I want to talk to you about need.
Not mere ‘desire’ or ‘want’—need. You know the feeling, of course. Last Friday in the restaurant, what happened between us was such a powerful and intense explosion of it. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that night, and about you, indulging the yearning that’s been building inside me for so many months. I thought that night might help to quench the thirst I felt for you. Like a catalyst for a reaction that fizzles brightly and then is done. But in fact I find that it’s only fueled the fire of my utter desperation for everything you do and are. In short: I want more. I need more.
This isn’t an innocent love letter, far from it. I suppose if you want to put a label on it this is what you might call a lust letter. I’m pouring all my feelings—burning, intense and powerful—into words so that you can read them at your leisure. I wonder where you’ll read them? At home, in the kitchen as you sip your coffee and smile at the things I’m reminding you of? Perhaps you’ll read it on the tube on your way in to work, anticipating the way my eyes will meet yours when you get here, and I’ll smile as I see you blush with recognition. Maybe you’ll read it at work, in the bathroom, shortly after I slip it into your pocket. I like to think of you furtively locking yourself in a stall as you see in my account of what happened in the restaurant just outside where you’re sitting in that moment. Feeling your face grow hot as you get harderand more frustrated, reminiscing but being unable to touch until the restaurant has closed…
As I say, this is about need. You know, I’ve been needing you for so long. When you first came into the restaurant, you were just one of many smart, polite individuals who wanted the sommelier job. I have to say, I usually hate these interviews—too many smarmy men who assume on first glance that I’m a waitress instead of the head chef. I used to take great delight in introducing myself to those who’d made silly sexist assumptions, enjoying the way their face would crumple when they realised they’d made a faux pas that would cost them the job. You were obviously not one of these men, though. Not only did you treat me with respect, but you engaged me in the details: how my kitchen worked and my vision for the restaurant. I understood pretty quickly that unlike some of the other arrogant candidates, you didn’t assume you had anything to teach me, instead you were keen to learn from me. It wasn’t until right at the end of your interview that I even considered whether you might also want to see me naked. But our goodbye handshake fizzed with a sudden burst of chemistry, and I looked into your gorgeous dark eyes in that moment, noted the eagerness in your smile and… bam. That was it. I was hooked on you.
Perhaps the reason last Friday felt so powerful was because we’d both been waiting on it for so long. How many months has it been since you started working here? How many shifts have we shared which absolutely crackled with absurd levels of tension? I remember feeling a palpable wave of physical yearning the first time our hands brushed against each other on that particular morning, when I was passing you the menu for the specials at the gala. The crackle of energy in your gaze as you looked at me while I talked you through it. Then all evening, even as I was basking in the glow of success at how well everything was going, I could feel your eyes hungrily devouring me in my cocktail dress. I think sometime around the dessert course I accepted that I was secretly yearning for this lovely evening to just be over and done with. For everyone to say their final goodbyes and clear the restaurant, letting staff clear up and reset so they could leave the two of us alone… Yes. The dessert course. When you brushed past me on your way from the kitchen, and placed one hot hand in the small of my back. The zing of promise when I felt it gently brushing against the fabric of my dress and my burning-hot skin… that was when I knew this particular night was the night. The moment we would finally give in to our lusts. Our mutual, aching need.
Reliving that night, as I write this right now, is causing waves of arousal to pour down from the centre of my chest and right to my needy cunt. The way we both dived in to devour each other the second we knew we had the chance—you picking me up like I weighed nothing and placing me on the counter, all the better to wrap my legs around you. Letting the bare flesh of my thighs crush tight against your body. Dressed all in black, you were the very picture of perfection. I like to think I matched up to you, with sparkling jewellery that jingled as you pawed at my body, thrusting your fingers into my eager pussy, right there on the counter over which our eyes had met so many times! There was a poetry to it, don’t you think? When you dipped your head to lick me with your busy tongue, I was consumed by thoughts of flavour and anticipation—how even the most delicious things taste that much better after waiting. We dallied so long to consummate our need, it’s no wonder you buried yourself greedily into my crotch when we finally gave in.
Next, you took me off the counter and placed me on my feet—my legs were almost jelly as you unzipped my black dress and tugged it down. Lips round one of my nipples, sending tingles of pleasure that connected all the parts of me that were so keen for your attention. Naturally it wasn’t long before I wanted my turn. There was so much of your body to explore! And I had waited so long… When I knelt down to worship you, I couldn’t have hoped for a more beautiful cock on which to lavish my attention. Smooth and hard and seasoned with a perfect salty slick of precome. It tasted divine, and felt so too—an amuse bouche so delicious that I couldn’t wait to move on to the main course. I love to give nice wet blow jobs, letting my salivating mouth glide over you as a prelude to the way my pussy will feel when you enter me. Wet lips around your balls as well as the shaft too, emphasising the satisfying smoothness of your shaved crotch.
That you were shaved was a surprise to me, and there were other gorgeous surprises for me to unwrap as well. Like that tattoo on your shoulder. The view of your body from above as you lay me on the table and then set to work teasing my clit with your lips again… it was like finally being shown a secret I’d always longed to know. The sculpted beauty of your muscles—who’d have thought that your waiter’s uniform would so neatly hide just how taut and full your biceps were? I wanted to sink my teeth into them. Instead, all I could do was throw my head back and give in to the wanton desire that you were satisfying between my legs. You gripped my thighs so tight in that moment that the next day I could feel the imprints of where your fingers had been—like the ghost of passions past. I closed my eyes and let myself revel in those throbbing memories of touch, and I touched myself at the same time. Reliving alone, as I’m doing here for you, each detail of that incredible night.
There on the table, it felt like you were in service to me. Waiting on me with skill and care, the way you serve customers in my restaurant. Each movement you made seemed chosen specifically to raise the pressure inside me, making me even more desperate for the release of your perfect cock sliding in. When you tickled my wet clit with the head of it, I think I remember letting out a little whimper. When you ran it along the slit of my pussy, I almost laughed at how skilful a tease you were being. But then, finally, after all this wanton need, you slipped it all the way in. Right up to the hilt. I was wet and tight around you, and I’m sure you must have felt me pulse with the joy of it.
Are you thinking about it now, as you read this lust letter? Remembering the sensations in your cock just as I’m physically reliving them in my own body? I hope that wherever you are and whenever you’re reading, you remember that twitch in my cunt as you shoved yourself in. As you remember, too, the way my lips felt against yours when you pulled me in for a deep and passionate kiss. I know you savour the sensation of tightness, I could tell when you brought my legs together. I adore the way you did that—allowing me to clamp myself around you and enjoy the precision of knowing every single detail of your cock as it slides against the ripples inside me. Picture it now, go on. You surely won’t be reading this letter on a train or anywhere else people can see you. So treat yourself: picture it. The way my pussy splits open to receive your dick. The way it envelops and engulfs you. The best part of the stroke, when the ridge at the head is firmly clasped at the entrance.
I’m imagining it now, as I write. If it weren’t for the ache of want between my legs, I could almost trick myself into believing you’re inside me right now. Me, laying on the table in the restaurant that I own, just hours after my achievements have been celebrated at that night’s gala, dressed in my most stunning killer heels and being fucked by the gorgeous wine waiter I’ve been dreaming of for so long. One of the parts I like to luxuriate in, when I’m reliving this, is just how utterly powerful I felt. Like the world I had worked so hard to create for myself had finally all come together. The job, the accolades, the fact that I looked a million dollars and wasn’t ashamed to show it, but above all the wanton lust that I’d been nurturing inside me… all those things merged together that night into one huge burst of joy. Then exploded with colour and pattern and excitement, like a firework display.
And in the centre of those fireworks—your eyes. Your gaze. The way you held intense eye contact while you ploughed me so firmly and precisely. I know people talk about ‘falling into’ someone’s eyes, but for me it felt more like I was pinned. You were holding me in place with your look, just as you had placed me on the counter with your hands, or as you firmly pinned me to the table with the insistent thrusting of your beautiful prick. Sometimes, when we’re in the restaurant working together, I try to play a little game to see if I can guess what you’re trying to say with your eyes. I know (I know now) that occasionally you’ve been flashing little glances that mean things like ‘I want you’ or ‘I need to take you here and now over the counter’. But that night, while we were diving into that passionate fuck, I like to think that the message written in your eyes was the same reflected back to you from mine… at last!
You pulled me down onto you, I remember that vividly too. After almost pausing completely for that moment of recognition and switching to long, slow strokes to let it hit home… you gripped my hips and thighs and tugged me so my body slid against the table, and my pussy was impaled even further onto your marble-hard dick. Your athleticism might be hidden when you’re wearing your neat waiter’s uniform, but that just makes it all the more breathtaking when you strip and let your powerful side out to play. I felt like you were moulding my body to yours, your arm tight around my back to keep me stable as you fucked me. That was the first time I came that night—right there on the table. With you licking my nipples and holding me up and plunging yourself deep inside me, speeding up just enough as I started to let out the first cries that built to my orgasm, you clasped my head in one hand and stared into my eyes with such intensity I swear it was the force of your gaze that tipped me over the edge. One wave after another after another, my pussy twitched and clamped around you as I rode out that very first peak.
But you weren’t done yet. And nor was I. A need this insatiable doesn’t vanish just because one of us has climaxed. I don’t know that I’ll ever be sated of my desire for you, and I certainly wasn’t sated then. If anything, that first orgasm had just made me hungry for more, so when you flipped me over and pushed your face into the crack of my bum to show me more of what you could do, I let myself fall into the pure eroticism of it. I could tell from the way you did it that you’d been dreaming of doing it—perhaps for as long as I’d been hoping to let you. I looked back over my shoulder at you as you entered me again, pushing your fingers into my mouth so I could taste the mingled flavours of both of us from your fingertip. Then clasping my tits in your hands as you took me standing up, alternating pace from fast to slow and back again, you knew you were driving me into such a powerful frenzy.
I imagine I was loud—was I loud? Can you hear the noises I made as you relive the fuck through this letter? I do hope so. I think I mewled like a kitten. I certainly whimpered too. Urging you onwards to a climax of your own. Your silence in those moments felt like the greatest restraint, I hope that next time I can encourage you to let loose a little with your ownmoans and groans. Perhaps you were being respectful? Just as you try so hard not to interrupt conversations when customers in the restaurant are too engrossed to notice you’ve shown up with a bottle of wine, maybe your silence then was a way to allow me to fill the space with my own animal noises. Such impressive self-discipline. I’d have thought you a god if it weren’t for the fact that we had to break to allow for you to take off your shoes and socks. It was nice though, that part. I think we’d both got so wrapped up in the energy of our abject need that when this sudden release of sexual tension was punctuated by mortal concerns like shoes and table logistics, both of us just had to giggle. I loved that. I would like to giggle with you more.
The other thing I would like to do more is worship at the altar of your impeccable dick. Laying you down on the banquette seating, making eye contact while I take the full length of you into my throat, I knew exactly how much of a treat this was, and I hope you’ll agree I made the most of it. Made a meal of it, you might say.
By the time I finally mounted you, I could tell you were on the edge. I half expected you to explode on contact when I sat down, but naturally I was pleased that you didn’t. Getting to ride you while wearing my heels made me feel like an absolute goddess, especially when you grabbed the cheeks of my bum in both your hands, guiding me up and down as I pinned myself onto your dick. Bouncing, grinding, and eventually bracing myself with one foot on the floor so I could slide up and down the shaft, feeling you grow ever fuller and more ready to come with each stroke of that fuck. Your eyes were closed, and I could tell the moment you were about to tip over the edge because you gripped me even tighter—I can still feel those fingerpoints of pressure if I think really hard right now. The way you clasped me and moaned, there was no doubt in my mind that this was the moment.
And then… ohhhhh. That grunt of release! The way your cock pulsed inside me. I could feel the hot, thick shots of your spunk thudding into me with each twitch of it. Like I was milking every drop of the cum from within you. Divine.
After you were done, as I sat up, I could feel strings of your pleasure dripping out of me and onto your skin—I love that sensation, don’t you? I wonder if you’re thinking about it right now, as I reach the end of this… yeah I’ll call it a lust letter from your sexy chef. I hope you’re touching yourself as you read it, gripping that beautiful shaft in one hand, and letting the paper crumple and crease as you hold it too tight in the other. I hope you’ve enjoyed this first-hand account of how thoroughly satisfied I was by that night.
Were you satisfied too? Do you want to do it again? From the way you pulled me close up against you when we were done, and the many times you’ve met my gaze and grinned that wicked grin since last Friday… I think I’d say it’s a fairlysafe bet that you do. Perhaps you’d like to let me know. Write a little letter of your own, to give me a taste of what is in store. After all, as we both know, the pair of us thrive on anticipation. It’s the best way to heighten need.
And I need to have you again.
The End

