Short Story: No Purse, No Problem

 

Monica Anne stumbled through the heavy wooden door of the dimly lit bar a little after 1 AM, the soles of her strappy heels catching slightly on the deep red patterned carpet. The warm yellow glow from the overhead fixtures and the smaller round lights hanging from the ceiling washed over her fair skin. Her long wavy black hair framed her face as she blinked against the sudden shift from the dim night outside. The form-fitting bright red satin bodysuit clung to her slender frame, the short slightly puffed sleeves and deep V-neckline putting her significant cleavage and large breasts on full display. The very sexy red bodysuit rubbed softly against her skin with every movement, the delicate fabric already damp where the front and back fastened between her legs. Monica Anne was horny, and more than that, buzzed horny from the residual effects of the night’s earlier drinks. She had gotten separated from her sorority sisters somewhere between the last club and the Uber that never came. Now, the bar she was in was nearly deserted. Only the bartender stood behind the dark wood counter, and two young men she recognized from campus sat a few stools down. one in a green shirt, the other in blue, talking quietly while flat-screen televisions flickered silently above the bottles. Monica Anne’s glossy red lips curved into a tipsy, unselfconscious smile as she approached the bar and slid onto one of the red circular stools. “Red wine,” she said, voice soft and a little slurred. “Just a glass, please.” The bartender poured without comment. She drank it in a few long, thirsty swallows, the alcohol blooming warm in her empty stomach and making her nipples tighten against the satin of her bodysuit. It was then that Monica Anne realized that she had been wearing a cute little white ballerina wrap skirt earlier in the evening, but now, it was nowhere to be found. Had she been sober, she might have been a little self-conscious about wearing the bodysuit without the wrap skirt covering certain things, but at this point in the night, she was owning wearing nothing but that hot and sexy red satin bodysuit. As Monica Anne shrugged off not knowing where her skirt was, she set the empty wine glass down on the bar. It was then that she raised her hand to ask for another glass, but stopped as her other hand reached automatically for her purse that was also missing. Next, the realization hit. Heat flooded her cheeks. “Oh…I…I don’t have my purse,” Monica Anne apologized, meeting the bartender’s eyes. “I’m so sorry. I got separated from my friends…and—” The bartender leaned forward slightly, voice low, even, and smooth. “There’s another way you can pay,” he smirked. Monica Anne assessed the situation. Had the bartender not been so hot, she might have protested, but he was totally her type, muscular, young, dark hair, clean-cut, well-kept. Her buzz, the late hour, the ache already building between her legs, all of it stripped away any pretense. Monica Anne smirked at the bartender then stood, and walked around the end of the bar, her eyes meeting his gaze the entire time. Once behind the bar, and dropped to her knees on the carpet behind the counter, right at his feet. Her hands went straight to his belt. She freed his cock, already half-hard, and wrapped her glossy red lips around the head without a word. The salty taste of him flooded her mouth as she sank down, sucking eagerly, cheeks hollowing, tongue swirling. Monica Anne moaned around the thick shaft, the vibration traveling up him while she bobbed her head, taking him deeper each time until her nose brushed the base and her throat fluttered around him. It was then Monica Anne noticed that the conversation between the two boys she recognized from campus had gone quiet. She heard the scrape of stools against the carpet, then footsteps. They came around behind the bar, already pulling themselves out from their pants. Monica Anne pulled off the bartender with a wet pop, spit shining on her chin, and turned immediately to the first of the boys, the one in the green shirt. She opened wide and sucked him down, messy and hungry, while her free hand stroked the bartender and then reached for the third cock. Monica Anne took turns, moving from one to the next without pause: long, wet slides of her mouth, the wet sounds of suction filling the quiet bar, her eyes half-closed with pure filthy pleasure. She was so fucking wet. Spit trailed from her lips to their cocks as she switched, moaning louder each time she felt another thick head push past her tongue. Monica Anne was being a dirty little slut, and she loved it, loved the stretch of her lips, the weight on her tongue, the way they looked down at her on her knees in the red bodysuit with her big tits nearly spilling out. After a short while the bartender’s hand settled in her hair. “Back office,” he said, voice rough. “There’s a couch.” Monica Anne rose on unsteady legs, red lips swollen and shiny, and led them through the narrow doorway into the small back room. A worn couch sat against one wall under a single low lamp. She turned to face the three of them as soon as the door clicked shut, already reaching for the crotch of her bodysuit. “It’s time for you to gangbang me,” Monica Anne said as she unsnapped the little metal snaps that were soaked, barely holding the bodysuit together at this point. Her voice was thick with want and all three boys recognized it. Monica Anne climbed onto the couch on all fours, then rolled onto her back, spreading her thighs wide. “Use me,” Monica Anne breathed hard. “Mouth, pussy, ass, I want all of my holes filled. Make me your dirty little slut.” The boys didn’t need more of an invitation. The bartender pushed his cock back between her lips first while the boy in the green shirt yanked the crotch of the bodysuit aside and thrust his hard cock into her soaked pussy in one smooth stroke. Monica Anne cried out around the shaft filling her mouth, the sound muffled and desperate with pleasure. She was dripping wet, her walls clenching greedily around the thick cock stretching her open. The third boy moved to the side of the couch. She reached for him and stroked while she sucked, then turned her head to take him into her mouth next, tasting herself on the first boy’s cock when they switched. They rotated without mercy or pause. One fucked her throat deep and slow while another pounded her pussy, the wet slap of skin on skin mixing with her muffled moans. When the boy in the blue shirt pulled out of her cunt and pressed the slick head of his cock against her tighter hole, Monica Anne pushed back onto him with a broken, eager whimper. “Yes, fuck my ass, baby,” Monica Anne cooed as he sank into her ass inch by inch, the stretch burning in the best way. She then came hard around the cock that was still buried in her pussy, shaking and sobbing with pure filthy joy. At this point, Monica Anne looked to the boy in the green shirt. “Will you fuck my pussy while he fucks my ass? I want to feel you both inside me together.” From this point, the bartender and the two boys from campus took turns in every combination while she lay on her back, legs spread, bodysuit shoved up around her waist, sucking one cock while the other two fucked her cunt and ass in alternating strokes, one boy under her, one boy on top of her. Monica Anne’s large breasts bounced and jiggled with every thrust, the satin of the bodysuit rubbing wonderfully against her sensitive hard nipples. Spit ran down her chin, her pussy made obscene wet sounds, and her ass gripped greedily around whoever was buried there. Monica Anne came again and again, once when the bartender bottomed out in her throat at the same moment the green-shirt boy slammed deep into her pussy, once when all three of them had a hand on her body and a cock stretching her open, once more when the blue-shirt boy pulled out of her ass and painted her tongue with thick ropes of cum that she swallowed greedily before turning to clean the others. She kept sucking and spreading and begging for more, even after they had all finished the first time, rolling onto her stomach so they could take her from behind again, face pressed into the couch cushion, ass high, moaning like the dirty little slut she was while they used every hole until her makeup was smeared, her red lipstick ruined, and her body trembled with overstimulated pleasure. Her holes were filled with so much cum. By the time the last of them pulled out and wiped his cock across her glossy, cum-smeared lips, Monica Anne was smiling, flushed, thoroughly fucked, and utterly satisfied, still wearing only the ruined red satin bodysuit, the taste of all three of them thick on her tongue...

