The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 5 (52 page)

“You are a bad boy, and did you get hard when you had a taste of Suzie?” Richard nodded. “Right, I’m going to have to take care of this. No one said you were allowed to get a hard-on did they?” He pulled Richard forward so he was kneeling straight up, his pants falling down around his knees. He wasn’t wearing underwear and my eyes roved over him in appreciation. Tom pushed Richard’s head to one side and bent down, his hand measuring the other man’s cock in a hard vigorous fist. God, what a sight! I shot two fingers inside my slit, probing myself while I watched Tom handle Richard’s cock.

With some effort, he pushed the cock harness over Richard’s erection and secured it with the stud fastener around his balls. He was almost entirely covered. I could just see his balls squeezed up inside the circles of leather, and the very head of his cock pushing out of its containment. The harness was extremely tight and I could see the effect it was having on Richard, his whole body growing more rigid by the second, as if he was being gripped in a hard heavy hand, his blood-filled cock bursting for release.

“Get back to work on Suzie, right now.” Tom pushed him back between my thighs. By then I was on the very edge of the chair, my legs spread wide to get more of him. Tom walked behind him and pulled the condom out of his pocket, turning it over in his hands. He looked at me; his green eyes glittered like gemstones. His eyebrows lifted imperceptibly and his mouth was fixed in a devilish smile. He wanted my approval. I whimpered, my head barely nodding, but I really wanted to see him doing it. Tom opened his fly and got out his rock-hard cock. He pumped it in his hands for a moment, his eyes on mine. This was one of my favorite sights; I couldn’t get enough of seeing him with his hands on his cock, and he knew it. He looked down at my chest, growling. I followed his gaze and saw that my nut-hard nipples were jutting up from the edges of my bra, my breasts oozing out of the restraining fabric.

Tom eased the condom on and then knelt down behind Richard. When Richard felt his legs being pushed apart his mouth stopped moving and clamped over my sex. His body was rigid between us, his buttocks on display to Tom, his face pushing in against my sex, his muscled arms bound tightly behind his back. If I rolled my head to one side I could see his harnessed cock.

He remained quite still, his tongue in my hole, when Tom began to probe him from behind. Tom’s face contorted and I felt Richard’s head thrust in against me as he was entered from behind. My hips were moving fast on the chair, moving my desperate sex flesh up and down against the leather mask, his mouth and the rough edges of the zipper. I couldn’t help it, I was gone on this.

Richard’s cock looked fit to burst. Tom pulled out and ploughed in deeper, his teeth bared with effort and restraint. He must have hit the spot, because Richard’s body tensed and arched, his tongue going soft and limp against my clit. I glanced down and saw his cock riding high and tight in its harness, then it spurted up under his arched body, which was convulsing.

“You made him come,” I cried accusingly, but with delight, and a dark laugh choked in my throat. Tom grinned at me and then jammed into him hard again.

“Suck her good, Richard; I want Suzie to come next.”

Our obedient slave began to tongue me again. I gasped my pleasure aloud for Tom – Tom, my gorgeous lover, watching me. It was just like our sessions of mutual masturbation, but with Richard’s darkest secret filling the void between us; tonight he was the gap across which we watched each other’s deepest pleasures rising up and taking us over.

Tom’s lean body was taut, his hands gripping on to Richard’s hips, the sinuous muscles in his arms turning to rope. His eyes were locked on mine, urging me on as he sent Richard’s tongue lashing my clit again and again with each deep thrust. I began to buck, wildly out of control, shock waves going right through the core of my body and under the skin of my scalp as wave after wave of relief flooded over me, and then Tom threw back his head, roaring his release as his hips jerked repeatedly and he shot his load.

Tom sat across the breakfast bar from me. He sipped the rich black Colombian coffee I had made us, his fingertips running against mine as he eyed me over his cup. He smiled as he put the cup down and lifted my fingers to his lips.

“You looked incredible,” he whispered, kissing my fingertips. It was an extremely intimate moment; he was looking at me with possessiveness and something akin to awe.

“So did you,” I replied and I meant it; I was overwhelmed by my lover. Richard had long since left us, but the images he had given us of each other would be with us for a very long time.