Helina’s make-up is for the stage, alluring and smoky, glittery shadow and thick mascara accentuates her eyes. Her foundation and contouring are flawless, and her nude lips form a plump pout of perfection. She wears spike heels and a plush, leopard print coat.
Beneath that coat Helina is naked, save for a long pendant which reaches almost to her navel. The coat’s silky lining strokes the curves of her bare skin, while the plush outer layer of fur tickles against her breasts and upper thighs. Her desire is naked too, raw and primal, tightening her throat and making it hard to swallow while thudding like the beat of club music between her thighs. As she strolls languidly down the backstage corridors to find her quiet place with its deep leather armchair, anticipation floods her body. She always arrives before everybody else, a habit she’s formed over years of performing. The expectancy of taking the stage never fails to turn her on, and desire slithers down her spine. She is giddy with need but quietly determined not to rush her pre-show ritual. Every moment must be savoured, an exhibition of lewd devotion to herself.
Helina Dream is a star, who loves her work. Her art is edgy and risqué, her performances designed to shock as much as they titillate. She seeks constant adoration from her audience—fuel, to make her feel validated and alive. Today she is the epitome of a femme fatale from a black-and-white movie as she sucks on her cigarillo, letting smoke curl past her nostrils. She opens the glossy magazine in her lap, the cover is cool against her smooth thighs. Flicking idly past perfume ads and fashion spreads, she loves searching for her own image sizzling out from the pages. She finds what she’s looking for. The photographs are arresting: A sultry diva smoulders from those glossy pages. Helina, who is well versed in the transaction of tease, knows how to look down a camera lens as if she’s flirting with a prospective lover. She’s studying her centrefold, her skin already prickling with the hum of desire, anticipating the promise of what comes next.
At the end of that particular photo shoot, Helina had acted on the sexual tension it elicited. While the photographer directed her, “move your shoulder, tilt your chin, give me aloof, unattainable,” the air between them had been charged with attraction, like ozone before a thunderstorm. Desire and lust had crackled as she struck provocative poses, and it refused to be ignored. If she lets her mind wander back to how, when everybody left, she had fucked the photographer on the deep leather saddle chair, her nerve endings will still spark with echoes of the sensations drawn out of her body that afternoon.
As she flicks through the rest of the pages, a note flutters out.
Look beneath your chair.
Her fingers are elegant, with a nude manicure that matches her lips, and she reaches for the box, placing it to the side, stifling her curiosity and teasing herself for later. The note is from her lover, she recognises the slant of the handwriting.
Her fingers stray to her chest, skimming over the taut skin to caress the slope of her upper breast and play experimentally with her darker nipple. Featherlight touches are enough, awakening their tips to stiffness. Grazing their stalks with the edge of her nail, she transmits a shock of sensation between her thighs and Helina parts her lips in a sigh.
She tugs the lapels of her coat and luxuriates in the contrasting texture of its softness and warmth, how it rubs the pulse point in her neck. She’s feline, like a cat that’s persuasively preening her cheek against its owner, seeking attention, Helina snuggles deeper into the embrace of the coat and the low-slung leather chair.
Pouting, she smooths the pads of her fingers along the length of each thigh, over her small breasts, to trail them over her ribs. It’s a ticklish route that heads down to her slender legs, which she parts a fraction. She brings both hands back to her breasts, ready to pinch each nipple, jiggling them in an alternate rhythm that evokes another irresistible electric tingle. Her body is like a sexy circuit board, the slightest touch to her nipples sizzles directly to her clit like they are hard-wired to pleasure.
While heat pools, her pussy drools. Arousal is simultaneously plumping her lips and painting them with a dewy gloss. She rubs her fingers over her mound, where her skin is silky smooth; waxes and massages are part of her regime. Helina regards her body as the tool of her trade, the foundation on which she has built her fame and seductive reputation, and she constantly aspires to perfection.
Tipping her head to rest on the back of the chair, she bites her lip and strokes her labia, delighted when her finger’s tip discovers the cream created by her playful touches. Now, dipping that finger into her honey pot, it glides like silk, drawn into her heat. Pleasure fans out from the insistent pressure as she delves deeper inside. Drawing it back out, she raises it to her lips, eager to taste her nectar and share it with her lover. It’s sweet and tangy, slightly tart and musky, her juices are fragrant with pheromones that make her pulse flicker.
Helina continues to rub and press. Using two fingers she smooths an insistent path along both edges of her sensitive slit, massaging every nerve ending awake. Her body comes alive, thrumming and ready. Time seems to stretch, she lazily watches both index and ring fingers as they glide in tandem, performing a dance they have done since her first sexual awakening.
Her pussy lips weren’t so smooth back then, and the recollection of her younger self triggers a secret smile.
Helina can remember, in the early days, taking time to find pleasure in the bath. Her nubile body always became aroused by the heat of the water, and would quickly be flooded with a chain reaction of desire. Her small breasts bobbing like exotic islands above the bath’s perfumed surface, their nipples became scrunched to dark, aching points, and their curved surface peppered with gooseflesh, while steam from the water swirled around her.
Lazing in her tub, she’d daydream of the many ways she intended to touch herself long before she succumbed to the temptation. The anticipation would fervently heighten her arousal, so that when her hand finally reached between her legs, she’d find a slick of her juices not yet mixed with the water. Parting her thighs in the confines of the narrow bath, she liked to begin by stroking; making tender, tentative movements between her pussy lips. These awoke thrilling shudders, as did her fingers’ first brush against her clit. Back and forth, back and forth, she’d strike a rhythm for strumming her quim, drawing out the moments, allowing her mind to empty of thought and focus purely on sensation.
Helina would gently comb fingers through the curls that topped her mons, a sparse thatch that she could smooth this way and that, awakening sensations that fizzed and sparked within her core. Like a finely-tuned instrument, her pussy would vibrate, abuzz with pleasure. Then she’d begin to pluck and tug on the soft hairs, and desire would coil and build, until climactic fireworks went bursting around her body. She imagined herself lit up from within, transformed into a Roman candle from the incandescent joy that throbbed in her veins. When her epiphany faded, she was left boneless and limp.
That was a glorious memory, and savouring it has let down her honey. Helina’s fingers easily slide in and out of her pussy, her kegel muscles thrum around their invasion. She pictures her lover nestled between her thighs, how deftly their fingers would dip and dive. Circling her clitoris, now oiled with desire, they would graze her g-spot and, with skill and dexterity, set about teasing forth ripples and flickers of lust, pushing Helina’s pleasure to new heights.
She reaches her arm to locate the toy in its box, sliding off the lid to admire the naughty item nestled within. It’s beautiful, coated in high-quality, soft silicone, of a texture that drags slightly at her skin as she strokes its length and eases it from its moulding. She admires its rounded ends and the almost indigo colour, somehow fitting, as she has wicked intentions for the dildo.
Helina raises it and presses it against her full lips, wishing for her lover’s kiss. In their absence, she licks it seductively. If only they were here to join in: Tease and be teased. She intends to put on a smoking sexual performance. Taking the dildo’s length between finger and thumb, she manipulates it, bending it into a curve, one she predicts will nudge deliciously against her g-spot. It slips inside her pussy with ease and she rocks it deeper, licking her lips as she pleasures herself, quickly becoming stimulated to new levels of excitement.
