Consolation Prize

Here’s an old story I’ve pulled out of my archives. Honestly, I’m not really sure what I was thinking with this one, but here it is for your amusement. I started a new category for it: Bad Erotica for Good People. Enjoy, I guess…

I’ve got a thing for being watched and tonight it’s going to happen.

My husband’s good friend Adrian was spending his Saturday evening with us. He’d just split up with his wife (she cheated on him with a mutual friend) and he was heartbroken. My husband, Dan, invited him over to watch man movies, drink beer, and forget the bitch.

I came downstairs into the den with a tray of snacks and found that the guys were watching porn. It wasn’t hardcore, it was Playboy stuff, but I was a little miffed that they were watching a bunch of nubile women flouncing their wares. I’m not the kind of wife that approves of porn, and I’d made that pretty clear to Dan, but tonight he didn’t seem to care. He looked at me helplessly and shrugged.

“It’s for Adrian,” he said.

The guys were already a little drunk. I guess it was all for a good cause.

I felt really fucking bad for Adrian. We’d known the couple well. Lisa, his wife, was extremely fit and athletic, and Dan and I both thought she was really hot. I asked my husband if he’d bone her and he emphatically nodded. I punched him in the arm. I couldn’t really blame him, though. I would have sucked whip cream off Lisa’s entire lean body, so I’m no better.

The way Adrian told the story, he came home from work in the early afternoon with a headache. He heard a tell-tale creaking noise coming from the bedroom. At first he thought Lisa was getting herself off, but when he opened the bedroom door he found two guys on his wife, one taking her from behind and one with his cock in her mouth.

“They were bodybuilders, too,” Adrian moaned as he told the story. “It was like walking in on the Mr. Universe porn set.”

I just felt terrible for him and I wanted to do something to help.

I looked at the big flat screen. A Playboy model turned around and waved her bubble butt sensuously in the camera. I frowned.

“What else can we do for Adrian that will make him feel better?” I ask in a pointed tone.

Adrian answered me sincerely. “You know what I’d really like?” he said. “I want you guys to let me watch you have sex.”

Definitely drunk. I smiled.

“Whoa,” Dan said, blushing. I thought it was cute when he blushed. “Whoa, buddy. That’s… uh, over the line. That’s my wife.”

“Sorry,” Adrian said. He glanced at me.

“You really want to see that?” I asked him.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “That would be hot.”

“You want to watch him get on me?” I pointed at my husband. “Maybe you think we’re better at sex than we are.”

“I guess I’ve just imagined it so much that I want to see it,” he said.

“You think about us having sex?” I said, surprised.

“All the time.”

I frowned.

“All right,” I said. “I can be down with that.”

“What?” both men said in unison.

“Let’s do it. Better than letting you guys watch Playboy TV all day.”

“Excuse me just a second,” my husband said. Dan pulled me upstairs. “Are you crazy?” he said.

“Why not?” I said.

“Because you’re my wife?” Dan said. “Liz, do you really want him to watch us?”

I shrugged. “Yeah,” I said. “It kinda turns me on.”

Dan looked at me with a whole new respect. “Seriously.”

“Yeah,” I said again. “Why not? It sounds fun. What’s gonna happen?”

Dan was silent. I noticed the bulge in his jeans.

“Is that from the Playboy, or are you excited, too?”

“Shit,” Dan said. “Okay, what the hell?”

I smiled. Shit just got real.

“You still want to watch us fuck?” I called to Adrian.

“Yeah?” Adrian said.

“Turn that shit off and meet us in the bedroom.”

It’s a few minutes later. I’m naked and so is Dan. We have the light on in our bedroom but it’s set to a soft glow. Adrian doesn’t really look at Dan but his eyes are all over me. I like it. I’ve always had a little crush on Adrian, and I’m vain about my body. It feels good to flaunt it in front of him.

“You’re hot,” he says.

“Thanks,” I say, doing a naked curtsey just to be funny.

Dan starts kissing me a little awkwardly. He palms my breast and I reach for his cock. He stiffens in my hand. I like it. His dick is long and eager and I love how hard the shaft is but how velvety soft the skin is. I guess that probably describes any guy’s dick, but I like my husband so we’ll pretend his cock is special.

“Touch her,” Adrian coaxes.

Dan glances at his friend.

“No backseat driving,” he says, but his hand drifts between my legs.

He runs his finger between my folds. I sigh. It feels nice, but what is especially hot are Adrian’s eyes on me while I make out with my husband. I’m hot and wet from that alone!

We curl up on the bed, kissing and touching each other. Dan’s lips meander down my neck and to my breast. He suckles my nipple until it’s hard and then moves to the other one. I arch my back and watch the look on Adrian’s face. I spread my legs wide so that he gets a good look at my pussy, glistening with desire. Dan doesn’t notice but I smile at his best friend, who gives me a thumb’s up at the sight of my snatch.

I’m proud of myself for being so daring.

Dan blocks Adrian’s view of my pussy by pushing his fingers up inside and covering my mound with his palm. He follows it up with an encore of two and then three fingers. I stretch. Dan’s never put three fingers in my pussy, so I figure he’s showing off for Adrian. I guess boys will be boys.

“Eat her out,” Adrian says. Dan shoots him a look.

Don’t get me wrong, my husband is a caring lover. He always makes sure that I come, usually more than once. I’ve got no complaints. Despite this, he’s not much for cunnilingus. He’ll do it, but I can tell he does it only because he doesn’t want a divorce. I don’t care. I still make him go down on me, and I keep him down there as long as I can.

With Adrian watching, suddenly he’s a pussy pro! He practically dives between my thighs and he’s almost too eager to feast on my sloppy bits. Dan’s slurping on my folds and lapping at me with his tongue. It feels amazing and ridiculous at the same time.

“Aren’t you industrious tonight,” I tell him, grabbing him by the hair and guiding his face.

He just gives me a wicked look over my own mound and says nothing (since his mouth is busy between my thighs).

He sucks my clit between his lips and I cry out and laugh. He devours me. He sticks his tongue inside of me (which is interesting, but not really my thing). He’s never made any of these moves before, and I’m stuck somewhere between loving it and feeling super irritated that he hasn’t been doing his best between my legs before tonight.

But I’m not complaining. Dan doubles down on my clit, sucking it into his mouth and rolling it with his tongue. I’m gushing. I moan. I glance at Adrian and he looks horny as hell. My clit is throbbing and I’m going to come. I press Dan’s face to my pussy, but my eyes lock with Adrian’s. I cry out, pleasure spilling through me as I come, and I keep my gaze on Adrian’s face the whole shuddering time.

Hottest orgasm ever.

Dan springs up as soon as my orgasm has passed, as if my pussy might somehow try to suction onto his face like some kind of pink alien. He wipes his chin on the sheets.

Adrian looks pretty hot and bothered.

“Do you guys mind if I — uh — get more comfortable?” Adrian says, pointing to his fly.

“Take it out,” I say. “I want to see it.”

Dan gives me a quizzical look. I shrug.

“He’s getting a good look at all of my parts, it may as well be fair,” I say.

“You’re going to jerk off?” Dan says.

“Um, I guess, yeah?” Adrian says, unbuttoning his jeans. “If that’s okay.”

“Yes, it’s okay,” I say breathlessly. I just want to see his hard penis, to see him stroke it.

