The Best of Kay Jaybee
Read The Best of Kay Jaybee Online
Authors: Kay Jaybee
The Best of Kay Jaybee
A collection of erotic stories
by Kay Jaybee
Published by Xcite Books Ltd â 2012
ISBN 9781909335608
Copyright © Xcite Books Ltd 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Xcite Books, Suite 11769, 2nd Floor, 145-157 St John Street, London EC1V 4PY
The stories contained within this book are works of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the authors' imaginations and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
These stories have previously be published by Xcite Books.
Contents
I have a favourite shirt. It's black, plain, and simply cut. The supple, matt fabric clings flatteringly against my chest and stomach, without managing to make me look like I've been vacuum-packed into it. Its thin granddad collar leads down to a satin ribbon-edged v-neck, which reveals a hint of generous cleavage. Yet it, that shirt of mine, doesn't make me look slutty or tarty, just, well ... tempting. Or so I'm told.
Perched on the edge of my bed, I stare at my favoured garment, hooked over the bedroom door, waiting to be placed with its colleagues amongst the clutter of my ultra-stuffed wardrobe. I can't help but smile as I recall the hands that have run over that shirt. Men's hands, women's hand, delicate hands and calloused hands; digits that have dared to trail around the neck-line, perhaps lingering over, or accidently straying onto, the flesh beneath.
Rather than shove it in with its fellow garments, I have an irresistible urge to hug the material to me, to feel its soft sheen against my skin. With a reverence which I usually only reserve for large bars of chocolate, I lift the shirt from its hanger and lie back on my queen-sized bed, holding it to my face. It smells of cleanliness and the washing powder I habitually use, but mostly it holds the scent of promise â the promise of getting dirty all over again.
Closing my eyes, sinking my head back into the plump pillows, I think of the last set of hands to travel across the inches of fabric that make up the distance from the black shirt's neckline to its hemline. A short length, but, when time is taken, it can become a frustratingly long journey. A frustrating, arousing and deliciously tense journey. There are times, however, when those who encounter my shirt are in no mood to take their time.
I can see him clearly. He is standing only inches from me and the air between us positively tingles with electricity. I could never love him, the man who currently adores me in my favourite shirt, but that's all right, because he could never love me either. Lust, however, is in no short supply.
Shutting my eyes tighter, rubbing my shirt across my cheeks, my forehead and my eyelids, I begin to reminisce the moment we first gave into the mute eroticism that seems to swim between us each time we chat over the counter of the little bookshop I own. Clutching the fabric, I think of his fingers, thicker than any I've encountered before and yet, somehow for all that, incredibly dexterous.
That first time he followed me through from the shop floor to the small stockroom, his hands were on the waist of my shirt before I'd even shut the door properly. As I look back, my pulse-rate increases, and behind my eyelids I see how, in his urgency, he threw me against the poorly painted grey wall. His palms, rough from manual labour, pushed at my tits, squeezing them so hard through the material of my top that I squealed.
Continuing to trail that same freshly ironed shirt down my body, I can virtually feel his left arm wrap around me, hoisting me up. With my weight supported by the door, and my legs hooked around his waist, I'd gasped into his neck, as my companion's right hand shot up my shirt, yanking my bra beneath my tits. Manhandling them, with a combination of exquisitely arousing nips and pinches, he treated my breasts as though he was kneading a couple of cottage loaves. I remember how he murmured into my ear then, telling me how I filled his night-time fantasies, how badly he'd wanted to be alone with me, and how, when he pictured me, it was always in my gorgeous, low cut, beautiful black shirt.
Sitting up on my bed, I swiftly remove the red top I'm actually wearing, and pop open the bra which has become uncomfortable at the thought of my lover's hot, agile fingers. Picking the adored shirt back up, I stroke it across my hardening nipples, making myself moan softly into my recollections.
