tasting her best friend and then slid her tongue higher, until its tip was teasing around Taylor’s hole.

Anna noticed the sensations on her clit dissipating, as Taylor concentrated on these new sensations. Anna went on tenderly licking around the rim, hearing Taylor’s little gasps of disbelief and amazement. Then, tired of messing around, she ran her tongue into her arsehole as deep as it would go. Anna felt the muscles of the shocked woman spasm around her, but she started fucking her slow and deep with her tongue. Taylor started moaning, easily loud enough to be heard through the thin walls, but to hell with her flatmates. Anna started stroking Taylor’s clit again, the way that had been tried and tested last time, and with her remaining hand reached down and grabbed a niipple, roughly pinching and squeezing until Taylor moaned out her second, even larger orgasm. Anna kept her hand gently moving on her friend’s pussy until the contractions of her orgasm subsided.

“Fucking... fuck.” said Taylor. Considering she barely said “damn”, Anna thought that indicated that she had enjoyed her experience, together with her collapsing on top of her. The buxom girl was squashing her rather, but she wouldn’t complain for anything.

“So you liked that then?”

“Kiss me,” replied Taylor. “She’s insatiable” thought Anna, not unhappy. She kissed her friend with abandon, their tongues sliding over one another and their teeth clashing, as they shared and enjoyed each other’s flavours. The kiss became gradually more tender, until they came to, lying in bed, gently stroking each other’s hair.

“You didn’t come.”

“I barely care, that was in-fucking-credible.”

“But I want you to come, my love...” Anna’s heart almost stumbled at the words, my love. My love, my love, echoed in her ear. How could she say no to such an angel?. Anna turned round so that Taylor was spooning her, and guided her hand to her cunt, still wet from their travails. Taylor began to rub her clit, using a fast but light motion that took Anna’s breath away. She reached the edge unusually quickly, spasming at Taylor’s touch, before falling back into her arms. The feeling of her full tits on her back and her arms around her, was bliss. All her worries seemed somehow far away and inconsequential.

“I could never move again,” said Anna.

“We don’t have to, till morning,” replied Taylor, kissing her nape.

The art of fellatio.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Pulling at a gig

You didn't really feel like going out tonight, but you'd paid for the bloody ticket. Your frugal ethics force you into putting on a tshirt featuring the keyboardist's side project, a moderately short skirt and some big stompy boots (avoiding broken metatarsals). It took effort to drag yourself to the venue, but after a couple of Jack ‘n’ cokes (a teenage indulgence you allowed only occasionally) and the surprisingly good support act, your mood had improved. Most of the crowd were horrifyingly young, but he caught your eye, though he didin’t resemble the sleek, vain types you usually go for. His hair was long, auburn and extremely thick, giving a leonine appearance, added to by his green eyes and sharp cheekbones. He had a small beard, similarly red, jutting from his chin, and long but not connecting sideburns. His lower lip was pierced, and he wore a leather jacket. He hadn't taken it off in the cloakroom queue, as it was pretty cold in the venue. You didn't mind though. You like a man in leather. You heard his voice as he softly spoke to the attendent, hardly catching his words, but melting at the soft, dark sound.

You positioned yourself close to him. Normally you spend a gig deciding which member of the band you want to fuck most, but you made your mind up quickly this time (the bassist, pale, shirtless and skinny with bulging biceps and a curiously attractive way of grimacing when playing the hard bits) and kept your eyes on him. A couple of girls, who looked suspiciously young to be holding the pints they were slurping kept pushing back and forth. "Make up your bloody mind" you muttered, and he turned and smiled. Those forest green eyes make you feel calm and still inside. In spite of the heat and noise, you feel like you had dived into the Atlantic on New Years Day.

The gig was fucking excellent. One of those nights you remember forever, even without having him take your hand and dance with you, before wrapping himself around you for the rest of the show. You dance from the hips, and feel his approval of the endless figure eights you trace around his body with your pelvis. You can feel him rubbing back, and feel a little panicked at the realisation that you're grinding with a perfect stranger. He claps and cheers with you, chanting with you when you reedily try to start up a chant.