Dan gives up and decides he’s too horny to care. He leaps between my legs. His long cock bounces as he positions himself to fuck. I spread my thighs and put my hands behind my head. I glance at Adrian. He’s unzipped and pulled his pants down. He’s sitting in the chair with his dick out, stroking himself. He’s got a long, mean-looking cock. I want to take a minute to watch him but then Dan sticks his cock into my pussy.

Wow, he’s looking for stud-of-the-night, I think. He thrusts into me hard. I moan. He feels amazing inside. Every stroke, every thrust, feels super. I’ve had sex umpteen times with my husband and it’s usually quite nice, but tonight I’m really worked up and it’s not because of him. Having Adrian watching him thrusting into my pussy makes the sex feel amazing.

Dan plows me. He’s usually pretty gentle, but tonight he’s fucking me like a jock. He slaps his hips against me and I start crying out, bouncing against his thighs. Most nights I would describe our sex as lovemaking but tonight he’s banging me — no-holds barred, aggressive, banging. My pussy slurps and sucks around his cock as he fucks me. His thrusts stir me to the core. I think I’m going to come again, another thing that doesn’t usually happen.

Dan’s face is bright red. The veins strain on his neck. I put my hands against his chest to feel the flex of his muscles as he fucks me, but also to hold him back a little. He’s spread my thighs brutally and he’s really letting me have it. I love rough sex and I’m a little scared he might hurt me.

I glance at Adrian. His face is red. He’s flogging his cock in his fist. The head is bright purple and it looks like he’s choking it. My throat is tight and I start to tremble.

“Fuck me, don’t stop!” I scream at Dan while my eyes are glued to Adrian’s dick.

Adrian comes, his jizz flying into the air and splattering on his hand. That’s it for me, my pussy clenches around Dan’s cock and I’m screaming like a banshee. The sound of my pleasure sends Dan over the edge and he spills his cum inside of me, thrusting over and over to my core until he’s empty.

After we’ve all cleaned up, I join the guys in their man cave. Adrian keeps glancing at me and looking away again. Dan seems super proud of himself, and I’m just glowing with how sexy I feel. We wind up watching Playboy after all, and I no longer feel that edge of jealousy toward those gals. After what I did tonight, I feel like the vixen of the year.

College Try

This was a little story I pulled out of the vault and brushed off for the blog. It’s a reminder that I used to churn out erotica (of dubious quality) for pennies. I would much rather let you enjoy it for free. Erotica Libre!


One night in college…

I was hanging out in my dorm room with Mark and Josh, two good friends.

“You ever watch porn before?” Mark asked me.

“Ugh,” I said.

I certainly wasn’t a prude. I bet I’d had more actual sex than Mark and Josh combined, not to mention my general fascination with fucking. But porn wasn’t part of the repertoire.

“Porn’s not for girls,” I joked.

“Bullshit,” he said. He pulled a DVD (yeah, it was the ’90s) out of his backpack and flashed us a wicked grin. “Want to?”

“Uh, no?” I said.

“You’re telling me you’re twenty and you’ve never seen porn? And you’re okay with that?”

“We had to watch some for my feminism and sexuality class,” I said.

“Great, so you already know more than me. Let’s watch it,” Mark said, inserting the disk.

“Mark, if she doesn’t want to…” Josh said, trailing off as the explicit preview began.

There was an erection and cum and a woman bouncing on a cock, some terrible doink music, a closeup of a dick and pussy mushing together. I had a hard time figuring out which parts were which. It was disorienting.

I stared, wide-eyed, at the gross anatomy splashed across the screen. And that was just the advertisement.

Josh cringed with embarrassment on my behalf. “We can turn it off,” he said, making no move for the remote.

“Maybe a little bit will be interesting,” I said.

We sat on my bed and watched. I had Mark on one side of me and Josh on the other. We turned off the lights. I remember the snow whirling outside the dorm room window. The video was awful and we spent a lot of time laughing at how bad it was. I was in the space between disgusted and totally turned on. I covered my eyes sometimes but I couldn’t look away.

We watched a scene with three hard muscular dudes and a thin woman with small tits. The guys were all over her. At one point she was taking turns slurping two guys and she rode the third. I was fascinated by their big cocks and how eager she was to take on three of them. I covered my eyes when they came on her face, but peeked through my trembling fingers to watch anyway.

Then Josh put his hand on my thigh.

I glanced at him, shocked. He smiled.

I glanced back at the show, not quite sure what to do or say. Mark was oblivious.

Josh slid his hand up my thigh until his fingers were against my pussy. He could feel my heat through the pajamas. His fingers felt great but I wanted more.

Josh rubbed me with tiny motions. I gasped. My eyes were glued to the action on the screen, but all my attention was on the friction between my legs.

What if Mark noticed? Did I care?

I reached for the bulge in Josh’s sweatpants. He made a little noise when I squeezed his cock. I opened my legs and Josh covered my crotch with his whole hand. He squeezed my pussy.

At that moment in the video a porny guy was eating out a girl’s pussy. I boiled.

I chewed my lip. I smelled the clean scent of Josh’s hair as he scooted closer to me and pressed his warm body against mine.

He kissed my neck silently, sending shivers down my spine. He fumbled with the elastic of my pajama bottoms. I held my breath and longed to kiss him back. He awkwardly slipped his hand into my pants and his fingers slid into my heat. I moaned. I squeezed him in response. He was rock hard.

This was getting too hot to handle. My breath quickened as Josh explored my hot folds.

Mark jumped when I touched his thigh. He glanced at me in surprise, saw Josh’s hand wiggling in my pajamas, and smiled.

He stood up and stripped off his pants, revealing his pale cock.

I giggled. “You’re not shy!”

He grabbed his penis and shook it. “Not shy at all!”

He knelt on the bed, took my head in his hands, and kissed me lingeringly. I squeezed the bulge in Josh’s pants while Mark left me breathless with tender kisses, his cock bouncing just inches from me.

Excitement jolted me as I reached out an touched Mark’s naked cock. It was silky smooth and so hard. His tip was slick with moisture. I wondered if I did that to him or it was the porn.

Mark groaned as I stroked him. Josh stripped from the waist down. The sight of his white buttocks gave me a vicious rush. The two guys sandwiched me from either side, taking turns making out with me, touching me. Both guys were running hot.

I had a dick in each hand. Think about that: two men, two cocks. It was a revelation! At that point in my life I’d held exactly two dicks (and not at the same time). I’d just doubled my lifetime dick-holding total!

I discovered that I was bad at pleasuring two guys at once. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried stroking two dicks at the same time but it requires lots of coordination. I jerked one and forgot to jerk the other. I’m sure it was frustrating. There were simply too many cocks.

Mark laughed. “Can you rub your head and your tummy at the same time?” he said as my strokes stuttered.

I blushed. “Shut up,” I said. “Or we all put our clothes back on.”

“Yeah, I’d rather not,” he said.

“Then keep your comments to yourself. And no, I can’t,” I said, answering his tummy/head question.

Josh groaned. “Please just keep rubbing me, at least?”

I blushed.

As if to prove that I was good at this whole threesome thing, I leaned over and took Mark into my mouth. No drama, just like I was sucking on a lollipop. A salty lollipop.

Mark groaned like he was dying. Exhilaration.

It was probably a bad idea to make out with both of my friends at once, but I had two guys here and I’ve gotta admit, I felt pretty awesome.

Two men at once! Winning at the Game of Life! Score!!!

