Skye Warren, Theo Fenraven, Lindsey Flinch Bedder, Antoinette M,Virginia Flowers

Short Smut, Vol. 1

FOLLOW THROUGH

Skye Warren

We had done everything over six months of dating and one year of marriage. Played with all the toys, sampled each fantasy, tried every position. My favorite combination was the elastic figure 8 cock-ring wrapping me tightly while she played high-powered executive to my fumbling male secretary.

Melissa would berate me for my poor job evaluation, and I’d swear I could make it up to her. Work harder, perform better. Maybe, she’d acquiesce, but first I must be punished. I could go to full-mast just thinking about the way she looked, spread eagle on the desk, pulling me close by my tie and telling me to get her off, quickly now.

There wasn’t any reason I should feel… just a bit bored with the whole thing.

I wasn’t stupid enough to tell Melissa that. I knew what I had. A smart, gorgeous wife who played my games, enjoyed them even. She never should have even looked twice at a washed up financial professional fifteen years her senior with pent-up kinky desires, but instead she’d given me everything.

No reason she should know. My libido may have dimmed, but I could still get hard. I could still come on her command. This strange little bout of sexual ennui would pass.

“ I’m leaving on a business trip tomorrow,” she said over breakfast.

I took a sip of scalding coffee, shook out the already unwrinkled newspaper in front of me. Leaving. Tomorrow. “Oh.”

“ There’s a big conference in New York. I may have mentioned it. My boss’s wife had her baby early so I’m taking his place. I’ll be back next week.”

A full week. Had I ever been apart from her so long since we’d gotten married? Every night a new combination, every night she’d held me after. No, never. A strange pressure wrapped around my throat, and I cleared it. “Well,” I said. And then because it seemed I should say something more, “Congratulations.”

She flashed me a smile, the kind that still made my heart thump. “I suppose. It’s a good opportunity. Sorry for the late notice. I hope it’s okay.”

I didn’t want to appear unsupportive. I didn’t want to appear needy, even though inside I was a roiling mass of doubt and anxiety. Suppose she’d figured out that she could do so much better? What if she’d noticed my dullness in bed? A body like hers, she could pick up any man in the bar. Once he got a load of her sweet disposition and intelligence, she could keep him too.

I couldn’t help but ask, “We can talk on the phone, right?”

She touched my hand, the reassurance matching her words. “You know it, hon. I’ll have workshops during the day, then some networking events in the evening, but I’ll call you every night before I go to bed.” She took a bite of toast. “I don’t think we’ve been apart this long, have we?”

“ I don’t know,” I lied.

We finished breakfast silently, or rather, I sat there miserably, watching the dainty way she ate. All too soon she got up, kissed my cheek, and gathered her things to leave. “By the way,” she said, stopping by the door. “I don’t think you should come while I’m gone.”

***

On the very first day, I left work early to wait for her call. Reclining in bed, I considered her absence. I missed talking to her most of all, the lack of sex a secondary concern. Recently I had been fighting this sexual blandness, but surely it could work in my favor now. The timing of this trip was perfect. If I wasn’t allowed to come anyway, then it was convenient that I didn’t care to. At least, not too much.

The phone rang, and I picked up before it rang again. “Melissa?”

“ Hi, hon.” She sounded tired.

“ I love you, baby.” Screw needy. There was no hiding it. “Missed you so much today.”

She laughed, more delighted than tired now. “I saw you this morning before I left.”

“ I know. But just knowing you were far away hurt. The house is so empty.” Like it was before I’d found her, but worse, because I knew what could be.

“ You didn’t come, did you?” Her voice was low, laced with authority.

My breath caught, my cock hardened. “No, ma’am.”

“ Good,” she said, brightening. “Now check under the pillow.”

I scrambled from the armchair in the bedroom and slid between cool sheets. My fingers fumbled around a scrap of lace, and I held it up. Her panties. Her pink and black polka dot panties with black lace trim; the ones that drove me crazy.

“ Oh baby, no no.” But it was too late. I was already rock hard and aching.

“ A little something to remember me by. You are to keep it on your pillow the whole night.”

I clutched the lace, struggling to get myself under control. Dread and excitement coursed through me, a familiar and comforting blend. She always knew exactly what I needed.

“ I’ve got to go. Goodnight, hon,” she said.

I took deep breaths and willed myself soft. “Bye, baby. Love you.”

“ Love you too. Oh, and you might be interested to know I came in those panties three times before I left.” The line went dead.

I groaned, low and tortured, as I fell onto the pillow. Desperate, I breathed in her scent and then immediately regretted it as my cock throbbed in answer.

It would be a long, hard night.

The second day went better. I only thought about Melissa once an hour, a marked improvement.

I immersed myself in work, started a big, complicated project late in the afternoon and worked until evening. The new secretary from the temp agency only screwed up twice, as if she’d joined my productivity bandwagon. I even stopped at the gym, so I’d be more tired than horny.