Short Story: Lieutenant Dylan Heart's Off-Duty Night

 

The year is 2550. Deep in the black of interstellar space, the U.S.S. Enterprise NCC-1701-J cut a sleek, powerful silhouette against the stars. A Universe-class temporal heavy dreadnought cruiser, she was Starfleet’s newest pride, vast corridors of polished alloy and soft ambient lighting, multi-mission capability woven into every deck. On her maiden voyage the ship hummed with purpose, and among the bright young officers was Lieutenant Dylan Heart, communications officer, freshly graduated and already drawing quiet stares wherever she walked. Dylan was brunette, her dark brown hair falling in soft, shoulder-length waves that framed a striking face and bright, intelligent eyes. Her body was the kind that made uniform fabric seem unfair: slender waist flaring into full, heavy breasts that strained every regulation tunic, hips that swayed with unconscious promise, long legs that ended in the kind of curves officers noticed even when they tried not to. Tonight, off-duty and alone in her quarters, she wore none of that regulation restraint. She lay on the wide bed in a very sexy red satin-and-lace one-piece teddy. The garment was scandalously frilly, delicate scalloped lace cups that barely contained her large breasts, the satin fabric clinging wetly between her thighs, thin straps and little bows that framed her cleavage and the smooth plane of her stomach. The high-cut legs of the teddy left her ass almost completely bare, the frilly lace edges tickling the soft skin of her inner thighs every time she shifted. Her nipples were so hard, dark peaks pushing against the thin red lace. One hand slid up to pinch and play with her hard nipples while the other drifted lower, parting the damp crotch of the teddy to stroke her slick, swollen pussy. “Fuck…” Dylan whispered intto the quiet room, two fingers circling her clit. Images of the men on the ship flickered behind her closed lids, broad shoulders in science-division blue, the confident hands of an engineer who could rebuild a warp core with those same fingers. Especially Lieutenant Michael Johnson, the ship’s science officer, and Lieutenant John Smith, chief engineer. Both of them had looked at her the way she wanted to be looked at. Her fingers worked faster as she thought of them. Her dripping, sweet wet pussy was already so wet the satin between her legs was soaked through entirely. But before the coiling heat could snap, she stopped. She wanted the real thing. No more fingers, no more playing with herself in her quarters. It was time to go out and get some dick. Dylan rose, slipped a very short, form-fitting bright red dress over the teddy. The dress hugged every curve, short, slightly puffed sleeves, a deep V-neckline that plunged between her significant cleavage so the red lace of the teddy peeked out like a secret. The hem barely covered the tops of her thighs; when she moved, the frilly edges of the teddy flashed. She stepped into a pair of slutty red high heels that lengthened her legs and forced a slow, deliberate sway into her hips. A quick gloss of red on her lips, a last look in the mirror at the way the dress and teddy together turned her into pure invitation, and she left her quarters. The officers’ lounge at 02:00 ship time was nearly empty. Warm yellow light glowed from overhead fixtures and smaller round pendant lamps. The dark wood bar gleamed. A row of red circular stools waited. Flat-screen displays flickered silently behind the counter. Deep red carpet muffled her heels. Only two men occupied the far end of the bar. Michael in a soft green off-duty shirt that stretched across his chest, John in blue, sleeves rolled to show strong forearms. Her fantasy boys in the bar, sitting drinking together. “Looks like I picked a good night to come out,” Dylan whispered to herself. Both men turned away from their conversation, looking right at Dylan as she approached. Dylan’s smile was pure heat. “Gentlemen. Fancy finding the two hottest officers on the J still awake,” Dylan cooed. Michael’s gaze dropped openly to the deep V of her dress, the swell of her breasts straining the red fabric, the flash of lace. “Dylan, that dress should be illegal, ”John said, his eyes undressing her. “The dress is just the wrapping,” Michael followed immediately. “See the lingerie underneath? Red lace. Frilly. Dylan, you’re not playing fair.” She slid onto the stool between them, the short red dress riding higher, the red heels crossing slowly. “Who said I wanted fair?” Dylan laughed, accepting the drink Michael pushed toward her, taking a slow sip, then leaning in so her cleavage deepened. “I’ve been lying in my tiny little frilly red satin and lace teddy all by myself on my bed for an hour, playing with myself, thinking about the two of you,” Dylan confessed readily with a huge smile. “My nipples are still hard. My pussy’s still so soaked. I decided the real thing would be better, so here I am.” John’s hand settled on her bare thigh, just below the hem of the red dress. “Show us,” John said playfully. Dylan parted her legs on the stool. Michael’s hand joined John’s, both of them sliding upward under the short red dress at the same time. Fingers found the soaked crotch of the red satin-and-lace teddy. Two sets of fingers pushed the frilly fabric aside and sank into her hot wetness together. “Oh fuck yes…” Dylan sighed as her head tipped back, glossy red lips parting. “Both of my favorite Starfleet boys…fingers inside me at the same time. Feel how wet I already am for you both?” Michael curled two fingers deep while John rubbed firm circles over her clit through. The dual