Weekend lagniappe: eXcerpt from The Sixth Lover by Alice Gaines

Shortly after the beginning of the second act, Carole had her first visitor—a woman, long-limbed, very elegant and most likely in her fifties. She forged her way right in and took the chair next to Carole’s.

She smoothed an errant curl with a bit of gray in it back from her temple. “Well, young lady, you’ve caused quite a stir. No doubt that was your intent.”

“I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Ah, American,” the woman said. “No wonder no one recognized you.”

“Mrs. Carole Rose from New York.”

Instead of doing the obviously courteous thing—returning the introduction—her visitor pretended to look around. “Mr. Rose doesn’t seem to be in attendance.”

“He died several months ago.”

“My condolences. My mouth gets away from me sometimes. I’m Bertina Hammond, Lady Blakely, but my friends call me Bert.”

“I’m glad to make your acquaintance, Lady Blakely.”

“Well done, Mrs. Rose.” The lady’s smile broadened.

“Because I addressed you formally?”

“Because you didn’t assume I’m your friend.”

The music swelled as the tenor finished his aria. Applause rolled through the theater, as people jumped to their feet. Maybe some of them had listened to the singing. Carole also rose, as did her visitor. They clapped politely for a while and then sat back down.

“So, have you satisfied your curiosity, Lady Blakely?” Carole asked.

“Not entirely.”

“I’m not very interesting.”

The lady laughed. You couldn’t call it actual mirth, but it had a musical quality to it. “A woman alone in one of the best boxes? You had to know you’d attract attention.”

“I hadn’t counted on you to visit.”

“I daresay not, but ah, yes…here he is.”

Lady Blakely turned toward the back of the box, and Carole followed her gaze. Mr. Harthorn entered, went straight to her visitor, and placed a light kiss on her cheek.

“Hello, Bert,” he said.

“Hello, darling,” Lady Blakely answered. “I might have known you’d show up.”

“I can never stay away from you for long,” he answered.

“Liar.” Lady Blakely patted his cheek and rose. “Behave yourself with Mrs. Rose here. She’s American and doesn’t understand our ways.”

“No one understands your ways, Bert,” the man said.

“You’re such a bastard.” The lady rested her hand on Carole’s shoulder. “Watch out for this one.”

“Thank you for stopping by,” Carole said.

Lady Blakely left the box with an angry rustle of silk.

Mr. Harthorn sat in the now vacant chair next to Carole. “You mustn’t pay any attention to Bert. Her claws are sharp but don’t go very deep.”

“Do all people in England wander in without an introduction?” Carole asked.

“We’ve met.”

She studied him. His brown eyes sparkled with mischief, and his sable hair curled around his collar in a style too long for proper fashion. With his long legs and broad shoulders, he cut quite a figure. He was an indecently attractive man and obviously knew it.

“This afternoon, although we weren’t introduced,” he said. “I’m Roger Harthorn, as I’m sure your companion told you. She was quite scandalized.”

“You know Mrs. Carter?”

“I’ve observed her type often enough.” He gave her an insolent smile that dazzled, even in the near-darkness of the theater. “The posture gives them away as well as they way they pretend not to be staring. Dudgeon of the highest order.”

She couldn’t help but smile, too. He’d described the solicitor’s wife to a T.

“Do you enjoy the opera, Mr. Harthorn?” she asked.

“I tolerate it well enough,” he answered. “You?”

“I like it very much.”

“Don’t tell me I’ve finally met someone who comes here for the music,” he said.

“I’ll admit that wasn’t my only reason.” Her cheeks grew warm. They’d be quite pink now, but with any luck, he wouldn’t notice in the dim light. She’d never learned how to flirt, and at her age, she’d probably never catch up.

“You hoped to be seen, or you wouldn’t have taken a whole box for yourself,” Harthorn said. “I hope the person’s worth all the trouble and expense.”

“I’m sure he is.”

“A man. Of course. Give me his name, and I’ll arrange an introduction.”

Damn. What did she say to that? She didn’t have a name and didn’t want to meet anyone else, anyway. but she’d never find the nerve to tell Harthorn she’d come looking for him.

“A secret, eh? Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s seen you.” Harthorn rested his arm on the back of her chair and leaned close enough to put his lips near her ear. “He noticed you this afternoon well enough.”

Ah, yes. The brush of his fingers on her table as he’d gone by. “I don’t see how you could know that.”

“Mrs. Rose, let’s not toy with each other.” His voice came low and sweet, his breath tickling her ear. “We forged a connection this afternoon.”

“You’re exaggerating a bit, aren’t you?”

“Not at all. I haven’t reacted this powerfully to a woman since I was a lad.” He took her hand and set it in his lap, pressing her palm against the front of his pants.

Oh, dear Lord. She tried to pull her fingers away, but he held them there. “I got this way from simply watching you sip tea.”

Her heart hammered, and she had to remind herself to breathe. After all these months, she had her hand on a man’s member. Through his pants, yes, but the outline was unmistakable—long and thick and so very hard. Exactly what she craved. Deep inside, her own sex got the connection he’d spoken of. Despite the impossible situation, her pussy felt empty, begging for what it hadn’t had for so long.

No—had never had. Oscar was never like this.

“So, will you slap my face now?” Harthorn asked.

She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “No.”

“By God, you’re direct. An Englishwoman would have dodged and dallied.”

“I’m too old to dally,” she said.

“And thank the Almighty for that.” He bent toward her again, this time placing a soft kiss on the naked skin of her shoulder. “May I know your first name?”

“It’s Carole.”

“Carole,” he repeated, before gently nibbling his way toward her neck. Her breathing grew labored as he left pinpricks of fire everywhere he touched her.

“You’re trembling,” he whispered against her throat.

“You’d better stop. Someone might see.”

He straightened and turned her head toward his. “You’re an innocent.”

“I was married for ten years.”

“But you’re still innocent, aren’t you?”

“I knew my husband on our wedding night.” She tried again to free her hand from where it rested against his crotch. He still didn’t release it.

“But you were a virgin then,” he said.

“That’s the way it’s usually done.”

“How sweet.” That delicious smile curled his mouth. “And you haven’t had a man since he died.”

Since some months before, but she couldn’t betray her husband by confessing it. Instead, she bit her lip and did her best to calm her trembling.

“That only makes me hotter, Carole. My cock’s throbbing now,” he said.

“Shall I stroke it?” Good Lord in heaven, where had that come from? “Through the fabric, I mean.”

A light of pure mischief entered his eyes. “You’d like to do that?”

“I find it fascinating.” She squeezed him, pressing the head with the tips of her fingers. “Could I make you spend that way?”

He sucked in a breath. “I daresay you could.”

“Would anyone notice, do you think?”

“They can’t see into my lap.”

“Will they see this?” She reached lower, between his legs where his sac would be and stroked it softly. That took the mischief from his eyes, but his lips still stayed in that lazy smile. He turned back toward the stage, pretending to follow the opera, but they both knew none of the music penetrated his brain.

What fun. She’d never, in her life, expected to do anything like this, but Thomas had opened her mind to all kinds of delicious possibilities. Thomas. Darling Thomas. Why had she never asked him if he liked opera? She’d have to do that in her next letter. Then, she’d have to ask if he’d like to sit in a public place with her hand on his cock. For now, she’d pretend he was here with her now as she used gentle pressure against the length of his shaft. Up, down, and up again to linger at the tip.

“You do that very well,” Harthorn said. “I wouldn’t think you inexperienced.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

He let out a soft moan. “This won’t take long at all.”

“You mustn’t give anything away with your expression,” she said. “Your friend, Bert, may be watching us.”

“She won’t tell. She likes her husband’s money too much.”

“And you know secrets he wouldn’t want to hear,” she said.

“I say…” His eyes drifted halfway shut. “Could we discuss it later?”

“Of course.” She moved her fingers faster, gripping him as tightly as she could manage through the wool of his pants. He sat rigidly, and his eyes went out of focus with pleasure.

“Talk to me,” he whispered. “Something filthy.”

“Would you like to fuck me, Roger?” There. She’d said it. The worst word she knew.

“God, yes.”

“I’d like that, too. My cunny’s getting damp for you.” That was no lie. Who would have thought that she, a virtuous widow with hardly a dirty thought until a few months ago, would find herself with a perfect stranger like this? Sitting in public, stimulating his sex and telling him she wanted him. “But you won’t have me, will you? No, you’re going to spend in your pants like a schoolboy.”

“Oh…ah…don’t stop.”

“No one can know what I’m doing to you, or I will stop,” she said. “Promise me you won’t make a noise when you come.”

He gritted his jaw. “Bloody hell.”

“Do it, or I’ll leave you hanging.” She paused in her work on his tool. She wouldn’t leave him this way. If nothing else, she wanted to see what he’d do when the climax hit him.

“I promise,” he said in a strangled whisper. “Have mercy. Finish me.”

She squeezed the tip of him and then stroked his length—hard and fast, all the way to the base. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as his body stiffened. His hips jerked as he climaxed, but he made no sound above a soft grunt. Such a sight he made—the male animal consumed by lust. She’d never watched a man’s face at the ultimate moment before. She’d see Thomas in this state eventually, and he’d witness her ecstasy, too. Right now, Roger Harthorn slumped against his chair, breathing heavily. She finally reclaimed her hand setting it in her own lap.