“Do you think we’ll ever see him again?”

“Maybe,” he replied. “Maybe not. Would it bother you if we did?”

I gave it some thought. I pictured us casually speaking to him in the office, the way we used to, but this time the three of us would be looking at each other and knowing what had gone on. The idea of it made my pulse quicken again.

“No, not in the least.” I liked the idea. I smiled at Tom. Not only had we seen each other anew, but Tom and I had become part of Richard’s secret, part of Richard’s darkest secret.

My agent Monty Stobbs wanted me to make a pitch to one of the new twenty-something mega-producers in Hollywood. I’d moved out to LA expressly for the purpose of meeting the mover and shaker industry kids, even if they did have razor-wire moussed hair, wore steel toed boots, and rode Harleys to lunch meetings. It seemed unduly aggressive to me but I made the effort to get over it.

The only trouble now was that this particular kid was back in Manhattan, staying at a five-star hotel about thirty-four blocks from my old apartment.

“He’s there setting up an urban drama for next season,” Monty told me. “One of them witty Mafia shows, with the goofy hitman who cracks wise while he’s digging graves behind Kennedy Airport. The teenage son of the mayor falls in love with a goombah’s daughter. The mayor’s trying to put her father in jail, the big boss puts a contract out on hizzoner. There’s even dancing. The teens do this big number outside Lincoln Center.”

“Are their names Tony and Maria?” I asked.

Monty didn’t get it. He frowned at me without catching the drift and said, “I thought you didn’t read the trades.”

“Christ.”

“Anyway, in a week he flies off to Sicily to set up some of the Italian location shoots. You’ve got to catch him before then. But I can’t afford a plane ticket right now. I don’t see any turnaround until the Zypho units hit the video store next month. I’m tapped but I can front you bus fare. Otherwise, it comes out of your pocket.”

“Monty, it was about this time last year that you were promising me a penthouse apartment on Sunset and my own private masseuse by Christmas.”

“I can rub some Passionate Midnight grape-flavored lotion into your shoulders if you want. I think I have a quarter bottle left on my night stand from when that dancer Betty the Ta-Ta Queen was here last month.”

Just thinking about Betty brought a deranged expression to his face.

He saw the look in my eyes and decided not to pursue that course of the conversation.

“Consider it a tour of America,” Monty said. “You’ll be like Steinbeck. James Agee. Kerouac. All them road guys. You relax and look at the countryside. It’ll inspire you. You’ll have half the great American novel by the time you pull into Port Authority.”

I didn’t have quite have the energy to tell Monty that we were in the age of eight-lane interstates and telescopic, high-powered road rage. I didn’t really have the energy to tell Monty anything lately.

“Okay, get me the ticket.”

He already had it and pulled it out of his jacket pocket. “I’ll drop you off at the station. Your bus leaves at midnight.”

“Jesus!”

So. Now I was on a bus with sixty other people and slowly losing my sense of reality. It was like a party where everybody hung back against the wall, didn’t make a sound, and generally feared one another.

This was a four-day ride and my laptop had committed hara-kiri rather than face another minute of
Zypho II: Zyphomania
– The Return of the Critter from Beyond the Edge of Space. I got the feeling that Monty wanted a long title on the video box to cover up the picture of Zypho’s less than stellar f/x. Hopefully it would edge my name off the credits as well.

I had started out writing in longhand on yellow legal pads hoping to put the time to good use, but reading my own scratchy handwriting gave me motion sickness. By the twentieth hour on the road I was trying to keep myself amused by taunting folks in the next lane to sideswipe us into a guard rail.

It was about two in the morning and I still couldn’t get comfortable enough in my seat to sleep yet. I had no co-passenger beside me, but the extra space still wasn’t enough for me to completely lie down. I had visions of arriving in New York after four days of insomnia and passing out in the middle of Times Square, waking up with no money, no shoes, and only one kidney.

The moonlight lent a blue haze to the darkness, and the bus’ running lights were just enough to allow me to spot her one seat up on the opposite side of the aisle.

She appeared to be a part of the night, swirling, alive, as she turned to look back at me. It wasn’t until I fully concentrated, focusing all my attention on her, that I saw she was a Latina woman about my age, smiling in my direction but not exactly to me.