pressure made Dylan’s hips roll against their hand, her ass grinding on the bar stool. The O-club was empty, only the soft hum of the ship and the wet sounds of their hands working her filled the warm yellow light. “You’re dripping on the stool,” John murmured against her ear. “This little red teddy is ruined. Look at the way it clings to these tits.” John’s free hand cupped one heavy breast through the dress and lace, thumb stroking the hard nipple. “Take me back to my quarters, boys” Dylan breathed heavily. “Both of you. I want more than fingers.” They stood together. Michael kept two fingers buried in Dylan’s pussy as they walked. John stayed close, one hand also still under her short red dress, still gently rubbing Dylan’s clit. In the turbolift the doors hissed shut. The moment the car began to move, both men were on her again. Dylan’s back hit the wall, red heels spreading wide. Michael and John each pushed two fingers into her at the same time, stretching her open, pumping in rhythm while the elevator hummed. “Fuck,” Dylan breathed heavily, “your cocks are going to feel so much better.” Dylan kissed Michael passionately, pulling away only to kiss John just as passionately. The doors opened onto Dylan’s deck. They barely made it down the corridor, both men still playing with Dylan as they expertly guided her. Inside Dylan’s quarters the lights were low, the wide bed waiting, sheets still rumpled from her earlier solitary play. The moment the door sealed, the red dress was peeled upward and off, leaving her in only the very sexy red satin-and-lace one-piece teddy and the slutty red high heels. The frilly lace cups barely contained her breasts, the crotch was dark and shiny with her wetness. Michael stripped. John stripped. Both men were hard, thick, already leaking. “Fuck, you guys are so hot,” Dylan said as she dropped to her knees on the soft carpet in her red heels, the teddy framing her body like an invitation. “Spit-roast me,” she said, voice thick. “One of you in my mouth, one in my pussy. Use me. Fuck me.” John guided his cock between Dylan’s glossy red lips while Michael lifted her hips, shoved the soaked crotch of the red teddy aside, and sank into her cunt in one long thrust. Dylan moaned around the thick shaft filling her mouth as Michael fucked her from behind, the frilly lace of the teddy bouncing with every slap of his hips. John held her dark hair and fed his cock deeper. “That’s it, take both of us,” Michael growled. “Your pussy’s gripping me so tight in that little red lace.” Dylan pulled off John’s cock just long enough to gasp, “Harder. Fuck my face while he ruins my pussy.” They switched without breaking rhythm, Michael’s cock sliding past her red lips, John’s thick length driving into her soaked pussy, the red high heels still on her feet, the frilly red teddy pushed aside and soaked. The dual penetration made her shake, saliva dripping down her chin, juices coating John’s shaft and the lace between her thighs. When they pulled free, Dylan was already trembling on the edge. “Double-penetrate me,” Dylan begged, crawling onto the bed on all fours, red heels digging into the mattress, the red teddy still clinging to her curves. “One in my pussy, one in my ass. Fill both holes at the same time.” Michael lay back. Dylan straddled him, sank her dripping cunt down onto his cock until she was fully seated, the red lace of the teddy stretched around the place they joined. John moved behind her, slicked his cock with her own wetness, and pressed the thick head against Dylan’s perfect, tight little ass. Slow pressure, then the stretch, the burn, the deep slide until both men were buried inside her at once, Michael in her pussy, John in her ass. “Oh god…both of you…so full,” Dylan’s voice broke into pure filth. “Fuck me. Use my holes. I want to feel every inch slide in and out of my pussy and ass at the same time.” They moved together, deep alternating thrusts, the red satin-and-lace teddy twisted and damp between their bodies, Dylan’s heavy breasts bouncing free of the frilly cups, red high heels still strapped to her feet. The dual stretch was overwhelming. Dylan’s cries filled the quarters as the two men fucked her in perfect, filthy rhythm. “I’m gonna cum…I’m gonna squirt…” Dylan panted. “Oh my god, I’m such a fucking whore.” Hearing Dylan’s words only made the boys pump harder. “Don’t stop!…fuck me, boys!...fill me while I…cum!” The orgasm hit like a warp-core breach. Dylan’s entire body locked, a hard, powerful squirt flooding out of her around Michael’s cock, soaking his stomach, the sheets, the red lace of the teddy, the mattress beneath them. Dylan kept coming, shaking, squirting in long pulses while both men kept thrusting through it, then followed her over the edge, hot pulses of thick hot cum filling Dylan’s pussy and her ass at the same time. They stayed joined for long moments, breathing hard, the red teddy ruined and clinging, the red heels still on. Slowly they eased apart. Dylan collapsed between them on the soaked sheets, the frilly red lace still framing her spent, glistening body. Michael on one side, John on the other, all three of them tangled together in the wide bed of her quarters. The soft ambient lighting of the Enterprise dimmed further as the computer registered that the three young officers were now quiet. Exhausted, satisfied, the three lovers drifted into sleep still wrapped around one another, Lieutenant Dylan Heart in her ruined red satin-and-lace teddy and slutty red heels, the two men who had just claimed every part of her naked and glistening, all while the quiet hum of the Enterprise carried them deeper into space.