“That was extraordinary,” he said softly.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“Like? My dear Carole. The word is inadequate.”

Pride glowed inside her. The idea of taking other lovers had seemed silly and even morally bankrupt when she only wanted one man—Thomas. but she could learn so much before she joined him. How much better to go to him fully prepared to fulfill his wildest fantasies than to have to grope blindly for just the right caresses to make him wild with wanting her.

Yes, Thomas had had it right. She’d experiment with other men and give the benefit of her lessons to her ultimate lover.

“You’re grown pensive,” Roger said. “That didn’t repulse you, did it?”

“Not at all.”

“You seemed willing. Even eager.” His face showed uncertainty, even worry. For heaven’s sake, the scandalous fellow who’d bedded any woman he wanted, actually cared about her opinion of him.

“It was a revelation,” she said. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“Nor have I. I usually entertain the lady.” The wicked heat returned to his eyes. “Would you like me to do the same for you?”

She nearly gasped with surprise. “Your hand under my skirts at the opera?”

“Not right now. It’ll be intermission soon.”

“You’ll have to rejoin your friends,” she said.

“Eyebrows will rise if I don’t.”

“Eyebrows have probably already risen.”

“No doubt about that.” He chuckled. “Still, I want enough time to do the job properly.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Will you be here tomorrow night?”

She smiled and nodded.

“I’ll see you then.” He leaned toward her again. “In the meantime, don’t touch your pearl. I want it hungry for my touch.”

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Weekend Lagniappe - EXcerpt "Sex after Death" by Alice Gaines

Sex After Death

Alice Gaines
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2013 Alice Gaines


This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.


In Katy's dream, the man had grown to full size and turned to flesh, but he still held the chill of stone as his body moved over hers. She lay in her bed, somehow able to glance around her room through closed lids. She couldn't see him, but she could feel him, his hands roaming her breasts, his fingers rough around her nipples.

She tried to touch his back to prove he was really there, but her arm wouldn't move. Nothing would move, even when she concentrated on no more than getting her big toe to ease upward.

Her invisible lover had paralyzed her, and though none of this was real, she knew with a dreamer's certainty the creature making such thorough love to her was the planter/statue she'd bought a few hours before, Sir Hung-like-a-horse.

Would she finally get to see his cock fully engorged? More important, would she get to feel it between her legs, seeking the entrance to her pussy and then easing its way in?

As soon as the thought had lodged in her head, it traveled all the way down to her sex and stuck there. Moisture pooled between her thighs. Her body prepared itself for sex well enough even if it wouldn't let her move to get any.

Achy and throbbing, her clit demanded attention. She needed to come. Needed it strongly enough to reduce her to begging. If she could touch herself, she'd climax quickly. Even better if she could get him to touch her with the fingers currently massaging her breasts.

The best of all would be if she could have his cock inside her. No more than a few thrusts, and she'd explode all around him.

Please, her mind shouted, but no more than a whimper came out of her mouth. In response, he continued his torment of her breasts, but now he also nipped gently at her shoulder. His breath fanned over her flesh -- not cold, exactly, but not hot like a human lover's. Cool.

If she could see him... if she could speak... lift her arms to invite him into an embrace and part her legs to make room for him, maybe he'd give her what she needed. At least she could reach to his cock to discover if it had grown long and thick.

After several moments, his hand finally began a slow journey over her belly while his mouth covered one nipple. He sucked with exactly the right pressure to make her heart thunder in her chest.

Her own harsh breathing filled the room, the sound of a woman becoming hopelessly aroused. The throbbing between her legs grew into a fire. So hot. He could put it out if he'd only touch her. He could fix her by giving her the orgasm just out of her reach.

This time, her mind shrieked Please! and a cry bounced off the bedroom walls all around them.

Low, soft laughter answered. A rumbling baritone. He knew what he was doing to her, and he enjoyed it. Could this be the curse? Eternal arousal with no satisfaction could certainly feel like hell. Maybe she shouldn't have watered him, after all. And maybe all the superstition had created a perfectly normal erotic dream. She'd never had one like this before.

It felt so fucking real, as if she really were in bed with an invisible man whose cool touch was turning her molten inside. Was his cock erect? If so, had it maintained its huge size? Could she take it all inside her without any pain? God, she'd give anything to find out. Anything.

As if he'd read her mind, he moved over her and settled between her legs. The tip of his hard-on pressed against her inner thigh -- the swollen head, firm but very human and not cold at all. So hot, it burned as if it had to bathe in her juices to put the fire out.

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The Voluptuous Correspondence of Lady X - Installment Twenty-Two

My dearest Richard,

Finally, I found some amusement even here in exile so far from you.  After a delightful half an hour this afternoon, I rushed back to the house and my rooms so I could share my discovery with you.  'Twould only have been more delicious if we could have watched the spectacle together, but I'll increase my delight by relating the scene in absentia.

I don't believe I've mentioned the local vicar.  I'd hardly have thought him subject matter for correspondence like ours.  This afternoon, I discovered how wrong I was.  The word that comes to mind at the mention of him is "round."  He has round cheeks, a round belly, and huge, round eyes behind the round lenses of his spectacles.  He orates from the pulpit with rounded tones.  All in all, he's a solid fellow, exactly what you'd expect for a sleepy hamlet and countryside like this.

I happened to be walking along the road near his house half an hour or so past and had taken a shortcut across his property when I overheard his voice in the kitchen garden.  I could scarce believe my ears when I heard him declare that he'd been a very naughty boy.  Imagine my further astonishment when a woman's voice answered that, indeed, he'd misbehaved and would have to suffer the consequences.

Secreting myself behind a wall, I determined that I'd eavesdrop at the very least and hope to observe directly what these consequences might be.  As I peeked around the corner of the stones, I was able to identify the leading lady of the scene.  She was Mrs. Rutherford, one of Vicar Hollyfield's flock at the Anglican church.  I'd noticed her several Sunday mornings and wondered about her attentiveness during sermons.  Several of the congregation hang on the man's words as he has a ponderous oratory style and a reputation for delivering the wrath of God even more forcefully than the Catholic monsignor in the next township.  Mrs. Rutherford shows such rapture at his utterances, I felt no surprise at finding her, alone, with the great man.

Mrs. Rutherford was clothed as one would expect in a modest dress.  The vicar, however, wore the clothing of a schoolboy - jacket, tie, and short pants.  I can't imagine where he'd obtained a suit like that, especially given that it would have to be tailored to cover his belly.  But there he was, standing before Mrs. Rutherford, staring at the ground like a student before his headmaster.  For her part, she held a ruler in one hand and slapped it against her other palm, a stern expression on her features.

"I found the nasty volume amongst your books, young man," she said.  "It depicted acts unacceptable even between adults.  How could you have come upon such a monstrosity?"

"Found it in my father's rooms, ma'am," he replied, his head dropping even lower.

"I shall have words with him, I assure you," she said.  "But not until you've had your punishment."

"Yes, ma'am," he muttered.

"Assume the position," she ordered as she continued to tap the ruler against her palm.

I had to cover my mouth to keep my laughter from reaching them.  The whole scene was so ridiculous.  The Reverend Mister William Hollyfield of the Church of England about to receive corporal punishment at the hands of one of his parishioners, as I could scarcely doubt that was what the two of them meant, given her brandishing of the ruler.

Imagine my further astonishment when he reached to his belt in preparation for lowering his pants.  I was about to be treated to the spectacle of the vicar's naked bottom and perhaps a view of his aroused cock, as well.  I fairly held my breath for fear that I might give myself away, but the two of them were so engrossed in their game that they didn't even glance around to make sure no one could see them.  For heaven's sake, they were outdoors, after all, and not far from the road.  One's faith in human intelligence falters at such times, it surely does.

In any case, the vicar soon exposed buttocks as rounded as the rest of him.  I received only a fleeting view of his privates as he turned and bent over a wooden table.  I had a thorough opportunity to observe the pink flesh of his arse and watched as Mrs. Rutherford raised her ruler and brought it down on his bottom.

The blow made a loud slapping sound as the ruler landed on his arse, and the vicar flinched.  Grinning, Mrs. Rutherford repeated the process, raising the wood high and bringing it down on the other buttock.

"I don't want to do this to you, Master Hollyfield," she declared.  "Your ill behavior compels me."

"I'm sorry, ma'am.  I truly am," he said.  He didn't sound the least bit sorry, though.  His voice came out breathy as if he was enjoying her infliction of what had to be no little pain.  I imagine he did take pleasure in the lady's blows to his hind quarters.  Otherwise, how could I understand their actions?

As she continued striking his buttocks with the ruler, his skin turned a livid pink.  Rather than alarming Mrs. Rutherford, the color seemed to encourage her to give him more of the same.  In response to the continuing beating, the vicar began to beg, his voice high and whining.  "Don't hit me any more," and "I'll behave myself," and "I've learned my lesson, truly."

"You're an evil child," she answered.  "See there.  What are you doing with your hand?"