Helina pouts with disappointment. She has missed an opportunity to record her self-pleasure for her lover, but it’s too late now. Still, she’ll perform as if she has an audience; she’s a woman who gets her kicks from putting on a show and being centre stage. She visualises her lover looking on at how she touches herself, shamelessly coaxing pleasure from her body. Why not? They arranged this gift, they must surely know she’ll use it.
Determined to draw out each moment, and demonstrate how her pleasure ratchets up the scale, she grasps the toy to straighten it, then liberally coats its girth with lube. There’s something about being as slippery as an eel that’s very sexy, and the slight chill of the gel against her over-heated folds makes her shiver and squirm.
Helina rubs the tip of the toy through her slit and around her entrance, grazing her clit to thrilling effect. She imagines her lover asking, How much do you want this, bitch? If only the photographer was here, she would share her greed for stimulation: Give it to me, I want it all!
But would they penetrate her forcefully, plunge in for her to enjoy the stretch? Or would they prefer to be a tease, to edge her for longer? Right now, she is teetering, her thirst balanced on a sharp blade, clawing at her to submit and succumb or risk a climax slipping through her fingers forever. She doesn’t know if her lover would be merciful, and give her the green light for pleasure.
Helina needs this, it’s what she craves but—she bites her lip—does she deserve it? Sometimes she enjoys acting the bratty bitch. She needs somebody who embraces that, a dominant lover with a slow hand, like in the song.
She closes her eyes, lets her fingers rock the dildo into her body, setting a steady rhythm. Heat pools in the cradle of her pelvis as she takes some deep thrusts, other times more shallow. She sits cupped in the embrace of the leather chair, exploring her limits. Helina’s channel ripples and she’s enslaved by her enthusiasm. Her pelvis strains and rises, themuscles in her legs and abdomen tighten. She drives the toe of her killer heel downwards, tramping the floor. One calf tenses in her effort to cant her hip upwards. She tucks and angles her pelvis, desire holds her body as taut as a bowstring, her whole being keening for more.
Her mind screams out her need for satisfaction, but what if her lover doesn’t hear her, or they live to tease? The ache in her core is powerful, a tension that drives her to crave and beg, but today the power is in her hands.
Le petit mort the French call it, and as Helina’s body climbs the sheer precipice of needful desire, she will grasp it, whatever the cost. The little death is not such a silly name when, in the throes of passion, devil’s bargains would be made to reach that pinnacle, capture that high. The pursuit of an orgasm is a thrilling challenge: an obstacle race, a mountain climb, chasing a tiger over rugged terrain.
Even as Helina masturbates, able to control the depth of penetration, the speed of the thrusts and all the angles, there’s no certainty. A climax might still evade her, dancing its Nirvana-tinged allure just out of reach. She will not give up, her body needs this.
Helina fondles her breasts as she moves the dildo. They require rougher handling than before, mild pain to generate sparks of need, so she is pinching and pulling them. She wishes her lover was near enough to nip them, or suck hard and draw her teats into their mouth. While she imagines how they would roll and tease her fevered flesh between puckered lips, the touchpaper ignites and her inner heat flares. A starburst in her pelvis makes her cry out, and her toes curl in her shoes.
It’s an explosion followed by a fizzing response, like popping the cork of Champagne. Now Helina’s mind turns over a sexy fantasy her lover recently shared. They want to drizzle vintage golden bubbles against her flawless skin: Use only their tongue to lick it off. How decadent it would be to feel Champagne froth from the neck of a heavy green bottle and spill down her tawny torso, a trickling line of liquid running from her clavicle to her navel? It enhances her pleasure to visualise a trail of Veuve Clicquot creeping sensually onwards, a rivulet that puddles in the shallow dip in her flat stomach. Its presence would be ticklish and cool, but gravity would coax it ever lower, leaking into the musky shadows between her thighs. Down to where she longs to be licked, the source of the ache within, which is gnawing like hunger, pulling like need. This fantasy fuels her desire, she pushes her hips up to meet the thrust of the dildo with a primitive urge. The muscles of her pussy grasp and draw inwards, craving its insistent invasion to plunder her depths, the toy’s length hits all the sweet spots, but it doesn’t spill her into oblivion.
More, fuck me harder! Her mind and body cast off caution and refuse to tolerate another moment of tease. When she splays her fingers and circles them around, pressing against her clit, she is skilfully playing that bundle of nerve endings in a swirling dance, like a fiddler bowing a furious jig. Her fingers can perform magic, weaving a web of desire so strong she can neither evade nor deny it. Helina’s body is pulled tight on a rack of sensation; her breaths become deep and gasping to match the rhythm of her wrist action. While rocking the toy inside her, she is stirred to silken heights, decadentimages swirl in her mind, fragmented and inflammatory.
Helina bites her lip and tilts her pelvis, every muscle strains to pull their goal into focus. She raises her legs, drawing those wild sensations as close as she can. Desire possesses her, raking like burning fingers down her skin, pricking her scalp, thudding like a bass drum between her thighs until she gasps.
More, more. I want to take it all! Her confession of hunger is insistent, it’s written like a mantra over her skin, puts lava in her veins, a cry of jubilation on her lips. I’m coming! I’m coming!
When her climax crashes over her, it’s like a rip curl that sweeps her along with its force. Helina is both broken and rescued by the intensity. It is natural like a thunderstorm, with clashes of lightning. A magnificent reaction, chafing her sensitivity raw, every nerve ending hums with its power, vibrating pleasure from her buzzing lips to her cramping toes. She’s turned on and turned out. Pressing her thighs together she attempts to contain the pulsing that she chased so hard to capture, but she’s awash with satisfaction and release.
As she comes down, she continues sliding the toy gently between her legs, extending the aftershocks that ripple through her, wrapped in the hazy bliss from that tide of endorphins. She smoothes one hand over her breasts, which are hypersensitive, their nipples still peaked. They send fizzing messages to her overloaded clit: The hub of the orgasmic frenzy she has just endured.
Helina stretches gently, her languor lends her grace, but before she can unfold from the deep chair and return the toy, her source of pleasure, to the box, she hears a click. The distinctive snick of a camera shutter alerts her to the presence of a voyeur. At first she is curious, and then becomes delighted. She pretends to be unaware of the intrusion, moving casually to pick up the magazine and open it to the place where she found the note. Now her lover is here, in person, bending to steal a kiss from her smirking lips.
“I very much enjoyed your show, my little vixen,” the rasp and thickness of the photographer’s voice lends truth to that statement, and Helina preens with visible pride.
“I needed you earlier,” she pouts, letting the fur fall open to put her perfect breasts on display.
“Oh I don’t know…” Helina’s lover traces the topography of her beautiful body with cool fingers, slowing only to pinch a nipple before dipping between her thighs into the dewy heat of her pussy. “You seemed to grasp pleasure with both hands. I’m worried my little gift may replace me.”
“Never,” Helina’s steady gaze brooks no argument, “I know plenty of things it can’t do.”
She fists her hand in her lover’s jacket and draws them down to their knees.
“Kiss me,” she commands, leaning forward.
She stops short of their lips, allowing them to take the initiative and claim her mouth, their tongue sliding against hers. With a grin the photographer draws back.
“I can taste you,” they remark, planting a hand on each of her bare knees, “but I want more.”
“Take it, it’s all yours,” Helina sighs expansively, allowing her legs to be spread wider. As she submits, the weight of one shoe dangles precariously from her toes.
Her lover presses warm lips and a lithe, tickling tongue to her slit, keenly lapping and suckling. Their ministrations magnify every sensation Helina recently experienced. She sinks her fingers into her lover’s hair and writhes greedily against their mouth.
“If there’s a toy that replicates that, I haven’t found it yet,” she sighs, immersed in bliss yet alert to the sound of the cast buzzing to get in at the stage door.
The End

