All Chapters of DARK DESIRE (short steamy stories): Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Andorra had refused the TV company permission to install any cameras in her home – probably so as not to expose to the world her affair with the dog. For the TV company and for Bodies’r’Us this was unacceptable. On the other hand, the impotence Oliver’s penis displayed toward me when it was attached to Oliver hardly made his return to my own home a very exciting prospect for Natalie and the other people involved in the production of the movie. The public doesn’t much care for erotic dramas with impotent characters. Therefore the lawyers for Natalie and Bodies’r’Us were petitioning to have Oliver and his penis separated again, so that the penis could go back to performing in the role that had made it so famous: the penis without a man. The penis without its Oliver had already become a star. A poll revealed that as an anonymous part of a normal person it wouldn’t be so interesting to people. The Church for the Protection of Genital Organs likewise wanted the penis to be separated from O

Mindy made me sex-obsessed in a way I hadn’t been since eighth grade. Here I was, a well-adjusted, experienced man of thirty-two. Throughout my adult life I had studied with women, worked with women, socialized with women, seduced and been seduced by women, formed strong bonds with women, built complicated relationships with women, and had one night stands with women. I had been fraternally friendly with them, professionally proper with them, uproariously ribald with them . . . and gloriously, so gloriously, intimate with them. I respected women, I admired women, I learned from women, I sympathized with women, I adored women. In the course of all this, I’d experienced captivating sexual obsession but always in the sophisticated manner of a man of the world. These were grown-up obsessions explored on moonlit beaches furnished with champagne, or in boutique hotel rooms with their inevitably inviting beds and bathtubs, or at 1 a.m. rooftop parties for two. And suddenly one humdrum Tuesda

There’s something uniquely trashy about having sex with a girl in a cemetery. Then again, there’s always been something uniquely trashy about Betsy, so it’s a propos. Don’t get me wrong, I love her – in a way that’s totally unimaginable to most ordinary guys. Betsy’s white trash, without a doubt. That makes me, I guess, a white-trash lover. And I take my job very seriously. “Most guys would think fucking me here is gross or creepy.” Betsy swoons, buck naked and spread-legged against a tombstone, “But you like it! You like fucking me here, don’t you, Oliver?” Then she lets her hand nestle in her thick damp curls, their silkiness dully reflecting the dim yellow glow of the security lanterns blazing nearby. I can’t tell whether she means fucking her in a cemetery or in her hot pussy, because my brain is on fire with thoughts of porking her good. Porking her real good. “And here, too,” she clarifies. She slides a finger between her thighs and giggles. Her sudden gasp at the shock of her

A startled raccoon fled through the light, ran through the underbrush and scampered up a tree, where it disappeared into the leaves. The truck pulled into the drive. I took another sip of my beer. I was surprised when the lights flickered off. I was even more surprised when a man stepped out of the truck and walked toward me. It was only when he stepped through a shaft of moonlight that I realized who he was. I should have known. “Keith told me you might be out here,” Jake said. I held out the beer. He took it and drank the rest in one long swallow. We sat side by side on the porch and looked out at the silhouettes of the trees. “How is he?” I asked. Jake picked at a spot on his jeans. “He’s all right. He knows everybody handled the situation badly.” “I don’t blame him. I don’t blame anybody.” Jake chuckled ruefully. “That’s the problem with things like this. There is nobody to blame. It’s easier if there is someone who can be held accountable.” I got up to get another beer. I pulled

My arousal mounts as the pain increases. The blows send hard thudding sensations into my cunt – I know I can come if I can just bring my thighs together a little bit. . . . “Spread them!” she snaps. “Spread them wide!” “Y – yes,” I gasp. “Yes, um . . .” “Don’t call me Mistress,” she barks. “You’ve already got a Master. I’m not his fucking girlfriend.” “Yes, Carrie,” I whimper. Her hand comes down fast, this time, harder than before. But she is not spanking my ass now – her open palm connects with my cunt, again, again, again, and the stinging blow wrenches great moans out of me. The pain makes me rise up on my hands and knees, makes me perch over her precariously in a vain attempt to get away. She puts her hand on my ass and shoves me down into her lap, hard, then begins spanking my cunt in earnest. I moan wildly, no longer caring if people outside Carrie’s office can hear. I moan wildly because I’m going to come. She knows it, too – she spanks my sex harder so that it hurts, and hurt