Until she said that, I hadn't noticed that he'd reached under the table, and his arm moved rhythmically.  I could only deduce that he'd reached to his cock and was now stroking it.  Evil, indeed.  Completely debauched and wicked.  Positively delightful.  I had to bite down on my lip to stifle my laughter.  As a voluptuary myself, I had no reason to question anyone else's sexual practices.  And yet, the scene really was funny.  I do wish you could have watched it with me, my darling.

And so they continued, with Mrs. Rutherford applying the rod to the vicar's arse and the vicar stroking himself with great vigor.  I feared for the vicar's buttocks and wondered whether he'd be able to sit on his seat under the cross at church.  I'll have to watch on Sunday to see if he flinches as he lowers himself to the chair.

"Show me what you're doing with your hand, you filthy child," Mrs. Rutherford demanded.

"Please, not that," he replied.

"Do it, or I'll have to take you to the headmaster," she said.  "He'll use a switch, and you won't be able to sit for a week."

"You won't tell him, will you?" he said.

"Do as I say," she thundered.

In reply, he stood, exposing his erect cock.  It was pudgy and thick, barely sticking out past his belly.  She took great delight in it, squealing.  "Oh, Charles, see how long and firm you've become."

"All for you, dearest Mary," he answered.

"I must kiss it."  At that, she fell to her knees before him and, cradling his sac in her palm, slid her mouth around the head of his cock and then down to take nearly all of his shaft.

All role playing now over, the vicar rested his hand on her head for balance and proceeded to thrust into her mouth.  He made quite a sight, my dearest, standing mostly clothed but with his short pants tangled around his ankles.  I’ll never look on him the same again without remembering this afternoon.  I fear I’ll only have to see his face to break into titters.

Thus they proceeded for some time as the Reverend Hollyfield became more and more excited, his face contorting in the sort of pleasure a man only receives from enthusiastic oral sex.  Eventually it became clear that Mrs. Rutherford would have to swallow a copious amount of his semen if they continued.  But the good vicar was made of sterner stuff than that.  Before his lover had pushed him past the end of his endurance, he removed his cock from her mouth.

Gripping the base of the shaft in his fist, he ordered her.  “Now, dear Mary, you assume the position, and I’ll give you your just rewards.”

She fairly whooped her agreement - a very unmatronly sound.  In a moment, she’d risen and then bent herself over the table in the same manner he had before.  Similarly, she eased her hand between her legs, no doubt in search of her pearl.  He didn’t hesitate to lift her skirts and take his place behind her naked rump.  The respectable and upright woman of his congregation had worn no drawers.  From now on, I’ll have to imagine her naked beneath her petticoats on Sundays.  I’ll never keep my features even in church imagining the two of them undressed, but at least, the service will never again bore me, I assure you.

When his cock entered her body, she let out a loud coo of approval.  They fucked merrily for the next several minutes, making animal noises far removed from their usual demeanor.  Convinced I’d witnessed the most interesting parts of their performance, I decided to slip away before the final climax.  But no, they finished with a loud duet that said they’d reached orgasm at the same moment.  Quite a satisfying afternoon for both of them, I‘m sure.  At that point, I slipped away quietly before the two of them could come to their senses.

Well now, my dear, it seems we’re not alone in our love of the forbidden if even the local representative of the Church of England should engage in such salacious play  Though I felt no shame in our love before this, I shall certainly hold my head a bit higher in the future.  I do hope this little tale amuses you and we may soon laugh over it together.

Until then, I remain,
Your devoted X

The Adventures of Wonderslut, Installment Twenty-Three

Coitus interruptus.  At the end of our last installment, we left Felicity in the front passenger seat of the Slutmobile, impaled on the cock of a man named Harry who lines truck beds for a living.  Jason was still in the shack with Ma and her five perpetually horny “girls.”  They’d both had heaping servings of Ma’s doctored country biscuits and gravy, which had turned out to be a potent tranquilizer and aphrodisiac.  Harry had been hooked on the stuff for a year.  Will Felicity and Jason suffer the same fate?


As it turned out, Harry had all the right equipment to give Felicity a really good ride.  Though not as big as Jason (what other man was?), his cock filled her nicely, and in this position - kneeling across his lap - the muscles she used to push herself upward in rhythm with his thrusts also caused her pussy to squeeze down on him, creating a delicious friction.

“Oh, man,” he said from between gritted teeth.  “I never felt anything like this.”

“Enjoy, Harry.”  Truth be told, she was having a pretty good time her-own-self.  The special herbs and moss Ma had laced her food with heightened all sensation, so not only did the thrusting of Harry’s erection inside her come through loud and clear, but her breasts had become super-sensitive, the nipples grazing against her costume with every movement.

“Shit, I’m gonna come,” Harry said.

“Not yet.  Too soon.”

“Can’t hold off.”

“Yes, you can.”  She reached into her mind and found the center of her power - what Jason had labeled the Slutray.  She didn’t manipulate people’s sex drive or organs lightly, but Harry here needed to learn some control.  Her mission in this world was to make sure all nice people had really nice sex, and Harry’s future partners would thank her for his new staying power.  She stared into his face.  “Harry, look at me.”

“Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he said as he continued plowing into her.

She took his face between her hands.  “Open your eyes and look at me.”

“Gotta come.”

“Do what I say, or you won’t come, not now not ever.”

That got his attention.  He opened his eyes.  “Huh?”

Without saying a word, she sent a charge of power from her mind into his.
Immediately, his expression cleared.  “I understand.”

“You can last as long as you want.”

“Hot damn,” he said.  “Thank you, Wonderslut.”

“All in a day’s work.  Now get back to fucking me,” she said.  “Like you mean it.”

He did, and he did a bang-up job of it.  His strokes became sure now, sliding into her with a precision that would make an angel weep.  Lord knew she was no angel, and there was a great big orgasm waiting in the near future, just for her.  Harry even got creative enough to ease her French maid’s costume down to free a breast.  He cupped it, massaging the flesh, and then tugged gently at the nipple.  Now that she didn’t have to worry about Harry finishing too quickly, she concentrated on her own pleasure.

Easing her hand between them, she managed to get her hand into the hairs that covered her pussy.  As you’d expect after how she’s spent the night and was now passing the morning, she’d soaked herself completely.  When she reached her clit, it was already throbbing in anticipation of climaxing.  She fondled it gently, stretching out the approach to the peak.  Man, but it felt good - Harry’s sweet fucking and her own expert touch on her hot spot.

“You’re going to come, aren’t you?” Harry said.

“Oh, yeah.”

“What about that?” he said.  “I’m going to make Wonderslut come.”

He was getting a little help with that, but why argue at this point?  She kept riding him and diddling her clit, feeling the pressure build and counting down to a major lift-off.  Ten, nine, eight…oh hell, three, two…

“Don’t stop, Harry,” she cried.  “Don’t…stop!”

Her entire being became one exposed nerve as the orgasm rocketed through her.  Deep, hard spasms rocked her, gripping at Harry’s shaft.  Sweet, sinful, perfect.  It held her in its grip for long seconds, finally leaving her limp, her pussy fluttering around him.

“I can come now, right?” Harry asked.  “I need to in the worst way.”

“Go for it, lover.”

And he did, with a great deal of enthusiasm.  Staying with him was like riding a bronco, and she might have thrown one arm up for balance if she didn’t need it to hang onto his shoulders.  He moved as if he had the devil inside him, thrusting upward with powerful jerks of his hips.  Finally, he stiffened, slammed inside her one more time, and stayed there while he opened his throat in a roar.  Harry had arrived, and he’d done one helluva job of it by all appearances.

Then, he did a rag doll imitation, crumpling into a moaning pile, and this time, she held onto to him to keep him from sliding down against the gear shift.  He could take an eye out that way if he hit it with his face.  She’d suggested fucking in the Slutmobile, after all, and she had some responsibility to make sure he didn’t hurt himself…at least, not too much.

“Wonderslut, that was amazing,” he murmured against her shoulder.

“See how nice it is when you stick around for the Big Finale instead of leaving at intermission?”  Nice analogy.  She’d have to remember that one.

“I should never have questioned you,” he said.  “You’re the expert.”

Of course, he hadn’t questioned her, at least not while she’d had brain enough for it to register.  He could have recited The Gettsyburg Address while she was fingering herself, and she would never have noticed.  But now, she had other problems to deal with.

“We need to move,” she said.  “I’m getting a cramp in my thigh.”

He opened his eyes and gave her a wicked smile.  “I can massage it for you.”

“Not in here.  No room.”  She started to climb off him and hit pain bad enough to stop her.  Between crouching in the foot well and all the thrusting she’d done, she was having major muscle problems.  Namely, they’d stopped functioning.  She tried straightening out a leg and only managed to bump her shin against the gearshift.  Damn, but that hurt.  “Shit.”

“Let me see if I can help.”  Harry grabbed her ribs and tried to hoist her upward.  She only ended up leaning over his shoulder with her foot jammed under the side of his seat.  The angle bent her back in ways only snakes could move, and she let out a loud moan.

“Just don’t help me,” she said between gritted teeth.

“Sorry,” Harry said.