Alexis snuggled up against Jimmy’s warm naked chest. “Do you think anyone saw us slip away?

“From the party?”

She giggled. “Yes, from the party.”

He kissed the top of her head and pulled her closer, his bed-warm scent wrapping around her the way the duvet was around her stocking-clad legs.

“Office parties are usually the worst,” he said. “Especially when in a local hotel, but last night, that was the best damn party I’ve ever been to.”

“Was it the cheap wine and sausage rolls?” she asked.

He chuckled and trailed his fingertips over her bare shoulder. “It was dessert I enjoyed the most.”

“Dessert? I can’t remember what that was?”

He pulled her closer and tipped her face up to his. “You were dessert.”

She smiled and accepted his lingering kiss.

“I’ve been crazy about you for as long as I can remember,” he murmured onto her lips. “Seeing you every day, in those tight little skirts, those sexy trousers that hug your arse… it’s been driving me insane.” He stroked her hair. “You have no idea how much I’ve longed to touch you. I’ve dreamed of holding you like this, imagined the scent of your hair and the softness of your skin.”

“Well, you have me now.” She circled her fingertip around his small dark nipple.

“It wasn’t just a one-night stand?”

She saw the vulnerability in his eyes. “No. Not for me, it wasn’t.”

“Not for me either. And for the record I couldn’t care less if anyone saw us leaving together. I’m proud to be seen with you, Alexis, to be with you… you’re amazing.”

Alexis’ heart melted a little more for him. Jimmy had been her office crush for so long. Each morning she’d fussed over her outfits with him on her mind. Spent good money on perfume and make-up and in the hope of something happening in the stationary cupboard. She’d also splashed cash on some seriously fancy underwear. It was delicate floral lace in baby blue and white—a bra, knickers and suspender set.

“You want some breakfast?” he asked.

“Yes, but I don’t want to get up.” She didn’t want the night to end even though the morning sun would soon be floodingthe room.

“So let’s have breakfast in bed.” He reached for the phone. “Shall I order us a couple of coffees and some pastries.”

“Food and sex… um you know me so well.”

“I know you bring a latte and a croissant into the office every morning.”

“You’ve been watching me.” She tipped her head at him.

“You know damn well I have been watching you.”

Jimmy ordered, then paused to re-light the candles on the bedside table. “See, this night doesn’t have to end.”

“That makes me very happy.”

“I could make you happier.” He gave her a wickedly sexy grin and set about kissing her, his hands roaming into the dips and curves of her body.

She explored his body too. Wide strong shoulders that until recently she’d only ever seen covered in a pristine white shirt, a slender waist and best of all a high taut butt that felt as good as it looked in his suit trousers.

Knock. Knock.

Alexis slipped from his hold. “Breakfast is here.”

She opened the door, stuck her arm out, and took the coffee and box of croissants. “Thank you.”

Turning back to the room, delicious anticipation gripped her. The previous night had been intense, an explosion of pent-up lust and desire that had seared through their bodies as they’d ripped at each other’s clothes and he’d taken her fast and hard. They’d fucked again, twice more, before showering and falling into an exhausted sleep. It was as if they’d had to get it out of their system, the hours, days, weeks and months of wanting each other. Watching from a distance, dreaming and fantasising.

It had been the best night of her life.

And now she wanted it slow and seductive, which is why she’d put on the expensive lingerie again, it was too nice not to be admired.

“Come here,” he said, “I’m missing you already.”

Alexis giggled, enjoying their new easy way to be together, climbed onto the bed and took a coffee.

Jimmy wore tight white boxers, and as he undid the bow on the box of pastries, she admired the long, thick wedge of flesh beneath them.

He was hard again and ready to go.

A small quiver attacked her pussy, and she remembered him tipping her over and taking her from behind, bringing them both to a wild orgasm that had her screaming his name and the neighbour banging on the adjoining wall.

Tearing her eyes away from his cock she accepted a chocolate-sprinkled croissant. “This looks nice.”

He pushed the hair from her face as she closed her eyes and bit into the soft, sweet delight.

“Is that good?” he murmured.

“Mmm, it’s gorgeous.”

He kissed her cheek. “You gonna give me a bit?”

“A little bit.”

He laughed and took a chunk of the chocolate topping. “Yeah, it is nice. Sweet, like you.”

She laughed, loving his easy relaxed state. He was erect and ready for fucking but he was in no rush. It was very different to the night before. Not that she was complaining. “There’s chocolate all over you.” With the tip of her finger she caught a flake sitting just above his navel. “Messy boy.”

“Do we ever have to leave this room?” he said, his eyes glinting with the lust she’d seen in them when they’d been in the lift, practically running away from the party.