I slurped on Mark’s head, doing my best work. He was big and I had to open wide. He unbuttoned my pajama top, palmed my breast and massaged my nipple between his finger and thumb. I tingled fiercely.

I gulped on his erection, making gross slurping noises. My chin was wet. Blow jobs can be kind of fun, but they sure do get messy. Of course, I forgot about Josh’s lower half while sucking Mark, so in frustration he changed tactics and started working on me.

Josh pulled off my pajama bottoms. I lifted my hips as he stripped my panties off. The cold air rushed over my bare skin. It was a rush to have Josh gazing at my pussy while I sucked Mark’s cock.

The porno played in the background the whole time. Recorded sounds of slapping, gulping and moaning blended with our own.

Josh spread my thighs, his hands painting goosebumps all over the skin of my legs. I gasped around Mark’s cock. Josh pressed his lips to my pussy with all of the tenderness of a lover’s first kiss. A moment later he was devouring my folds, slurping desperately at my flesh. I lifted my hips to his face, letting the pleasure travel right up my core and transferring my horniness into the eager blow job I was giving Mark. Mark, for his part, cupped my tit with one hand while he ran his free hand through my hair.

Josh was making it hard to concentrate. I closed my eyes and moaned, forgetting Mark’s cock temporarily. Josh flicked my clit with his tongue. The little bud was swollen with tingly pleasure. He slipped his fingers into my pussy. The pads of his fingers rubbed the roof of my vagina until I was beside myself.

I panted and quaked as his mouth wrapped over my soaking flesh and his fingers penetrated me again and again. Unbelievable pleasure pooled between my legs. I gripped Mark’s cock and he nuzzled against my lips, but all I could do was moan and thrust my hips.

I came to the edge of the abyss.

I parted my lips and sucked Mark into my mouth. He moaned at the pleasure and squeezed my tits in response.

That put me over the edge.

For a split-second I became blindingly aware of two men. Two men. One of them groped my breasts, his cock pressed to my lips. The other licked my pussy and had his fingers inside of me.

Two guys. Holy shit. I was a sex goddess.

“Shit, I’m close, babe,” Mark groaned.

“Me too,” I whimpered. I thought of Mark coming right this second. Right in my mouth. Just as my own insides were ramping toward…

I came, my core clenching delightfully around Josh’s fingers. I cried and quivered.

The porno played in the background, fake real sex mirrored against real real sex.

Josh spread my thighs and pressed his cockhead against my hot folds. God I wanted him inside so badly! He rubbed his tip up and down my pussy, picking up my moisture, and then he started to penetrate me. It was slow going, despite my wetness.

“Tight,” he groaned.

“Wait,” I gasped.

His cockhead nudged into me. I could feel it like a ring of fire.

“Wait,” I said again.

Josh stopped, halfway inside. He trembled. Every instinct told him to thrust to my core.

“What is it?” he groaned.

“Condom,” I said.

I wanted him so badly. I wanted to feel him inside, the slide of his hard shaft in my gushing pussy, but I knew better than to lose my head. No glove, no love. It’s the law.

“Shit,” Josh said, grimacing at the ache in his balls. His tip was already inside, and I could see the war being fought in his brain. He wanted to fuck me so badly!

Josh glanced at me and then at Mike. Mike shook his head.

“I don’t have one,” Mike said.

The men looked at each other in agony. I was desperate and so were they. Josh was still half-thrust inside my pussy. For one second I almost told him to go ahead, fuck me, pour his cum inside of my womb. I knew both these guys, I trusted them. But I wasn’t on the pill, and I was a modern girl who knew what’s what. I shook my head.

“Come here,” I said, at wits’ end with desire — and at least a little guilty for leading them down this path and not putting out.

I got on my knees and took Josh more deeply in my mouth then I’d ever had a guy. He stood over me, standing awkwardly. I gagged and gulped, slurping him and stroking him messily. Mark stood up, too. As I gagged on Josh’s cock I stroked Mark’s — or rather I held it, forgetting to stroke.

Then I switched men. My mouth was super sloppy from sucking Josh but I went right down on Mark. He groaned like a Viking.

I didn’t think. My mouth went from guy to guy. I sucked cock like I’d never sucked and I’m sure I would’ve made the girls in the porno jealous.

I had both men groaning and quivering. My chin was dripping wet and the guys were soaked too. I stroked and sucked in one motion, my head bobbing. I tried to keep one busy with my mouth while I made sure the other wasn’t left too far behind. It was like a super-sexual game of concentration, only with dicks.

Mark reached the promised land first. He was twitchy and every time I went down he sort of bent over me, hugging my head like he was in pain. I took this as a good sign. I hadn’t ever really gotten a guy off in my mouth and I wasn’t sure what to expect. He gave me a little warning.

“I’m going to…” He moaned the words more than said them.

I could tell he wasn’t sure where to squirt, so I made the choice for him. I went way down — girls, I mean way down. I eased into it and fucked him deep into my mouth and tried not to totally gag. He groaned and stiffened and thrust.

“Fuck, fuck that feels great…” he moaned. “Holy shit, don’t stop.”

I took a deep breath through my nose and relaxed, ignoring that my mouth was packed with cock.

His cum spilled onto my tongue and down my throat. I gagged a little bit at that moment, but I swallowed and massaged his shaft and tip with my tongue. I smiled up at him, the look of ecstasy on his face an amazing reward for the rather messy work I’d just undertaken.

But I wasn’t done! There was another cock here, achingly stiff for attention.

I gulped down Mark’s offering and set in again on Josh, who I guess wasn’t squeamish about the other guy’s cum (or too horny to care). In any case, I started going to town on Josh. He moaned and groaned and gasped — all the sounds I wanted to hear! He wasn’t as large as Mark and I found it easier to take him deep, which he loved. He rolled his head back and moaned. I stroked him and sucked deep, my other hand braced on his naked abdomen. I loved the feel of his muscles flexing as I pleasured him.

Josh stiffened and quivered. I bobbed my head up and down on his shaft. Mark, apparently trying to be useful, knelt behind me and stroked my wet pussy. I ignored the aching pleasure as well as I could. I was focused on getting Josh off. I wanted him to have the best time ever.

When it was clear that he was close, his tip big and fat and purple with desire, he put his hands lovingly on my head and said:

“Let me do it on your tits.”

I smiled and nodded, pushing my breasts out to give him a good splashboard. My nipples stuck out like hard nubbins. His eyes roved over his sexy target.

He grabbed his cock and rubbed it wickedly. I watched, fascinated, my chest heaving. His face turned bright red and he trembled. All of his muscles tightened. He groaned like the earth was giving way. He leaned back like he was losing his balance and…

“Oh my God,” I said, squinting as he thrust forward.

I flinched.

An incredible arc of cum squirted from his purple head. It was truly magnificent, if a little gross. He totally splattered my breasts, and spilled some in my hair and down my cheek as well. The first blast was followed by a few more bursts of cum that cooled quickly on my skin and trickled between my breasts.

I’d never been come on before. I wasn’t sure if I liked it, but I sure felt naughty with his jizz on me. Josh smiled, lifted me up and gave me a big, friendly hug. His cum wiped off on his t-shirt (which he was still wearing).

Over the following weeks and months I really wanted it to happen again. I bought condoms to keep them handy even though I didn’t have a boyfriend. During my last year in college I dreamed of taking that threesome to the next level, but it didn’t happen. I should’ve made something happen, but I guess I’m just not sexually assertive enough to really ask for what I want.