She settled back down onto Harry’s lap, which was now without a hard-on - a situation she had no desire to fix at present.  After a couple of deep breaths, she tried pushing herself up onto her knees.  Her thighs trembled with the effort, and after a second she folded and fell back into her original position.

“If we yelled, your friend could come out and help,” Harry said.

“No fucking way.”  She would not give Jason a reason to laugh his ass off over her predicament.  She got herself in here, and she’d have to get herself out.  No matter how she did it, she was going to end up stiff.  Right about now, she’d kill to be in the hot tub in the Slutgrotto with a good, stiff brandy in her hand.

“Then, how are we going to get out of here?” Harry said.

“Open the door.”

“The door?”

“The metal thing on your other side,” she said.  “The one with the handle.”

“It is open,” Harry said.

She glanced down to discover he was correct.  In their eagerness to get to each other, they hadn’t bothered to close  it.  “All right, you lean that way, and I’ll lean toward the door.  On three.  One…two…three.”

They came apart, sort of.  Harry more or less climbed over the gearshift toward the driver’s seat.  Felicity didn’t look to see how his family jewels made the journey, but he didn’t make any noises, so he couldn’t have hurt anything important.  She grabbed the doorframe and pulled herself out of the car.  Unfortunately, her legs still didn’t quite hold herself up, and she ended up falling out onto the ground.  Luckily, the redwood duff cushioned her fall, and at least she was free of the car seat and Harry.

For a while, she lay there, staring up into the trees, contemplating life and how she’d come to arrive at precisely this place.  Sure, she had a pretty unusual occupation, but the past twenty-four hours had certainly been strange.  Role-playing with a pair of strangers - just the samo samo for Wonderslut and her sidekick, The Piston.  But then, things had gotten weird.  Captivity, group sex, drugged biscuits and gravy, oral sex in the foot well of a Maserati.  Now, here she was, flat on her back, dressed in the remaining scraps of a French maid’s costume with redwood duff getting into her hair and, yes, a rock beneath her right hip.  Maybe she should have listened to her mother and majored in engineering or something that would have gotten her a real job, after all.

“Do you like working on trucks, Harry?” she asked without bothering to sit up.

“It’s good most days.”

“Do you ever get bored?” she said.  “After all, if you’ve seen one truck bed, you’re pretty much seen them all.”

“Not at all.”  Harry rose, zipped up his fly, and adjusted his clothing.  “There’s small ones and big ones…and really big ones.”

“That pretty much describes my own job, you know?”  And didn’t that just underline the unity of all human experience?  Truck beds and cocks, the truly important things in life.

“Say, how do I measure up?” Harry said.

“There’s a question you never want to ask, Harry.  You might not enjoy the answer.”

“Shoot.  I thought you liked me.”

“I do, but by now, a gentleman might have offered to help me up.”

“Sorry.”  Harry reached down a hand and assisted her to her feet.  There wasn’t a lot left to her costume, and one of her boobs hung out.  She had redwood duff all over her, and twigs stuck out of her hair.  She needed a long, steaming shower, and somehow, the shack didn’t seem as if it would have enough hot water to get her clean.

“Hey, Felicity,” Jason’s voice called from the cabin.  “Are we staying for dinner or not?”

She turned toward him.  “Not.  I’m not sticking around for another orgy.”

Jason’s eyes widened as he took her appearance in.  “What have you been doing out here?”

“My job.  What were you doing in there?”

Jason’s clothing was what one might call in disarray, with his shirt buttoned up wrong and the tails hanging out of his pants.  He didn’t answer her question but merely blushed.  Playing with ma’s girls again, no doubt.

“Did you eat more of Ma’s food?” she asked.

He avoided eye contact.  “Maybe.”

“We’ve both had enough.  I’m going to have a little conversation with Ma, and then it’s time to go.”


What does Felicity have to say to Ma?  Will the girls let Jason leave?  Does Ma have ammunition for the shotgun in the shack?  And can the French maid’s costume be saved?

Alice's website

authoralicgaines@yahoo.com

The Voluptuous Correspondence of Lady X - Installment Twenty-One

My darling Richard,

Thank you for my presents and the delightful recounting of your exploits at Sir Walter’s salon.  I had to laugh at the image of all you men sitting in various chairs in Sir Walter’s drawing room, cocks at the ready, with a like number of women kneeling between your legs.  I have no doubt that your rod was the biggest and most beautiful there.  And I can personally testify to your ability to delay your own release in service of some grander purpose…usually to increase my pleasure.

How perceptive of this “Jane” to choose you for that particular game.  I suspect, as you did, that she’d observed your performance during our visit together at Sir Walter’s and concluded she could use your stamina for her own ends.  That she chose winning a game over having you as a lover says much about her.  Certainly, no one in Sir Walter’s acquaintance needs prize money, so she must value competition and victory over her own sexual pleasure.  What an interesting creature.  We must surely take her to our bed, if she’s agreeable, when we next are able to spend any amount of time in each other’s embrace.  I’m sure I can make use of her talented mouth and will happily return the favor with you looking on.

I must convince X to come back to town soon so we can put our plan into motion.  I fear if I stay here one more day, the ivy that covers the walls will climb into my bedroom, wrap its tendrils around my limbs as I sleep, and anchor me to the place forever.  Of course, were it to bind me to the bed to await your kiss to awaken me, you could break the spell, like the prince who freed Sleeping Beauty.  In our story, the kiss wouldn’t grace my mouth but would fall squarely onto the lips between my legs.

What fancies.  My mind wanders to the strangest places, powered by loneliness and unsatisfied lust.  I need a good dose of your loving to bring my imagination back under control.  Until I can take my pleasure in your arms, I’ll have to make do with your presents.

And what sensual treats they are.  I recognized the dildo for what it was immediately.  Shaped like a human phallus, it’s long and thick with a prominent head.  So skillfully made out of one piece of leather, it feels almost like a human cock when warmed between my palms.  I’ll make good use of it.  It won’t satisfy me, despite it’s considerable girth, but I’ll pretend it’s you and enjoy the fullness in my pussy.

The other contraption had me stumped, I will admit.  Shorter and more slender than the dildo, it’s made of polished wood with an odd disc at the tip.  The face of said disc is covered with smooth nubs.  No matter how I studied it, I couldn’t find anything that resembled human anatomy that might give me a clue to the device’s use.

Then, I spotted a key that still lay inside the package you sent.  It fit into a lock at the base of the strange object.  When I twisted, nothing appeared to happen, although a clicking sound from inside told me I’d tripped some mechanism.  Sure enough, when I removed the key from the lock, the tiny machine came to life, the disc at the end rotating and vibrating for several seconds.

My darling, what an intriguing puzzle you put before me.  So like you to give me no clue to how it works but leave me to figure it out through my own investigation.  After re-inserting the key, I twisted more, this time giving it several full turns.  As I’d guessed, the thing stayed in motion longer, and I finally figured out its function.  I’m going to take both of these to my room and will finish this letter once I’ve completed my experiments.

I do love you, dearest Richard.  Off to play…

I’m back, beloved, and oh, my, what a delightful hour I’ve passed.  After I undressed and stretched out on my bed, I spent delicious minutes using the dildo to tease my poor cunny.  I’d press the head against the entrance to my sex, easing it in no more than an inch or so and then pulling it back out again.  I drove myself into quite a state in that manner, my sex becoming wet enough not only to accept the firm shaft inside me but to demand it.  Finally, I had no choice but to press deeper.

With one hand manipulating the dildo in and out of my cunny, I had the other free to squeeze a breast and tug at the nipple.  I imagined the pressure came from your chest against me as you moved inside me.  I wasn’t completely successful in that regard, but that hardly mattered with such a large object plundering my depths.  I became more and more aroused and might have climaxed with no more stimulation than this, but of course, my mind wandered to the other machine you’d sent.  How wonderful would it feel to have the good services of both the dildo and the vibrating disc.

Though I had to stop the thrusting to reach for the device where I’d set it on the table next to my bed, I delayed the impending orgasm in hopes of giving myself one even better.  I took the time to turn and turn the key in the base until it wouldn’t move for even one more twist.  Once I’d put it against my pearl, I wouldn’t want for it to stop.

It made a most satisfying hum as it whirred to life, and now I could employ both of your gifts at once.  I resumed a vigorous thrusting, plunging the dildo in and out of my pussy while I guided the rotating tip of the other devise against my clitoris.  My most precious lover, the sensations overwhelmed me completely.  I could scarcely breathe as my lust caught me in its grip.  I could only just hold onto enough sanity to continue moving the leather shaft inside me as I approached the crest.

At the end, even that required more sanity than I could manage, and I gave up on all efforts other than holding the disc against my pearl.  The climax nearly lifted me off the bed, and I must have let out a cry.  Anyone outside in the hall would have heard me.  When the spasms started, my inner muscles gripped at the dildo, finding its hardness more than satisfying.  Though the orgasm felt as if it would go on forever, it did eventually end, and I fell back against the mattress, gasping in an effort to draw air into my lungs.  The vibrating device fell beside me, still spinning.  It continued for some time, reassuring me that it would have lasted much longer, had I needed it to.  A very clever little machine and a true gift to womanhood.  I hope the designer has become rich from it.