“Not if I have my way. I could stay here all day, tomorrow too.” She gave a small shrug.
“We could always rebook the room, it’s Saturday after all. Would give us the entire weekend.”

“I like the way your mind works.”

He grinned, took the coffee from her hand, and set it aside.

As he stretched, she took the opportunity to set her palm over his cock. It was warm and solid as it pressed against the material of his boxers. Her heart did a little trip of excitement. It was time to get up close and personal again.

“Oh yeah?” he said, turning back to her and wrapping her in his arms. “That’s what you want?”

“Yes.” She giggled. “Don’t you?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” He kissed her, his tongue searching for hers, then stroking against it.

She tasted chocolate and coffee and Jimmy’s unique delicious flavour. She didn’t think she’d ever get enough of him either.

“We’ve got hours,” he whispered, his embrace possessive and firm. “And I intend to enjoy every moment of it.”

“You do?”

“Hell yeah.”

She flicked her hair over her shoulder and straddled him, setting her pussy over his cock and grinding with just their underwear between them. Her clit trembled, and her breath hitched.

“Oh yeah…” he murmured, sliding his hand to her arse cheeks. “That’s bringing back memories.”

“Good memories?”

“The best.” His kisses spread to her neck as he cupped her breasts over her bra.

Impatience gripped Alexis for a moment, but then she willed restraint. Jimmy was right, and there was no rush. They should linger and savour each other. Oh, but his cock, right there, beneath her, it was so tempting, so damn hard. All she needed to do was release it and shove at her knickers, and she could ride him like a cowgirl.

“Hey,” he said, as though guessing her thoughts. “Slow. Like this.” He took control, urging her backwards until she was lying flat. He gripped her hips, pulled her beneath him and then kissed her again.

She giggled and pulled up her knees to hug his hips. He ground against her, teasing her, making her want him more than she ever thought was possible.

“Fuck me.”

“Not yet.”

“But…”

“Your pussy is gonna be my breakfast,” he said in a wonderfully deep sexy voice. “And I’m hungry.”

And then he was drifting downward, his lips trailing over her flesh. He pulled at her bra, exposing her breasts and hard nipples and then went lower until his face was between her legs.

“Oh yes… please, please.” She pushed at her knickers.

He helped them on their way and then positioned himself. “This is better than croissant, this is what I wanted.”

Without waiting for her to reply, he nuzzled his face into her wet folds, his nose pressing into her tiny triangle of pubic hair.

“Oh yes,” she moaned, arching her spine and pressing her head onto the bed. “That’s good. Just there.”

He set to work, busily rotating her clit and stroking around her entrance.

Alexis trembled and let out a stuttering groan. She wound her fingers into his hair and tugged at the roots.

He was so damn good at giving oral and clearly enjoying himself.

Soon the pressure was mounting. The need to come was growing. She luxuriated in the build-up. But just as it was getting almost too much to contain, he rose up over her.

“You taste so good,” he said, feeding her own flavour onto her lips. “Perfect.”

“I want your cock,”

“It’s here for you.” He released it. Thick and long and with twisting veins. He angled it at her wet pussy and pushed in.

She gasped at the stretching and then let out a groan as he set up the perfect rhythm, massaging her breasts and tweaking her nipples at the same time.

“Jimmy, oh yes, more.”

He gave it, pumping in and out of her, his body grinding on her clit.

“Oh, oh, oh…”

“Take what you need.” He nipped her earlobe. “Take all of it.”

Her orgasm was so close. She was going to come. Climax always arrived swiftly after oral. She was so stimulated, so wet for it. And Jimmy was getting it just right, hitting the spot every time.

He ducked to suckle her nipples. The sensation went straight to her clit. She could contain it no longer and let out a wail as bliss burst from her clit and her pussy spasmed.

“Ah fuck yeah, like that,” he grunted. “Baby.”

She was shaking in his arms, her toes curled and her breaths were hard to catch. Had she ever come with such potency, such exquisite ecstasy? She didn’t think so. She and Jimmy were meant to be. They were made for each other. Their naked, warm bodies were poetry in motion.

He held her tight, his fingers in her hair, his embrace sure and firm. She could fall apart and he’d catch her, she knew that.

Still she ground onto his hard cock. He hadn’t come yet, and she hoped when he did, she’d join him again.

“That was… so good…” she gasped.

“Tell me about it.” He smiled at her, adoration in the depths of his blue eyes.

“How do you want to come?” she asked before kissing him deeply. Her heart was still pounding, and her pulse was loud in her ears.

After a few moments, he pulled away. “I want to see your pretty arse.”

“You do?”

“Hell yeah? Finally, I get to see it naked. I’m never going to get bored of that.”

She giggled and slipped from his warmth, getting onto her hands and knees and presenting him with her behind. Giving a little wiggle she felt so wanton and needy, but she didn’t care. Right now, she was his. He could do what he wanted with her. She trusted him entirely.

“Give me strength,” he muttered, palming her arse cheeks. “You are so fucking perfect.”

Alexis didn’t have a chance to answer because he was kissing her buttocks, licking and caressing. Oh, and then he swiped his tongue upward, over the tight pucker of her arsehole.

She gasped, the sensation illicit and dark but also erotic.

He chuckled and slid up to kiss the back of her neck. “You’re a hot little thing, you know that.”

“Jimmy,” she gasped.

His cock was at her entrance. He straightened and gripped her hips and then slid in on a long, wet ride to full depth.

She closed her eyes and groaned. He felt so good, dense and heavy and he filled her with everything she needed.

“I’m still not rushing,” he said, slowly pulling almost out and then riding back in. “You’re too gorgeous not to enjoy to the max.”

“Oh…” she moaned softly and rocked with his movements.

He gripped her suspender belt, keeping her where he wanted her. His cock was so hard she didn’t know how he was holding off.

Her pussy quivered, he was hitting her G-spot with each glide by of his cock. So damn good.

“Baby.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her up so her back was against his chest.

“Oh God,” she gasped. This new angle was insane, the tip of his cock pushing at her G-spot as he drove in. “That’s…”

“Fucking hot.” He licked her ear, his breaths a storm of excitement. “And you’re taking it all, all of me.”

“Yes. Yes.”

His hands were on her breasts. She was going to come again. It was sensation overload, and her G-spot was taking the brunt of it.

“Jimmy… oh… don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He upped the pace, held her tighter and a gloriously powerful orgasm ravaged her. Bright lights flashed in her vision, and her heart thudded against her sternum.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “You’re wild.”

Her orgasm had barely subsided, and he tipped her forward to her hands and knees and began fucking her slowly again. This extended her climax and she fisted the sheets as a tremble went up her spine.

“I’ve imagined doing this to you over the boardroom table,” he said breathlessly. “So many times.”

“Oh God, yes, you should. You should do that.”

“We’ll stay late one night. I’ll fuck you, like this.”

“Fuck… yes.”

He grunted and upped the pace.

“And the stationery cupboard? You going to fuck me there too, Jimmy?”

“First chance I get.”

She pulled away.

“Hey.”

“I want to taste you,” she said, shoving at his chest. “Lie down.”

He did as instructed, and she positioned herself between his legs. Taking his cock in her hand she looked up at him. He was so handsome, she was a lucky girl. And his cock, it was perfect.

His features had a slack quality as she licked his glans, then took him between her lips. He moaned. She took him deeper until he hit the back of her throat.

“Oh God, Alexis. I’m going to…”

She pulled up—she wanted him to come inside her, with her, not like this.

He reached for her, swiftly, urgently, pulling her to him.

She straddled his cock and sat down on it, impatient now to be filled, to feel him orgasm.

Her pussy was slick with her arousal, and her skin tingled.

He wrapped her in his arms, holding her as though he’d never let her go and kissed her in a way that made her believe she was his everything.

“Come,” she said onto his lips. “It’s time.”

He didn’t answer, but his flushed cheeks and glazed eyes told her just how close he was.

She gyrated her hips and gave him all of her best moves. Within seconds he was panting. The root of his cock so hard it stretched her entrance.

“I’m coming,” he gasped. “Fuck I’m coming.”