I had two men in my mouth and I mastered both of them. I could check it off my bucket list. I’ve never felt so powerful as I did pleasuring two guys at the same time.

Mark, Josh and I stayed friends through college. We never hooked up again, although I always wondered if it might happen. All three of us ultimately paired up with other people, got engaged, got married… I never told my husband about what happened that night, since I’m still in touch with the guys and I’m sure he’d be very jealous. While I’m sure nothing will ever happen after all these years, I still secretly smile when I think of them.

I kind of hope that their wives don’t know that I blew them both. At the same time. I like that it’s just my little secret with the guys.

On the Beach, Part 10

Previous episodes.

Elie took my hand and brought me to my feet. He touched my cheek. The same cheek that had just moments before sparkled with a baptism of his jizz. I was coming down, coming back to earth, but my heart still skittered with anxious energy. Or horniness. Or both.

“My beauty, my lovely little Cunt. I will attend to you later.”

“Where are you going?” I frowned.

“I’m a lifeguard, remember? I saved you from drowning yesterday?”

I laughed. It seemed like forever ago. It reminded me that Elie, who seemed like a god conjured from the sea, was also a man.

“How can you possibly afford this place?” I said.

He smiled. “It is a rude question. You barely know me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“I will punish you for it later,” he said with a smile. “While I’m gone you have a few errands. I expect you to find some new clothes. Avril can point you in the right direction. Buy a journal and write down anything about today that you think is important.”

“I don’t mind shopping,” I said. “You’re making this too easy.”

“You’ll obey Avril just like you would me, in my absence.”

“Happy to do that, too,” I said.

“Oh, and you are not allowed to wear clothes,” Elie said. “Except when you are trying them on in the shop.”

My throat tightened and arousal lurched in my belly.

“Is that legal?”

“Yes, but you will attract a lot of attention. Are you ready for that?”

“Yes.” I shivered. I was excited.

Elie smiled and drew me close. I trembled at the press of his muscles, at his warmth. My body hummed with an urgent need for him to take me.

“Elie, will you… Will you fuck me now before you go?”

“No,” Elie said. “I want you to wait for it.”

“Ugh,” I groaned. “I want you inside.”

“Good,” he said. “When you want it ten times as bad, maybe then you will be ready.”

“Oh, God. I’ll die.”

“You will not,” he said. “I promise.”

I watched Elie slip into short and a t-shirt. He was almost as sexy dressed as he was naked. Almost. I gazed at him. I was so attracted to him, but I realized that it wasn’t his body or his personality. From the moment I’d met him, he’d taken charge of me. I liked it.

Elie turned as he left. “Oh, and remember, you’re not to touch your pussy today. At all. Do you understand?”

I nodded and bit my lip.

I watched him leave and ached for more.

* * *

I showered. The entire time I was fixated on the ache between my legs. I wanted to touch myself. Elie would never know, but it violated the rules of the game he was constructing, and I didn’t want to seem so weak. But, ohhhhh, did I want to rub my clit. Not even an orgasm, just some rubbing, some pinching. I made a fist to keep my fingers from trailing down my abdomen.

I felt like a new person as the water dripped down my body. I’d certainly started a new adventure. I thought I might be going crazy, but I felt at home with Elie and his friends. I’m not sure I’d ever felt that before.

I found Avril, Asha, and Lars curled in a second, smaller bedroom. They were a tangle of limbs, sheets and bare skin. The room smelled of sex and incense.

Avril stirred as I peered in from the doorway. She brushed her purple hair out of her eyes and smiled at me.

“Hello, my sweet,” she said, her slight accent drawing me in immediately.

After all had showered, dressed and breakfasted, Lars and Asha went their separate ways. I chuckled to realize that this morning was the first time I’d seen any of my new friends dressed. What an odd meeting! Asha kissed my cheek and Lars hugged me, grabbing a palmful of my naked butt as if it were simply his way of hugging.

“I look forward to seeing more of you,” Lars said, waggling his eyebrows.

I laughed. “I’m not sure how much more of me there is to see,” I said and waved them off.

I’d asked Avril to stay behind.

“Elie asked me to do a few things today,” I said. “And I need your help. If you can spare some time.”

I told her the tasks I’d been assigned. Avril glowed.

“I’m pleased we get to spend more time together,” Avril said. “I have a client this afternoon, but the whole morning is free. Are you nervous about what Elie has asked you to do?”

“Yes, but excited too,” I said. “I like playing the game. There’s only one problem: I have no money with me.”

Avril smiled. “Oh, I have you covered.”

“I will pay you back,” I promised.

“Yes, you will,” Avril said.

Leaving the shelter of the apartment with no clothes on was very exciting. My heart raced and my mouth was dry. I recognized that feeling so well from the naked games I would play in the woods back home, only this was far more intense. In my games, there was only the possibility of being seen. Today there was a certainty.

The street we were on was bathed in sunlight. It was narrow and cobble-stoned, with a view of the glistening sea behind. I could taste the sea air. The street was quiet, but there were two old men sitting at the corner, smoking. Their skin was dark and wrinkled, and they stared at my nubile body with beady old-man eyes as we passed. They never smiled, as if it would be impolite, but they had no problem leering. My nipples hardened under their gaze.

Avril stopped me in front of them.

“Gentlemen, may I present Tara? Isn’t she a beauty?” she said in Spanish, my own comprehension racing to keep up. Avril translated when I struggled.

One of the old men cracked a toothless grin. “An angel! A goddess!”

“Where are her clothes?” the other old man asked.

“Why, I thought she was more lovely in the nude. Are you complaining, sir?”

“Ah, no, no. I haven’t seen a young woman like that in fifty years. Not since my wife was young, may God rest her soul.” He crossed himself.

“More lovely than heaven itself. Her tits are like… Ripe peaches.”

“Better than peaches,” the other old man said. “Look at how hard her nipples are!” His tongue flicked his cigarette-chapped lips.

“Give these gentlemen a twirl, Tara.”

I slowly rotated so that they could get a good view of me fore and aft. There was much commenting on my ass, which both men seemed very much to like. Meanwhile I was stewing in a brew of embarrassment and heady arousal. A flush covered my breasts, crept up my neck, and colored my cheeks with heat. My heart pounded at being on display. It was uncomfortable and also extremely liberating.

“Maybe she can do a little dance?” one old man asked.

Avril nodded. Ah, hell. I wasn’t much of a dancer. I did my best impression of a woman dancing awkwardly for horny old men. They laughed and clapped and seemed delighted.

“If I were young again…” he said. I heard sadness in his voice as he was reminded of his proximity to the grave. “You have made an old man happy.”

Avril bid them politely farewell. They waved and blew kisses as they watched me walk away, beady eyes watching the swaying of my hips wistfully.

She led me down several side avenues to a lane packed with colorful shops and eateries. The village was a popular spot for tourists in the summer (here for the luxurious sand and sea) and this street was bustling. All of my senses were heightened: I heard German, Italian, British English, a whole mix of accents and tongues; I smelled sweet and savory aromas, the smell of rich bread and coffee, the tang of expensive perfume; I felt a hot Spanish breeze whispering through my pubes, tickling my hard nipples, sending goosebumps over my bare skin; I tasted the metallic zing of my own arousal on my tongue; I saw men and women from all over the world, and I watched their heads turn, their eyes locking on the naked woman. Me.