In this manner, I spent the good part of an hour, enjoying orgasm after orgasm until I’d quite exhausted myself.  Finally, limp with satisfaction, I lay quietly with only enough strength to listen to my own breathing.  Eventually, the hour for dinner approached, and I only had time to finish this letter before I’d have to dress.

I have no more than a few minutes before my maid comes to do up my hair.  I scarcely know why I bother as X never remarks on my appearance, and his guests in the God forsaken place care for nothing but card games and the health of their pigs.  Still, a woman in my position must maintain a certain standard of living.  As a result, I can only dash off a few more words to remind you of the depth of my feelings for you.  Only you would know me well enough to select these gifts - exactly what I need to keep me sane until we can be together again.

Still, we must contrive to see each other again.  If I can’t persuade X that we need to return to town, perhaps I can conceive of some excuse that I should take an excursion.  We could meet somewhere, maybe another little cottage of our own.  I desire you with all my body, heart, and soul.

Well now, just see what an afternoon with your sex toys has done for me.  Expect more letters in this vein from me in the near future.  Until we can again gaze on each other’s faces, I remain,

Your devoted X

The Adventures of Wonderslut, Installment Twenty-Two

When we last left Wonderslut and the Piston, they were about to enjoy some of Ma's biscuits and gravy, having met Ma's challenge to sexually satisfy all five of Ma's "girls."  One question still hung in the air as they chowed down.


Whatever else you might say about Ma, she sure could cook.  Felicity could hardly shovel the food into her mouth fast enough.  Jason sat with a huge plate of biscuits smothered in gravy, his fork flying.  True country fare, the biscuits were as fluffy as clouds, and the gravy was made with pan drippings from copious amounts of homemade sausage, crumbled and browned.  You might have put pure cholesterol into an IV and dripped it directly into their veins.  But man, oh man, did it taste good, and after that workout, they'd earned it.

The "girls" had also clustered around the table for their own meal.  They'd put their nighties back on, but feminine pulchritude was on display everywhere.  The estrogen flowed like honey, congealing the entire gathering into giggles and oooh-aaahs of satisfaction.  Arms draped over Jason, and breasts rubbed up against his arms, but he kept his face down and went right on eating.  He might be a guy, but he wasn't stupid.

Felicity came up for air long enough to wipe her napkin over her face and take a swig of coffee.  "Ma, this is great.  Do you all eat like this everyday?"

"Pretty much," Ma answered.  "Wait until you try my fried chicken."

Felicity held up a hand.  "Thanks, but I'm stuffed."

"Oh, I didn't mean right now, honey," Ma said.  "It's only daybreak.  We'll have chicken for dinner."

Jason's eyes twinkled.  With the promise of fried chicken and all the adoring females around him, he must have figured he'd landed in heaven.  Too bad for him they couldn't stay.

"That's sweet of you to invite us, but we'd better be going," Felicity said.

"You don't want to leave us," Ma said.  "Trust me on that."

Ma's expression widened into the smile of a cat that had just eaten the canary and washed it down with some liver pate and caviar.  Clearly, Ma had left something out of her story.

"We did everything you demanded," Felicity said.  "We satisfied all your girls."

"That you did.  Done a right fine job of it, too."  Ma's grin didn't diminish in the least.

Okaaaaay, this was starting to get weird.  "We can go then, right?"

"Y'always could.  I ain't got no cartridges in this shotgun."  To emphasize the point, Ma broke the gun open, and no ammunition fell out.  The girls found that funny and broke into more giggles.

Jason straightened, obviously finally figuring out more was going on here than great sex and high calorie food.  "You mean we did all that for nothing?

"Well, now, I wouldn't say that.  You had fun with my girls, and I'm feeding you good," Ma said.

SueEsther brushed her huge boobs against Jason's arm and ran the tip of her finger around his ear.  "We had fun, didn't we, sugarplum?"

"You bet we did."  MinniePat leaned into his other side.  "Right, lambchop?"

The two hovered over Jason as if they were ready for seconds.  George just rolled her eyes, even though she'd had her own go at him only moments before.

"It was my honor and pleasure, ladies," he said.  "But Wonderslut and I have work to do."

"We are free to go, aren't we?" Felicity said.

"If you want," Ma said.

Before Felicity had a chance to make sense of that remark, the front door opened, letting in a few rays of early morning light.  A man entered.

"Ma," he called.  "I'm home."

He went to the kitchen counter, plopped a couple of biscuits down on a plate, and slathered them with gravy from the pan on the stove.  He stopped by Ma long enough to plant an innocent peck on her cheek before taking a seat at the table and diving into his food.

"Harry," the girls cooed.  Pearlene and RayAnne moved to him, lavishing him with their attentions.  SueEsther remained with Jason, her breasts still plastered up against him.

"Who's he?" Felicity asked.  He clearly wasn't one of Ma's children unless the girls took love of family to a pretty kinky level.

"He's our very first visitor," Ma said.  "How long has it been, Harry?"

Harry stopped chewing long enough to furrow his brow in thought.  "Must be over a year now."

Whoa.  Wait a minute.  A sinking feeling settled into Felicity's stomach.  "Did you get Harry the same way you got us?"

"A-yep," Ma answered.

"And he's been here over a year?" Jason asked.

"Best food on the planet."  Harry lifted his fork in a toast.  "Once you've eaten at Ma's, you don't want to go anywhere else."

"I put something special in it so my visitors don't want to leave."

Felicity studied Harry a bit more closely.  He was dressed in ordinary enough clothes - khaki slacks and casual shirt.  He'd appeared normal, too, but now, she could detect a certain glassiness in his gaze and a loose smile that suggested intoxication.  She took a sniff of her own food and didn't detect anything off, but drugs didn't normally smell.

Ma cackled.  "You figured it out."

"You doctored this," Felicity said.

"A few herbs from the woods and a special kind of moss."  Ma grinned her grin again.  "My own ma was a witchy woman and taught me."

Jason had attacked his food again, and Felicity slapped him on the arm.  "Stop that."

He glanced up, and his own eyes had glazed over.  "Huh?"

"It's drugged."  It was pointless to stop him now.  He'd done everything but lick his plate clean, and she'd demolished a lot of biscuits and gravy herself.  The room grew a bit fuzzy in the corners, and Felicity's muscles relaxed.  Whatever Ma had put in the food had gotten to her, too.  And if she wasn't mistaken, Ma might have added a bit of aphrodisiac in there.  Yes, her pussy got a very distinct and insistent tingle.  Oh, great.

All of a sudden, Harry started to look good.  He had brown eyes sloped downward at the corners.  Sad eyes.  Bedroom eyes.  The kind that made you want to put his head on your shoulder and say "There, there" about a dozen times until he got the message and snuggled up nice and close.

She put her elbow on the table in his direction and rested her chin in her hand.  "Say, Harry, what line of work are you in?"

He gave her a lazy smile.  "Truck bed lining."

"Isn't that interesting," she said.  "So you work on pick-up trucks."

"Sure do," he said.  "You got to protect the bed.  You don't want a lot of freight shifting around in the back and damaging your truck."

Felicity had had some weight sliding around in her back, but then she'd started working out.  There was still some weight there, but it was tight enough to bounce a quarter off.

"But you come back here to visit Ma and her girls."

"Whatever chance I get," Harry answered.

"Maybe you'd like a woman for a change," Felicity said.  "Maybe you'd like Wonderslut."

Harry's eyes widened, and if ears could truly perk, his did.  "You're Wonderslut?"

"The one and only."

He took in her clothing...the now very rumpled and maybe a bit torn French maid's costume.  "That's not how Wonderslut dresses."

"My usual clothes are in the Slutmobile," she said.  "You passed it on the way in."

He whistled between his teeth.  "Hot damn.  That really was a Maserati?”

“Sure was.  Want to take a ride?”  She wiggled her eyebrows at him to make sure he understood what kind of ride she was talking about.

“Uh, Felicity?” Jason said from somewhere behind her.  “Shouldn’t we be going?”

“Eat some more gravy,” she said without taking her eyes off Harry.

“But you told me to stop.”

“Since when do you do what I tell you?” she said.  “And diddle SueEsther a bit.  That’ll keep you busy.”

Based on the giggles that came from that direction, SueEsther liked that idea.  A lot.

Felicity rose and held her hand out to Harry.  "Let's go outside, and you can tell me about lining my bed."

Harry squeezed her fingers in his and stood.  "Maseratis don't have beds."

"I wouldn't count on that."

Ma cackled again as they left the shack.  A few minutes and several forkfuls of Ma's cooking earlier that would have sounded threatening.  But Ma was a sweet, old thing when you got to know her.  Or something like that.

Felicity led Harry to the Slutmobile, and he let out a low whistle of approval.  "Nice paint job."

"Thanks.  I had it done to match my nails."  Of course, her manicure had taken a beating with all the messing around she'd been doing.

"A couple of your tires could use some air."

"Would you inflate my tires?"  She put her arms around Harry's neck and pressed her body against him everywhere.  "I'd really like it if you'd blow them all up."