After the gig, he takes your hand so as not to lose you in the crush. Egress can be hard for a claustrophobe. It's kind of reassuring to have a hand to hold, and to know there’s somebody protecting you. Suddenly you're both outside in the startlingly cold, fresh air, and you are facing him. Gazing into his cool green eyes and feeling that sense of calm again. Then he kisses your hand, grins cheekily, introduces himself as Matt then guides you swiftly down the street away from the crowd.

You give him your name, and smile up at him shyly. Your hands intertwine as you walk slowly with each other, at first chatting awkwardly about the gig, but then blossoming open under the warmth of your mutual attraction. You find yourself outside an office building. You look at him quizzically.

"Fancy coming in for a coffee?" he asks, rolling his eyes a little and smirking at the last word. You hesitate for a second, then slide his hand, holding his key card, through the electronic swipe lock.

The office is obviously not his alone, as shown by several chairs and posters advertising varied tastes in games and sports teams.

"Are you sure everyone else is gone?" you murmur through a sudden attack of soft, almost shy kisses on your lips, cheeks and nose tip.

"Don't worry," is his somewhat worrying answer. But you find yourself not really caring at the feeling of his leather jacket against the skin left bare by your shirt, and a hot hardness digging in at your waist. In fact the idea of someone walking in on you both rather amuses you. You lace your fingers through that lush auburn mane, finding it even softer and finer than you had expected, kissing him ardently. You are the first to slide your tongue into his mouth, and having recieved tacit permission, he begins to tease and tickle your lips and tongue, making you take your breath sharply. A shudder goes down your back at wondering what else that tongue of his is capable of. He smells cleanly of deodorant, even after the sweaty environment of the gig. You hope you smell as good, and consider suggesting a shower. It seemed like the kind of workplace which would have a shower in it...

He motioned to take his jacket off, but you tell him to leave it on for the moment, then roll your shirt over your head daintily, revealing soft, amber skin, and a cute lacy bra (you like having a little secret under your usually quiet wardrobe). When your eyes are clear of the shirt, you see him staring wide eyed at you. In spite of the way he has seamlessly seduced you, he seems as excited by your nudity as a virginal teenager. You wrap your arms round him, deciding it's time to take charge of your own ravishment.

He seems delighted at your new found agency, and lifts you onto a desk, parting your legs and standing at your crux, embracing you fiercely, kissing you even more passionately. His cock is beginning to undulate against you, giving you a little preview of how he plans to fuck you, slow and deep and pausing a little between each thrust. The feeling of him pressing against your clit through your underwear makes you moan a little against his marauding tongue.  Then he moves his attentions to your neck, kissing and nibbling down to your shoulders, bare except for your bra strap. You shut your eyes, and feel your bra loosening before cold air on your tits makes you snap your eyes open again. Then the feel of his soft mouth and hungry tongue on your nipples makes you squeeze them shut again. Fuck. He's really good at this.

He slides your skirt up, and starts gently stroking you over the fabric of your knickers. Your cunt clenches almost painfully as he teases and tickles you. His long, pale eyelashes flutter, and he moves back up to kiss you, as your body arches desperately to get more attention paid to your moistening cunt and swelling clit. He kisses amazingly though. You briefly think of that boy on the beach at France all those years ago, but even that Francophonic tongue couldn’t rival this. You feel almost hypnotised by the feeling of his kisses. The tingles in your pussy die down to a warm, heavy feeling, as most of the blood in your body pools to those parts of you, but you jerk back into awareness as his hand appears below the fabric, smearing your fluid over your clit and slowly swirling round it. You are leaning against the desk, in a position which would be painful if it weren’t for his other and on your back, supporting a good deal of your weight. But then your bum is up on the desk, his body is manoeuvring between your hips, and he pulls a condom from his desk drawer “He keeps condoms in his desk drawer? How many girls does he bring back here exactly?” But this, and all other thoughts glide away as he slides into you, moaning low. A window is perfectly placed so you can see the tableau reflected. It’s almost like watching your own porn movie. Your legs are lewdly spread and he looks so sexy as he fucks you slow and deep. Your bodies are so conveniently angled that you can easily stroke your clit as he fills you.

