In the Backseat Page 4

  ‘I want more. Come all over me.’

  She was rubbing between her legs and raising her body up and down over her hand as well for good measure. I had my cock in hand and was doing some rubbing of my own, fist pointing it right her way.

  ‘Come on.’ Her breathing was heavy. ‘Come on.’

  Before, I’d been going too fast for her; now I was going too slow. And because she really wanted me to come, I felt like dragging it out a bit myself. I wanted to see her come first, hear her orgasm. She was nearly there from the sounds of it

  She wasn’t going to let it happen that way. She leaned in again, bowing down low and breathing purposefully over me as she said, ‘I want to see it.’

  She was certainly close enough.

  ‘I want to see you shoot your come over me.’

  Her breath tickled, but she was careful not to touch me with any part of her body. We were back to the 3D porn thing again I think. Then she said, ‘Oh, fuck it,’ and swallowed me up into her mouth.

  I nearly let go right then. Engulfed in the wet warmth of her mouth, I cried out in excited surprise. Her lips pressed against me for the barest moment, opened, and then before I knew what was happening I was between them and inside her. I wanted to fill her mouth with come. Her tongue was a delicious wetness underneath me as she sucked gently with the upward movement. She glanced up at me, my cock still in her mouth, then she plunged down eagerly once more.

  ‘Oh God.’

  It was going to happen.

  ‘I’m going to come.’

  I was trying to warn her. Part of me still thought I was supposed to come on her, not in her. She just groaned acknowledgement. She wanted it to happen. Her hands were beneath her and she rode on them. Her breath was coming in tiny gasps and she made short ‘uh’ sounds with me in and out of her mouth.

  I tried to wait for her but her mouth surrounded me, warm and moist, and I had one of her beautifully soft breasts in my hand and I pulsed my first burst into her mouth.

  She gave a muffled sound and pulled away, yelping as another quick jet of it shot against her neck. She took my cock in her hand, pumping more and more from me. She glanced once at the door to Had’s room, just making sure, and leaned back to catch my come against her body. ‘Give me all of it.’ She directed the spurts against each of her tits, looking down at each in turn, milking all she could from me. I emptied myself onto her. Groaning with relief I leaned back into the sofa cushions.

  There was silence between us, each breathing quietly.

  ‘You just came all over me,’ she said eventually.

  I was beyond guilt now. ‘I just came all over you,’ I confirmed.

  ‘I made you come.’

  We smiled the absurdity of it at each other for a few moments.

  ‘I need to clean up,’ she said, casting a look down over herself. With one hand she wiped at where a small pool had gathered in the cavity of her collarbone, spilling it deliberately and smearing it downward over a nipple. She looked back up at me, tracing it around her skin, and stood. For a moment I was staring directly between her legs, but the curtains closed to end that show when she gathered her nightgown around herself and tied it with the sash.

  ‘Good night then,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah,’ I agreed, ‘Good night.’

  I closed my own dressing gown as she padded through the lounge to the bathroom. She blew a kiss to me at the door, pleased with herself.

  I could hear the taps running as I passed the bathroom door to my own room. I imagined her in there washing her tits and grinned to myself. I glanced once towards Hadley’s room. ‘Sorry, buddy,’ I said, not really meaning it.

  I undressed and slipped into bed. What a night!

  I was gathering the sheets around me, making myself comfortable for sleep, still grinning, when the door to my room opened and closed. It was Fiona again, just a grey outline in my room. Her silhouette stripped itself naked and what she wore fell to the floor. She strode over in quick determined steps, totally nude, and clambered onto the bed. She straddled my chest as I began to sit up –

  ‘Fiona …’

  – and pushed me back down gently. She positioned herself higher up my chest, pressing her naked thighs against my cheeks, and brought herself down to envelop me into her moistness.

  ‘My turn,’ she said.

  It was the least I could do.

  Neighbours

  by Renatto Garcia

  The Joyces landed in East Rock, New Haven, during the third week of April when the temperatures were rising, flowers and leaves had turned bright and colourful, reborn, even as we’d slipped into the nook of our lives as comfortably as a worn-in sole. We were looking forward to our eighth marriage anniversary, a milestone past the proverbial seven-year itch.