Laughter. Pointing. Confused looks. I stood frozen by the attention, my heart racing a mile a minute. Phones were pulled from back pockets or expensive handbags. Suddenly I was at the center of every lens on the street. I had a moment of empathy for celebrities and their omnipresent papprazzi. I felt like my arousal must be so obvious: flushed breast, hard nipples, even the wetness of my pussy seemed like it must be obvious to them. They took picture after picture of my bare body.

Avril took my hand and kindly led me down the street. I attracted a circle of onlookers, most of them men. Some of the tourists shrugged and went on their way, but others started following us. Apparently, seeing a naked woman on a busy street was a bit unusual and they wanted to see where this show would end up. Avril very graciously greeted people and answered questions from curious onlookers.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m taking her for a walk.”

“Is this for a TV show?”

“No, think of this as an art project.”

Many men whistled, or catcalled. A group of young men followed us making all kinds of offers of sex. I was amused by the men who had a woman on their arms, who had the audacity to catcall despite their wife or girlfriend. The attention was both arousing and uncomfortable, but I felt a sense of power over those men. Like the Pied Piper I was leading all the rats out of Dublin Town.

Avril stopped into a bakery. The boy behind the counter (a handsome young man with sensitive eyes) tried very hard not to stare at my tits, but I caught his many hasty glances. He blushed sweetly and I found myself a little bit in love with him. Avril noticed, too.

“It’s okay to look,” she said to him. “She’s naked so that everyone can get a good look at her.”

He grinned and nodded, and took a good hard look at my breasts, my stomach, my bush. But he wouldn’t look me in the eyes. I wondered if he’d ever seen a naked woman in the flesh. I might be his first. The thought made my pussy twitch.

Avril chose a little round table on the sidewalk so we could be as fully visible to passing tourists as possible. The metal mesh of the seat was cold and uncomfortable on my pussy, and my pubes kept getting caught, pulling my skin uncomfortably if I moved. So I sat very still. A ring of admirers gathered around us, snapping photos and video. I was too aroused and agitated to focus. I sipped espresso and nibbled nervously at the pastry Avril had bought.

“How are you, dearest?” Avril said.

“It’s a lot of attention,” I said. I realized my armpits were sweaty.

“This is great training for you,” Avril said. “You’re naked and lots of people are staring, but you haven’t melted or burst into flame.”

I gulped. I was so aware. It wasn’t too late for the melting or flame-bursting to begin.

“Are you turned on?” Avril said.

“Oh yeah,” I said, pinching my thighs around my sex, trying to dull the buzz I felt.

“Why don’t you tell your fans how you feel?”

I glanced at the ring of people, mostly men. “Oh, fuck,” I whispered. That made me feel absolutely dizzy.

“Go ahead. Stand up, tell them how you feel.”

I stood. My thighs trembled, my upper thigh damp from my pussy. My nipples were hard as rocks.

“Stand tall, say it loud,” Avril said. “Tell them how you feel.”

I cleared my throat. My voice felt weak. “I’m…” Oh, God. My cheeks blazed. “I am so turned on right now.”

The men laughed, some clapped. Calls of “I bet you are”, “I’ve got what you need, just bend over,” and “Give us a show, darling” were drowned out by my pulse in my ears. And my pussy. Oh, God, horniness and nerves made it hard to think straight.

I sat back down. Avril grinned. “You’re doing great!”

I let out a crooked grin. “This is kinda fun.”

“Of course it is,” she said.

On the Beach, Part 9

Previous episodes.

Tara finds herself consorting with a group of libertines who seek to plumb the depths of her sexual nature. In the previous chapter, we learned that Tara shows signs of the qualities of a Vessel — a person who seeks fulfillment through being empty, and filled. In this chapter, Elie forces her to confront her true desires.

Wine flowed, as did spirited talk. Asha rubbed her pussy until she came, her whimpers of bliss giving me shivers. Even in orgasm she seemed graceful. Asha chased her orgasm by going down on Avril with a tenderness only a lover could conjure, and followed that with another round of shameless fingering and a second orgasm. Avril mounted Lars and fucked him, and then Asha, Lars and Avril entwined together. Mouths, tongues, cock, assholes and cunts all were liberally shared between them.

Elie held me and we watched them fucking one another. I felt safe in his arms.

“Do you want to join them?” he asked.

“Not yet,” I said. “Maybe. Maybe soon?”

Elie nodded, and teased my nipple between his fingers.

“Do you want to join them?” I said. “I don’t want you to miss out on my account.”

“I will stay with you, tonight,” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

Elie smiled, and ran his fingers through my hair. “I think I know you better than you know yourself, my dear Tara.”

Perhaps he did.

I was bleary with wine and weary from almost drowning. I watched the orgy unfold as a ghost might attend a cocktail party. I let my head rest on Elie’s thigh, and in a sleepy haze I suckled his cock. I’m not sure if he came, or if it were a dream that I felt his cum on my cheek.

When I awoke, the sun streamed through the window. I was in a large bed, in a high-ceilinged bedroom with tiled floors and a lofty, Arabesque-inspired ceiling. I was naked, and in the summer heat I’d kicked off all of the bed clothes. Elie, also naked, lay next to me. Handsome, fit. His body like a god. He had a beautiful erection that simply begged for attention.

I lounged against him and slipped his cock into my mouth, slurping on his bulging tip lazily, tasting the slick soapiness of him on my tongue. He groaned and stirred, running fingers through my hair.

As I sucked him, I reflected on the night before. It seemed like a dream. It seemed like nonsense. I wondered about this group of friends, and if I’d fallen into some kind of a sex cult. Perhaps I had.

Gradually, I took more of him in my mouth. My lazy ministrations became more focused as I stopped teasing and started to work toward the goal. I bobbed my head, grasping his hilt as I took him deeper, my lips and tongue working his shaft, saliva dribbling down my chin. He moaned, lifting his hips. His abs flexed. Oh, Jesus, those abs. My pussy was wet and tingled with hot need. Elie had let me sleep last night, but I hoped he would fuck me this morning.

“Wait,” he said.

I looked at him, wiping my mouth with my arm, hating to stop. He was close, I could tell. His cock was so fucking stiff and wet. Oh God, I wanted to straddle him and ride.

“We are going to try something,” he said.

He knelt and grabbed a fistful of my hair. He pulled my head back. I gasped.

“Tell me what you are,” he said. His voice was soft, but still urgent.

He started stroking his impressive cock directly over my face.

“What do you mean?”

“What are you?” he said, pulling my hair.

“I don’t know,” I said, genuinely confused.

“Spread your legs,” he said and I did.

Elie stopped stroking his cock long enough to slap my pussy, hard. I shrieked, clamping my thighs together. My cunt sparkled and pinged.

“Jesus Christ,” I swore at the pleasure-pain in my loins.

Elie started stroking again. “Tell me, Tara, what are you?”

“I don’t know,” I moaned. “What do you want me to say?”

“Spread,” he said. Again, his hand left his cock long enough to give me a stunning slap that left my pussy prickling and my body writhing under him.

“Oh, fuck.” I squirmed and wriggled.

“What kind of woman lets a man do this to her?” Elie said, stroking his cock just an inch from my nose. “What are you?”

“I’m a… a slut?”

I sensed he wasn’t asking me to talk dirty to him.

“I’m a slut,” I said again, more definitely.

He pulled my hair and smiled. “Own it,” he said. “What defines a slut?”