He pulls out of you for a moment, bending to lick your wet, swelling lips, pushing his tongue against your clit. You feel a finger against your nether hole, apparently lubed with the ample juices from your cunt. As he laps at you, one finger enters you, then another. You can’t quite believe you’re letting this wild maned young man probe such an intimate part of you, but he’s so bloody good with those fingers, and that tongue, that all you can do is lean back and enjoy it. As you approach your orgasm, he straightens, not taking his fingers from you, and pushes back in, riding the waves of your orgasm, delicately heightening it for you. The world seems to fade out for a second, before coming into blindingly sharp focus. You become suddenly extremely aware of your surroundings, such as the fluorescent lighting and windows around two corners of the room. But you don’t care, watching this beautiful boy in the throes of orgasm, his fingers squeezing your hips, his green eyes locked on yours. As his climax ebbs away, he leans over to give you another of those teasing, delicious kisses.

You feel a bit exposed once it’s all over. You both take a bit of time to put yourselves back in order.

“Fancy that coffee then?”

You give a squawk of laughter, and he giggles. Taking your hand again, you am led to a small kitchen area with comfy chairs and a beanbag. You haven’t been quite able to decipher what his job is, but they don’t seem to stand on ceremony, whatever it is. You sit on the couch and let him grind the beans (!) and pour just-off-the-boil water into the cafetiere.

“I’m not usually that sort of girl,” he said, shyly offering you a cup.

You laugh again.

“You like $band, you fuck like that and you know how to make coffee properly? Shit, you might not be, but I’m glad I was tonight.”

You clink cups.

Striptease in the gym

Jess and Will, university coursemates, had moved into a flat. Instead of paying exorbitant gym fees, they installed a few pieces of equipment in the large hall. Just an exercise bike and bench with a bar and free weights, but that was ample. Plus, if the equipment was in use, neither particularly minded. The sight of Will's hard, toned legs blurring as he pedaled made Jess short of breath, and Jess's pectorals contracting under her lovely breasts as she bench pressed made Will swoon. So both were happy with the arrangement.

Will was on the bench, and presently removed his sweated through shirt, revealing his golden skinned, hard muscled chest. She muttered barely, "Dang..."

"Excuse me?!"

"Huh?" Jess grunted, glad that he couldn't see her blush through the sweat she had worked up.

"I distinctly heard you say "Dang." there. Presumably in response to my revealing my manly chest."

"Did not." said Jess, reverting to the childish interplay they employed during times of conflict.

"Admit it. I make you hot. Admit it, admit it". He leapt up and twirled around for her, flexing his biceps and grinning. She couldn't disguise how her eyes were drawn to him, and he chuckled.

"Christ woman. Just tell me how I make you horny, and I'll show you the rest."

"Fine. You make me horny. Now show me the rest." Will's eye's widened momentarily, but he decided to call her bluff. He untied the drawstring of his sweat pants, and pulled them down. Then Jess's eyes widened, as it became clear that he wasn't wearing underwear. He pulled down his trousers enough to give her a peek at the base of his cock, then yanked them up again.

"Hey, you said..."

"I changed the rules. Tell me again.

"You know what? Fuck you, you don't play fair."

"Who said we're playing? Tell me again."

The atmosphere had changed suddenly but unmistakably.

"Will, you make me horny. Please let me see the rest of your hot body. Please?" said Jess, her voice rising to a breathy whine on the last word. Will fixed his large, brown eyes on her small, pale blue ones, and unfastened the drawstring yet again. This time he turned, pulling the fabric down over his gleaming buttocks, allowing the baggy garment to fall to the ground. He stepped out, and turned round, smirking and lewdly concealing himself with one hand

"Tell me again. Actually, better still. Show me."

"Sh-show you?"

"Yep. Show me how horny I make you. Then everything will be yours to see."