He dropped me then, so that he could take off his faded blue T-shirt. I stood, my pulse racing in shock at the intensity of the last few minutes of activity, my breath snagging in my throat at the sight of a firm torso that hadn't been overworked, and yet spoke of strength and, somehow, confidence in its owner's abilities. An unexpected Japanese style tattoo sat centre stage on his chest, just beneath the neckline of his T-shirt. It intrigued me. I hadn't known anyone with a tattoo before. Reaching out questioningly, I began to trace its outline. He'd laughed at me kindly, unable to understand my surprise at how it felt the same as the rest of his skin, amazed that I'd never touched one before.
I hadn't been able to confine my exploration to his tattoo, however, and soon I was passing my palms across his back, arms and legs in drawn-out sweeping movements, determined to discover every inch of his frame. I imagined I was a sculptor, running her hands over a finished masterpiece, searching for imperfections. I found none.
All the time I had been examining his upper body, my companion had been returning the favour. With my shirt now rucked up around my neck, and my bra disposed of, he'd had easy access to my chest, with which he was undeniably fascinated.
I pinched my own nipples as I lay against my duvet, recalling how I'd eyed his crotch. A wave of desire had enveloped me as I'd examined the bulge straining beneath his filthy jeans.
Picking up on my silent message, he'd grabbed at the belt that kept my denims in place, and deftly kneeling, had bought my trousers to my ankles. The fast pace of our coupling then returned, and before I had time to register what was happening, I was crying with relief as the stale air of the stockroom brushed my newly naked pussy, quickly to be followed by a probing finger, and then, wonderfully, a hot, wet tongue.
Experiencing the same twitch of longing between my legs as I do when I'm with him, my snatch rippled as I lay against my bed. I removed the remainder of my clothes, and dragged the shirt down from my chest to between my open legs. Wet patches dotted onto the black material as I massaged it across my clit. My mouth went dry as I remembered how he had attacked my cunt on that initial glorious meeting. Not gently, not slowly teasing me until I begged for more, but with a full-on, fast, rough, bucket-load of lips, laps, sucks and nips, that bought me shuddering to the quickest and most intense climax of my life.
A ripple of need ran down my shoulders and began to flutter at the base of my stomach as I thought on. Of how I'd pulled him to his feet the second I'd finished coming; of how I'd copied his gesture with belt, trousers and underwear, and knelt before him. His cock, invitingly stiff had tasted of salty sweat, of busy days and hard work. The aroma alone had made me want to come all over again as I engulfed his length, greedily moving him up and down my throat with an urgency that rivalled his own.
Suddenly, I realised I'd been echoing those past moans into the quiet of my bedroom. One hand caressing the fast-staining shirt between my legs, I returned the other to my right breast, tweaking the nipple far harder than I would when normally stealing a few moments of solo pleasure. I reclosed my eyes.
The tell-tale swelling of his dick, and the taste of pre-come droplets gathering on my tongue informed me that he was about to come in my mouth, but then he'd pulled away. I'd been temporarily disorientated, until he told me, a look of pure lust creasing onto his rugged features, that he wanted to finish inside me.
Quickly positioning my unresisting body onto all fours on the dusty storeroom floor, he came up behind me, and only waiting to grab a condom from his back pocket, rammed his dick unceremoniously inside me. I had heard of people who claim to have been rutted like an animal, but until then I'd thought them to be either exaggerators, or wishful thinkers. Not any more.
Discarding my now sodden black shirt to the floor, I dug my nails into my clit, making myself yelp with stinging ecstasy as I reminisced over his wild pumping, his totally abandoned need to consume my body with his. I spasmed under my own sharp touch, and scratched at my chest, wanting to experience the strangely hot pain he'd sent through me as he announced, in what can only be called a growl, that he was about to come. The second he spoke, he'd sent a loud smack across my prone arse with the flat of his palm, making me scream in both shock and delightful agony as a second orgasm soared through me. With a final pump, he'd shot a spray of warm spunk into my body, accompanied by a very masculine groan of satisfied relief.
Taking a deep breath to steady my thudding heartbeat, I let my hands fall away from my shaking body. Retrieving my favourite shirt, I smoothed it carefully out over the crumpled bedcover. Damp and creased, it seemed to perfectly sum up the encounter I'd just happily relived.