Short Story: Sunset Sand...

 

The late-afternoon sun hung low, painting the nearly empty beach in warm golds and deep oranges. An hour before sunset, the tide had retreated just enough to leave a broad, damp strip of firm sand near the waterline. Only a few distant walkers remained far up the beach. “Perfect,” Monica Anne said as she stretched out on her back in the wet sand, red polka-dot bikini clinging to her slim, toned body. The halter top was already half-untied, the thin strings hanging loose around her neck so that her large, heavy breasts spilled free, soft and full, nipples already hard from the cooling evening sea breeze. A tiny silver piercing glinted in her navel. Heart-shaped sunglasses pushed up into her long black hair. She watched Stephanie with open hunger. “What’s perfect?” Stephanie asked as she knelt between Monica Anne’s spread thighs, pink triangle top barely containing her own full, soft tits. The side-ties of her bottoms were already loosened. She leaned down, long black hair falling around them like a curtain, and dragged her tongue slowly up the inner crease of Monica Anne’s thigh. “Oh fuck,” Monica Anne reacted to Stephanie’s tongue. “It’s perfect that we’re along on this beach right now,” Monica Anne added. “Fuck, I can tell that you’re already dripping,” Stephanie murmured against the damp fabric of the red bottoms. Stephanie tugged the bows of Monica Anne’s red polka-dot bikini bottoms free with her teeth. The tiny triangles fell away. Monica Anne’s bare pussy was flushed and glossy, lips puffy, clit peeking out. Stephanie didn’t tease long. She buried her face between Monica Anne’s legs and licked a broad, greedy stripe from Monica Anne’s sexy tight little hole on up to her clit. Monica Anne’s hips jerked. A soft, sexual moan escaped from Monica Anne as Stephanie sealed her mouth over that swollen clit and sucked hard, tongue flicking in quick, filthy circles. Monica Anne’s hands tangled into Stephanie’s hair, pulling her closer. “Eat it…fuck yes…suck my cunt like that,” Monica Anne moaned loudly. Stephanie moaned into her, the vibration making Monica Anne’s thighs tremble. Two of Stephanie’s fingers slid inside Monica Anne without warning, curling deep, pumping in time with the relentless suction on her clit. The wet sounds of fingering mixed with the soft rush of the waves just a few feet away. Monica Anne’s juices coated Stephanie’s chin, ran down over her knuckles, smeared into the sand. Monica Anne’s free hand yanked Stephanie’s pink bikini top aside. Those heavy breasts spilled free, nipples already stiff. Monica Anne pinched one hard, rolling it between her fingers, then tugged Stephanie upward so she could latch on. She sucked the hard peak deep into her mouth, tongue lashing, teeth grazing just enough to make Stephanie gasp and grind her own wet pussy against Monica Anne’s thigh. They rolled. Sand stuck to damp skin, to soft curves, to the slick mess between their legs. Stephanie ended up on her back, pink bottoms shoved aside. Monica Anne straddled her face in a messy 69, lowering her dripping cunt straight onto Stephanie’s open mouth while she dove between Stephanie’s thighs. Monica Anne licked her open with long, filthy strokes, then speared her tongue inside, fucking her with it while two fingers pumped in and out of that tight, fluttering heat. Stephanie’s hips bucked. She sucked harder on Monica Anne’s clit in answer, fingers still buried deep, scissoring and stroking that spot that made Monica Anne’s thighs shake. Hard nipples dragged against soft stomachs and wet sand. Monica Anne reached back, found Stephanie’s free breast, and squeezed, thumb flicking the stiff nipple. Stephanie’s moan vibrated straight into Monica Anne’s cunt once again. They were both loud now, wet slurps, filthy curses, the wet slap of fingers and tongues, but the beach stayed empty, the only witnesses the distant gulls and the incoming tide. Monica Anne’s orgasm hit first. Her thighs clamped around Stephanie’s head, pussy pulsing hard around the fingers still thrusting inside her. She came with a cry, grinding down, soaking Stephanie’s face. Stephanie kept licking through it, greedy, swallowing every pulse. The second Stephanie’s mouth left her, Monica Anne spun around, pushed Stephanie’s legs wide, and buried three fingers in that pink, swollen cunt while she sucked the hard clit between her lips. Stephanie came almost immediately, loud, shaking, thighs locking around Monica Anne’s head, juices flooding Monica Anne’s tongue and chin. They didn’t stop. Monica Anne crawled up, kissed Stephanie deeply so she could taste herself in Monica Anne’s mouth, then lined their pussies up and ground down, clit to clit, wet folds sliding together in the sand. Fingers found each other’s entrances again, pumping in messy rhythm while they sucked on each other’s tits, hard nipples, wet mouths, soft moans swallows between kisses. Sand stuck to everything as the water lapped closer, cool against overheated skin. The two girls kept going, tongues, fingers, grinding, sucking, until both of them came again, shaking and gasping against each other’s mouths, the last light of the sun painting their tangled, sweaty, sand-covered bodies gold. Monica Anne finally collapsed beside Stephanie, red bikini completely ruined and forgotten, one hand still lazily stroking between Stephanie’s thighs. Stephanie’s pink top hung off one shoulder, bottoms gone, nipples still wet from Monica Anne’s hot, wet mouth. The two young sexy lovers stayed like that a little longer, breathing hard, the empty beach stretching out around them as the sun finally touched the horizon…

Short Story: Kitchen Lights & Fishnet Thighs...

 

