Лорен Хендерсон: The Mammoth Book of the Best of Best New Erotica

But for now everyone was amicable. Everyone was drinking decaf espresso except me. I hadn’t come yet. I felt fidgety and distracted. Since I’d never been a swinger before, I didn’t know the proper etiquette. Was it up to me to let everyone know I wasn’t through yet, that I hadn’t come?

I felt so ignorant, so ill equipped to swing. I toyed with the idea of slipping off to the bathroom again, to take care of myself alone. No one had to know what I’d be doing in there. I could come quick, I felt certain of that. Still I felt a little let down. I’d been having too much fun with everybody to suddenly resort to climaxing alone, in some stranger’s bathroom.

After only a few moments, it seemed as though coming alone in Cy and Ruthie’s bathroom wasn’t even going to pan out. Fran and Kenneth were dressing. It was late, they said. They had a babysitter running up a fortune.

Then I wondered how old Fran really was if she had a child at home still young enough to need a sitter.

I figured I’d better get dressed, too. I didn’t want to overstay my welcome. I helped Ruthie clear up the remnants of the espressos while Fran and Kenneth left.

“I’ll get your coat,” Cy said to me. “I’ll walk you down to the street.”

“That’s okay,” I protested half-heartedly. My head was pounding. This swinging business had left my now sober nerves a little raw.

“Nonsense. It’s late. I’ll walk you down.”

Cy helped me into my coat and we got on the elevator. He pressed the button for the basement. I saw him do it. Maybe he was going to show me out the back way.

When the elevator doors opened, Cy led me down a narrow hallway and then out a door that led to the tenants’ parking garage. It was dimly lit, with only a couple of naked bulbs burning.

“Look, you don’t have to drive me,” I insisted uncomfortably. “I don’t live far. I’ll get a cab.”

“Why don’t we get in my car anyway? I didn’t come yet either.”

I couldn’t believe I’d heard him correctly. “What did you say?”

He looked at me and smiled engagingly. “I didn’t come yet, either. I thought maybe I could persuade you to fuck around with me in my car.”

I was stunned. I tried to feel affronted, but actually it kind of appealed to me. The parking garage was deserted.

Cy unlocked his car door and we slipped into the back seat. “We’d better not undress all the way,” he said, “just in case anybody sees us.”

I agreed.

I climbed onto his lap and started kissing him. On the mouth. My tongue was shoving in deep. Cy’s breath tasted like wine and espressos and cigars and he suddenly seemed like he was seriously grown up. I felt incredibly attracted to him. “How old are you?” I challenged him. “Are you old enough to be my father?”

“Probably, why? Did you want to do a little role playing?”

“Excuse me?” I didn’t know what he was talking about.

“You know, I could pretend to be your irate father and slap your fanny really hard until we’re both really hot. Then we could cross over that line together.”

I didn’t reply. I felt a little overwhelmed by how instantly appealing his idea sounded.

I let him manoeuvre me until I was across his lap. He methodically lifted my coat, lifted my dress and, with minimal effort but a nice long lecture, he tugged down my tights, then my panties, and left them halfway down my thighs.

When my ass was completely bare and smack dab over his knee, he let loose with a good old-fashioned spanking. The stinging, smarting kind.

“Shit!” I cried, trying to shield my ass.

But he wasn’t at all deterred by my screams. He lectured me sternly on the perils of going home with perfect strangers, and behaving rather wantonly to boot.

I squirmed around in Cy’s lap as my bottom heated up and I tried to dodge the steady, stinging slaps, but Cy kept them coming. He clamped my waist tight against his thigh and aimed directly for my helpless behind.

I could feel Cy’s erection growing underneath me. He was really laying into me, spanking me hard, making me squeal out promises that I’d never do it again.

When my ass was completely on fire and I didn’t think I could stand any more, Cy released me. He turned me over in his lap and unbuttoned the top of my dress. Slipping his hand inside, he worked my bra up over my tits and fondled my nipples. They were instantly erect.

I was still naked from my waist to my knees. The feeling of being so awkwardly exposed, my bare ass burning, while Cy fondled my breasts and tugged on my nipples made me want to get irredeemably dirty with him. But that was going to be difficult to do while keeping our clothes on.

I turned over and undid Cy’s trousers. I unbuckled his belt, unzipped his fly and his dick sprang out. I was happy to see it looking so lively. I buried my face in his lap, taking as much of his shaft down my throat as I could. I kneeled on the back seat with my naked ass in the air and I didn’t care if anyone could see me. I was feeling unabashedly aroused. I sucked Cy’s dick more fervently when I heard him begin to gasp and moan.

“Turn over,” he said insistently. “Lie down on your belly.” My bra was still up over my tits and the leather car seat was icy cold against my nipples. It felt great.

Cy unrolled a rubber onto his erection and told me to raise my ass up a little.

I did.

He mounted me with my tights and panties still around my thighs. I felt his dick poking into my asshole. At first I thought he didn’t realize he had the wrong hole, but he knew what he was doing.

The lubricated condom slid into my ass without too much effort but the pressure was intense.

“God,” I groaned. Then I cried out uncontrollably while his huge tool went to work on my pitiful little hole.

“I hate to have to do this,” he grunted, “you know that. But maybe this’ll teach you not to go home with people you don’t know.”

“God,” I was panting as he pounded into my stretching hole. “Jesus, God.”

“Are you going to be a good girl now?” he continued, lifting my hips off the back seat and deflty sliding his hand down to my swollen clit.

“Yes,” I whimpered, “yes,” while he rubbed my clit hard.

“Yes what?”

“I’m going to be a good girl,” I cried, as his cock seemed to swell in me even more, filling me to capacity with every thrust.

“And what happens if you’re naughty again? What is Daddy going to do?”

“Spank me,” I sputtered. “Daddy’s going to spank me!”

“And what else?”

“Fuck my ass!”

“That’s right,” he concluded. “Daddy is going to fuck your ass.”

These last words he enunciated with amazing diction because he was coming at the sound of his own words. He slammed deep into my hole then and mashed me down on the seat. “Jesus!” he exclaimed with one last powerful thrust. “Jesus!”

And I was saying it, too: “Jesus!” Partly because I was coming underneath him, shuddering and squirming against the leather seat, but mostly because I was testifying. I wanted my joy to be heard.

We had a magnificent passion for dark alleys, expensive champagne, and each other. She was very rich and unhappily married. Happily, I was neither.

She was generous or silly enough to pay my way during the length of our affair, and I had the wit to make no objection. Her husband was an old man – yes, it was one of those marriages. She was an ornament, a gesture of diffidence towards his ageing, and a symbol of his wealth: having her on his arm meant virility, especially in the public eye. The old man didn’t seem to mind that she was out nearly every night cavorting in the underworlds of Paris. She adored the cabarets and the most sordid cafés in Montmartre. He was glad to have her as his companion once or twice a month for the opera or some business function. Certainly, she was one of the most exquisite women in Paris.