The bookstore lorry driver and I have had many similar meetings since that first intense encounter, all of which take the phrase âquickie' to a new level. We know very little about each other really, but I know that he loves my black shirt almost as much as I do, and that his fingerprints will be invisibly yet indelibly marked across its fabric for ever, no matter how many times I wash it.
âAre you free?'
âIt's eleven o'clock in the morning, Jen. Of course I'm not free!'
Jen grinned down the phone, her scarlet-tipped fingernails gripping the handset tightly, âIf you could see what I can see right now, then I think you'd become free fairly quickly.'
âAll I can see is the business end of a leaking u-bend.' Lee tried to ignore the husky edge to Jen's voice. Knowing her, she could be looking at literally anything. Pictures of vibrators, paddles and butt plugs floated around his head as, with his mobile clamped between his neck and chin, he unconsciously sped up his plumbing task.
âSuch a shame, I could really do with your help here.'
â
Jen
! I
have
to go. I need both hands for this job.'
âActually, I could say the same this end ... you should see her, honey, all naked, wet and desperate.'
Already stirring within his boxers, Lee's cock went rigid. âHer?'
Jen laughed. âYes, her.' She licked her lips slowly, certain that he was visualising her doing just that. âI'd put her on the phone, but she's a bit tied up at the moment.'
âTied?' His voice was barely a whisper.
âWell, tied now. You remember that fantasy we discussed, the one where I find someone who is willing to be a toy for us?'
âUh-huh.'
âWell, I found her. I've rubbed her nipples with a warm cloth, teased some ribbon over her nub, and kissed her butt cheeks ... she tastes faintly of grapefruits by the way ...' Breaking away from the joy of recent reminisces, Jen continued brusquely, âAnyway, this is a two handed job as well. It could be a four handed job, but you're obviously busy. I'll see you tomorrow. Perhaps I'll tell you all about it then ...' Putting the mobile down with a satisfied thump Jen was confident that Lee was already on his way, leaking u-bend or not.
Now, dressed in a white blouse and matching cotton knickers, sweeping her long chestnut hair from her face, Jen fixed all her attention on her willing captive. Checking the security of the scarf that gagged her moist lips, and the silk ties that fastened Amy's slim wrists to the back of the pine chair on which she was sat, Jen experienced a fresh rush of erotic anticipation. Scrutinizing Amy intently as she undid her blouse, Jen was pleased to see her clear blue eyes flash with barely concealed excitement.
When Jen's final shirt button was undone, she ran her palms across her breasts. âYou want to lick these, don't you?' Rolling the very tips of her nipples between her fingers, she felt tiny shocks of craving hit her pussy as Amy nodded emphatically.
âWell you can ... soon.' Jen dropped her hands lower, outlining her stomach and running her nails teasingly around the edge of her knickers. âWhen Lee's here, if you're a good girl, I'll let you run your tongue over my tits.'
Amy's eyes were widened further as her companion continued to pleasure herself. Moving nearer, Jen towered over the wooden chair. âPerhaps, as a reward for your patience, I will let Lee suck on your teats. That would make quite a picture, don't you think?'
Again Amy nodded, as Jen added the condition, âit'll all depend on how you behave of course.'
Privately Jen marvelled at the younger woman's composure. It had been over half an hour since she'd been stripped and teased with a cloth, a ribbon and a tongue. Since then Amy had received no physical stimulation of any sort, and yet her arousal was still blatantly growing.
The click of the front door made Jen's heart beat faster. She didn't stir as her lover crept into the room, but carried on pinching her own nipples. Standing so close to the captured girl, that they were almost, but not quite, touching, Jen smiled as Amy shuffled as far forward as her restraints would allow. A muffled, tantalising groan escaped from the corners of her gag, a sound that was quickly matched by a more protracted, lower moan from Lee, as he stood mesmerised in the doorway, his gaze shifting from one woman to the other.
Jen pointed to Amy. âWhat do you think, honey?'
He gulped, trying to lubricate his suddenly dry throat, very conscious of the instant and uncompromising erection digging beneath his jeans. âMagnificent! Where did you find her?'