He blasted his climax into her. Flesh slapped against flesh.

Another, sweet, small orgasm shook her as he released inside of her. The long, ecstatic moan that tore from his throat etched into her memory.

It was her turn to hold him as he shook and trembled. He was lost to bliss. His kisses were distracted, and his body was as hard as granite.

He grasped her arse cheeks, gripping them, it was as if he couldn’t get close enough, touch enough of her at once. Get deep enough.

Another long stuttering groan left him, and then he relaxed, as though the orgasm had drained his energy entirely.

“You okay?” she asked, stroking his hair back from his damp brow.

“Never fucking better.” He grinned up at her; a suddenly lazy, languid grin that told her just how satisfied he was.

“We’re good together.”

“I never doubted we would be.” He slid his fingertips up her spine and filled his hand with her hair. “Please say this is it.”

“What do you mean?”

“That there’s an us now. We’re not single any more.”

She raised her eyebrows. “That’s fast?”

“Alexis, I’ve wanted you for so long, longer than I can even remember, how is that fast?”

“But it was only last night, after a few wines that you told me.”

“I’m a shy guy?”

She huffed. “The way you ripped my dress off, before the hotel room door had even shut, that’s not shy.”

“I’d been pushed to my limit, everyone has a break point.”

She giggled. “Okay, I get it.” For a moment, she thought about what he’d said. Was she ready to say she had a boyfriend after being single for so long? Was she ready for commitment?”

“I’m not asking you to marry me,” he said with a tentative grin. “I just want to be with you, whenever and wherever possible. I want to spend rainy Sundays curled up watching movies with you and plan weekends away, and bring you coffee and croissants at your desk when you were in too much of a rush to stop off at the cafe for them.”

“I would never have taken you for a romantic, Jimmy. That all sounds lovely.”

“So don’t tell anyone, I only want to be romantic with you.” He lifted his head and kissed her. “It’s only ever been you.”

Alexis melted against him. Happiness filled her. A beautiful warmth wrapped around her. Embraced in Jimmy’s arms it was as if the rest of the world had faded away.

Eventually, he broke the kiss. “So what do you think?”

“About what?”

“About us?”

She smiled. “I think there most definitely should be an us, and I think we should shout it from the rooftops. I also think…”

“What?” He frowned.

“That we should finish those croissants.”