  The Joyces were young and they were incredibly attractive. He was tall and slender with a boxer’s build and a name to match – Ray.

  Eleanor was bronzed and voluptuous – let’s not mince words, she was a damn juicy bird. They reminded me of graduate students, like the kind I taught in the city, except these two dressed better, they carried themselves more sensually, they revelled in their bodies with a savvy beyond their years.

  Rumours abounded for weeks prior to their arrival, as tends to happen with all newcomers. The first time my wife, Becky, and I laid eyes on them, however, was at a neighbourhood function held in the clubhouse.

  They resembled royalty walking through that room and everyone vied for their time and attention. They were rigged casually for the spring night air, but the ease with which they flowed together made it stylish. I’d never yet met a woman who exuded more raw femininity than this one. She strutted past and sprouted hard-ons in her wake, made pricks quiver with one salacious flick of her tongue. By God, she could make a son of a bitch cream his pants with that naughty smile. Her eyes packed more fire than most women’s cunts. I carted the missus off home that evening, didn’t say a word to the Joyces, and I fucked my wife – truly fucked her – after more than half a decade.

  I first approached them on a hot and humid afternoon while mowing my back yard. Our homes were separated by a tall wooden fence, but that day I heard voices, hushed laughter, coming from the other side. I shut off the mower and sidled up close to the fence. I lifted myself up to peek over for a chat, and formal introductions.

  Formal or not, we were introduced on that day, and in a big way. The two of them were spread out on a plastic lounge chair, their flesh resplendent in the glare of sunlight, tawny and unblemished without wrinkles or an inch of cellulite. His back rippled with muscles all the way down to his slim waist, the one she twined her long legs around and squeezed as the tremors racked her body. His face was buried in her pussy, tongue lashing out at her clit. She was stroking his hair, jet black with not a hint of grey; she bit down on her lips, jittering and raising her ass when he hit the spot.

  She saw me first, through dark, parted eyes, and smiled. She smiled a long while before, lazily, she grasped her husband by the shoulder and shook him. He stopped finally from his suckling and peered up, her juices slathered upon his chin. I was shocked motionless. He never flinched. He sat straight up, his long cock snapping up against his belly as she fixed her bikini bottom back over her cunt, and he waved. With a grin that was ear-to-ear, he cast his fingers into a gun and pulled the trigger.

  The next day I returned home from work and my wife informed me she’d invited them over for dinner. Anger was my initial response; then feigned inconvenience when her inspecting gaze caught me. My wife had a good heart; she was a sheltered woman, her intentions always innocent, her impressions of people positive to a fault. She’d no concept of aberrant sexual behaviour. She’d little awareness of the type of person it took to shatter social conventions, to drive all preconceptions of acceptable behaviour down into the ground. I didn’t have the will to tell her about our neighbours’ exhibition, no way to explain the glint in both their eyes at the knowledge that I‘d seen them.

  She
fixed a dish that consisted of chicken breasts stuffed with goat’s cheese and sun-dried tomatoes, caramelised shallots and basil. The table was done up masterfully, our best plates and silverware. To top it off, a bottle of Sancerre Sauvignon Blanc from my wine cellar. They arrived perfectly on time, impeccably dressed, and Ray even brought along a bottle of his own, also a Sauvignon from the Alto-Adige region of Italy.

  ‘I trust you won’t mind,’ he said, ‘but your kind wife may have dropped a hint as to the menu.’

  Eleanor greeted me with a kiss on the cheek, and her right hand firmly pressed on my stomach inches from my waist. Her touch was electric; it fired up images of the day before, of her squirming ass, restless bundles of flesh scalded by blazing embers, and the glimmering hair bristles on her pussy.

  We sat down for dinner and before long their charm flowed as easy as the wine. Ray and I talked business, psychology and sports, all topics on which he seemed remarkably well versed. He was a writer, as was Eleanor – they’d met two years earlier at a weekend seminar in New York. When Becky asked for a list of their titles, it was Eleanor that responded:

  ‘Rebecca, sweetie, I’m certain we’ve not yet scribed anything you might have read.’