What did he mean by that? Did he want to see... how wet she was? Or how hard her nipples were? Her body had no shortage of evidence of the effect his nudity had on her.. She slowly raised the hem of her t shirt and removed the sweat soaked fabric, revealing her sports bra. This bra was rather unusual in that it zipped up the front. She pulled the zip down, and her  tits sprang free for her nude flatmate to see. He nipples stood out proudly, and she thought she could feel and even see the scarlet nubs pulsing under his gaze. He moved closer, inspecting her. She fancied she could feel his stubble on her skin. Then he moved back, and said:

"Very nice."

But he didn't move his hand away. Not yet.

"But I wanted to see how horny you are."

Her cheeks burned even hotter. He could only mean one thing. So she dismounted the bike, bent over, and pulled away her socks and trainers. She stood in front of Will, who smiled at her encouragingly. She removed her little pink shorts, and  finally her knickers, displaying a small modest patch of hair. She kept her bikini line under control for swimming, but otherwise was au naturale. This was obviously to Will's liking, as his broad smile cracked into a joyful grin. It looked like he was having difficulty restraining what he hid under his hand, which was gently undulating over his bulge.

Now came the hard part. She sat on the bench and parted her legs, revealing her wet, unmistakably horny pussy.

Will crouched before her, instantly drawn to her and leaning in to closely examine her, the same way he had looked over every inch of her tits. She felt his breath on her soaking cunt, and shivered in response.

"Ok. You upheld your part." Will said thickly. He took away his hand, revealing a handsome but frighteningly thick cut cock, the head of which gleamed with precum. Jess gasped and arched her back for him without quite being aware of what she was doing. Her last sensible neuron sparked weakly, and she said:

“What the hell are we doing, Will?!”
“Fucked if I know. But I like it.”

He briefly excused himself to his bedroom, returning with a condom. He threw the foil packet on the floor (Jess decided to complain about the mess at a later date) and sheathed himself.

She spread her legs a little wider, as wide as they would go, and raised her hips up. Will lined himself up with her, and pushed in smoothly. Jess cried out at the feel of him. He deliciously filled every crevice of her, almost causing her pain. He grabbed her tits and started plunging into her while standing, presently letting go of her left to run his thumb over her cunt. Jess closed her eyes and savoured the deliciousness of it all, opening them when he suddenly withdrew. She caught the savage look in his eyes, before he flipped her over and started pounding into her from behind.

Jess moaned at the feeling of being taken like an animal, and the feeling of his strong, sure fingers on her clit. He experimented with the angle of his thrusting, until a shocked gargling noise from Jess told him that he was probing at her G spot. Her cunt pulsed faster and faster, tighter and tighter around his cock, until her orgasm rippled over her, nearly drawing his own climax from him. He slowed down, supporting the woman's limp, exhausted body, slowly teasing and edging himself to his own climax.

Finally he arched his back and groaned wordlessly, as he came inside her. He slumped over her on the bench and rested on her glowing back. Both lay motionless for a while, stunned at the sudden, quite unexpected resolution of the sexual tension between them. Jess was the first to move, and Will stood back, letting her up. To his surprise, she didn’t seem at all embarrassed, and made absolutely no attempt to hide her body. She smiled at him lazily.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

She sashayed towards the bathroom. God, what an arse she had on her.

“Well? Aren’t you coming?”

What did they do next? Tell me in the comments...

Lusting over the barman

Sometimes I can't write while I'm sitting in my flat. I packed up my laptop and went down to my local pub. It's a small place on a quiet road, and has the typical fake post industrial look which is fashionable these days. It has a good selection of draught ales, enough malt whisky to satisfy me, and a fish tank which is mesmerising to watch, especially when a bit drunk. But the main reason it's so conducive to writing erotica is the barman who works there.

He's pretty tall, at least six feet, and has two full sleeves of tattoos. His right arm is a has a repeating design, which takes advantage of the negative space on his pale skin. Every time I sneak a look at it, I feel like I'm a child again, admiring  patterns on a Persian rug. His other arm has a single red dragon, coiling all the way from his shoulder to his wrist. Tattoos so large and bold are rare. One statement over so much skin suggests something about his personality, a certain single mindedness. I don't know much about him, what his aspirations in life are, but I know he has them and I know he's serious about them.