The End

They knew better than to dare her. Really. Yes, they’d only met very recently but surely they knew she was a challenge queen.
Evelyn checked the lighting again. Perfect.
Knowing Nikki and Charles would be watching on separate screens, knowing she would be able to see their every move gave Evelyn such a need. Her pussy clenched and pulsed as she checked and rechecked the angles. She’d set up her phone and laptop, sending Zoom invitations to her new lovers.
To think, only two weeks ago they’d been fucking one another’s brains out after a very successful group sex party. It wasn’t usual for Evelyn to take people home after a fuckfest, but they’d had such a ride that she couldn’t resist. The three of them had stayed together the whole weekend writhing and intertwined until they could barely tell where one ended and the other began. It was surreal and the spectre of a lockdown flirting at the edges of their tryst made it all the more desperate.
If only they’d stayed one more night. But on Monday they’d gone their separate ways and the lockdown was announced that evening.
Was it for the best? Evelyn craved the physical connection and fucking couples with abandon but was it so good precisely because of the looming doom and separation? Would they just get on one another’s nerves if they were cooped up together for god knows how long?
Well, not much they could do about it now. They were three lone unicorns. Doing their bit to save the world by virtual fucking over the internet.
The party had been sensational, one of the classy ones. You could taste the luxury and promise of pleasure in the air as soon as you entered. Set in one of the city’s best hotels, Evelyn had just known this was going to be the party to end all parties… Of course, she could never have anticipated that it actually was the end of all parties… for now. She was determined to keep up the passion of the night. The three of them had clicked instantly, Nikki wearing a gold, barely-there dress that shimmered over her quivering tits as Evelyn had looked over her shoulder while leading her upstairs to a private suite. Charles had brought up the rear, for not the first time that night, Evelyn smiled to herself. Yes indeed, he’d taken both of them until their pussies were raw and had found his pleasure deep inside Evelyn’s arse. Oh the feeling of being stretched wide open for him to bury himself into her had her dripping with desire. She remembered groaning as he’d pressed into her while she’d been sliding her fingers up inside Nikki’s wet cunt, licking at her beautiful tight little clit, coaxing it out, swirling her tongue and flicking, making the juices flow.
It was a sublime moment. She’d wanted to stretch Nikki the way she was being stretched and had reached for the gold bulb butt plug on the nightstand. Every room had been equipped with expensive sex toys and she’d been delighted to find this one.
She’d pressed it up against the tight ring of muscles, pulsing gently, knowing there was no way her Nikki Doll was ready for such an invasion. It was even big for her so Evelyn had contented herself with fingering her lover’s pussy and hinting at invading her darkest private space. In no time, Nikki had grabbed Evelyn’s hair tight and started writhing out her orgasm on her face and hands, juices spilling from her freshly fucked cunt.
Evelyn squirmed with arousal and Charles had reached from her hip to her clit and rubbed hard in rhythm with the ass fucking he was giving. It was so good but she needed more.
“I want fucking in both holes,” She’d gasped when Nikki’s orgasm subsided.
Nikki unfurled herself and crawled down the bed, grabbing a long dildo on the way.
“With pleasure,” she said, twisting her body so she could reach between her two lovers’ legs and force the golden silicon dildo up into Evelyn’s greedy cunt.
Evelyn bore down and opened up, growling in her throat as the tip of the dildo breached her, stretching and sliding on up beside Charles’ cock. She’d felt so full, ready to split with pleasure. Everything had started to pulse, her eyelids fluttered closed, her stomach muscles clenched and her pussy and arse began to squeeze and release automatically. She wasn’t in control. Usually she’d have to walk the line, concentrating hard to maintain the build-up but this, this was something else. It started at the tip of her clit where he rubbed furiously, then spread down either side of her labia, deep into her cunt as if her cervix took over then down her back passage to the highly charged anal nerve endings. She folded in on herself over and over, flipping in out and through until she’d merged with her lovers on another plane—melting, combining, becoming as one.
It was beautiful and so much more than physical.
An intense blast of pleasure tore through every cell until Evelyn had slumped on the bed, vaguely aware of Charles heaving above her, warmth filling her arsehole as he spurted his hot jizz deep inside her.
When they’d all fallen into one another’s arms languidly trailing fingertips over flesh, exploring and delighting in each other, they had no idea this was the last physical contact they’d have with anyone for potentially many months.
Evelyn had wondered at that so many times since. It was as if the universe had gifted them a perfect moment to remember and revisit.
And now, she was more than ready to revisit it.
A couple more camera adjustments and a quick check to make sure the radiators were turned up. She was sure there was going to be plenty of heat very soon but she didn’t want a chill or draught to knock her off her stride. She was very temperature sensitive but determined to be completely naked throughout.
She hit send on the invitation email and sprang back into the chair, draping herself casually to disguise the tremors of nervous excitement which had started to course through her veins.
She’d muted her phone to stop any feedback and squealed as Nikki joined the call. Evelyn’s breath hitched as she saw her lover had chosen to wear the very same dress from that night. She’d hooked it up to expose her panties which looked like they might already be a little damp.
“Why hello,” she said and blew a kiss to the camera.
“Hi yourself,” Nikki said, adjusting her pose so that one of the spaghetti straps fell from her shoulder, making her dress slip just low enough to see the areola of one of those perfect delicious nipples.
A tickle of arousal tingled at Evelyn’s own nipples to think of tasting and nibbling the little buds.
The fourth screen blinked into action.
Charles.
Well fuck. He’d gone all out. A bottle of Remy was on a coffee table next to him and his body was slung sexily on a leather chair. He swirled the liquid in a large crystal glass, letting Evelyn know he was most definitely ready for a show. With bare feet and a denim-clad leg hanging seductively over the arm of the chair, he made Evelyn’s pussy quiver. Fuck, there was something so sexy about a masculine big toe. Nothing dainty there—sheer power to ground and carry the weight of this great manly presence.
Her arsehole twitched at the memory of his invasion.
“So here we are,” Evelyn said and Charles lifted his glass giving a dark mysterious smile.
“Here we are,” he responded in that voice that melted her heart and cunt.
“I’m going to mute you now.” Evelyn leaned forward, flicking their sound off so all attention was on her.
She admired her long lean limbs on screen, watching as they watched. This conference calling was indeed a great thing, especially when used for more creative pursuits.
She leaned back in the chair, determined to get everyone as hot as possible as quickly as possible. Trailing her hands down to her cunt, Evelyn spread her legs and pulled open her labia right away, knowing that’s what they came for. Ah yes.
She wasted no time in frigging her clit round and round back and forth, edging herself and bringing up the pleasure quickly, her juices building and welling just inside her entrance. She wanted to coat her fingers in her own sticky wanton need for her lovers.
There was great power in being the one they watched. She flicked her gaze to the screen to see her two lovers’ eyes staring intently, right between her thighs, exactly where she wanted them.
“Yes, keep looking, you greedy voyeurs. Watch how my pretty cunt loves to have you look at it.”
She shifted in her chair and pressed her thighs even further apart, exposing her shining pink bud to them both. It looked beautiful. Like a precious seashell, glistening on a sunny beach.
She ran her fingertips up and down, starting at the top of her clit, getting lower each time, pressing deeper into her slit with every stroke.
Nikki bit her lip as she watched Evelyn penetrate herself fully with her fingers, gently at first, then tipping forward to get a proper purchase, bringing her fingers out fast as if she were being fucked by Charles’ cock.
It was quite a tricky manoeuvre but felt so good. Evelyn thrust in over and over again, jamming her fingers deep into her cunt which was now slick with need.
Ah yes, her screens showed Nikki was rubbing her pussy through the gusset of her panties and there was a distinct bulge in Charles’ jeans.
This was going very nicely.
“You like this?” she asked feigning innocence.
They nodded in unison.
“Let me see how much,” Evelyn goaded. She wanted hard cocks and splayed open cunts on display for her too. “Mmm, that’s it.”
Nikki was the first to oblige, dragging her knickers fully to the side to expose her dripping pussy, circling between the folds until her fingers shone with her juices.
“Your turn,” Evelyn nodded to Charles and he stood. He’d clearly angled his laptop very carefully as his entire crotch area was perfectly in frame. He made a show of slowly unbuttoning his fly and pulling down the zipper over his hard-on.
One thing that absolutely killed Evelyn dead with lust, was the sight of a man reaching into his jeans to drag out a thick firm cock in his fist. Unfff.
Evelyn groaned deep in her throat and licked her lips, toying with one of her nipples. She quickly looked at Nikki who was mirroring her exact actions. Pussy in one hand nipple in the other while they both gazed salaciously at Charles’ cock.
He was now pumping it slowly right into the camera, the tiny slit already oozing delicious precum made Evelyn’s mouth water.
“Mmm you bad boy.” She licked her lips and pounded her pussy deeper, the heel of her hand grazing her clit with every thrust.
Rubbing harder and fingering faster, Evelyn’s climax gripped at her core, pulling her into an unexpected orgasm. Shaking, she rode the wave, bucking the tremors of pleasure out onto her fingers. Her pussy clenched around her digits, hungry for something more. She wanted to get higher, higher. Remembering the golden plug, she reached over to the small table.
“Nikki Doll I have a surprise to show you.”
She lifted it up to the camera and delighted in the widening of Nikki’s eyes.
She didn’t need to hear the words her lover was mouthing.
“You stole it?”
Both lovers looked shocked and thrilled at the same time. Evelyn had indeed stolen it. And she was glad she had. A physical memento of a perfect night.
The bulbous head of the plug was cold making Evelyn shiver as she placed the tip to her entrance, chilling her lips and hole. It was a strange yet enticing sensation and her head fell back as her body acclimatised to the coolness. She toyed with her pussy, gripping the tail of the plug between her long fingers, pushing and stretching at her entrance, just enough for her cunt to clench and suckle, trying to take it from her grasp. Such a greedy cunt. She sighed.
Her audience was staring, transfixed with her every move and Evelyn was fucking loving it.
Yes, watch me. Watch me fuck my pretty pussy, watch me stretch my delicate walls for your amusement.
The plug was weighty and its girth was quite a challenge. She knew she could easily take it though—she was so turned on, but teasing and edging herself like this was beyond arousing and she was loving every second. She shifted again, pulling her knees up, opening wider if that was possible. She was pleased to find that it was. Her legs brought high gave an even better view and Evelyn craved the feeling of another human shunting themselves into her.
She rubbed the gold orb over her clit revelling in the slippery hard metal brushing against her nub, almost taking her breath away. Then, she pushed it down to her hole, brutally shoving it inside, watching on screen as it was swallowed up into her darkness. Unfff fuck. That was hot.
She felt so full, it pushed up against the front and back of her vagina and as she tugged to pull it back out, the pressure dragged against her G-spot and anal walls.
Charles had amped up his fist fucking and his hand became a blur, he was clearly enjoying scene two.
And to Evelyn’s delight, Nikki had brought out a long golden dildo and was holding open her lips, ready to penetrate herself.
The cheeky minx had stolen one too!
They both looked up to their cameras at the same time and Evelyn raised an eyebrow, flicking her gaze to the stolen goods, just as Nikki shoved the dildo savagely into herself. She was clearly ready for a fucking. She jackhammered herself with the gold toy, sliding its length in and out harder and harder while the other hand flicked frantically over her clit.
If only Evelyn could lick at that juicy knot. She remembered her flavour so perfectly, nectar on her tongue, silken juices quenching her lustful thirst.
Her own pussy spasmed and beckoned her to fuck. She pulled hard on the bulb, releasing it and watched how her cunt closed as she withdrew, then opened back up, stretching to accommodate the huge golden toy. She loved how pliable and strong her flesh was, she pulsed and thrust. All three of them had fallen into a rhythm of fuck and the wet sexy noises had her yearning and salivating. Evelyn suddenly connected with the aural stimuli and she quickly bent forward to unmute her lovers, craving their sex sounds too.
Oh, yes, and she got them. Nikki’s pussy was being deliciously pounded, sucking and releasing satisfying Evelyn’s ear—and the slap, slap of Charles jacking himself off had her practically fractalling into orgasm with that sound alone.
“Fuck this is hot,” deeper and harder Evelyn plundered herself with the golden plug, twisting her fingers into the stem. She was dragging it out and in a bit harder than she ought to but she wanted that raw feral rampage she’d experienced back in the hotel. She yearned for that feeling of surrender, of minds, bodies and souls meeting on a different plane. Here they were—fucking from afar, finding their unity through the ether, it was like magic. Energy roared between them all until Evelyn swore she could smell their mingled scents as she rose up on her wave of pleasure. Like flotsam and jetsam being flung to the far corners of the universe, they were seeking, searching, and yearning for connection with each other mounting their climaxes together and apart.
She fucked harder, all sinews and muscles pounding and vibrating to the point where they sung out then she paused, taking a moment to check the screens, wherein that one moment they’d all paused. A look passed between them, in the eye of the storm, the knowledge that they were more than the physical, and for the briefest of moments, they’d shared eternity.
And then, with a tsunami of energy blasting through the planes of existence, they recommenced their actions, fingering fisting frigging fucking until one by one they crashed out their shuddering orgasms onto their own hands, into their own chairs, in their own rooms, in their own apartments. But somehow, when the shuddering and panting ebbed and subsided, each was left with the knowledge that they were expanded. No longer, separate individuals, they had enmeshed and combined on the glorious plane of fuck.
Chests rising and falling, the three slumped back and let themselves be still together. Happy to be in one another’s company, soft and quiet, they were content.
Evelyn smiled and lifted the now warm golden toy to her chest, cradling it there, her memento. Her solid gold moment.