Her hands still active against her own body, Jen said, âThis is Amy, we met at a club a couple of nights ago. She's been very well behaved while we waited for you. For this good behaviour I promised that she could kiss my tits. I imagine you'd like to see that.'
Temporarily robbed of his power of speech by the erotic spectacle on display, Lee inclined his head.
âVery well.' With her pulse hammering in her neck, unsure how she was keeping her own exhilaration out of her voice, Jen carefully unfastened the gag. After allowing Amy a brief moment to stretch open her jaws, Jen climbed astride the girl's lap and, placing the flat of her palm under her right breast, offering it up to Amy's parted lips.
The noises of mutual relief that flooded the room as Amy's tongue met Jen's taut chest were drowned out by Lee, who had finally found his voice. âFuckin' hell, Jen!' His eyes glued on Amy, her elegant breasts rising and falling as her breathing quickened, her mouth frantically working his lover's tit.
Jen played strands of the girl's soft yellow hair through her fingers, before silently beckoning for Lee to come closer. Immediately, his hands were everywhere at once; against Jess's face, over her back, across Amy's chest, and stroking the back of her neck. But as Lee's industrious fingers descended towards her crotch, Jen took a step away from them both.
Unable to disguise her disappointment as she was suddenly deprived of the succulent flesh on which she'd been feasting, Amy began to agitate her arms within their silken ties.
Jen's hands came to her hips and her forehead creased in mock disappointment. âYou were being so good!' She turned to Lee, âI had promised that you'd suck her tits too, but I'm not so sure now that she's fighting her confinement; what do you think?'
Lee, who was anxious to continue his exploration of the girl's chest, said, âWell, if you promised I think you should allow it, but perhaps with a penalty. She mustn't move again, or say anything.'
âSounds fair.' Jen addressed Amy. âYou will get the stimulus you require, but if you so much as shuffle or make a sound, it will stop.'
âWhat if she comes?' As Lee asked the question he was painfully aware of how difficult it was going to be not to come himself, and for the first time since he'd entered the room, he was grateful for the restraining presence of his trousers.
Staring directly at their prisoner, Jen's eyes twinkled wickedly, âOh, she is allowed to come, but she has to do it without movement or noise.'
âHow the hell can she do that?'
âWe'll see ... won't we?'
Amy sat, biting her lips together, watching her two protagonists. âAmazing isn't she?' Jen spoke smoothly, âThe perfect toy for us to play with.'
Lee swallowed hard, still unable to believe that Jen had set up this scenario.
âWould you like to oblige, honey?' Jen pointed to Amy's chest, her neat breasts were sticking out, invitingly firm.
Flushed with the heat of anticipation Lee dragged his grubby charcoal-grey T-shirt over his head, and attached his mouth to their visitor's right breast. Relishing the texture and taste of her skin, he moved quickly from one side to the other and back again. Flicking, nipping, and biting, he was determined to force the girl to a climax, just to see if she really could manage to neither wriggle nor groan.
Not wanting to miss out, Jen bent to Amy's free breast and nibbled at the almond tip, gliding one hand beneath the small globe, and the other up and under her hair.
A couple of minutes later, Jen raised her head to study Amy's determined efforts to keep both still and quiet. Her hands were clasped together behind the chair, and her nails were dug so deeply into her palms that they marked her flesh. Jen felt bizarrely proud of the girl. Amy was doing anything to take her mind off the urge to fidget, and her mouth was clamped so tightly that her lips had lost their ruddy gleam, making Jen wonder if she was wishing that the gag was back in place.
Placing her fingertips over the girl's right breast, knowing that the contrast in pressure between the male and female touch would be adding to Amy's torment, Jen observed as Amy's body began to quiver. Her cunt gushed, and her muscles visibly tensed, as an orgasm climbed within her. Squeezing her eyelids shut, Amy bit her teeth into her tongue, but still could not prevent her body from jerking uncontrollably in time to the unstoppable ripples that surged through her.