  On that subject, nothing more was mentioned. They had plenty, however, to talk about. They’d travelled extensively as it were, all throughout Europe, South America, and even Africa. Their tales were galvanising; something about those stories was primordially stirring and licentious. Soon, I had forgotten all about the incident in their backyard.

  Before departing they invited my wife and I to a barbecue at their house the following Sunday. No sooner did I shut the door behind them, than I scooped my wife up and ripped her clothes and mine, and on the stairway I ravaged her body with kisses, and her pussy I pounded with brutish thrusts.

  When Sunday rolled around, my wife took far too long to get ready, longer than usual. I paced outside the bathroom, repeatedly glancing at my watch, clapping my hands impatiently. Ultimately, she had enough of me and told me to go on ahead.

  I walked across the yard to their home. The front door was ajar and I wandered inside. The living room was decorated with a minimalist grace and a touch of allure I can only describe as sensuous. The glass door leading to the deck at the far end was slid open, spilling a gentle breeze in with the pour of sunlight. I walked past the kitchen and through to the patio. The sun blinded me, and then when my eyes adjusted I saw them.

  She was bent over a sturdy wooden table, her heavy teats spewed into the salad bowl, and she was swearing up a storm through gritted teeth. He was still wearing his apron, but his pants were bundled around his pulsating knees. Sweat rolled down the side of his face and neck as he plunged his thick cock into her like a piston rod from behind. I’ve no earthly idea how long I stood there before he saw me, and stretched his lips into a shit-eating grin.

  I scurried back inside despite his greeting. I paced quickly in the living room, for once in my life unsure of what to do. I was livid, and I wasn’t exactly sure why. I wanted nothing more than to give them a piece of my mind, tell them off, curse them back to whatever libertine wormhole they’d crawled out of. But reason won out. I’d just decided to tread back to my house when I looked up and found my wife standing in the open doorway, fixed up so beautifully she drew the air from my lungs.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, immediately sensing something was up.

  I started towards her. Suddenly, her own expression changed and I stopped in my tracks. I swept my head around. Ray had eased in, once more completely dressed. Eleanor emerged soon after, the paradigm of composure and dignity, not a hair out of place.

  I was stuck. We stayed for lunch, and my wife felt completely at ease. She ate their feast ravenously. She complimented the salad, especially, and with every bite she took, I grew feverish imagining her teeth nibbling on Eleanor’s stiff nipples, the pounds of succulent flesh. I had to hand it to them, they were smooth as hell the way they lured her into their world. They had her eating out of the palm of their hands. But I wasn’t convinced; I was far from being fooled.

  The next day when I arrived from work, Eleanor was sitting on her front stoop.

  ‘Hey, stranger,’ she called out to me. ‘You got a moment to spare?’

  ‘For what?’

  She raised an eyebrow, stretching her back straight and swelling her breasts high on her chest. Her legs were bare in a pair of khaki shorts, and they were smooth and silky. She curled her mouth up in a lewd grimace. ‘So we can fuck each other’s brains out, of course.’

  I nearly choked on my own tongue.

  ‘I want to talk,’ she said, laughing. ‘I think it’s overdue. Don‘t you?’

  She went inside and, despite myself, I followed.

  We sat in the living room about a yard apart. The bitch was dressed provocatively, or maybe it was my mind playing tricks, but I felt myself growing excited just staring at her. Thinking about how her eyes had screwed up when Ray ate her cunt. The way her breasts had pressed against the lettuce and cucumbers. The way her body had met every driving thrust of her husband’s cock.

  ‘I know you were bothered by what you saw,’ she said. ‘Ray believes I’m just being dramatic. But I know different.’

  ‘Can you blame me? What if I’d walked in with my wife? What if she’d seen that shit?’

  She pondered a moment, chewing on her bottom lip, sultry as a summer afternoon.

  ‘You’re right,’ she said, nodding. ‘It was thoughtless of us. I suppose an apology is in order.’