They had just finished a late-night study session that somehow turned into shots of cheap vodka and shared secrets on the living-room couch. Now the rest of the house was quiet, most of the sisters either out or already asleep upstairs, and the kitchen lights were the only ones still burning. Monica Anne stood with her back against the cool edge of the island, long black hair spilling over one shoulder. The light-blue bra with its little white accents barely contained her heavy breasts; the thin fabric strained every time she breathed. Her denim shorts rode so high the lower curves of her ass peeked out, and the white fishnet thigh-highs clung to her long legs like a second skin. Across from her, Stephanie leaned against the counter by the stove, white bra glowing against her fair skin, identical short-shorts, and matching fishnets. Both girls were still smiling the same easy, slightly tipsy smile they had worn for the selfie earlier, but the air between them had gone thick and hot. “You looked so fucking good in that picture,” Monica Anne murmured, voice already so breathy. She reached out and hooked two fingers into the waistband of Stephanie’s shorts, tugging her closer until their bodies met. Soft, full breasts pressed together; hard nipples brushed through the thin cups. Stephanie’s 10-inch cock was already half-hard, tenting the front of her tiny denim shorts, and Monica Anne’s matched it—thick, heavy, and rising fast. Stephanie didn’t answer with words. She simply slid a hand up under Monica Anne’s bra, cupped one heavy breast, and squeezed. Monica Anne’s breath became so much more rapid. Their mouths crashed together a second later, hungry, open, tongues sliding deep. The kiss was messy and wet; they bit and sucked and swallowed each other’s soft moans while their free hands worked frantically at zippers and buttons. Denim shorts hit the kitchen floor with soft thuds. Bras followed. Two pairs of large, soft breasts spilled free, nipples so pink and sexy. Both girls were fully hard now, ten thick inches of smooth, veined cock jutting up between their flat, toned stomachs. Pre-cum already beaded at the tips and smeared across each other’s skin as they ground together. Monica Anne spun Stephanie around and bent her over the island, chest pressed to the cool marble. She reached between Stephanie’s spread thighs, stroked that heavy cock once from base to flushed head, then guided her own aching length between the soft cheeks of Stephanie’s ass. One slow push and the fat head popped inside. Stephanie cried, fingers scrabbling against the countertop as inch after thick inch of Monica Anne’s cock sank into her. Monica Anne didn’t stop until her hips were flush against Stephanie’s ass, every last inch buried deep. They stayed like that for a heartbeat, Monica Anne’s big breasts resting against Stephanie’s back, both of them panting, before Monica Anne started to move. Long, deep strokes that dragged every ridge along Stephanie’s tight walls. The wet sound of skin on skin filled the kitchen, mixed with the soft rattle of the microwave door and the distant hum of the fridge. Stephanie’s cock hung heavy and untouched between her legs, dripping steadily onto the floor while Monica Anne fucked her harder, faster, the fishnet stockings rasping against each other with every thrust. “Turn around,” Monica Anne gasped after a few minutes, pulling out just long enough for Stephanie to spin and hop up onto the edge of the island. Stephanie spread her thighs wide, fishnets stretching, and pulled Monica Anne in by the hips. This time Stephanie’s thick cock lined up with Monica Anne’s hole. She pushed in with one smooth, relentless motion until her balls pressed tight against Monica Anne’s ass. Monica Anne’s head fell back, long black hair cascading, a moan tearing from her throat as she was filled to the limit. They fucked like that, Stephanie standing between Monica Anne’s open legs, both of them clutching each other’s breasts, pinching nipples, stroking the other’s neglected cock in time with every deep thrust. Pre-cum and sweat slicked their stomachs. The kitchen lights painted their fair skin. Every time Stephanie bottomed out, Monica Anne’s heavy cock jerked and leaked another clear string across her own abs. It wasn’t long before the rhythm turned frantic. Monica Anne came first, cock pulsing hard in Stephanie’s fist, thick ropes of cum spraying both their stomachs and the underside of Stephanie’s breasts. The tight clench of her orgasm dragged Stephanie over the edge a few seconds later. Stephanie buried herself to the hilt and flooded Monica Anne’s insides with pulse after hot pulse, hips stuttering, a low, desperate sound vibrating against Monica Anne’s collarbone. They stayed locked together, trembling, kissing slower now, soft, open-mouthed, tasting the salt of each other’s skin. Cum dripped down Monica Anne’s thighs and onto the island. The fishnet stockings were ruined. The kitchen smelled like sex. Eventually, Stephanie slipped free with a wet sound and helped Monica Anne down. They stood there for a long moment, foreheads pressed together, big soft breasts still brushing, spent cocks softening against each other’s thighs. “Next time,” Monica Anne whispered against Stephanie’s mouth, “we do it on the counter by the microwave. I want to watch us in the reflection of the door.” Stephanie laughed, satisfied, already half-hard again, and kissed Monica Anne once more under the warm kitchen lights…

Short Story: Sunglasses Still On

 

