Radical Encounters Read online

  Deirdre ran her tongue over the rim of Ryan’s ear. “Your mistress needs to come, Ryan. Suck her now, harder.”

  “Oh, I’m coming!” Allie cried, grasping Ryan’s head.

  Deirdre pumped the cock furiously and Ryan stiffened, moaning into Allie’s cunt while Allie rode her mouth. Tears leaking from her eyes, her gaze riveted to Allie’s face, Ryan came against the base of the cock while Allie’s clit exploded between her lips.

  Allie wasn’t aware of Deirdre moving until Deirdre yanked Ryan’s head from between Allie’s legs.

  “Get your cock into her,” Deirdre ordered.

  Ryan, still shaking from her own climax, struggled to guide the fat head of her cock between Allie’s drenched lips. The added pressure against her overly sensitive clit as she pushed inside made her stomach tighten reflexively. “I’ll come again,” she gasped. “Please…may I come?”

  “Wait, baby,” Allie said gently, bending her knees around Ryan’s leather-clad thighs and setting the rhythm by pushing herself up and down Ryan’s cock. “Fuck me nice and slow. You can come when I come.”

  “Allie…” Ryan’s face was contorted, her face and hair dripping sweat. She braced both arms on the chair. “I don’t think I—”

  “Listen to your mistress,” Deirdre commanded, her voice strained. She hurriedly kicked off her shoes and pushed down her pants and underwear. She stepped close to Ryan, one hand opening herself, exposing her fully aroused clit. “Bring me off while you fuck her.”

  Allie stared at Ryan’s face pressed between Deirdre’s trembling thighs. “Suck her clit, baby.”

  Deirdre cupped the back of Ryan’s head and, groaning quietly, smiled shakily at Allie. “I’m going to come on her face. Soon. Are you…oh fuck…she’s so good.” Deirdre’s eyes closed for a second but she forced them open. Her breath came in short pants. “Is she making you come?”

  “Uh-huh.” Allie arched, slid her fingers to her clit, and masturbated, the cock buried to the hilt inside her. “Coming now…so hard.” She screamed, her shoulders jerking up from the chair.

  Ryan thrust blindly, driven to climax by her lover’s cry.

  Deirdre laughed harshly, shooting off in Ryan’s mouth.

  When Allie opened her eyes, Ryan was slumped between her legs, her head resting on Allie’s stomach. Allie caressed her damp cheek. “Okay, baby?”

  “Mmm,” Ryan murmured, eyes closed. “Wasted.”

  Allie sighed and turned her head, searching for Deirdre. She was leaning against the bed, dressed once more, lighting a cigarette. “I think we might need to pay you.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.” Deirdre drew in the smoke and exhaled with a satisfied smile. “Ryan alone is priceless. Tonight? This was bonus night.”

  Helplessly Hers

  My girlfriend gets off making me come in public. The more likely we are to be seen, the better. She likes looking some guy in the eyes—guys are the only ones who ever watch…women, if they even figure out what’s going on, quickly look away—but the guys, at first they can’t believe it. And then they really can’t believe it. She loves staring them down while she works over my clit, her arm sliding smoothly up and down, up and down, in my lap. They almost always watch her even when my eyes start to roll back in my head and my ass lifts off the seat and my clit explodes in her hand. They don’t care about me, not when they’re imagining her hand on their cocks. The ones who don’t shoot off in their pants probably go somewhere to jerk off right away, but I can never tell because I’m usually deaf and blind for a few minutes after she makes me ejaculate.

  She always gets me hard, it doesn’t matter if I’m nervous or embarrassed or worried. I can’t stop from wanting to come when she starts in on me. She knows just how to make me hard really fast, sliding her fingers up and down my clit and squeezing just enough to pull the hood back and forth over the head. As soon as I’m completely erect, she starts the teasing. Tapping with her fingertip, rubbing little light circles, pinching when I don’t expect it. By then I’m so wound up I don’t care who might be watching. All I care about is that she keeps going, doing me until I come.