With the right inflection, you could make everything sound dirty.  In a minute, she'd be talking about manifolds and cam shafts and making herself purr like the Maserati's fine engine.

"Or maybe I could blow you, instead," she said.

If Harry's eyes had been glazed before, they nearly crossed with pleasure at the prospect of some oral sex and from Wonderslut, no less.  So, he didn't hesitate when she opened the door to the passenger side of the Slutmobile...she wasn't about to work with the steering wheel pressing into her back...but slid right on in.  With Jason's long legs, the seat was all the way back, and she managed to climb in on top of him.

Okay, now this was going to present a challenge because, although she was sitting nicely on top of him with her boobs pressed into his face, that was no good position for getting her face into his lap.  By slithering and squishing herself backward, she succeeded in fitting into the foot well.  Nice trick to remember if she ever needed to make herself invisible while out on a job, but she'd probably end up with a kink in her neck for her trouble.  At least, now Harry's pelvis lay right within her line of sight, and she could enjoy the outline of a very nice erection pressing against his slacks.

When she unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock, he let out a low groan of pleasure.  Very gratifying.  When she circled the head with her tongue, he sighed and rested his head back, closing his eyes.  When she slid her lips along his shaft, taking most of his hardness into her mouth, he sucked in a breath.

"Shit, you're good," he said as he rested his hand on the top of her head.

She gave his hard-on a good loving.  Ma’s witchy weeds had real magic in them, because he swelled even larger as she worked.  An effect almost as large as she could have managed with her Slutray.  As soon as her mind cleared, she’d have to have a talk with Ma and find out where she could get some of that moss.

But back to the matter at hand.  Harry’s pretty and, by now, pretty large erection.  In the light of early morning, it had turned the livid color of near-climax.  If she was going to get any benefit out of this “ride,” she’d better use his gear shift for a joy stick and send them both into high gear.

The crotch-less-ness of the maid’s costume came in handy as Felicity unschrunched herself out of the foot well.  Her thighs trembled, and not from passion but from the effort of getting herself into that position and back out.  Her back rebelled when she tried to straighten, but eventually, she rose over the seat and Harry.  Now, she could finally spread her legs and lowered herself onto his erection.  Oh, yeah.  Oh, yeah.  Oh, yeah!

Will Felicity finally satisfy her cravings long enough to collect Jason and get back to the Slutgrotto?  Or will our two heroes find themselves in a constant cycle of Ma’s cooking and sex?  Would that be a bad thing?

Alice's blog/website

Write to Alice

The Voluptuous Correspondence of Lady X - Installment Twenty

My dearest Richard,

I find myself stranded in the countryside with little to entertain me other than the local fairs and pageants and Sunday services at the tiny church in the village.  X spends his time shooting at helpless birds during the day and playing cards with the local squire and his brothers at night.  All are squat fellows who smell of cigars and not the least bit clever or amusing.  Sadly, their wives are no better, and I have to beg off with a headache to avoid the lot of them.

Do send me something to relieve my boredom.  I understand there are shops in London where one can purchase salacious items and reading material to stimulate the sexual imagination.  I normally have no lack on that score, but I‘m afraid rustication is turning me into an uninspired lump.  Might I impose on you to find such a merchant and buy me something interesting?  Don't tell me what.  Surprise me.  I'm about to go mad from missing you.  You won't be able to care for my poor cunny from a distance, of course, but you can help me to pass the time before I can convince X we should return to town.

Also, if you wish, you might attend one of Sir Walter's soirees and write to me about your adventures.  Whatever envy I might feel could be erased by the sport of picturing you and your wonderful tool engaged in voluptuous play.  We've already decided that, while our hearts belong to each other, we may use our bodies in whatever way necessary to give each other pleasure, even if that means intimate contact with a third party or two.

I think back on the group exercises.  No doubt Sir Walter has many suitable for enhancement of the sexual experience.  Seek out one or two, give them a try, and write to me of the results.  If I can't share the experience directly, I can read your account, and I'll know that you, at least, are enjoying yourself.

Now then, I've given you your assignments.  Do take my requests to heart and write back and regale me with the results.   I'm perishing without you.  Please send relief.

Your adoring country maid,

X

*

My darling maid,

A lump you could never be, although I will admit that I’d gladly find you as a lump in my bed.  I’d wake you slowly with kisses in all the places you most enjoy.  All of them.  Ah, if only…

So, if you're reading this note, you've opened my parcel.  I hope you find the enclosed toys stimulating.  I can't allow my poor girl to suffer.  Though these items can't perform all the functions my lips, fingers, and cock can, they may nevertheless provide some relief for your aching cunny.  Do write back with the details of how you put them to use.

I did search out Sir Walter again.  He was happy enough to see me, but I suspect his interest was more in you.  I think he has hopes of seeing you in that trapeze.  Expect an invitation to use it when you next attend.

As you may imagine, Miss Creighton was overjoyed to see me in the salon again.  I was cordial, but I wouldn't want her to become attached to me.  All my devotion belongs to you.  I chose another partner, a woman who would only give me her first name - Jane.  Perhaps even that was assumed, but as I have no interest in pursuing her outside of Sir Walter's parties, I had no care to learn more.  She seemed to share that sentiment.  Reassured on that point, I asked her how she wished to proceed.

She proposed that we should challenge the other men to see who could withstand the pleasure of fellatio the longest without succumbing to orgasm.  She added that she’d watched my earlier performance with Miss Creighton and had been impressed with my stamina.  She felt certain that I could win such a contest.

Needless to say, the other gents agreed readily and even proposed a wager of a considerable amount of money to be paid to the winning lady to assure their enthusiasm for the game.  Sir Walter further suggested that the prize be split between the woman whose man spent first and the one who persevered to the last.  That agreed, the ladies chose their partners, and the men took their seats and removed their cocks from their pants.  Most had already become erect at the prospect of the sweet attentions of a woman’s mouth.  Mine included, I must confess.  It’s been some time since our stay in the cottage with only your letters to ease my loneliness.

Sir Walter, himself a contestant, gave the order to begin, and the game was on.  Jane took me slowly, sliding her lips over the tip of my member and then down the shaft.  Clearly, she was hoping to have me last the longest instead of trying to make me climax quickly.  Many of the others were working their partner’s cocks furiously.  A lady on my right fairly swallowed her man’s cock whole as it was small enough that most of it fit in her mouth.  He clearly enjoyed her ministrations, as evidenced by his moans and an expression of pure bliss on his face.

But then, we were all enjoying ourselves immensely.  As you know, my sweet, there are few things that excite a man more than a woman who will eagerly suck on his cock.  Jane was an eager participant and quite talented at manipulation of my organ.  Though she didn't rush me to the finish line, she nevertheless aroused me completely.  Given her talented mouth, I wondered idly if she also engaged in gamahucherie.  If so, my darling, we should consider sharing her some time, if she's agreeable.  I'm sure we could thank her sufficiently with orgasm after orgasm of her own.  Just a thought.

But back to Sir Walter's.  After a few moments, two of the men began making the sort of noises that predict the onset of climax.  Both cocks had taken on the livid hue of maximum arousal, and we all watched to see who would spend first.  The man on my right…he of the smaller penis…finally shouted “I’m coming!”  To prove she’d won, his partner removed her mouth from him as he spewed copious amounts of semen into the air.  It went everywhere, some even landing in her hair.  Quite a display for someone who had seemed rather unendowed.

The initial winner revealed, the rest of us now were to compete for the second part of the prize.  Jane kept me aroused and erect but dealt with me gently, and I became convinced that she’d done something like this before and had therefore planned the evening’s entertainment knowing that she could win.  I watched how she worked my member, slowly sucking and gripping the base of my shaft tightly when excitement threatened to overwhelm me.

One by one, my competitors surrendered to their lust.  Orgasm after orgasm, followed by satisfied smiles and sighs.  The other man who’d been close before went first, and then more of the men climaxed like so many champagne bottles popping.

Finally, we were down to two - Sir Walter and me.  We sat across from each other, where we could look into each other’s faces.  His had a challenging expression, as if confident he would win.  I’ve generally found that cockiness (pardon the double entendre) puts a competitor at a disadvantage, and so I gazed back at him evenly before closing my eyes to suggest I’d been carried away but my arousal.

When I next sneaked a look at him, his eyes had gone hazy with sexual excitement.  And though my own arousal was approaching a height at which even Jane’s talents would no longer be able to control it, I began to feel sure that she and I would prevail.  I concentrated on my breathing and reviewed the events of my day in my mind in order to hold off the inevitable.  Around us, the various participants who’d already finished cheered for their favorites and praised us both for how long we’d already lasted.

Eventually, just as my own control was about to snap, Sir Walter gave up the effort to resist.  With a groan, he placed his hand on his partner’s head, urging her to go faster and take him deeper.  When she realized that she’d lost, she did as the other women had and exposed his cock so we could all watch Sir Walter spend.  He did with a roar although less of a display than the first man.  Still, the evidence of my partner’s victory emerged from the tip of his cock with some vigor.