His hair is short on the sides but longer and spiky on top, and has red streaks dyed in. I've always had a bit of a think for punky, alternative looking guys. I used to have a book with boys from Kerrang! cut out, for my adolescent drooling pleasure. It's not a requirement, but unnatural hair, ink and metal will always get my attention. He has moderately sized stretched piercings in each earlobe and a smattering of rings on the helices. I wonder what else he has tattooed and pierced, under that damned black tshirt he's wearing. It's tight enough for me to know that I really want to know what it obscures. Around his biceps, it looks fit to snap. Carrying barrels must be hard work. I try not to think about how effectively those strong arms could pin me to a bed.

"So, what's it going to be then eh?" he grinned at me. He had seen me reading A Clockwork Orange once, early in my career there as a bar fly, and had greeted me thus ever since. I  wondered if his personality resembled that of Alex, a brutal thug who worships beauty? Did if he had sadistic tendencies? Would he hurt me just to please me, as males had in the past, or lay into the woman flesh he owned for joy at seeing my blood flow? (There is a difference.) His grin always made my blood rise to my cheeks. I waited a minute before I ordered, in case I stammered. Usually I would order a beer or a whisky, but occasionally, for a treat, I would order a cocktail.

He's a flair bartender. He shows off with the bottles and glasses, making my drink into a miniture performance. When I drink it, I feel like a little spark of his energy is flowing into me. It buzzes through me, making my mind race with the filthy things I want to do with him. For example... I'm sorry to be quite so blunt early on, I'd usually segue into something like this... I would like to rim him. I bet he's the sort of anally perveted boy who would love that, and possibly insist on reciprocating. But I bet he'd moan and grind back into my face, loving having a willing slut to satisfy this dark desire. i sipped my sidecar (try one, they're citrussy and nice) while imagining him bending over for me. Dang. And he had such a nice little ass on him. I didn't really see the point in bums for a long time, but now I have learned the appeal of a slim firm buttock on a man.

Sometimes he disappears into the back for a moment. I wonder what would happen if I followed him back there. If he'd smirk knowingly and stroke his fingers along my sides, dropping a teasingly light kiss on my lips, before viciously using his tongue and teeth on my mouth, making me take him inside me and taste him before we'd even learned each other's surnames? Whether he'd take the few minutes it would need to rub my clit to orgasm, growling at me to meet him out back when he had his break in half an hour? Squirming in my seat, having him ignore me while he served customers and denied me the pleasure of serving him?

God, I'd love to suck that undoubtedly lovely cock of his. I'd take him between my lips, sucking away the precum and sweat and sucking him in as deep as I could, running my fingertips over his full balls and sucking him to a fast orgasm so he'd have time to smoke a fag as well? No, he'd be smoking while I sucked, imperiously blowing smoke into my face as I worshipped his cock. I'm ashamed of my smoking fetish, having been brought up in a vociferously anti smoking household, but I love the sight of a man smoking so much. Thick fingers holding the smouldering stick, the breat beautifully visualised in white vapour. The smell of smoke on a male excites me. And I get the smell from him.

"What do you want?"

I'd been lost in such a reverie that I didn't realise that this angel had asked me a question. I stared at him, blushing. He turned his head a little and smiled at me again, slow and wide. He knew.

"You." I reply, huskily.

"Hey, I'm taking my break now," he shouted to the boss, who barely nodded at him. It was a quiet period. He took my hand, very firmly I noticed, and led me out back.

Seducing my boss's wife.

The highlight of my rather dull working day is when my boss, Simon, comes in, his cycling jersey and shorts giving an unparalleled view of his firm chest and legs. Nudging fifty but appearing at least ten years younger, he is the very definition of a DILF. He's also a good boss: he never behaves discourteously and treats everyone with equal respect. He nodded as he passed my desk. Mmm. I didn't know whether the view of him coming or going was better. I sighed and got back to my spreadsheet.