  She’s careful to do it where nobody can get at us—in the car, under the table at a restaurant, in the theater. Once she did me on a park bench underneath a newspaper I was pretending to read. She made me sit there, still as a statue with that fucking newspaper clutched in my hands while she curled against me, her hand under the newspaper, inside my running shorts, rubbing my clit. She whispered to me like we were having a serious conversation but she was really telling me what she was going to do next.

  “You’re nice and hard now, baby, just about ready to cream for me. I’m going to rub that spot you like, just underneath…uh-uh…don’t move now. There you go. That’s the special spot, isn’t it? Gonna make it feel soo good. Careful, baby. Quiet. Is all that hot wet stuff for me? Here, let me rub it on your clit, get it all slippery so you slide through my fingers so nice. Feels sweet when I squeeze your big fat clit, doesn’t it, baby. Oh, what’s this? Is that your head poking out, looking to get some attention already? You’re awfully impatient, aren’t you? You want me to rub it faster, baby? You do, don’t you, baby. Right on that spot. You want me to work it, rub it, make it pop. Don’t you. Don’t you, baby.”

  I knew I wasn’t supposed to, but I came right then. She wasn’t happy with me.

  She has rules—very strict rules. I can’t talk while she’s doing me except to answer her questions. I can’t move, I can’t make any sounds, I can’t ask her to speed up or slow down or to squeeze me harder. I can’t come unless I ask permission and she says yes. If I break her rules, she stops. Even if I’m good and do everything I’m supposed to do while she masturbates me, if she feels like stopping before I come, she does. She doesn’t care how big my clit is or how much it hurts or how bad I need to come, or how hard I beg. I’m hers to play with, and it’s all about what gets her hot.

  Sometimes she plays with my clit in the dark for the entire length of a movie without letting me come. Then she tells me to go in the restroom and get off before we can leave. So I end up leaning against the wall in a narrow stall or slumped on the seat, my teeth clenched tight, working my clit like a maniac while chattering women troop in and out, talking about the movie or their dates, peeing and flushing and fixing their makeup. It takes a long time and when I finally come, I have to bite my own hand to keep from crying it feels so good just to finally get some relief. When I practically stagger out of the bathroom, my hair dripping with sweat and my hands shaking, she looks at me and laughs.

  “Did you come nice for me, baby,” she asks, sometimes loud enough for people to hear. But I don’t care who hears because my clit usually stays hard after being teased for so long and I want her to do me again right away and if I say anything other than yes she won’t touch me again all night. She’ll just make me sit in a chair by the bed and watch her masturbate, over and over, with a vibrator or a cock or both while my clit swells and I beg her to make me come and she says no.

  But if I’m good, if I’m good like I was tonight, once we get home she makes me tell her all about my restroom jerk-off session while I’m fucking her. About how swollen my clit was and how bad I needed to come and how fucking pissed off I was that she got me so hot I practically humiliated myself in public. And how I couldn’t wait for her to do it to me again. Anywhere. Any way she wanted.

  “Did you have to squeeze it really hard to get off, baby,” she gasped, rubbing just the tip of her clit with one finger while I stroked inside her with four. The walls of her cunt tightened rhythmically around my fingers and I knew she’d come if she just pressed her clit a little harder, circled a little faster. But she didn’t. She loved to tease, to make her clit burn. I know. She did it to me all the time. “Were you too hard to come?”

  “You already know I was,” I grunted, working up a sweat thrusting in and out of her. “How hard my clit was. How fucking stiff. You made it that way.”

  “Mmm, yeah
,” she said, half dreamy, half hungry. Her index finger flicked at the ruby red head. “Like a little torpedo between your legs. Just ready to blast off.” Her eyes widened, as if she felt something really really good, and she started to pant. “Tell me what you did to it.”

  She was already close, but she needed more. Every time I stroked I curled my fingers so I pushed on that spot inside that kept her clit stiff. I got up on one knee for a better angle, and so I could see her face or look down and see her mauling her clit. “You know how hard it is for me to come when I get like that, don’t you?” I rubbed my thumb over the underside of her clit while she twirled the tip and the smallest moue of surprise escaped her. “I have to work it and work it to get off, and it hurts. It hurts and I have to come so bad and I can’t.”

  “How?” Her eyes were rolling, her belly trembling. “How?”