Everyone else was asleep. She gave me the slow once-over, the kind of prying gaze that was frosty and lifeless but held a promise of distant heat. I tried to give it back to her but she ignored me. I’d never been good at this sort of game.

She got up and silently slid into the seat beside me. I generally didn’t like these kinds of wordless situations. I enjoyed words, and I hardly ever shut up. When she pressed herself to me and rubbed the meaty palm of her hand against my crotch, I began to suspect I should just shut the fuck up.

It was usually a good call.

Sometimes you had to go with the undertow. You fought your need to rationalize and argue and worry about what the real meaning was behind every act. Especially if you were going insane from boredom.

Her ragged breath blew hot against my ear. I moaned and reached for her and felt that slick electrical itch tingling in my fingers.

“No,” she said, “don’t touch me.”

“Uhm . . . but . . .”

“I don’t like to be touched.” She began to purr again, leaning into me, pressing herself into my arms while I held them out to my sides, struggling not to embrace her.

She kneeled and I crouched lower, trying to hide behind the high backs of our seats. It wasn’t really working, I had nowhere to go. She tugged open my jeans and felt me through my briefs, sort of pawing, her nails lightly grazing me. I scanned the blue gloom trying to see if there might be anyone watching us, anybody else alive in the world, but the shadows became deep and edgeless as she worked me free and stroked my cock. The darkness grew heavier, inside and outside of me.

“Oh, look how cute he is . . . your pee-pee . . .” she whispered.

I checked. He didn’t look cute to me at all.

“I’m going to name him Pepe . . . no, Pepito . . .!”

“Pepito? Hey—”

Taking my cock roughly in her hand, she brought her mouth to me and swirled her tongue around the head, slowly working down, her hands on my thighs gently patting like she was trying to urge me to her rhythm.

In the dark, I saw the glint of her eyes looking up as she pushed me farther into her mouth, now shaking her head, no no no, and drawing me out, nodding yes yes, so that her top teeth grazed and tugged at my skin.

Sometimes you want to touch somebody so badly that a fire ignites in your nerve endings and burns away your civilized self. I wanted to snarl and leave bite marks.

I heard the passengers stirring, the muffled sound of cloth on cloth as someone in front of us turned over. My hackles rose. Continuing to pump me, she pulled me forward in the seat and pressed me back again, in control but not taking control, as she rubbed me over her face, swung my prick aside, and tongue lashed my nuts. I was so tired that I watched the scene from outside myself.

Just as I started humping against her cheek, she sucked the length of my cock down her throat. She took me in completely, clenched her lips, stared up at me, and smiled. We all had to find our pride wherever we could.

She slowly pulled herself off until only the head of my cock remained in her mouth. There was too much of a game going on here and not enough actual fun.

I reached for her hair and she growled, “Don’t do that. I don’t want you to do that.”

I made fists and crossed my arms. I leaned back as her head bobbed over Pepito. I was trying to roll with it, to let her take me away from my utter boredom, but somehow even this was only another part of it. I was frowning in the middle of a blow job. No one would ever believe me.

She licked her palm and pumped harder at the base of my cock before taking me back in. I humped her face and lunged at her mouth erratically, and she rested Pepito near her lips and sort of crooned at him. I groaned and pressed the side of my forehead against the cool metal frame of the window. With a bitter whine, I prodded her some more, feeling my orgasm rising.

“That’s it,” she said. “Come on.”

I jerked away and hit the frame again. There was more rustling of passengers. I bit back another moan as she sucked me wildly, her hair alive in my lap. I wanted to take handfuls of her hair and knot my grip in it and hold her in place while I cut loose. The darkness thrummed with the presence of others. I came and nearly howled in relief as she hungrily swallowed, gurgling softly, gulping as drops leaked over her parted lips.

I wondered if she considered my come on her face as me touching her. I did, or thought I did, as I wafted into sleep.

It passed without dreams. I’d only snoozed for three hours but when I awoke we’d made another stop and most of the passengers seemed to have changed again. I couldn’t be sure of anything much except that she was gone and I was being willfully ignored by everybody else.