The house was still alive with the soft chaos of yet another sorority slumber party. There were giggles from the living room, the low thump of a playlist someone had forgotten to turn down, the occasional pop of a champagne cork. Upstairs, one of third-floor bathrooms with a big round mirror had gone quiet. Monica Anne, Stephanie, and Jacqueline had slipped away from the big slumber party downstairs one by one, hearts already racing. Monica Anne stood on the left, long straight black hair spilling over one shoulder. Her pink tank top with the delicate white lace trim barely contained her full, heavy breasts; the deep V of the neckline showed the soft inner curves and the shadowed valley between them. Blue patterned panties clung to her hips, the fabric already damp where her thighs pressed together. She was smiling, that private little smile that said she already knew what was about to happen. In the middle, Stephanie wore a white tank top scattered with tiny black polka dots and a thin green waistband that sat low on her slim waist. The thin material stretched tight across her large breasts, nipples visibly stiff against the fabric. Pink underwear rode high on her hips. A thin silver bracelet glinted on her right wrist as she lifted her hand to push her long black hair back. She looked straight into the mirror, straight at the three of them, and her smile was wide, hungry. On the right, Jacqueline’s white tank top had thin green straps that kept slipping off one shoulder. Her long layered black hair framed a face still flushed from champagne. Pink polka-dotted panties hugged the soft swell of her ass. All three of them still had sunglasses perched on top of their heads like some ridiculous leftover from the earlier photo session, and the sight of them, half-dressed, mirrored, already breathing harder, made the whole thing feel even dirtier. Monica Anne was the first to move. She stepped behind Stephanie, slid both hands under the white polka-dot tank, and cupped those heavy tits, forefingers gently caressing Stephanie’s hard nipples. Stephanie’s head fell back against Monica Anne’s shoulder with a soft moan. “Fuck, they’re so sensitive tonight,” Monica Anne whispered against Stephanie’s ear, pinching her nipples just hard enough to make Stephanie’s hips jerk. Jacqueline turned, pressed her body to Stephanie’s front, and kissed her. It started soft, lips brushing, tongues tasting champagne and strawberry lipgloss, then deepened until they were both making those wet, needy sounds. Jacqueline’s hands found the hem of Stephanie’s tank and peeled it upward. Stephanie lifted her arms without being asked. The moment her breasts spilled free, heavy and flushed, Jacqueline ducked her head and sucked one thick nipple into her mouth, tongue circling, teeth grazing. Monica Anne yanked her own pink tank over her head and tossed it aside. Her full tits bounced free, pale and perfect, nipples already dark and tight. She reached around Stephanie to unhook Jacqueline’s bra-less tank as well, dragging the green straps down Jacqueline’s arms until both girls were bare from the waist up, breasts pressed together, soft flesh sliding against soft flesh. They turned toward the mirror. Three pairs of large, full breasts. Three sets of stiff nipples. Three slim bodies already flushed and breathing hard. The reflection showed Monica Anne’s hands roaming, cupping Stephanie’s tits from behind, then sliding down to the front of Jacqueline’s pink polka-dot panties, rubbing slow circles over the damp fabric. “Take them off,” Stephanie said, voice flushed. Jacqueline hooked her thumbs in the sides of her own panties and pushed them down, kicking them away. Her pussy was already glistening, shaved smooth except for a neat little landing strip. Stephanie shoved her pink underwear down next, stepping out of them. Monica Anne did the same, the blue patterned fabric landing in a small heap on the tile. Now they were completely naked except for the ridiculous sunglasses still perched on their heads, and the sight of the three of them standing there, tits out, pussies wet, mirrored and exposed, made every one of them clench. Monica Anne dropped to her knees first. She pressed her face between Stephanie’s thighs and licked a long, slow stripe up her slit, tasting the slick heat that had already soaked her. Stephanie’s hands tangled in Monica Anne’s black hair, holding her there as Monica Anne sucked her clit between soft lips, tongue flicking, two fingers sliding deep into Stephanie’s tight, wet pussy. Jacqueline watched for a moment, then sank to her knees beside Monica Anne, turned her head, and started licking Stephanie’s other side, tongue sliding over Monica Anne’s fingers every time they pumped in and out, both of them sharing the taste of Stephanie’s cunt. Stephanie’s legs trembled. “Oh my god, don’t stop,” Stephanie cried out. Jacqueline stood, guided Stephanie’s hand between her own legs, and made her feel how soaked she already was. Then, Jacqueline leaned in and kissed Monica Anne while Monica Anne was still eating Stephanie out, sharing the slick mess on her lips and chin. The kiss was filthy, tongues pushing into each other’s mouths, both of them moaning around the taste of pussy. They rearranged without speaking. Stephanie lay back on the thick bath mat, legs spread wide. Jacqueline straddled her face, lowering her dripping cunt onto Stephanie’s mouth. Monica Anne crawled between Stephanie’s thighs and buried her tongue deep again, fucking her with it while two fingers curled inside. Jacqueline leaned forward, reached back, and spread her own ass cheeks so Stephanie could lick her from clit to asshole, tongue pushing into both holes in turn. The wet sounds filled the small bathroom, slurping, soft moans, the occasional slap of skin when Monica Anne’s free hand spanked Jacqueline’s ass hard enough to leave a pink mark. Jacqueline came first, thighs clamping around Stephanie’s head, body shaking as she ground down and rode the orgasm out on Stephanie’s tongue. The moment she finished, she slid off, turned around, and crawled down Stephanie’s body until she could sixty-nine her, mouth sealing over Stephanie’s clit while Stephanie licked the fresh mess from Jacqueline’s pussy. Monica Anne rose up on her knees, straddled Stephanie’s face from the other direction so that Stephanie could keep eating Jacqueline while Monica Anne lowered her own soaked cunt onto Jacqueline’s waiting tongue. The three of them locked together, mouths and pussies and tits pressed in every possible combination, grinding, licking, sucking, fingers sliding into tight holes. Monica Anne reached down and pinched both of Jacqueline’s nipples hard while she rode her face. Jacqueline moaned into Monica Anne’s cunt and pushed three fingers deep into Stephanie, curling them until Stephanie’s hips bucked and she came with a long, muffled cry, juices spilling over Jacqueline’s chin and Monica Anne’s tongue. The orgasm triggered Monica Anne; she ground down hard, thighs shaking, and flooded Jacqueline’s mouth, hips jerking as she came in wet pulses. They didn’t stop. Monica Anne lay on her back. Jacqueline straddled her face in reverse so Monica Anne could eat her from underneath while Stephanie straddled Monica Anne’s hips and rubbed their clits together in a slow, filthy scissor. The wet slide of pussy on pussy was obscene. Jacqueline leaned forward, sucked one of Stephanie’s heavy tits into her mouth, and bit down gently on the nipple while her fingers found Stephanie’s clit and rubbed tight circles. Stephanie’s head fell back. She came again almost immediately, thighs clamping around Monica Anne’s, cunt pulsing against her. The flood of wetness made everything slicker; Jacqueline slid two fingers into Stephanie while she kept grinding, then pushed those same fingers into Monica Anne’s open mouth so she could taste both of them at once. They kept trading places, kissing with open mouths full of each other’s juices, tits pressed together, fingers and tongues fucking every hole they could reach. At one point, all three of them were on their knees in a tight circle, faces buried in each other’s asses and pussies at the same time, tongues pushing deep, hands spreading cheeks, the mirror reflecting the obscene tangle of black hair, pale skin, and glistening wet flesh. When they finally collapsed in a sweaty, sticky heap on the bath mat, chests heaving, thighs shiny, the sunglasses still somehow perched on all three girls, the only sound left was soft laughter and the occasional wet kiss. Monica Anne licked a slow stripe up the inside of Stephanie’s thigh, tasting the mixture of all three of them. “Same time next slumber party?” Monica Anne laughed. Jacqueline’s answer was to lean over and suck Stephanie’s nipple back into her mouth, already starting the second round…

Short Story: The Kept Maid Of Shanghai...

 