His wife, Claudette, was no less hot. She was tall and statuesque, with a narrow waist flaring out to wide hips in the back and an impressive bosom in front. She had olive skin, highlighted dark brown hair, and gleaming green eyes. On the occasions she came into the office, she gives me a crinkly, cheeky little smile that melts my insides and leaves me feeling gooey. Given the choice, I couldn't decide which one I wanted to fuck more.

I would never have imagined that I wouldn't have to choose.

That night, our regular office pub quiz night, the boss and I were sitting together, three sheets to the wind. I mustered my Dutch courage and murmured.

"You're lucky, going home to a beautiful woman tonight."

"Yep, you don't have to tell me. I don't know how I ended up so lucky, but here I am." He gave a big, goofy grin. I resisted telling him the reason he had such a hot wife was because he was incandescently gorgeous himself.

I sipped my beer and steeled myself.

"Is she the sort of woman who likes fooling around with girls? Because I'd be totally up for that." I pitched my voice to make it sound like joking banter, but hope glimmered deep in my heart. He raised his thick, perfect brows nearly to the ceiling, and then said:

"Not since college, as far as I know. I keep telling her I'll bring her home a girl to play with, but I never get round to it."

"You can't keep promising her something and never follow through on it."

"True. Well... we'll see. Maybe we won't feel the same after the beers have worn off."

I smiled and nodded, but I knew that I had a tiny finger hold in his mind. And hopefully, if the stars aligned, I would get to play with his gorgeous woman and watch him take her like a true alpha male.

The alignment happened rather sooner than I had expected. They were having a party, ostensibly to celebrate opening that year's batch of home made mead, and everybody from our small office was invited. (The kids were at Granny’s). I dressed down, putting on denim shorts over black tights, a band t shirt over my braless small tits, and throwing a plaid shirt over the top. I glanced in the mirror. I looked boyish but cute, and my pierced nipples were tantalisingly visible through my shirt. I would do.

The party was pretty quiet, and since it was a work night, people didn't stay late. I tarried, on the pretence of helping to clean up. Claudette tried to stop me, but I was a glass collecting, hoovering machine. I told her to put her feet up and relax. Simon was on the sofa, enjoying a last glass of mead, and pulled her brown skinned, red nailed feet into his lap. She gave a little moan as he expertly manipulated them. I stopped for a moment to watch. I've always had a thing for men's hands, especially large, capable looking ones like Simon's. I took another breath and sat beside her on the couch, put my fingertips on her full hips, and rolled my thumbs around either side of her spinal column. She was so relaxed from her husband's attention to her feet, she barely acknowledged my stroking of her beautiful body. We continued to rub her body, him including her calves in his travails, me running my hands all over her back and onto her neck, which I guessed was super sensitive judging my the little squeaks she made.

"So honey, what do you think of the girl I've brought you?"

She looked behind her shoulder, and gave me that wicked smile.

"I like her very much." Then, oh God, her lips were on mine. I felt my cunt tightening at the feeling of her mouth gently exploring mine, and suddenly realised how wet I was. My eyes flickered open, letting me see Simon quietly watching, not disturbing us. I wrapped my arms around her, still behind her, and started gently kissing and nipping her neck. I was desperate to take one of her wonderful tits in each hand, but made myself be patient. Sex is never the better for being hurried. I enjoyed the delicate taste of her skin and the gentle quickening of her breath, and noticed the outlines of her nipples becoming more distinct behind her soft silk blouse. I ran my fingers around the full buds.

She turned round and renewed her attention on my lips. I loved her passion, and couldn't resist stroking her tits with my hands, before clumsily unbuttoning her top. She wore an expensive looking black lace bra, which was front fastening. She unsnapped it, and then her gorgeous, full, golden skinned tits were bare in front of me. For some reason, the way that they had obviously been used to feed an infant, their fat nipples and slight droopiness, made me even more horny. She was a fully grown woman. I felt like a rosebud next to a full blown bloom, or a fleshy, fertile rose hip. I wanted to explore every inch of her. I glanced over again at my boss, who was still watching us intently. I rather liked the aspect of putting on a show for him (I admit, I'm something of an exhibitionist). I squealed excitedly as her warm, soft hands travelled up my shirt, discovering my nipples and tugging on the rings. I have sensitive tits, even for a girl, so this attention made me lose any sense of reason, grabbing her hips to me and dry humping her like a horny teenager.

