Semua Bab DARK DESIRE (short steamy stories): Bab 71 - Bab 78

The Boy drops to the floor and I feel him at my feet, nuzzling my ankles then crawling under my sarong. I spread my legs for him and feel him rising, the heat of him on my skin, his shorn, silky head, his tongue trailing a path up my inner thighs. He pulls down my knickers and I feel him between my legs, his hot breath on my cunt before his tongue, so delicate and perfect, dances over my clit and squirms into my folds. Oh, my. That tongue has truly been places. Like his eyes, it could be a thousand years old, a tongue that’s pleasured geisha girls, ladyboys and Babylonian whores. Fingers fill my cunt, a thumb rubs my arsehole and moments later I’m coming hard, gasping around Uncle’s cock, Uncle clutching my head, keeping me steady for fear I neglect his pleasure in favour of my own. “She’s a slippery little bitch, isn’t she, huh?” Uncle’s voice is loud enough to carry across the chamber. He’s talking to someone else; not to the Boy, and certainly not to me. I pull back and turn, wipin

She wanted to be wanted by her It almost made her cry. It was something she thought she’d left when Wendy had left to find someone even more subservient. Having it back was almost too much for her to handle: the fear that it could go again. Slowly, June had stood up on the lumpy futon, unbuttoned her jeans, and then, teasingly, dropped her panties. She did it slowly because while it seemed that all she and Betty did was fuck, the magic of their bodies hadn’t rubbed off yet. She had loved to get naked in front of Betty, watching her eyes dance and hunger for her. It was a little chilly in the apartment, so June left her T-shirt on. “Make like a doggie, love,” Betty had said, “It’s easier that way.” Slowly, kind of scared, June had: she got down on the futon, first on her hands and knees and then – ’cause her arms started to ache – leaning down on a pillow. “So pretty,” Betty said from behind her. The kiss was kind of a shock. June had been so psyched to receive the brilliantly blue sil

I went up north, ready to scour all the ports on the Baltic. I ended up in Hamburg. In the evening, I wandered in Sankt Pauli. Girls in their windows, boxed in tackiness, with an air of decent housewives displaying their asses. Not one worth fucking, but men were there, strolling about, eyeing them. My God, they looked like first communicants walking slowly to the altar to receive the host! Monumental hard-ons because that one shakes her tits under their noses and they imagine themselves stuffing their pricks in the holy of holies! You bet they haven’t grown one inch since the time when, as adolescents, they shut themselves in the toilet to jerk off out of sight of their mommy’s eyes! Men’s desire disgusts me. It was certainly not in those alleyways with no dark corners, where the gaudy pink neons filter, that I was going to meet the man from Albuquerque. It was down to the wharves I had to go . . . I hung about between the angular shadows of the container stacks waiting to be loaded

The choices were chicken breast or a T-bone steak. Everyone had a plate but me. Finally, a lone dish came trailing out. It was cold pasta with sun-dried tomatoes. Lisa had remembered my fear of bones. I hadn’t eaten meat since I cut the top of my middle finger off when I was twelve. Now every time I saw a bone I felt sick. If the pasta had been served when it was made a week ago, I might have managed to choke it down, but it was inedible. I arranged my tomatoes in the middle with the dry lifeless noodles around them. A waiter stopped in front of me to take my plate. He saw what I’d done. “I’m artistic,” I said. He whisked it away. I was starving, and I was buzzed from the second glass of champagne. A little thought danced in the back of my head. What had Lisa said about a dessert? She had chosen a lovely mousse. Of course, it had to be chocolate. They brought it out. Why was my chocolate mousse pink? It was strawberry. It was like ordering a diet cola and getting a fully leaded one.