Panda stood nervously outside the imposing gates of the sprawling hillside villa on the outskirts of Shanghai. She was twenty-two, curvy and soft, with beautiful large breasts and soft fair skin. She had the same delicate, yet very beautiful features common among girls from her inland village. Her straight brown hair cut into a bob that dusted the bottom of her neck with neat bangs framed her face perfectly, and her brown eyes were wide with a mixture of hope and anxiety. The bus ride from the countryside had taken hours. Her family’s debts were crushing, and this live-in housekeeping position, advertised as generous pay, room and board, working for a successful Shanghai businesswoman, felt like a miracle. Panda adjusted the simple navy blue dress she had worn for the interview and rang the intercom. A low, smooth voice answered and the gates swung open. The woman who met her at the door was nothing like the stern older employer Panda had imagined. Ms. Lin was in her late thirties, tall and elegantly built, with the kind of refined beauty that money and power only sharpened. Ms. Lin’s jet-black hair was swept into a loose chignon knot behind her head, a few strands framing her face of high cheekbones, full lips, and eyes that assessed everything with quiet intensity. She wore a tailored black blouse unbuttoned just enough to suggest the curve of her breasts, and fitted trousers that followed the long lines of her legs. The air around her carried a faint, expensive scent of sandalwood and something warmer. “Panda,” she said, smiling with deliberate warmth. “I love your name. Come in. You’re even prettier than your photograph.” Panda bowed awkwardly, cheeks flushing. “Thank you, Ms. Lin. I’m ready to work hard. Cleaning, cooking, laundry, whatever you need.” Ms. Lin’s gaze lingered, traveling slowly over Panda’s figure. “Good. I’ve already prepared your uniform. Follow me.” Ms. Lin led Panda upstairs to a spacious bedroom that overlooked the private garden. On the bed lay the outfit, a classic French maid ensemble. White frilled headband. Black-and-white corset-style bodice with white puffed short sleeves. A white apron. The bodice was cut low, the front laced tightly, clearly designed to push the breasts upward and together. A delicate silver necklace with a small pendant rested beside it. “Please put on your uniform so we can get started,” Ms. Lin said softly. “I want to see how it fits.” Panda’s face burned red, but she nodded. She had never worn anything so revealing. Behind a folding screen she stripped and struggled into the costume. The corset cinched her waist and lifted her large breasts into a deep, soft cleavage. The short skirt barely covered the tops of her thighs. The headband and necklace completed the look. When she stepped out, Ms. Lin’s eyes darkened with open appreciation. “Perfect,” Ms. Lin murmured, circling Panda slowly. A cool fingertip traced the edge of the bodice where skin met fabric. “You look exactly as I imagined. Beautiful. Obedient. Soft.” Panda swallowed. “Thank you, Ms. Lin. Where should I start cleaning?” Ms. Lin stepped closer until their bodies nearly touched. “There will be cleaning, of course. But that is not why I hired you.” Her voice dropped, intimate and sure. “I am a busy woman. I work long hours. I have no interest in ordinary companionship. I want someone who lives here, who wears this for me, who understands that her primary duty is to please me, completely, sensually, whenever I desire it.” Panda’s breath stopped. The words sank in slowly. Not a maid. A kept partner. A living toy in lace and satin. “I…I don’t understand,” Panda whispered, though her body had already begun to understand. Heat pooled low in her belly. She had felt butterflies like this before when nervous, but this feeling was different. More exciting, more intense, more curious. Ms. Lin’s hand rose to cup Panda’s soft blushing cheek, thumb brushing her lower lip. “You will. Starting tonight.” Ms. Lin guided Panda to the large bed and sat her on the edge. With practiced ease she loosened the front laces of the corset just enough to free Panda’s full, beautiful breasts. The cool air and the older woman’s gaze made the pink nipples harden instantly. Ms. Lin leaned down and took one into her mouth, sucking slowly, tongue circling, while her hand slid under the short skirt and found the thin white cotton of Panda’s maid uniform panties already damp. Panda gasped, hips twitching. She had been with boys from the village before, fumbling, hurried, but never like this. Ms. Lin’s mouth was confident, greedy, tasting her as if she already owned every inch of her new little maid. Fingers slipped inside the panties, stroking the slick folds, finding the swollen clit and rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. “You’re wet already,” Ms. Lin murmured against Panda’s breast. “Good girl. Poor little country girl, so eager to be used.” Ms. Lin pushed Panda back onto the sheets and peeled the white cotton panties down her legs. The maid skirt rode up around Panda’s waist. Ms. Lin spread Panda’s thighs wide and lowered her mouth between them. The first long lick made Panda cry out with passion. The second had her fingers clutching the duvet. Ms. Lin ate Panda’s wet, eager pussy with focused hunger, tongue fucking deep, then flat and slow over the clit, then sucking it gently while two fingers curled inside. Panda came hard within minutes, thighs trembling around the older woman’s head, soft broken moans spilling from her lips. Ms. Lin rose, lips glistening, and began to undress. Panda was enthralled with watching the seasoned beauty baring herself to her new young maid. Ms. Lin’s black blouse fell away, revealing full, heavy breasts with dark nipples. The trousers and black lace underwear followed. Ms. Lin’s body was toned yet soft in the places that mattered, the body of a woman who took what she wanted. Ms. Lin climbed onto the bed and straddled Panda’s face, lowering herself until her wet cunt pressed against Panda’s mouth. “Taste me,” Ms. Lin ordered. “Learn what you will serve every night.” Panda obeyed, tentative at first, then more eagerly as Ms. Lin’s moans encouraged her. Panda licked and sucked, exploring the folds, the tight entrance, the sensitive pearl. Ms. Lin rocked against Panda’s face, grinding, using her, one hand tangled in Panda’s hair to hold her exactly where she wanted. When Ms. Lin came, it was with a low, satisfied groan, thighs clamping around Panda’s head, coating her chin and lips with the hot older woman’s juices. Afterward, Ms. Lin pulled Panda up and kissed her deeply, sharing the mixed taste of both of them. Ms. Lin guided Panda’s hand between her own legs, teaching her the rhythm she liked, then rolled them so that she was behind Panda, spooning her. Two fingers slid back into Panda’s still-sensitive and oh so very wet cunt while a thumb pressed against her clit. The other hand played with her breasts, pinching and rolling the nipples through the open corset. “You will sleep in my bed,” Ms. Lin whispered against her ear. “You will wake me with your mouth. You will wear this uniform when I entertain guests who wish to watch. You will take my strapon whenever I choose to fuck you like a man. And in return, you will never want for money, for clothes, for anything. Do you accept my offer?” Panda’s answer was a breathless, desperate, full of ecstasy. “Yes…” Panda shuddered as another orgasm built under Ms. Lin’s skilled fingers. Ms. Lin smiled against her neck and bit gently. “Then welcome home, my pretty little maid.” That night, and every night after, the French maid uniform rarely stayed fully laced for long. Panda learned the exact pressure of Ms. Lin’s tongue, the weight of her body pinning her down, the low commands that made her drip. Panda learned to kneel in the study while the older woman worked, mouth available at a snap of her fingers. Panda learned the sharp pleasure of being bent over the kitchen counter in the mornings, skirt flipped up, taken hard with a thick, huge black silicone cock while Ms. Lin’s nails dug into her hips. And every time, Panda looked at herself in the mirror, headband, silver pendant, cleavage pushed high, lips swollen from kissing, she no longer saw a poor village girl. She saw the sensual, kept partner of a woman who had claimed her completely…

Short Story: Locked Door, Open Mouths

 