  “I get the head between my fingers and squeeze it until all the blood is pushed out,” I growled. I leaned over and bit her nipple and her shoulders jerked off the bed. When I released her and checked what she was doing, she had a white-knuckle grip on her clit, squeezing it dry.

  “Feel good?” I whispered.

  “Yes. No. No. Oh God, I want to come. I want to come.” She whipped her head from side to side. “Tell me not to come, baby. Tell me not to come.”

  “Let go of it,” I ordered. I knew she was seconds away but she loves the torture, and she taught me how to give it as well as take it. I grabbed her wrist and yanked. “Now. Hands off.”

  Her control is amazing and even though I knew she could feel herself starting to come, she pulled her hand away. Her clit pulsed up and down and her whole cunt opened and closed around my fingers, but she didn’t finish.

  “God!” She half sat up and grabbed the arm I was fucking her with in both hands and shoved my hand deeper. “Oh fuck me, baby. I need it right now.”

  “I needed it too and you made me masturbate in the fucking restroom.” I twisted my hand so my thumb hit her clit with every thrust. Her fingers inched down toward her clit. “I almost couldn’t do it. I kept milking it and milking it and I’d almost start to come and someone would laugh or pull on the door and I’d lose it.”

  She had her clit between her fingers now, me rubbing it underneath while she stripped the shaft. Her muscles clamped down on my fingers and didn’t let loose.

  “My clit hurt so bad,” I said.

  “Yes,” she whimpered, pulling on her nipple with her free hand.

  “I finally had to use two hands.” I pressed the flat of my hand against the base of her belly and pushed in, making her clit stand up. Immediately, her fingers moved faster.

  “Oh.” Her eyes went out of focus for a second, then she fixed on my face. “Did you pretend I was…sucking you?”

  “My clit was so filled with blood I could hardly stand to touch it, so I pretended my fingers were your lips, and I could feel you sucking me, baby.” My clit was about to beat itself off between my legs without me even jerking it, but I forced myself to focus on her. She didn’t have long. “I held it between two fingers and skimmed the hood back so I could work on the head with my other hand.”

  She whimpered again and I knew she’d switched to rolling her clit like a worry bead between her thumb and fingers. I’d watched her masturbate to orgasm enough times to know just what she did to get herself over. She just needed a push.

  “I felt your mouth close on me and your tongue whipping me up so hard.”

  “I’m gonna come soon.” Her hips jerked and the muscles in her neck stood out like cords. “You want it? You want it, baby? You want my come?”

  “I shot my load all over my hands and pretended it was in your mouth,” I grunted, fucking her harder.

  “Oh you bastard, you bitch, you…you’re making me come.” She raised her shoulders, she has incredible abs, and stared wide-eyed at my hand pumping in and out of her. “Oh no,” she wailed, pummeling her clit, “I’m losing it, baby. I’m losing it. Oh baby it’s so fucking good.” She jumped and jerked and came on my hand and I kept going inside her until she pulled off and collapsed on the pillows.

  “Come here,” she said lazily, her eyes sleepy and satisfied. I crawled up next to her and turned sideways in her arms so my head was on her shoulder, my breasts against her breasts. She reached between my legs and laughed. “You’re all hard again.” She squeezed my clit and I whined like a girl. Which I so was right then. She started masturbating me for the fourth or fifth time that day and all I could think about was coming, like it had been months instead of hours. “What should I do with it?”

  “Suck it?” I asked pitiably.

  “Is that what you want?” she murmured, her tongue skating around my ear, her fingers jerking me faster.

  I nodded vigorously. “Please.” She was close to making me come already, and I wouldn’t be able to stop it. I was powerless to keep from coming when she fondled my clit that fast, no matter how hard I tried.

  “You want me to put your wet, hard clit between my lips and suck on it and make you come?”

  “Yes, please.” The muscles in my stomach tensed and I couldn’t get my breath. “Ohh, I think you’re making me come right now.”

  “I don’t think you should, do you?” she whispered, her fingers right on the spot. “Not when I want you to come in my mouth.”

  “You are, you are, you’re making me…I’m going to…”

  “Get up here,” she snapped, letting me go with a twist that brought tears to my eyes and pushed my orgasm back inside.