I gasped, intensely aroused. My nipples, my pussy, my skin all sparkled with a need to be touched.

What defines a slut?

“Sex,” I said. Sex. A hunger for sex.

He stroked his cock right in my face, tugging my head, forcing me to arch my back. I could see every vein, the way the skin bunched beneath his palm. He dripped slime on my cheek. His palm made smacking noises around the cock-head. It strained, ready to empty its payload onto my face.

A shudder ran up my spine. “I want you.”

Apparently, that wasn’t what I should have said.

“Spread,” he commanded. I winced, but obeyed. The slap made me writhe, lightning charging up my spine.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” I said, shaking. I feared another smack on my tender folds, yet the pain lit a fire between my thighs.

“Go deeper,” Elie commanded. “What are you?”

He wanted me to discover something. What am I? Who am I?

“Let go,” he said. “What defines a slut?”

“Sex,” I said, repeating myself. “Fucking. I don’t know.”

“Spread.”

I cried out, writhed with an agony of pleasure, as he slapped my cunt. My thighs closed involuntarily.

“Open,” he said again, not done torturing my poor flower. I did as he said, and writhed with yet another stinging slap to my tender bits. “Hold your thighs open and accept the pain,” he said.

Oh my God. Oh my sweet Jesus. Those words. They did something to me. I parted my legs, bared my pink to him. My body tensed, anticipating. The slap, a whimper. Another slap. My cunt, humming, buzzing, agony. I forgot myself and focused only on one thing: keeping my shuddering thighs open so that Elie could lash my cunt. I wasn’t Tara anymore. I was cunt and agony. Cunt and heat. Cunt and hunger.

Then just Cunt.

“Oh my God,” I sobbed as the truth rose to the surface through a haze of pain and bliss and desire. “Oh my God.”

“What are you?” Elie asked, gently slipping two fingers into my soaking wet pussy.

“I am cunt,” I moaned.

“Say it again,” he said, fingering me tenderly, pleasure swirling in my belly.

“I’m cunt,” I said.

“Anything else?” he said.

“No. Just… cunt.”

It made so much sense to me in the blinding clarity of that moment, how enlightenment was somehow hiding in the dizzying, slick ache between my thighs.

He scooped me, kissed me passionately on the lips, still sliding his fingers in and out of my pussy.

“Yes,” he whispered. “You’re starting to understand. Lose yourself and you will find yourself.”

I moaned.

“Do you want my baptism?” Elie said, squeezing his cock, milking it toward the purple tip.

“Yes,” I said, without a moment of hesitation.

Elie took my hand and guided me off the bed.

“Kneel,” he said.

I got to my knees, naked and vulnerable before him.

He put both hands on my head. He let his cock rest on my forehead, hot and slick. The tip lay atop the very center of my forehead: my third eye. It didn’t feel sexual (despite his dick on my face) but more like I was being inducted into a sorority, or being knighted by the Queen.

“Tara, I can guide you if you will trust me.”

“I trust you,” I said solemnly.

“I want you to turn yourself over to me for a while. Your body, your soul, your will. Together we will explore these desires of yours.”

“Okay,” I said.

I smiled. It was strange to have such a serious conversation with his erection resting on my face.

“I will ask you to do things that will make you uncomfortable, do you understand?”

“I like being uncomfortable,” I said.

“There’s a difference between running naked through the woods and what I will ask you to do.”

I let out a deep breath. “Elie, if you tell me to do something, I’ll do it.”

This was a game, a sex game. If there were anything that I understood, it was how to play the game.

“Your body will belong to me, for whatever end I please. Do you accept this?”

I paused. My nerves fluttered. “Yes,” I said.

“I will humiliate you. In public. Will you accept it?”

I buzzed. “Yes,” I said. What had my games been other than a flirtation with humiliating myself?

“I will share you with other men and women, strangers perhaps, at my whim and not yours.”

I hesitated, but Elie’s bold plan had a heady momentum, and it both aroused and frightened me. I nodded.

“Tara, I want you to really hear me. I will offer up your cunt, your asshole, your mouth, to men and women you don’t know. Will you accept this?”

“Yes,” I said, feeling a definitely tightness in my chest.

“Is there anything I can ask you to do that you will refuse?”

“Why don’t we find out?” I said.

Elie smiled. “I think you’re ready. Tilt your head toward me,” he said.

He lifted his cock from where it had been resting on my forehead. His juices had been leaking onto my skin leaving a dewy patch on my third eye. The spot tingled.

Elie milked his shaft, the tip pointed at that point on my forehead. I closed my eyes.

“Tell me what you are,” he said in a voice thick, straining against his desire to come.

I said the words like a prayer: “I am Cunt.”

With a groan he ejaculated. Hot streams rained down on my cheeks. I gasped, opened my mouth and kept my eyes pinched shut. When he was done I laughed. His cum was everywhere: pooling on my cheeks, in my eyelashes and caught in my hair. He let go of my head. I knelt with my face covered. The moment felt perversely holy, like I had indeed been baptized by his jizz.

“Now you belong to me,” he growled.

I was totally at peace. I smiled and licked the cum off my lips, blinking. I vibrated inside. I had found the answer to questions I didn’t know I had been asking. I laughed. Joy.

Elie handed me a towel.

“I know you want to come,” he said. “I’m going to withhold that from you.”

I was quivering with desire, aching to feel him inside of me, to feel his fingers on my clit, but I nodded.

“I trust you,” I said. “Show me the way.”

On the Beach, Part 8

Previous episodes.

It has been a really long time since I posted to this story, which started as a request and tribute for the immaculate Besos de Cuero.

A near-death experience has led Tara to a group of hedonists who are determined to help her unravel the mystery of her sexuality. An evening she thought would end in a simple hookup has become a transformative sexual encounter. We join her with her new companions, all naked, as they start unwrapping her soul.

Avril sat next to me. Her skin on mine. She was warm and smelled like lavender and marijuana. She rested her hand on my bare belly. I gazed up at her. Her eyes were a lustrous brown.

“Look into my eyes, okay?” she said. Her gentle accent was soothing. “Don’t look away.”

I nodded, gazing at her.

“So. Tell me more about guilt and sex,” she said. “You were told sex was bad?”

I nodded. “Honestly, I’m sure I drove my mom nuts. I was a very, uh, free-spirited child. I was spanked for saying or doing anything that might lead to sin.”

“Really?”

“They told me I was going to hell,” I said bluntly. “Honestly, I was spanked up until the day I left the house for college. Literally that very morning.”

“Oh,” Avril said. “As an adult woman?”

I swallowed. “Yes.” I would never feel like an adult woman around my father. “My parents wanted me to go to a Christian school. My father was sure Florida State would doom me to hell. He was probably right. I got into a lot of trouble.”

Avril laughed. “You still are getting it trouble,” she said, and I laughed too. Here I was, naked, with a group of virtual strangers.

If my parents had only known the truth about their girl. I’d gotten into plenty of trouble in high school, too. There were lots of car backseats with my stain on them in my hometown. I’d been looking for something in those steamy, hasty trysts. Even then I understood that much.

“Go on,” Avril said. “Go deeper. Tell me about every sexual thing you can recall.”

Maybe it was the wine, but I felt completely accepted by these people. I told about my religious upbringing, and my rebellion against it. I realized that most of my rebellion involved nudity, masturbation, or both. Many of the details I’d forgotten, like how I used to put my Bible under my hips while I masturbated and then prayed for forgiveness afterwards.

