Tiffany Reisz - The Siren

“Man,” he said. “You’re so impatient.”

“God, yes,” Izzy said, trying not to growl. Unable to help herself, she rocked back and forth against his blunt fingertips. Bent over his hand, half of her hoped it wasn’t obvious what they were doing, and half of her didn’t give a flying fuck. Still, it wasn’t enough.

Not until he pushed a fingertip inside her, curling it up slowly until Izzy thought she would scream, did she catch a glimpse of the orgasm she was so desperate to find. With his thumb he pushed at her clit, nudging it insistently.

“That’s probably why you screwed up,” George said.

“How can you…talk?” Izzy said, gasping.

“You know you can learn. To concentrate,” George said. “If you practice.”

“Oh, yes.”

“You want to?”

“Oh yes, please.”

“You make me feel kind of dizzy, Izzy.”

“God, you’re making me want to come,” Izzy said, her voice rising.

“Cool.” George bit his lip and watched her. In the kitchen, a waiter shouted, someone dropped a knife on the floor. The world was small, loud and busy.

“So do it.”

Izzy looked at him. He smiled. His fingers pressed hard. And she did.

I Dare You

By Emma Hillman

“I dare you,” he said, his eyes glinting as he pushed his sunglasses up to rest on his head. He was sitting half-turned toward me, his left forearm casually draped across the steering wheel. He looked at ease, comfortable even. You wouldn’t believe he’d just told me to strip and straddle him. In the middle of the day. In a Walmart parking lot.

“Are you kidding?”

“You know I’m not.”

I wasn’t sure about this. Oh, I wanted him. I always did. But, right here? “Are you sure? Josh, it’s the middle of the day—”

He cut me off. “We’re just passing through. It’s not like we’re going to see any of them ever again. Come on, baby, where’s your sense of fun?”

Gone out the window, it appeared. I bit my lower lip as I thought of the logistics involved. “I want you, but I’m not sure about this.”

“Why not?” he countered straightaway. His right hand found my knee, and I shivered when it began moving up my thigh.

“I can’t get naked. Everyone would see me!”

“Ah, so that’s what’s stopping you,” he mused. “It’s the naked bit, not the sex bit.”

“Never the sex bit,” I replied. He was too damn good for that.

He smirked, obviously knowing what I was thinking. “What if I offer you a compromise?”

“Like what?”

“You only get your bottom half naked. That way, you’ll be hidden below the window.”

“Oh.” I licked my lips, thought it over for all of two seconds, then nodded. “You’re on.”

A wide smile graced his face. “Perfect. Hop on then, Jamie.” He snapped his pants open with agile fingers, his cock soon slapping against his T-shirt-covered abs. “I’m ready.”

“You don’t say.” He looked ready as hell, precome already leaking from his tip. I caught the drop with my finger and put it in my mouth, making him groan.

Before I could chicken out, I popped the button of my shorts open, slid down the zipper and wriggled out of them. I was only wearing a sheer lace thong so it was even easier to discard it. I let everything fall to the floor then looked up to find Josh staring at me, his right hand curled around his length. He caught my gaze and smirked, knowing how much I loved watching him masturbate.

“You don’t play fair,” I said, feeling juices spread across the seat beneath me.

“Ah, but what would be the point in that?” He let go of his cock and grabbed my hand. “You’re so fucking sexy, I can’t help but want to fuck you all the time. Did you like your present?”

I smiled. He’d bought me a collection of erotic stories, and I’d been reading for the past hour or so. I guessed he’d seen me fidget in my seat. The lusty words had kept me entranced, my imagination going wild as I thought of the different positions portrayed and how it would feel if Josh did…certain things to me. I licked my lips.

He growled, “Come over here, baby. I need to fuck you.”

I went.

I shoved him back so he could recline in his seat, and then I grabbed his cock and aligned myself. I sat down, taking him inside me, inch by slow inch. I gasped when he finally hit my cervix, but Josh chose that moment to start kissing me. He licked into my mouth, his fingers slipping under my top to pull my bra down. He pinched my nipples, the rough caress too much, too soon.

But my boyfriend knew me well. By the time his hands palmed my heavy breasts, I was so far gone I’d completely forgotten about the people around us. I heard voices in the distance, trunks being slammed shut, shopping carts being wheeled back. For someone who’d been scared of men seeing her naked, I didn’t even stop to think before moving onto my knees, one perched on the door’s armrest and the other on the console separating our seats.

Josh broke the kiss and growled, “Yes, baby, ride me. You’re so fucking tight. Oh yes, that’s it.”

I loved it when he talked dirty, I thought to myself as I rocked up and down. I clasped my arms around his shoulders and held tight, widening my stance a little so his pubic bone brushed against my clit. I moaned at the sensation and did it all over again.

Josh’s hands slid down to cup my butt, his nails digging into the soft flesh with apparent relish. He tilted his head down and whispered in my ear, “As soon as we stop for the night, I’m fucking your ass. Consider yourself warned.”

He knew what he was doing. Between his husky promise and his fingers burrowing into my cleft, it didn’t take long for that sweet fire to spread throughout me.

“I’m gonna come!”

“Race you there,” he panted as he rocked his hips up.

I screamed when my orgasm hit me. Screamed some more when Josh’s seed hit the end of me.

It was too bad we’d forgotten to close the windows. The good thing was that we didn’t get arrested. The car’s leather seats, however, will never be the same. Every time I see those dark spots, I remember our road trip and what happened. And then, I get wet and Josh notices, and well, let’s just say we’ve now learned our lesson. We always remember to close the windows.

Well, nearly always…

Two Ways

By Dante Davidson

Noel is watching me.

I can feel her eyes. I am naked and exposed. There is no place to hide. I know what I am supposed to do, but my hands might as well be tied behind my back. I am paralyzed, standing in front of the closet door, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I wish I didn’t have to. I don’t like to look at myself in this way. But she wants scrutiny, and I always try to give her what she wants.

Silently, I turn to the left. Then, I slowly work my way down my reflection, as if I’m looking at some other man—some hot guy I’ve just caught sight of in line at the movies. Except naked. I take in the tattoos on my arms, the muscles that ripple and flex when I move. I know she finds me attractive, but I don’t always see what she sees.

There’s a bottle of lube on the dresser table. I don’t want to go and get the K-Y, yet I do. There were explicit directions waiting for me when I came home from work. I won’t let her down. I grab up the bottle, pour a handful of gloss into my palm and then start to jack my cock. I’m semi-erect already, even though I tell myself that I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing this for her.

I stare into the mirror, and I work my hand up and down the length of my cock. Sometimes I feel like an object when I do this.

“You are an object,” she tells me. “An object of art. An object of lust.”

I’ve been manhandling the equipment for long enough to know how to give myself pleasure. But there is always something new about doing this for her. I’m the performer, and she’s the audience. I want to give her a good show.