The mood of the group was different when they returned. I was still horny, but the guys had relaxed. The round of orgasms followed by horseplay seemed to have dissipated their sense of the sexual tension. They wandered around cheerfully contented as we made supper. Being naked in front of a clothed woman now seemed as natural to them as rain in the Pacific Northwest. I actually wished Geoff would go back to trying to shield his cock from me, so I could resume the mischief of peeking at it when he wasn’t paying attention.
The refractory period spells disaster for a woman with a single-track brain and a snarly pussy.
They talked about wrestling or something while we ate. My mind drifted into fantasies about what I could make happen next time Farhan and Geoff visited us in this isolated hideout. Maybe I’d greet them at the door wearing only a grin and declare that this weekend I wouldn’t wear any clothes. I imagined dropping a handful of forks and spoons on the floor. I’d turn around and spread my legs unnecessarily wide when I bent down to pick them up, so my sex would emerge upside down in a lewd and lovely display for the boys to appreciate.
The conversation around me persisted; my imagination conjured additional fantasies. In my mind I envisioned another cloudless day, all of us once again down by the lake, this time four people naked in the sun.
I’m on my back and I’m rolling my clitoris under my fingers. The boys are entranced by my pussy, fascinated as they watch my lips darken and swell with excitement. The spectacle incites their passions and they stand over me, vigorously pulling on their cocks and matching my moans with their own guttural noises. We climax at the same time and streams of come cascade onto my breasts. The contractions in my pussy are so intense I feel like I have to scream to breathe.
The scene suddenly vanished. I was back at the table with the lads and they expected me to do something. Nod. Someone had made a point and I was supposed to nod in agreement. I raised and lowered my chin. Last night I’d been the good host, playing cards because that’s what our guests had asked to do (and for no other reason), but now I couldn’t keep up with the basic duty of participating in the conversation.
Every topic bored me exce
pt one, and I didn’t think it was something they wanted to discuss: man-sex. ‘Tell me, Farhan and Geoff, what was it like to have your cocks sucked by my boyfriend?’ I never found an appropriate moment to ask the question.
We washed the dishes and the guys had more talk that made no impression on me. My mind was floating back into the dreamland of erotic possibilities. Before I’d met Shawn, I’d had a threesome with two boys, and their acrobatics to avoid touching each other had spoiled the experience. I’d promised myself I’d interrogate all future potential lovers to be absolutely sure they’d fuck with only joy in their hearts – no more fears and prejudices.
A new fantasy swept into my imagination and I was too intoxicated with lust to resist it.
Shawn, Farhan and Geoff are standing naked in front of me, their cocks already erect. They rub the tips together and the contact causes the heads to swell to their maximum girths. I can’t fit everyone’s cock in my mouth at once, but two at a time is bliss. I sample every combination and relish the slight differences. I’m forced to neglect someone but the guys take turns kneeling behind me, kissing my neck and caressing my nipples.
My boyfriend nudged my shoulder. He was unusually brusque with me, so I suspected I had missed something important. ‘I have to pee,’ I said, and without looking back I walked out of the cabin.
Farhan and Geoff got dressed while I was in the outhouse. I had to wipe away some extra wetness down there and, despite the mundane task and setting, my pussy snapped at me when I brushed it with a handful of toilet paper. I returned to the cabin and found that our guests were ready to leave, their car packed with all the clothes that, thanks to my poker luck, they wouldn’t have to wash when they got home.
I hugged each of them warmly. They’d arrived for the weekend as Shawn’s friends but now I could consider them my friends too. I’d watched them have sex. ‘You are the wildest and naughtiest woman I’ve ever met,’ Geoff said. I liked the comment so much I decided not to point out that, technically, the day wasn’t over and he and Farhan should be driving home in the nude.
Shawn and I would have to be careful about Geoff’s crush.
My exhibitionist boyfriend was adhering to the letter and spirit of the bet. He probably got a thrill out of being the only one who was still naked. Given what I planned to do to his body in about 30 seconds, he was not overdressed.
I heard the engine start and watched the car roll down the driveway back to the forestry service road. Very briefly I considered running after it, throwing off my shirt so Geoff could see the tits that made Santa Cruz famous. My knees were wobbly from too much needing-to-fuck so I rejected the idea.
As soon as the car disappeared, Shawn scooped me into his arms. ‘Thank you for that,’ he said. I could feel him getting hard against my belly.
‘I will always do everything I can to make our fantasies come true. It’s amazing how good you are at cheating at cards.’
‘In another context, the ability to group any three cards together when shuffling would be considered a magic trick.’
‘It’s good to have a boyfriend with dextrous fingers.’ I put my arms around his neck and kissed him enthusiastically, taking his lower lip into my mouth. Someday I’ll do this and taste another man’s come.
Never had I been so eager for his hands to stroke my pussy, to feel his cock inside me, for my body to convulse in a series of fierce orgasms in response to his expert tongue.
House of Lewd Shadows
Rose de Fer
I’ve done it again. Let my big mouth get me into trouble.
‘Oh sure,’ I’d said blithely, ‘I can write a book in a weekend. I’ll write a thriller so hot and steamy you won’t be able to keep your hands off yourself when you read it, and so twisty and turny you’ll never guess who the killer is.’
Or words to that effect. Something cheeky and overconfident anyway.
Peter’s eyes had gleamed, not only at the prospect of another sexy thriller by Jess Bannion, but by my reckless flinging down of the gauntlet. I’d regretted it the instant the words left my mouth, desperately hoping he wouldn’t take me up on the challenge. But I knew my publisher too well.
We’d been discussing Blackwood House, the spooky old gothic pile on the hill. It had just gone up for sale and it was available to hire for weekends. Why the hell hadn’t I focused on the plural? Weekends.
‘A weekend,’ he’d said, drawing out the word to emphasise the absurdity of my boast. ‘Really? That’s only two and a half days. I’ve known you to take weeks over a single story.’