I stood outside Room 856, held the silver tray aloft in my left hand and knocked quietly on the door. There was a pregnant pause of one or two seconds before an elderly gentleman greeted me expectantly.
“Room service,” I announced.
The man eyed the tall glass of warm milk on the tray and beckoned me into the room.
“I know it’s late,” he started, “but my wife is not sleeping well.”
“It’s all part of the service, sir,” I replied. I placed the silver tray down on an antique oak sideboard, picked up the glass of milk and set it down on the bedside table next to an ageing woman, who looked up at me smiling.
“Thank you,” she whispered, softly.
“You’re welcome, madam,” I replied.
Bidding my farewell, I made my way along the red-carpeted eighth-floor corridor of the resplendent hotel towards the lift, the silver tray tucked neatly under my arm. This was my second week as a night porter at the hotel, the hours were long and hard to endure, but I needed the money to help fund my university course. The job was anti-social too, but again, it allowed me to catch up on my studies, indulge in a little surfing of the net and listen to music; all things I had found little time to do of late. I was also saving myself a small fortune by not being out all hours, drinking with my mates, even if they were on the verge of disowning me. OK, so I was often called upon at two o’clock in the morning by guests pestering me for hot glasses of milk, but it was also good to stretch the legs every once in a while.
Suddenly I heard the sound of laughter, followed by a loud cracking noise. I stopped dead in my tracks and listened, thinking I might have imagined it. There it was again, a loud slap, this time followed by a low, female groan. The sounds were emanating from Room 812. Gingerly approaching the door, I held my ear to the dark mahogany wooden surface and heard the muffled strains of music within. A third thwack made me jump and the tray fell from under my arm and clattered on the corridor floor. I withdrew from the door, picked up the tray and beat a hasty retreat to the hotel lift.
Back at my desk, I picked up my course book and resumed reading, taking a bite from the un-finished sandwich I had made for myself some twenty minutes earlier. It was after turning two pages I realised I hadn’t digested a word, my mind pre-occupied with what I’d heard up on the eighth floor. Curiosity finally got the better of me and I tapped in the room number on the hotel computer to discover the occupant was a Ms Collins, staying for one night only. Moreover, the adjoining room, 814, was one of the few in the hotel that was available as a family suite, together with Room 812. An inter-connecting door provided access between the two rooms. However, Ms Collins was paying for a single occupancy and Room 814 was currently unoccupied.
My body tingled with excitement as I mulled these thoughts over in my mind. It would be both immoral and negligent behaviour to even consider abandoning my duties to eavesdrop on a guest in the hotel. I drew open the drawer of my desk and stared at the set of master keys to the hotel rooms. Immoral and negligent indeed, I thought; but sometimes these things just had to be investigated or voyuered.
My heart raced as I exited the lift once more on the eighth floor and made my way along the corridor. I paused at the door to Room 812, held my breath and listened. I could just discern the strains of the music from inside the room. I smiled quietly to myself and continued to the door of the adjoining room. It was now almost two thirty in the morning, there was not a soul in sight, yet I still felt the need to look up and down the corridor to check the coast was clear, before inserting the master key into the lock and entering the room.
Closing the door behind me, I was plunged into darkness, save for a small beam of light emanating from the keyhole of the inter-connecting door. My heart was pounding in my throat as I stealthily made my way over to it. My knees clicked as I lowered my body to the soft carpeted floor, causing me to momentarily halt my descent. When I finally peered through the keyhole, I could not believe my eyes.
I had an unrivalled view of the king-size divan, draped in crisp white bedlinen. On the bed, lay a blonde haired girl in her mid-twenties, dressed in a cream satin bodice and skin coloured stockings. By her side sat a similarly aged brunette, dressed in a black lacy bra, matching knickers and hold-ups. The brunette was gently caressing the exposed left cheek of the blonde, the flesh of which was visibly raw. I watched intently as the brunette worked her hand between the blonde’s cheeks and ran a finger teasingly along the length of the crotch of her knickers. The blonde writhed with expectant pleasure on the bed, but instantly the brunette withdrew her hand and administered an almighty slap on the girl’s cheek, causing her to yelp in pain.
Sliding off the bed, the brunette, who I nominated as Ms Collins and the mistress in my head, worked her way between her submissive’s legs and began delicately peppering her tender skin with soft kisses. My cock was growing rapidly within my boxers and as I continued to stare through the keyhole, I felt the need to adjust my posture. Repositioning my knees on the floor, I was able to rest my forehead against the door, just above my spy-hole; my ever expanding erection now easing its way down the inner thigh of my right leg
A hot flush came over me as I suddenly realised what I was doing. Should I be discovered, not only would I be summarily dismissed, but I could also be shamefully exposed as a peeping tom; hell, I might also be asked to leave the university, should the story hit the local newspaper. I bit my lower lip and endeavoured to regain my composure. I was letting my guilty conscience get the better of me. Besides, I was too intrigued to walk away now. I silently took a deep breath and let it out slowly, a sense of calm restored.
Returning my gaze to the adjoining room, I watched as the mistress began easing her muse’s knickers down her slender legs. Once free of the garment, the brunette plunged her face between the blonde’s cheeks, producing a shrill of ecstasy from the girl as she squirmed on the bed. My cock was now pounding against my thigh, how I longed to be there in the room with these two beauties. Climbing back onto the bed, the brunette grabbed the blonde under one thigh and flipped her onto her back and, prising her legs apart with ease, set about devouring her glistening wet pussy with her tongue. The blonde thrashed about on the divan, her hands kneading her breasts through her tight-fitting bodice. Pre-cum oozed from my tip, as the brunette began to finger fuck her plaything, while feverishly lapping away at her clit. I placed a hand on my throbbing cock and subconsciously started stroking myself with an open palm against my thigh. Driven on by the two women only a matter of a few feet before me, I felt at one with their hungry desire for fulfilment. The blonde arched her back and began groaning uncontrollably, as wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure poured from her soul.
I was transfixed as the blonde rose from the bed and pulled the brunette up from between her legs and into her arms. They kissed wildly, the submissive seemingly driven with a desire to repay her mistress for the earth-shattering orgasm she had received. She pushed the brunette to the bed and sat astride her, her arse high in the hair before me, as she set about planting passionate kisses about the brunette’s body. I yearned to reach out and finger the gaping pussy nuzzled between the blonde’s pert buttocks. The sight before me was too much to take. Without shame, I tugged at the fly of my jeans and felt the buttons pop free. Reaching inside my boxers I extracted my aching cock and started milking myself in earnest. I stroked myself to the rhythm of the girls making love before me. The blonde was now spanking the brunette; the tables were turned, justice was being administered. The mistress knew she was beaten, she took her punishment willingly.
I continued to pump away at my engorged cock, as the blonde rolled the brunette onto her back and began playing with her inside her knickers. I could only imagine how wet they were right now; how I yearned to possess them, a lasting souvenir to treasure, a reminder of this very mischievous night. This thought was more than I could take. As I stared at the brunette cumming to the touch of her young muse, my cock began jerking in my hand, splattering the foot of the inter-connecting door with my thick, steamy cream.
It took a moment or two for my body to stop trembling. Unlike the girls in the room next door, I had been forced to contain my release whilst in a crouched position and in the aftermath of my violent orgasm, I now realised that every muscle in my body was aching. I peered through the keyhole once more and saw the girls sprawled on the bed in each other’s arms, spent from their exertions. It was a picture to behold.
I quietly got to my feet, pulled up my jeans and made my exit, closing the door to Room 814 behind me. I scurried back to my desk on the ground floor and resumed reading my book as if nothing untoward had happened. Within minutes, a sense of calm washed over me and I smiled to myself. I recounted the events in my head and I revelled in the fact that I had got away with it.
I was suddenly brought to my senses by the sound of the telephone ringing loudly in my ears. I cleared my throat, lifted the receiver and spoke. “Room service,” I announced.
“Oh hello there,” came the sound of a soft, feminine voice. “Could I order a bottle of champagne please?”
“Certainly, madam,” I replied. “Can I take your room number?”
“Sure… 812,” came the reply.
My heart skipped a beat. “Certainly madam,” I replied, calmly. “And would there be anything else?”
“Oh yes… and three glasses, please.”
“Three glasses,” I spurted, confused and without thinking. “I’m sorry, three glasses… sure thing.”
The voice on the other end of the phone burst into laughter. “We thought you might like to join us!”
The End