  I threw my leg over her chest and crouched above her face, my arms braced on the wall. I watched her pull me open with her thumbs and latch on to my clit, sucking me deep. She slid me in and out, licking and sucking, and up I went again.

  Very slowly, afraid she still might leave me out on the edge, I warned, “I am going to come so hard all over your face.”

  She laughed around my clit and the vibration and the rapid sweep of her tongue set me off. I came and came and came, helpless to stop. Helplessly, hopelessly, totally hers.

  Surprise Package

  Happy birthday to me!

  Briefs. Boxers. Thongs. Jock straps. Silk. Pro stretch. Cotton. Button fly. Y fly. Pouch front. Mesh. Drawstring. Satin stretch. Trunk. Micro rib.

  Who knew there would be so many colors and styles and fabric? My five-minute stop in the men’s department had morphed into the better part of my lunch hour, and I still hadn’t made a decision. I staggered from one rack to the next—fingering, fondling, everything but smelling—my mind filled with possibilities, all of them delicious. I caressed material, eyed flies and pouches, and visualized bulges and butts until my mouth was dry and my pussy was wet.

  I imagined the curve of a thick cock tenting out the front of those black silk boxers, me on my knees, my lips wrapped ever so delicately around the fat head, sucking until I’d made a perfect wet O. Oh, oh, oh…oh baby, come in my mouth.

  I admired the way the white cotton briefs bunched the payload into a tight fistful of promise I could jack off in my palm. I could almost feel the quivering abdomen beneath the wide elastic waistband, the trembling thighs encircled by the snug leg openings, the strangled grunts of pleasure, the hiss of breath before the big bang. Go ahead, baby, come in my hand.

  Then there were the jock straps. Could anything be sexier than a slash of white cutting across a firm tanned thigh, unless it’s the hard-on swinging in that arrowhead sheath? Let me ride, baby, ride till I burst.

  Too bad I was likely to combust before I could make a purchase. My eyes blurred and my stomach did the little jiggly thing it does when I need to come. All the thinking about what I was thinking about was making my clit dance. I glanced at my watch. I was going to have to find a restroom so I could masturbate or I’d never be able to go back to work. No way could I sit for another four hours in court like this. Not and concentrate. Not without squirming.

  “May I help you with something?”

  I hated to disappoint Mr. Ta
ll Blond and Handsome, but what was to help? I mean, I knew how everything worked. It’s not like they were complicated enough to require instructions. You put them on, you pull them up, you settle the various and sundry equipment into the little extra spaces so cunningly built into the crotch, and Presto! Ready for action.

  There was one thing, though. It might be my present, but I didn’t want to be entirely selfish about the whole deal. I kept my gaze carefully above shoulder level, not wanting any reason to speculate about just what version he was wearing under his casual gray trousers.

  “Which ones make you feel the sexiest?”

  He blinked, but his smile never faltered. “Well,” he said with perfect salesperson cordiality, “I prefer boxers.”

  “Without getting X-rated, any particular reason why?”

  “Freedom of movement and, ah, multiple avenues of easy access.”

  Oops. There I was on my knees again, only this time I saw myself peeling up the bottom edge of the leg opening so I could get my hand around a thick, stiff shaft. And of course, my mouth followed. I could feel it, hot and hard against the back of my throat.

  “Gotcha.” Back to the black silk boxers then. Or maybe the blue.

  Yes. I smiled and reached for the royal blue. The blue was the exact color of her eyes.

  Court ran late and I never did get a chance to get off a quickie do-it-yourselfer. By the time I got home, barely five minutes before Jordan, and spread out my little birthday surprise on her pillow, I was ready to come just from the feel of the silk sliding between my fingers. Just another few minutes, I whispered to my screaming clit. I ran for the shower. Since she worked at home in the converted garage, her schedule never varied. Even when I’m hurrying, it takes me fifteen minutes, so I knew she’d be waiting.

  When I came out, she was lounging on the side of the bed, shirtless, shoeless, wearing threadbare jeans, a big grin, and—as I ascertained in one quick glance—a nice fat hard-on. I glanced at the pillow and saw that it was bare. Thank God she knows her woman. “Hi, baby.”