Now, I no longer had to fight my own orgasm, and Jane finished me like an expert.  I let the pleasure take me, and she rewarded me with a climax that rivaled (but did not equal) the ones you’ve given me.  The group exclaimed at the force of my release, and in the end, I slumped back against my seat, hardly hearing the voices around me.  My enjoyment was complete.

There’s your story, my pet, and I hope you enjoy it.  Think of what I’ve written as you pleasure yourself with my gifts.  Then write back to me to share all the details.  In this manner, we’ll live out the long hours and days before we can be together again.

As ever,

Your besotted Richard

Visit Alice's Blog

authoralicegaines@yahoo.com

The Adventures of Wonderslut, Installment Twenty-One

When we left our friends, Jason was doing his best to entertain four buxom beauties while Felicity had just accepted an invitation for some lovemaking with their sister, George.  Only a few feet away, the girls’ mother sat in a rocking chair with a shotgun laid across her lap.  Ma had ordered Jason and Felicity to make sure each one of her five daughters was satisfied if they ever hoped to find their way out of the cabin and back to the Slutmobile.  Nice work if you could get it, and Wonderslut and the Piston got it almost every night.


Felicity untwined herself from George and reached for George’s nightie.  When she’d removed it, she discovered a finely-muscled but still feminine body beneath.  George had small, firm breasts with erect nipples.  Her hips flared to thighs that would have made a Venus proud, and between them were golden curls that matched the natural blonde of her hair.  All around nice.  And edible.

“Nice bod, George.”  Felicity stroked her palm over George’s flat stomach.  “You must show me what you do with your abs.”

“I’ll give you a work-out, all right.”  Smiling in a particularly wicked way, George twirled her finger around to order Felicity to turn.  Felicity complied, of course, and soon George’s hands pulled the zipper of her French maid’s costume down.  Because the thing was little more than a bustier, it all fell away in one piece, making Felicity as naked as George.

The air in the cabin held a chill, and soon, Felicity’s nipples stood at full attention.  They got George’s attention as George turned her around and ran her thumbs over the stiff peaks.  A zing of excitement coursed through her, and the moans from the other side of the room enhanced the sensation.  This was a love den.  A ramshackle, creaky floorboards, grits-and-giblets one, for sure, but definitely dedicated to sin.  Amazing, when you thought about it, the places people could find to take pleasure with each other.

She hardly had the time to contemplate that little insight before George tugged her face down for a kiss.  Cute, how George was taking charge of things when she barely came up to Felicity’s nose.  Her lips felt soft as they teased Felicity’s apart, and her breath was sweet enough to lure Felicity in.  Their limbs wrapped around each other again, snuggling George’s firmness into Felicity’s curves.

Now fully entwined, Felicity and George lowered themselves to the floor, moving like one creature to stay together.  Once there, George took over again, easing Felicity against the floor.  As George’s mouth continued its assault on Felicity’s sanity, they rolled together, the uneven boards pressing into Felicity’s butt.  George’s nipples poked against Felicity’s chest, the only physical reminder that the hard body covering hers was female and not a short guy.  Male body or female, George’s rubbed against hers in all the right ways to create friction and heat her skin.  About time the heating went in both directions.

Felicity flipped them over, pinning George beneath her.  Sitting astride George’s pelvis, Felicity had George fairly well trapped with her greater size.  Just for the hell of it, she caught George’s wrists and held them against the floor on either side of her head.  Whether or not George could break her hold, George didn’t show any sign she actually wanted to.  She put up a bit of a mock struggle, but in fact, her neck and chest flushed with very obvious sexual excitement.

“You like this, don’t you?” Felicity said.

“Go fuck yourself.”  George’s words came out breathy, like a husky whisper.

“Now, now, why would you want to hurt my feelings?” Felicity said.  “After all, I’m the one who’s going to make you come.”

“You and whose army?”

“I don’t need any army.  I only need my tongue.”  Felicity bent slowly, bringing her face to George’s.  George squirmed some but didn’t do anything serious to avoid the kiss that was coming her way.  Inch by inch, Felicity brought her mouth to George’s, and at the last moment, George closed her eyes and parted her lips in invitation.

This time when they kissed, it was a prelude of more momentous things to come.  Felicity took her time, getting to know every curve of George’s lips before moving lower to dip beneath her chin and lay a string of caresses along her neck.  Lower still, she licked circles around one of George’s nipples before pulling it into her mouth.  George was really into it, her chest rising and falling as her breath turned to panting.  With that encouragement, Felicity slid her body along George’s, stroking her hands over George’s ribs as she placed kisses on George’s flat belly and headed toward her ultimate destination.

George’s legs eased apart to welcome Felicity between them, and the plump lips of her pussy blossomed open to expose her erect clitoris.  When Felicity teased it with her tongue, George let out a whimper, begging for more.  So Felicity gave her exactly what she was asking for.  Settling in for some serious eating-of-pussy, Felicity gave George’s hot spot firm strokes until George’s hips began the slow dance of a woman on the climb toward the top.  Felicity ran her arms around George’s thighs, holding her in place against Felicity’s mouth.  George would climax any minute, and Felicity would do whatever she could to make it as good as possible.  Wonderslut didn’t fool around when it came to fooling around.

When the big moment came, George let out a very feminine cry of completion.  Her body stiffened as her voice rose to the ceiling.  Felicity didn’t quit loving George’s clit until George had sagged against the floor boards, moaning.

Immensely proud of herself, Felicity scooted up and propped herself on her elbow so she could gaze down at George’s face.  Not many things on Earth looked sweeter than a woman who’s just had a fabulous climax, and that applied to George.  A rosy glow graced her cheeks, and her eyes were closed.  Felicity bent and kissed her.  Although George hardly moved, she did sigh in satisfaction.  Cute.  Felicity wouldn’t share that last thought, though.  George might slug her.  But she was really cute.

By now, Jason was pleasing more than one of George’s sisters at once, as evidenced by the pair of squeals from across the room.  One sister had mounted him and moved her pelvis back and forth, her eyes closed in bliss.  The other seemed to be enjoying his mouth just as much, as she perched, legs spread, over his face.

George rolled onto her side and took in the scene.  “That looks like fun.”

“Which, his mouth or his cock?”

“Both, I guess, but I don’t think I’ve ever had a man so well endowed.”

Felicity’s chest might have puffed out with pride, or maybe that was just a sexual flush that had her skin turning pink.  Whichever, her sidekick not only had top equipment, but he knew how to use it.  Jason was well on his way toward giving orgasms to his third and fourth lover since they‘d walked in the door - these two at once - but he showed no signs of slowing down.

“Would you like some of that?” Felicity asked.

“I don’t need it,” George said.  “Women are just fine with me.”

“Why limit yourself?” Felicity said.  “Life isn’t just chocolate and vanilla.  There’s also strawberry and tutti-frutti.”

George glanced at Felicity.  “Tutti-frutti?”

“You get my drift.”

“Yeah, drift.”  George stared at her sister enjoying Jason’s monster erection for a good, long time.

“Sure you’re not interested?” Felicity asked.

Just then, the sister climaxed with a long string of loud “oh Gods!”  When she’d finished, she kind of toppled over as if he’d knocked her out.  She slid off Jason, exposing his stiff member completely to their view.  An invitation if Felicity had ever seen one.

“Come on, George.  No time like the present.”  Felicity helped George to her feet, and George rose without resistance or complaint.  They stood for a moment and watched Jason finish off sister number four.  RayAnne or SueEsther or someone.  How was Felicity to keep them separated in her mind after only meeting them a half hour earlier?  The other three had huddled together in a corner, silly-ass grins on all their faces.  Ma still sat in her chair, rocking back and forth with the shotgun still laid across her lap.  Interesting family but probably not greeting card material.

Sister number four finally announced her climax with a series of “ooh-ahhs!” followed by a scream.  The other three giggled while her cry trailed off into a sob and then became what sounded for all the world like a hiccup.  When she rolled off Jason, the others gathered her up into a pile of female flesh.

That left Jason alone, holding his still rigid pole by the base.  The color of his flesh told the story of a man who’d held out long enough to satisfy four women and badly needed some relief for his own lust.  Bright crimson with a droplet of pre-cum at the tip, it was testament to male thoughtfulness and stamina.

“One more,” she said.  “Can you handle it?”

“Bring her on,” he answered.

George gave Felicity a sideways look as if asking for permission.  Felicity nodded encouragement, and with a little blush on her cheeks, George lowered herself to the floor beside Jason.  In little more than a second, he had George on her back and had plowed his way into her.  Wrapping her legs around him, George settled in for the ride.

And what a ride it was.  Jason pushed himself up on his fists while his hips moved, pushing his cock into her and pulling back.  Wet slapping sounds came from where they were joined, and soon both of them were breathing hard.

Felicity sat cross-legged on the floor beside George and stroked her hair, although it wasn’t clear that George even knew she was there.  Her eyes had closed, engrossed as she was, in the pure heaven of being fucked by a master.  Jason seemed equally lost in the moment, his features twisted into a grimace of sexual abandon.