"Let's go to the bedroom," said Simon, taking us both by the hand. I was gratified to see his cock nearly bursting out of his trousers as we walked through. Claudette stripped off the rest of her clothes when we entered the room, removing her open blouse and bra, then her skirt, stockings, and finally black lace knickers which matched the bra. Her pussy was covered in lush dark hair. I removed my t shirt, feeling wonderfully exposed. Claudette's eyes gleamed at the sight of my perky tits and pierced nipples.

"Didn't it hurt?"

"Yes, but... ooooh... I like... a little pain..." I stuttered. Simon was behind me, his cock pushing painfully into my back, his large hands covering my tits before pulling on the rings. The sight of his hands on my body was delicious. I removed my nether garments so that I was as naked as she, and Simon wasted no time stripping down either. He looked amazing out of his clothes, with his firm, densely hairy chest and toned legs. His cock, as thick as my wrist, had a saucy upward tilt which promised to tantalise my G spot. I planned to focus on Claudette tonight, but if possible I wanted to ride that cock too.

Claudette lay on the bed, beckoning us over. She clasped me in her arms, and I felt enveloped by her soft skin, with her full tits pressing into me deliciously. Simon came and lay behind me so that I was sandwiched between them. I adored the contrast between her softness and his rough, hard body. Simon leaned over me, resting his cheek on mine to kiss his wife. We stayed in this embrace, Simon’s cock gently pulsing against my bum, Claudette occasionally brushing my lips with hers in between kissing her husband. She started tugging on my rings again, smiling at the gasps I produced in response. Simon moaned too as my hips started bucking against him, creating friction against his cock. I imagined I could feel the dampness of his precum on the small of my back. I longed to take him in my mouth, but took my cues from the couple who had invited me to their bedroom. For now, Claudette seemed to be enjoying teasing me, and Simon by proxy. I felt fingers, I don’t know whose, dipping into my dripping, horny cunt and swirling around my clit, bringing me to a shuddering orgasm in their arms. I collapsed, suddenly realising I was covered in their, our sweat and my wetness had travelled down almost as far as my knees.

I have a long standing fantasy of eating a girl out while she’s being fucked. I outlined this dream to Simon and Claudette, and Claudette responded by getting onto all fours and wiggling her bum at us seductively (and what a bum it was). Simon (whose fingers it had been, evidently) held his fingers to Claudette’s lips, allowing her to lick my juices off with her sharp pink tongue. The sight made me horny all over again. I  scooted underneath her, so that her hot, wet cunt was right over my face. I couldn’t resist licking her from her puckered hole to her clit, eliciting an approving moan. I could see Simon’s lovely thick cock lining up with her opening, delving into it as he must have done thousands of times before. I began licking Claudette, focussing on her clit but licking all over her glorious pussy. I couldn’t resist licking the base of Simon’s cock and his balls as he pushed in and out of her. I could hear them kissing as they fucked. I fingered my clit as I licked, on course to cumming in my boss’s face.

It took far too little my oral attentions on her clit before she started spasming, crying out as she clenched around Simon’s cock. Simon thrusted even harder, I switched my attentions to swirling my tongue around his balls, which had pulled up tight into his body. He grunted as his cum flowed into his wife. Their salty combined juices tasted so good. The perversion of the situation, together with more unidentified fingers in my cunt and an exploratory fingertip on my arse made me orgasm yet again, squirting a little this time.

Claudette lay back, smiling that smile of hers. “That felt goooood... so, did you like licking my husband’s balls?”

“Very much, ma’am.” I had no idea where that ma’am had come from, but it felt right. I laid my head on her breasts, and she wrapped her arms round me. I felt like I was in a warm cocoon, completely safe and content.

“You can have the morning off tomorrow,” said Simon. He caught my eye and smirked. I suspected he’d be taking the morning off too.