They are happy only if they can provide great, and I do mean great, sex. Actually, I guarantee the best sex you’ve ever had, and you pay afterward, only if you think what I’ve said is true.” She raised an eyebrow. “Interested?”
“Not a chance.”
Maria mentioned a quite reasonable dollar amount. “That’s what I usually charge, but since we’ve known each other for so long, let me offer my friends’ services to you for free. Visit one afternoon, and see what they can do for you.”
“Thanks, Maria, but I don’t think so.”
“Sure. No problem. If you should change your mind, give me a call. I’m still at the old number, and I’ll gladly make arrangements.”
Dena thought about Maria’s offer for a week, getting more and more excited and more and more confused by the hour. Her body wanted it. Badly. But her mind rebelled. It’s so sleazy, so dirty. She remembered her sex with Henry, the best thing about their relationship. He had been a really good, creative lover, and together they had explored many different areas of sexuality. They had spent hours seeing how many orgasms each could experience. Nothing could ever be that good again. Could it? Maria had seemed so sure.
It was almost two weeks after the afternoon in the sauna when Dena called her friend. They had talked and gotten comfortable enough for Dena to share some of the areas of passion that she particularly enjoyed. “Come over to my place at five tomorrow, and I’ll set it up. There are only two rules. You will have to be blindfolded. Several of my guys don’t want to be recognized, so you’ll have to fantasize about who they are. Maybe Sean Penn or Kevin Sorbo. You’ll never know. That’s part of the deal. Second, you may not touch them, but from what you’ve told me, that’s no problem.”
“You keep talking about men, plural. I’m not sure I want more than one person.”
“You have to trust me. Our magic word is ‘spaceship.’ If you say it at any time, everything will stop and you can go home, no questions asked. You’re completely safe. I know ‘trust me’ is a hackneyed phrase, but you just have to.”
So here she was, lying naked, facedown on a workout bench in her friend’s basement. She was, as Maria had warned her, blindfolded, and her arms and legs were tied to the legs of the bench. Her large breasts hung down on either side of the narrow leather padding. And she waited.
Suddenly something rustled and she felt earphones placed over her ears. Soft romantic music began, just loud enough to block out any other sounds from the room. She heard a wailing saxophone and a soft clarinet, sounding like a warm summer night. Now she could neither hear nor see. Something touched her upper lip and she smelled the scent of exotic spice. It filled her nostrils, making her head swim. She was in her own cocoon, surrounded by sensuality.
Suddenly something pinched her right nipple. Something was being clipped to it, tightly, almost painfully. There was no stroking, no kissing, no fondling. Just the clamp on her nipple. Another clip. Shards of pain, yet not pain rocketed through her, and she moaned. She felt the sparks echo through her pussy, opening her, causing moisture to flow from her core. She felt her lips swell and her clit harden. Muscles twitched, and her mound throbbed. She had told Maria about her love of the combination of pain and pleasure, a love that Henry had honed over their years together. Could anyone else bring out that part of her?
The clips on her nipples were pulled, dragging her nipples downward on either side of the bench. “Please,” she said. Please what? Stop. Continue? She didn’t know. She didn’t care. And the melancholy saxophone wailed in her ears.
Alternate pulling and releasing had her body’s responses sharpened to a fine edge. Soon she was trembling, wet and open, ready for the next step. But would he know what to do? He? They? She didn’t care. The smell, the music, and the darkness combined to enhance one another. And the pain on her nipples pushed her ever higher.
She felt fingers opening her and something slowly penetrating her pussy. A dildo. Large. Filling. Pressing and opening. She wanted to resist. It was almost too big. It wouldn’t…. Yet it did. Then it withdrew, and penetrated again.
Then a hand landed on one of her ass cheeks. The spank was more noise than substance, and the sound was muffled by the music from the earphones. More slaps. No rhythm. Long pauses, then two or three quick slaps. And the constant movement of the dildo. And the pulling on her nipples. Ever higher. Ever higher.
The men seemed to know exactly how to drive her higher, yet not let her near climax. How long? Minutes? Hours? Her cheeks became hot and supersensitive. Like the clips, the slaps were painful, yet not quite painful. It was pure pleasure. She had never liked serious pain, although she and Henry had gotten pretty deeply into this kind of play. Now it was just the right mix, the perfect spice.
Suddenly hands parted her cheeks and something slippery and cold was being spread on her anus. “No,” she said. “Don’t.” Spaceship. That was the word she could use if she really wanted everything to end. Did she? “No,” she said again.
Yes. It was happening. With the dildo now still in her pussy, filling her totally, something slender and cold was being pushed into her rear hole. Henry had tried anal sex once or twice, but she had never really been comfortable with it. Now, slowly being penetrated by a slim anal dildo, she felt opened as she had never been before. Her hips bucked, seemingly of their own volition. She thrashed her limbs to the extent allowed by her restraints. She arched her back, and her moans became deafening, even over the music in her ears.
“God,” she shrieked, and the dildo sunk deeper into her rear passage. “Oh God.” She could no more control her climax than she could control the objects invading her body. She came, unable to do anything but ride the tide of pleasure, ride it out long and hard, like a surfer riding a powerful wave farther and farther, hoping it would never reach the shore. Yet it did. Occasionally in her lovemaking, she could rise to more than one orgasm, but now she was so completely satiated that her body was capable of nothing more.
As she lay, totally spent, the objects were removed from her body and her wrists and ankles were unfastened from the legs of the bench. She lay, still blindfolded, for several minutes, then slowly roused herself and walked toward the shower she knew lay beyond the door. She would take a long hot shower and go home, knowing she would be back many more times.
In another area of the house, Maria sat, surrounded by four small creatures with scaly, bluish skin and overly large heads and eyes. The one who called himself Joe smiled. “That was the best yet,” he said. “Her orgasm will fuel our ship for many miles of travel.”
Maria marveled at their ability to harness such energy and transfer it to their marooned ship. “Do you need much more?” she asked, worried that they would soon be gone. Their business was thriving, and no woman had ever failed to return.
He smiled softly, his strange features becoming almost handsome, for an alien. “We still need more energy, and we do so enjoy the way we get it. The thrill of feeling a climax like we do is as good as the actual orgasm.”
Maria grinned back. “Well, we’ve got time before Nancy Stern gets here. How about coming up to my bedroom and I’ll give you enough energy to travel to the moon? And back.”
The Corset
I WAS STANDING in front of a rack of Victorian corsets in my favorite sex shop, my cock flaccid, my mind wandering. I have several regular play partners, and I keep lots of luscious outfits for them, but I’m always on the lookout for new, exciting bits of erotic lingerie that I can share with my pets.
Yes, pets. Plural. I know it’s not fashionable in this day and age to date more than one woman at a time, but I’m not ready to settle down to one flavor yet. Every one of my partners knows that she is not my one and only, and each is free to date anyone else she chooses. I always take care to use a condom, two if I want to play the back way, if you catch my drift, and I am sure to have myself tested for any nasty little germs at least four times a year. That’s the way I choose to live, and, if others want to share my lifestyle, that’s great. If not, that’s fine, too.
Anyway,