The second Amy moved, Jen gestured for Lee to stop, and they both let go of the blonde's body at the same time. âOh dear, what a shame.' Jen didn't sound sorry at all, âNow we'll have to withhold further pleasure from you, and I'm sure that, despite that climax, you are more than ready for that cute little pussy of yours to be plugged.'
Amy opened her mouth to speak, but quickly shut it again when she saw the expression on Jen's face.
âI think perhaps you'll have to watch us for a while. I don't see why Lee should have to wait to have fun just because you have proven you don't deserve his nice fat cock between your legs.'
Lee no longer cared which girl he fucked, as long as he could do it soon, and with a nod of approval from Jen he tore off his remaining clothes, giving both women an eyeful of his satisfyingly stiff dick.
Amy spluttered, âBut that's not ...'
âFair?' Jen finished the sentence as she closed her fist around Lee's cock, using it as a lever to pull him closer, âOf course it's not fair. Why should I be fair to a toy, a life-sized doll?'
Blinking her bright eyes, as if the full implication of what she had agreed to become for them had just hit her, Amy tried not to cry.
Turning away from their solo audience, Jen willingly relinquished the reins of control to Lee, who, tall and naked, began to smother her face and neck in savage kisses.
The thought of Amy, exquisite, pale, desperate for a tongue over her clit, and for a dick to be impaled between her legs, made every sensation flowing through Jen more heightened than ever. She was very aware of how much her cotton panties were sticking to her, and how badly she wanted the hand that was currently trailing over them, to tug them down.
Lee was like a man possessed. Twisting Jen's body as if she were made of rubber, he turned her to face Amy. Positioning her onto her hands and knees he smacked her covered arse with the flat of his palm. Jen's mind raced as the glorious pain of his slaps burnt her backside. Conscious that Amy was following their every step, Jen experienced a further burst of arousal as Lee ceased his strikes, and began to agonisingly slowly ease her underwear from her backside.
Jen whimpered as the fabric was peeled away, her pussy not wanting to let go of even that slight level of contact. She stopped worrying about examining Amy's reactions, all she wanted was to have Lee take her, to have his large hands grab her hips and his dick to ram into her body. It was with a mewl of blissful surprise, however, that she felt a hot gentle tongue probe at her clit. Jen thought she heard Amy yelp with envy, but her mind was spinning, and all she knew was that she was being tongued by a fuck-me handsome man while a beautiful woman looked on. Her legs and arms ached with the effort of staying on all fours, and her stomach clenched as all the nerves in her body gathered around her nub. Jen's growl of lust echoed around the room as, at last, Lee wedged himself within her, filling every inch of her channel.
A forlorn whine from the wooden chair caused Jen to lift her head, as Lee thumped against her body. Locking eyes with Amy, Jen suddenly knew what she should do. What she simply
had
to do.
âEdge closer to her.' Her order sounded almost strangled as Lee manoeuvred them both so that her head was between Amy's open legs.
Amy's cry of, âYes!' was lost as Jen took one languid lick over her clit, and then increased her pace rapidly in time to Lee's thrusts. In seconds the bound girl was yelling out, shuddering against the wooden chair, as if her previous climax had never happened.
The taste of the squirming woman and the sound of Lee's almost guttural howl at his own release pushed Jen into an overwhelming orgasm, a heady mix of physical gratification and the intoxication of power.
Sitting back on his haunches, Lee's breath caught in his throat as he saw Jen tenderly undo Amy's ties, planting butterfly kisses on her wrists and ankles as she eased some circulation into the girls stiff limbs.
Jen winked at Amy, who smiled back at her with an inclination of her pretty head. Now it was time to act out the additional clause of their plan.
Approaching Lee, her hand outstretched, Amy pulled him towards the chair, âYour turn now.'
Lee glanced from Jen to Amy, interested confusion etched across his features.
âAmy agreed to do this for us in return for her own fantasy being acted out.' Jen took his other hand, and looking directly into his darkly shining eyes said, âWe thought you might like to watch us now. What do you think?'
Unspeaking, Lee sat upon the chair. They didn't need to ask him to proffer his wrists and ankles so they could be tied; he was already offering them up...