  I stood from my seat in a flurry. She watched me, amused, and her stare was so fucking lustful. Her legs were crossed, revealing more luscious thigh than I was ready to handle. And she was leaned back on the couch, her breasts pushed up, distending her white, silk-laced blouse.

  ‘I don’t need an apology.’

  I started out. But I got to the threshold and my feet wouldn’t carry me further.

  ‘Hmm,’ she said, softly. ‘That’s fitting.’

  I glanced back at her. She swung her right leg in a wide sweep and raised herself up.

  ‘You are still a man, after all.’

  She began unbuttoning the front of her blouse, and even before I reached her, ceasing her hands, our eyes met. Hers were fire, flames engulfing the deep pools of blue. They burned with desire, insatiable, a wildfire. And mine – I can only imagine the raging inside.

  With one swift move, I ripped the blouse and her breasts spilled into my hands. I shoved her down on the couch and tore her shorts and plied her underwear off so hard she yelped. Then I sank my tongue into her quim, spreading the juicy lips of her sex with my teeth, licking at the sweet nectar between her legs, drawing it out of her trembling, writhing body.

  She pushed my face from her, then. Her chest rose and fell wildly and her eyes were ablaze with something savage. I knew what she wanted. I scrambled to my feet and yanked my trousers down around my knees.

  I was inside her before reason interfered. And I was ramming it to her core. She moaned, loud enough to rouse the dead. Her hips bucked underneath me, grinding against my pelvis, seeking my thrusts even before I made them. Her cunt was equipped; it had a talent of its own, grabbed at my pecker, sucked it in, bit on the end when I reached her womb. It was a mauling, a primitive dance more like a beating, and it wasn’t meant to last, only to quench an appetite. I came with a torrent, shooting jet after jet of viscous white jism. When I tried pulling out she kept me fast. My cock still throbbed even though I was completely drained, and she shuddered at that last jerk, trembled uncontrollably. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she exhaled with a crack in her voice.

  The orgasm passed, and she released her grip on me. I scrambled to my feet, then, tugged my pants up, and as I did, I focused my eyes on the belt buckle. When I did finally look at her, she gazed back at me dreamily. She soothed her furrow with both hands, and she smacked her lips.

  ‘That was delicious, baby. Hope we can do this again some
time,’ she said, breathy as a mouse, ‘… neighbour.’

  I turned and rushed out, slamming the door behind me. The air outside seemed crisper, the night fresher than it had in weeks. I skipped the ten feet to my driveway, on top of the world. My wife’s sedan was parked in the driveway. I smiled at that thought.

  I made it to my front steps when a cold dread hit me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. Ray’s black Benz parked across the street. There was nobody inside. Something within me broke, and my feet propelled me forward, over the two bottom steps directly to the door. I threw it open and ran in, up the stairs and down the narrow corridor to my bedroom.

  I sensed it before I heard it, and heard it before I saw it, but I saw it and couldn’t believe my eyes. He was bent over Becky on all fours, and lunging his prick into her to the hilt. She was screaming with wild abandon. I watched for only a moment, not long enough for them to notice, but it felt like a lifetime. Time stopped. Pulled back just a mite, like the pulling of a rubber band – and then snapped.

  I’d never moved so fast. I grabbed him by the back of the neck and fired my arm back. The force threw him clean off my wife and off the bed. Becky coiled up, immediately, heaving the sheets around her body. Hiding herself from me. I would’ve laughed, could’ve died laughing, if I wasn’t so enraged.

  I tried to speak, to curse her, to damn her – but no words came out.

  Instead, I turned back to Ray. He was already on his feet. He didn’t bother grabbing his clothing. Simply walked out of the bedroom. I ran after him, and fuck – I would have thrown him down the steps if he hadn’t suddenly turned to me, glaring at me evenly.

  ‘This was a misunderstanding,’ he said. ‘On my part.’

  I balled my fists, ready to strike.

  ‘You fuck mine,’ he said, slowly. ‘I fuck yours. Isn’t that how this goes down?’