Felicity had had plenty of experience with sex with Jason.  As a matter of fact, she’d had some of that experience right before Ma had shown up with her shotgun.  George might not realize it, but she was at that moment enjoying la crème de la crème, shtupping-wise.  Eventually, she’d have to succumb.  And, as a matter of fact, the way she was arching up to meet Jason’s thrusts and the rising inflection of her voice suggested she would come right…about…four, three, two…now!

Sure enough, George climaxed again just as Jason lost control and pounded into her, throwing back his head to shout.  Some day, she ought to take a picture of him in the throes of orgasm.  She could have it painted into a picture or sculpted into marble.  He was living, breathing, erotic art.

All good things must come to an end, and that applied to their climaxes.  Moaning, Jason lumbered off George and collapsed with his head in Felicity’s lap.

“You did it, guy,” she said softly.

“They killed me.”  He groaned.  “What a way to go.”

Ma yawned and stretched.  “Well now, son, you did a good job.  Nobody ever done all my girls before.”

“I’m not surprised,” he grumbled.

“Hey, wait-a-minute,” Felicity said.  “You said we could only leave if we satisfied all five of them.”

“A-yup.”  Ma’s rocking chair creaked.

“So, where are the other people you’ve caught?”

“Biscuits and gravy.”  Ma rose and headed off toward the stove.

“Huh?” Felicity said.

“That’s what we need,” Ma said.  “Biscuits and gravy.”


What does Ma have up her sleeve now?  Do the girls practice perversions with food, or are we just looking at breakfast?  White gravy or brown?  And what did happen to all those other people?

Alice's website/blog

Open Your Eyes

Content Advisory: Oral sex, m/f sex

After all this time, they were finally able to line all the stars up and plan a weekend getaway. She was nervous driving up to the cabin, spying the smoke swirling from the chimney. She reminded herself that this was for fun. Two people who found something in each other that fulfilled a particular need. Nate had a fetish for big breasts and Renee yearned for a large cock.

After her marriage failed, she vowed she would never settle for a guy who was hung like a chipmunk again. She was going to experiment and take some chances. So, she threw caution to the wind when Nate asked her if she’d like to meet and act out all the cybersex they’d been having. She was hesitant at first but after talking online for nearly a year and exchanging photos of body parts, she was ready and horny beyond belief.    

They agreed ahead of time to have a no questions asked escape clause in case either of them felt uncomfortable or changed their mind about the escapade. She grabbed her overnight bag and her purse and climbed the stairs to the front door.

She knocked once and turned around to take in the landscape. There were no neighbors within view and the house was virtually secluded by a thick copse of oaks and pines. She heard the door unlatch and waited for a second. She was mortally afraid that he wouldn’t like her. Closing her eyes, she slowly turned around.

He laughed. “Why are your eyes closed?”

“I’m nervous.”

“Here, let me take your bag and I’ll lead you inside like you’re blind.” He took her hand and gently pulled her across the threshold and into the warmth of the house. “What are you afraid you’ll see?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you afraid I look like a toad?”

“No. I’m afraid I look like a toad.” A giggle escaped her and she peeked one eye open.

“No more hiding, come on. Open your eyes. We’ve waited so long.” His voice was deep and rich and familiar from the few phone calls they’d shared.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly opened her eyes. He was cute. Better looking than she expected. Dark hair, light eyes, nice build. She stole a glance at his crotch. That was what she was here for, right?

She shrugged out of her jacket, knowing that he was waiting to see her boobs. She’d worn a tight t-shirt to give him  preview.

His eyes immediately fell to her chest, but he was quick and brought them up to her face. “You’re really pretty.” He reached out and touched a strand of her hair and looked down at her breasts again.

She laughed. “It’s okay. Go ahead and look. This is what we signed up for.” She was remarkably at ease. Probably because they had been talking so long and he didn’t feel like a stranger in the least.

He offered her a glass of wine and she accepted. A little liquid courage was just what she needed. For days, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about having his cock inside her. She downed the wine.

“We both know what we’re here for. Let’s not waste a single minute. I have an agenda.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You have an agenda?”

“Of course, and the first order of business is to get you out of those pants. We need to get his tension out of the way and then we can relax a little.”

She reached for the button at his waist and quickly unzipped his jeans, slipping her hand inside. He was already hard and she dropped to her knees, tugging his pants down. The pictures she’d seen didn’t do him justice. His cock was long, thick and beautiful. Her mouth watered.

“Wait. Take off your shirt. I have an agenda, too.” He smiled at her and she pulled her shirt over her head. His hands slid down to cup her boobs, squeezing them. He reached around behind her, unclasping her bra and pulling it off her shoulders. “I want to fuck these,” he said, pinching her nipples, coaxing them to hard pebbles.

Her pussy responded, soaking her panties. She licked the drop of pre-come from tip of his cock before wrapping her lips around his dick. Moving up and down his cock, she licked and sucked him as he grew larger, harder.

His hands continued to play with her breasts, pinching and kneading. She worked him with her mouth and hand at the same time.

His hand moved up to her hair and his fingers tangled into it, grabbing a fistful. He held her head still while he pumped in and out of her mouth.

She traced her fingers up his torso, gliding over the pronounced muscles in his abdomen before reaching around to grab his ass.

He thrust into her mouth a few more times and pulled her up by hair. “Get these pants off now.”  She wiggled out of her jeans and panties and he guided her to the couch.

She lay on her back and he climbed on top of her, fisting his rock-hard cock. Knowing what he wanted, she squeezed her boobs together and he slipped his hot shaft between them. Still wet from her saliva, he slid in effortlessly and began fucking her tits. She opened her mouth and the head of his cock crossed her lips on every upstroke.

He moaned and moved faster as he watched himself fuck her the way they had talked about so many times. He covered her hands with his to hold her boobs tight around his throbbing dick. “I bet you want my cock in your pussy, don’t you? Are you going to be my little slut?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I am. Fuck me.”

“Let’s make sure you’re ready to take it first.” He slipped down her body, stopping to lick her nipples. He closed his lips on one, biting down softly.

She groaned, the sweet pull of his mouth coursed electricity through her body, setting her on fire. The ceiling fan spun slowly, affording a light breeze that caused goosebumps on her hot skin.   

He took his time moving from one breast to the other and back again. “I could suck your tits all day long. Your nipples are exquisite.” He sucked one hard and moved lower down her body. He lifted her legs and used his fingers to spread her lips open. He buried his face into her pussy. His tongue found her clit and made slow circles around it.

She grabbed his head as he sucked her swollen nub into his mouth. He slipped two fingers inside her, moving them in and out slowly. Her legs began to shake and she whimpered. Every conscious thought focused on that one spot he ministered to. He sucked her clit harder and curled his fingers inside her.

On the verge of passing out, sparks erupted behind her eyes. Her pussy clenched on his fingers, pulling them deeper into her wet slit. He didn’t stop and flicked her clit with his tongue. He knew what she liked, she had told him before while pleasuring herself.

“Now you’re wet enough to take my big cock,” he grinned. “Turn around, get on your hands and knees. I’m about to fuck you harder and deeper than you’ve ever been fucked.”

His words made her hotter and she did as she was told.

He moved up behind her, his hand rubbing over her ass before gripping her hip.  The tip of his dick slid around her pussy before he pushed the head into her.

She moaned, loving the instant friction. He fed her one inch after another until his balls rested tightly against her body. She’d never fucked anyone his size before. Every nerve ending inside her was stimulated at once and she was already on the verge of coming again.

“How does it feel to have this much cock in your tight little pussy?” He slammed into her.

“God, it feels so good.” She moaned and dug her nails into the fabric of the couch. “Fuck me, fuck me harder.”

With that, he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled his cock out of her and plunged back in with more force.

She screamed and squeezed the pillow on the couch. She spread her knees a little further to accommodate him.

He pumped in and out of her mercilessly. His balls slapped against her, tickling her clit. He pulled her arms behind her back, leaving her face against the pillow. The deeper he went the more she cried out.

“Don’t stop.” She loved being restrained while he fucked her from behind. He was in complete control and it turned her on even more.

Using one hand to keep her wrists together, he used the other to rub her hip. “I bet this ass is so tight. Mmm. Let’s see.” He pressed a finger inside her, moving it in and out in the same rhythm he fucked her pussy.

The intrusion hurt briefly but quickly turned to pleasure. She moaned and arched her back.

“You like that, don’t you, baby? My finger in your ass and my dick deep in your pussy?”

She nodded and pushed back against him. “It feels incredible.”

He pulled his dick out and stroked it with his hand. “Turn over. I want to come on your big tits and pretty face.”

 

She flipped over and held her boobs together again. “Come on me.”

He straddled her, while stroking his dick faster. His jaw tensed and hips moved forward.

She watched his cock swell and begin to throb.

“Fuck. Here it comes.” The first squirt hit her right breast and more quickly followed. Hot come covered her breasts and dripped from her chin.  

“Yes,” she moaned, licking her lips and savoring the salty flavor. “You taste so good.”

He leaned down and kissed her mouth for the first time. “You were worth the wait, Renee.”

She smiled and kissed him back. “So were you.”

Check out Melissa’s last post, I Promise, and look for her next short story on April 6, 2013!

~~*~~

~ Melissa Ecker ~

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Copyright © 2013 Melissa Ecker

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.