As I spoke, Avril let her hand slide lower on my belly.

“Very good,” Avril said. “Go deeper.”

I told story after story of my entire sexual history. Sometimes Avril would stop on very particular details that seemed unimportant to me, such as the intimate details of a handjob:

“Do you remember how you cleaned up after he came?” she asked at one point.

I laughed. “I don’t remember… I don’t… Wait.”

Suddenly I had a clear, crisp recollection of wiping my boyfriend’s cum on my own panties after giving my first handjob. I kept the panties dirty and used them for friction while masturbating for weeks. I’d forgotten. It seemed so grossly odd, now. I remember how turned on I’d been, and how afraid I was that his dried semen would somehow get me pregnant, and how that thought heightened the arousal for me.

I told all of this and Avril nodded, as if it was the answer she’d been expecting. Why this was important, I have no idea.

“Tell me, does cum disgust you or are you strangely attracted to it?”

“Strangely attracted,” I admitted.

I remembered tasting semen the first time, how I’d been fascinated with it. How it made my boyfriend uncomfortable, even, and he didn’t want to kiss me for days.

So it went, down through my whole sexual history. Avril dredged up story after story and patterns began to emerge as if she was administering a personality test.

“So you had a tendency to nudity, then?” she asked.

I laughed. “I used to play a game in the woods near our house. I called it ‘risking it’. Basically, the game was to start on one end of the wood, strip down and hide my clothes, and then run the path to the other side of the woods and back to my clothes. Naked. Without getting caught.”

Avril nodded wisely. “Did you ever get caught?”

“No,” I said. “Some close calls.”

Risking it had been a self-inflicted punishment. I would do something ‘bad’, like masturbation, and then punish myself with by risking it. This became self-perpetuating.

“It sounds like a child’s game. How old were you?”

I flushed. “Honestly… Honestly? I never stopped ‘risking it’. I still do it.”

“Really?” Avril said, her eyes sparkling. She kissed me, her lips curling with a delighted grin. “You’re wonderfully creative.”

“Uh, it’s hard to admit that. On campus, in buildings, on a trail not far from campus. Yeah. Not safe, I guess. Still never been caught though.”

Avril narrowed her eyes. “Do you want to be caught?”

The question stuck like a barb. My throat tightened. I had a hard time speaking.

“Maybe,” I whispered.

“Tell me the absolute truth,” Avril said.

“I mean, I don’t want to be murdered, if that’s what you mean.”

“But you ‘risk it’ by running around naked trying to avoid getting caught by… men?”

“Ugh, it sounds crazier the more you talk about it.”

Avril leaned in and kissed me gently on the lips. “Dearest, you still haven’t told me the truth. Tell me what this game means to you.”

I licked my lips. “When I masturbate, I feel shame. I relieve the shame through punishment, and the punishment I’ve developed since I was a child is to get naked and go places I shouldn’t be.”

“Yet, doesn’t this game turn you on?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“So it leads to more masturbation. Which leads to more punishment.”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“You hope the a man will catch you. He will tie you up. He will torture you without hurting you. He will make you feel things that you can’t make yourself feel.”

My nerves tingled at what she’d just described. Avril smiled.

“You looked away,” Avril said. “Look into my eyes. Is this why you play the game? Do you want a man to force you to feel pleasure because then the pleasure isn’t your fault and you cannot feel guilty about it?”

I was stunned into silence. I cleared my throat. “Maybe,” I admitted.

Avril looked at Elie, who nodded. Avril’s hand drifted from my tummy and caressed the curls on my mons pubis. It was comforting, like my sex was a pet that needed attention. I sighed, settling into the couch.

“So tell me about masturbation. You masturbate often?”

“I keep track, actually. I know it sounds crazy, but I have a system. If I touch myself, but don’t have an orgasm, it’s less minutes of punishment. If I give myself an orgasm, I have more to make up for.”

“So you’ve developed an exquisite system of edge play,” Elie noted.

“Yeah,” I said. “Look, my system doesn’t work. I started it as a girl because I was trying to stop thinking about boys and touching myself, because of the Bible or something.”

Avril smiled. “We’re the last people on earth to judge you, dearest. What do you imagine when you masturbate?”

I licked my lips.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Just say the words.”

I took a deep breath. “I imagine getting caught while risking it. I imagine a man, sometimes. Or a group of men. And they catch me, and have their way with me.”

“They restrain you?”

“Yes. They tie me, or hold me down.”

“Do they torture you?”

“Yes,” I said, starting to squirm.

“Is the torture pleasurable or painful?”

“Both,” I admitted.

“Do you ever imagine them really hurting you?”

“No,” I said.

“You’re doing wonderfully,” Avril said, kissing me tenderly. Her fingers moved a little lower. I uncrossed my legs and parted them slightly to let her slide a finger gently between them.

“Tell me, have you ever explored this side of your true self with a partner?”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“Your entire sexual being seems to center around a pivot point. You find excuses to get naked. You play a dangerous game to get some excitement and fuel your fantasies. I believe that these signs point to something important about your true self.”

“I’m listening,” I said.

“Tell me, Tara, have you ever put yourself in the position of being an object of lust?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Let me ask a different question. Has any past lover ejaculated on your face?”

“Yes,” I said. “Like a porno.”

“Did you like this?” Avril said. “Would you do it again?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“What did you like about this? You don’t get pleasure from having a man’s cum on your face.”

“No. It’s not because it feels good. It’s because… I like it, sort of want it. Actually, I have no idea how to describe it.”

“Do you know why you like it?” Avril said.

“I guess I like it when men do things to me.”

“Do you think it’s degrading or disrespectful to have a man cum on your face?”

“Well, no,” I said, hesitating. “I mean…  I like the feeling of letting a guy just do stuff to me. On me. Does that make sense?”

Avril nodded. “You make more and more sense to me, dear.”

“I like to be bossed around,” I admitted. “I’m not very sexually aggressive, but more…”

“Submissive,” Elie said sternly. His voice sent a shiver through me.

Avril spoke, drawing my attention back to her. “What I’m trying to draw out of you is whether you are passive because your path is to be a Vessel, or because your socialization has trained you to think so.”

“A Vessel?” I said.

“A Vessel’s natural state is emptiness, yet she exists only to be filled,” Elie said.

A shudder ran up my spine. She exists only to be filled. The words echoed in the chambers of my heart.

“You think I’m a Vessel?” I said.

Avril smiled. “Sexual passivity can be a powerful tool of self-discovery, so long as there is also an active partner. You are like a sexual flower just waiting to burst into bloom.” As Avril said this, her finger teased between my petals. “I think I can read you now.”

She kissed me on the lips. Tenderly. Lingeringly. Her finger circled my clitoris in lazy circles. I sparkled. The sensation was delicious. Everything felt so natural.

I stared into her eyes when the kiss broke. “Tell me,” I said. “Tell me what you know about me.”

She put her palm over my bare breast. Her energy warmed my heart.

“I know that you are blind to your own desires. All of your life you have gone through the motions of sex, but you have never been truly penetrated. No man has ever really known you. In this way you are very much alone. I also see that you instinctively seek more from life, from sex. Your naked games are an expression of this yearning, a spiritual rebellion.”

“What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Let us awaken you,” Elie said, speaking for Avril.

“You must allow yourself explore what you desire,” Avril said. “Let us help you.”