The campus bathroom on the third floor of the arts building was never meant for this. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, reflecting off the tiled walls and the long mirror above the long counter with three sinks. The air smelled faintly of cheap soap and the lingering perfume of whoever had been there last. But right now, the only scents that mattered were the ones rising off the two girls pressed against each other just inside the locked door. Monica Anne wore her red-and-purple off-the-shoulder dress, the one with the little flower patterns that kept slipping lower every time she moved. The big red roses on her headband, which matched the red lace strapless bra and tiny little red lace thong underneath her dress, brushed against the silver tiara with big pink roses perched in Stephanie’s dark hair. Stephanie wore a very similar looking pink off-the-shoulder dress with just a very sexy little pink lace thong underneath, opting to go braless that day. The two girls looked almost like twins, same long, straight black hair, same fair skin, same heavy dark eye makeup and bold red lips. Even their high heels were nearly identical, the same except for the color, Monica Anne’s in fire engine red, Stephanie’s in baby pink. Monica Anne’s tongue was already out, tracing a slow, wet path along Stephanie’s cheek the way it had in the photo they’d taken earlier on that brown leather couch in the photography studio. Only now there was no camera, no playful pose, no photographer. Just hunger. “Fuck, you taste like strawberry lipgloss,” Monica Anne whispered, voice low and passionate. Her silver hoop earrings swung as she leaned in harder, licking from Stephanie’s cheek to the corner of her red painted mouth. Stephanie’s pink off-the-shoulder dress had already been naturally tugged down far enough while they were pressed together that the soft upper curves of her tits spilled free, nipples tight and flushed against the top hem of the dress. The sparkly chokers around both their throats glittered under the harsh light every time one of them swallowed. Stephanie didn’t answer with words. She grabbed Monica Anne by the hips and spun her, pushing her back against the cold sink counter. The roses on Monica Anne’s headband trembled. Stephanie’s red mouth crashed onto Monica Anne’s, tongues sliding together, wet and insistent. They kissed like they were starving, open-mouthed, messy, the kind of passionate kiss that left red lipstick smeared across both their faces. Monica Anne’s hands slid the top of Stephanie’s dress the rest of the way down below her beautiful, large tits, palms dragging over warm skin, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts until Stephanie moaned into her mouth. “Someone could come to use the bathroom,” Stephanie breathed against her lips, though her fingers were already working the top of Monica Anne’s dress lower, too, exposing the red lace of her strapless bra. Stephanie didn’t wait. She yanked the red lace cups down and sucked one of Monica Anne’s nipples into her mouth, hard, teeth grazing just enough to make Monica Anne’s knees buckle. “Then they’d get a free show,” Monica Anne gasped. She threaded her fingers into Stephanie’s hair, careful of the tiara, and held her there while Stephanie licked and sucked, switching from one breast, from one hard nipple, to the other. The wet sounds filled the small bathroom. Monica Anne’s other hand lifted the bottom of Stephanie’s little dress, finding the already soaked crotch of her sexy little pink lace thong. Two fingers slid under the thin fabric and pushed straight into her, curling deep. Stephanie cried out around Monica Anne’s nipple, hips jerking forward. “Fuck yes…” Stephanie moaned. Monica Anne finger fucked her with slow, filthy strokes, palm grinding against her clit. Stephanie’s juices coated her fingers, dripping down her wrist. Feeling Stephanie’s wetness, Monica Anne now wanted only one thing. “I want to taste you,” Monica Anne sighed. The two girls turned around in a clumsy, desperate scramble, giggling. Stephanie hopped up onto the edge of the counter, pink little dress hiked up to her waist, legs spread wide. Monica Anne dropped to her knees on the cold tile, once again pumping two fingers in and out of Stephanie’s wet cunt. Monica Anne leaned in and dragged her tongue from Stephanie’s entrance up to her swollen clit, then sealed her mouth over it and sucked. Stephanie’s head tilted back, the tiara nearly slipping off. One hand braced on the mirror behind her, the other tangled in Monica Anne’s hair, red roses and all. Stephanie watched herself in the reflection, flushed, mouth open with passion, Monica Anne’s head moving between her thighs, all while Monica Anne’s tongue worked Stephanie’s wet pussy open, licking deep, then circling her clit in tight, relentless circles. Every time Stephanie’s thighs started to shake, Monica Anne added a third finger and curled them just right, pressing against that spot that made Stephanie’s voice crack. “Fuck, I’m gonna come…fuck…Monica Anne…I’m,” Stephanie screeched. Monica Anne didn’t stop. She sucked harder, fingers slamming in, and Stephanie came with a moan so loud that it echoed off the tiles. Stephanie’s cunt clenched rhythmically around Monica Anne’s fingers, wetness flooding Monica Anne’s mouth and chin. Monica Anne kept licking through it, slower now, tasting every pulse, until Stephanie was trembling and pushing at her head. They didn’t pause long. Stephanie slid down, spun Monica Anne around, and bent her over the sink. In the mirror Monica Anne watched Stephanie’s reflection, lipstick-smeared mouth, eyes fierce, as Stephanie flipped up Monica Anne’s little dress and yanked down her little red lace thong panties in a single motion. The cool bathroom air hit Monica Anne’s soaked pussy for half a second before Stephanie’s tongue smothered it. Flat, broad strokes from clit to asshole, then pointed and thrusting inside her wet pussy. Stephanie’s hands spread Monica Anne’s cheeks, thumbs digging in, holding her open so she could bury her face deeper. Monica Anne gripped the edges of the sink, moaning at her own reflection. Monica Anne loved seeing herself like this, her large tits hanging free, nipples still wet and covered in red lipstick from Stephanie’s mouth earlier. Every time Stephanie’s tongue fucked into her, Monica Anne pushed back for more. When Stephanie reached around and rubbed tight circles on her clit at the same time, Monica Anne’s eyes fluttered shut. “Look at me,” Stephanie ordered, voice muffled against her cunt. Monica Anne forced her eyes open. In the mirror, Stephanie was watching her while she ate her out, red lips glistening, silver choker catching the light every time she moved. The sight alone almost finished Monica Anne. Stephanie stood, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and pressed her body flush against Monica Anne’s back. One hand stayed between Monica Anne’s legs, two fingers sliding back inside her, the other hand wrapping around to pinch and roll a nipple. Stephanie fucked her hard and fast, the wet slap of skin and Monica Anne’s desperate little sounds filling the bathroom. Monica Anne came with a sharp cry, forehead pressed to the mirror, cunt fluttering hard around Stephanie’s fingers. Stephanie kept going until Monica Anne was shaking and oversensitive, then finally slowed, kissing the side of her neck, the roses on the headband brushing her cheek. They stayed like that for a long moment, breathing hard, lipstick ruined, clothes half-off, the scent of sex thick in the air, recovering their breath. Then, outside the door, footsteps began to pass in the hallway, meaning photography class was over, and very soon, someone would try to come in to use the bathroom. Stephanie’s voice was low and satisfied against Monica Anne’s ear. “That was so fucking good,” she said. “Mmmmm….so fucking good,” Monica Anne agreed. “Let’s get out of here before we get caught,” Stephanie giggled…

\