“I don’t know how,” I moaned, wiping tears from my eyes. “I have no idea.”

“Darling, we’ll show you the way,” Avril said.

“Just tell me what to do.” I said.

She laughed. “I will let Elie guide you.”

Avril seemed to speak directly to me in a way noone had ever done before. It wasn’t the words. Perhaps it was her touch on my skin, or the sincerity in her voice, but I found myself opening, blooming beneath her words. I threw my arms around her and pulled her naked body against mine. I kissed her neck, her cheeks, her beautiful lips. I petted her purple hair.

Avril kissed my cheeks. Lars leaned close and gave me a hug. I laughed. His hard cock rested on my hip. Asha was still lazily touching her pussy, having listened intently to the unfolding of my sexual past.

Elie took my hands and bid me to stand. He stared into my soul.

“You said it all started with masturbation,” he said.

“Yes.”

“You said that you feel guilty when you masturbate, even as a grown woman?”

“Yes.”

“Then that will be your next test,” he said.

Show Me

“Let’s play a game,” you say.

You only say that when you’re horny.

“Okay, but I have errands.”

“I’ll tag along.”

The game you have in mind makes me uncomfortable in good and bad ways. A flush hits my cheeks.

At the grocery store we’re in the freezer aisle. Pizza, frozen green beans, a pint of gelato.

You wrap an arm around my waist. Your breath is hot in my ear. Shivers.

“Show me your butthole.”

I giggle. I know you’re not joking.

“You’re so immature,” I say.

“I know. Show me your butthole.”

“That’s wrong.”

“Nothing about you is ever wrong. Now show me your butthole.”

“Such a romantic,” I say. My sarcasm is crisp.

“C’mon, I’m waiting.”

I glance down the aisle. Nobody. Cameras, though, probably watching from the ceiling. I imagine a bored security guard at his desk, just waiting for a woman to pull down her pants and be captured on film.

“Too risky,” I decide. “We come here all the time. I don’t want to get caught.”

You pull me closer. I can feel your erection against my ass. More shivers. I’m getting hot just having this conversation.

You whisper so softly into my ear that I can barely hear you.

“I want you to pull down your pants, bend over, pull your cheeks open, and let me see that hot, pink, pretty, dirty little button-hole of yours.”

My tummy does a flip. I’m wet. Butterflies. Nerves. Arousal, too. Here we are, in the frozen aisle. You’re embracing me from behind in a too-intimate-for-public, hip-pressed kind of way. We’re having a flirty conversation about my butthole in the grocery store.

“I’ll show you my tits,” I offer. I think it’s a good trade: a little safer, still naughty.

You’re not having it. “I want your butthole, and I’m gonna have your butthole.”

My breath quickens. I’m gonna have your butthole. Yes, I want that. In all the ways of wanting something.

I hear the amusement in your voice. You love to see me squirm.

“Oh my god,” I say with a big, determined breath. “You’re the worst.”

“Just do it.”

I hesitate. I chew my lip. You smile at me. Your eyes sparkle. For you, I think. I’ll do whatever you want when you look at me like that.

I decide all of a sudden. I’m gonna do it. I slip my fingers into the elastic of my yoga pants, ready to pull them down, ready to give you the view of my pale moon, to part the clouds and —

A mom with young kids pushes a stroller into the aisle, glances our way. You pull away and we wheel around the corner, both starting to laugh when we’re out of view.

“You see what you almost made me do?”

“Yes,” you say. “But you’re not off the hook. You will show me your butthole before we leave this store.”

“Stop saying ‘butthole’.”

“Only if you show me.”

“Shopping with you is impossible,” I say. I’m smiling. I’m amped.

“I like to make your day less predictable.”

We keep shopping. My mind is fuzzed. All I can think about now is the racing thrill of public nudity, even just a hint of it. I’m not sure if I’ll do what you’re asking, and that question is all I can focus on. Just the thought warms me, makes me jitter.

We’re in the natural foods section, which is a smaller store within the store and gives some sense of privacy. I know you’re going to ask me again. My heart is in my throat because I’ve decided to give you what you want.

I glance left and right.

“Ready?” I say to myself.

With a deep breath I pull down my yoga pants, dragging the underwear with them, so that they bunch around my thighs. The air is cold against my skin. I bend at the waist. My pulse pounds in my face as the blood rushes to my head. I reach back, grab my cheeks, and pull them apart. My butthole is bared in a place that it should never be bared.

I give you a second or two to look, but they feel like minutes to me. I let my ass cheeks close.

“Wait,” you say. “Open up again.”

Heart racing, fearing discovery, I do what you say. I hold the pose, trembling, for what feels like an eternity. I feel more naked than I’ve ever felt. I hear the camera noise on your phone as you repeatedly capture me in this humiliating posture. That makes it hotter for me, but I’m getting anxious.

“Now?” I whimper.

“No,” you say. “I’m going to count to ten.”

“Oh, no,” I moan. Delighted, appalled, at having to hold this posture even a second more.

“One mississippi… Two mississippi…”

“We’re gonna get caught.”

“Three mississippi…”

You touch my butthole, gently, as if you’re checking to see that it’s for real. I jerk at your cold fingertips, surprised.

“Four mississippi…”

You wiggle your pinky, pressing. I wince as you manage just the tip. A moan escapes. It’s terrifying and wonderful. A surge of arousal hits me. So dirty…

“Five mississippi…”

I hear the snapshot noises again as you take pictures to prove that you put your finger in my butthole in the grocery store.

“God,” I moan. “I’m scared.”

“Six mississippi… Seven mississippi…”

You withdraw your finger.

“Eight mississippi…”

Your voice sounds thick with arousal as you count. I love that. I know you wish you could fuck my ass. Maybe when we’re home and the groceries are put away.

“Nine mississippi…”

“I hear something,” I say. Is that the squeaking of a shopping cart? I’m shaking.

“Ten. You’re done.”

“Ohmygod,” I say, a burst of breath squeezing my words together.

In one motion I stand and yank up my pants. I’m flushed, hot. My heart is pounding. My pussy is wet.

You’re grinning at me. You like it when you can get me to do stuff. I like it, too.

You show me the pictures. There I am, bent and spread. Pale. Pink button bare. Pussy squished between my thighs. There I am, surrounded by organic crackers and boxes of whole wheat mac and cheese, my privates not so private anymore.0128739487593

“Mind if I send these to my friends?” you say.

I think you’re joking but I’m not sure. You’re the one who always talks about sharing me with other men.

“Maybe, but you’ve got to earn it,” I say. I smile and take your hand.

“Oh, I will. I will.”

We’ll see.

Open Access at the Met

Open Access at the Met. That title sounds like it could be sexy, doesn’t it? This is more of a practical post. If you want a sexy story about art, may I recommend The Exhibit?

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As a blogger and book-wrangler I often need art to add some sparkle to a book cover or a post. Sometimes the bare words do the trick, but a picture is worth a thousand sex-soaked words.

The internet is full of images, but as you probably know you’re not really allowed to use most of the images on the web (copyright, mumble mumble). I love finding new sources for art that I can legally adapt and share.

As it turns out the Metropolitan Museum makes its collection available online and they offer license information. They even give us a quick filter for anything in the public domain. (Public domain is free for anyone to use in any way they please, without attribution).

For example, I found this lovely:

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Or this beauty by Suzanne Valadon called Joy of Life:

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And more than 200K others that are marked as public domain. Enjoy!