Pleasantly buzzed from the mixture of workout endorphins and anticipation of our phone call, I strolled through the door at 9 o’clock. I showered with the door open, so as not to miss the phone ring, but by 10:30 it hadn’t. Giving in to my restlessness, I checked the phone. That’s when I noticed the blinking light. My blood began to race, hot and panicky. I pressed play.

“ Hey, hon, it’s me. I know I’m calling earlier than last night. I was pretty tired so I turned in after dinner. I guess I’m going to hit the sack. You can call me if you want to talk. Goodnight.”

Beep.

That stupid black box got to talk to my wife, when I didn’t. Goodnight? Damn, damn, damn.

I sat down heavily. I was a grown man. I could go a whole day without talking to her. Should I call her anyway? Wake her up. Yes, please.

But I didn’t. She was tired, she’d said so. It was the epitome of selfishness to even consider disturbing her just to appease my need of her. At least I didn’t have to worry about my sexual depression, not when I had the emotional kind to weigh me down.

The secretary from the temp agency looked all of fifteen, though the paper said she had an associate’s degree. She giggled like a teenager, though, and dressed like one. How exactly did one ask a subordinate to show less skin without getting slapped with a harassment lawsuit?

So I suffered her tardiness, her generally shoddy work and the way she filed her nails at her desk without complaint. Surely to some men she’d be sexy, but to me it was too much.

Not like Melissa. She was young too, though not that young and classy besides. Sexy in that she knew all the dirty things to do me, but only if she decided I was worthy. She wouldn’t give it up easily, because with her, she wasn’t giving in. She took what she wanted.

Still though, there was something to be said for a woman with so-obvious curves bouncing around the office when I hadn’t gotten any relief in days. And that something was that it was fucking annoying. It wasn’t even her legs or cleavage that drew my eye, but her shoulders. From the back, with her wavy black hair and shoulders exposed by a completely inappropriate tube top, she could almost pass for Melissa, if I squinted.

I often gave Melissa backrubs after work. She’d head straight for the bedroom, throwing off her suit and silk blouse, rummaging for something more comfortable. She looked so incredibly sexy that way, wearing her satin underwear and bra and completely oblivious to her appeal. I’d be desperate to touch her, even to look at her for a few minutes longer before she covered up.

I’d come up behind her, that last night. “Here, baby. You look stiff. Let me give you a backrub.”

She moaned as soon as my hands settled on her shoulders. I gently guided her to the bed where she sprawled out on her stomach, and it took all my willpower not to fall on her and rut. I lay beside her instead and rubbed away her tension: her shoulders, her neck, her arms. Occasionally slipping my hands down, brushing the plump side of her breast where it peeked from the bra cup.

I was hard as a rock, touching her, being near her.

She wriggled her gorgeous ass, leaned back until she felt my erection. “I love that,” she sighed.

And then I was rutting against her, pushing my cock against her body. Even the soft, warm pressure of her through my clothes was enough to push me over, but she stopped me. She pulled away and planted a quick kiss on my lips.

“ You’re right, baby. I did have a stressful day. Why don’t you make it better?”

She rolled onto her back, her sleek limbs splayed wide with sumptuous sensuality. Her best parts were still covered by lacy lingerie, but that only made the whole thing better. Eager and wanting, I scrambled down to her feet, where I pulled at her pretty panties.

“ No,” she admonished. “No hands.”

So I put my hands behind my back and crouched over her, nudging and tugging on her panties with my tongue, my lips, my teeth. The faint earthy aroma of her sex drove me crazy, but I persisted with my task until I pulled the slip of fabric off of her feet and dropped it beside the bed. My hands still clenched behind my back, I wriggled my way back between her legs and stared at the glorious, bare mound, feeling oddly close to tears.

Maybe she knew, because she said, “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. I’ll always be here with you.”

And it was enough for me, so that I could lick tenderly at the smooth outer lips. Plant kisses on the fold between her legs and her mound. Warming her up for the true pleasure, worshipping her.

I made my way to her center, sliding my tongue through her pussy lips that were already slick. For me. She was always wet for me, ready to take me. I lapped up the moisture there, each new taste zinging straight to my cock where it pressed against the bed.

She opened to me, her sex slowly unfurling and her moans grew louder. I found her clit with my tongue, circled it, pressed against it with the flat of my tongue. My face was covered with her juices, and I pushed it farther, trying to enter her this way, push inside and join with her.

Her hips found a rhythm, and I knew she was close. I focused on her clit with fervor then, sucking it in the same beat.

“ Oh God, hon. Oh God,” she cried, which was fucking hot. But it got even worse for me when she said, “Make it a good one.”

My brain short circuited, my whole body jerking, writhing, as I lashed at her clit with my tongue, forcing her into climax, while pushing my own desperate cock against the now-damp comforter.

I held my mouth against her until the last of the spasms shook her, until she twitched with every touch of my tongue. Even then, I dared one last lick at her opening, where her wetness still dribbled out. Savored the proof of her arousal, of the pleasure I had given her.

Then I rested my damp face against her leg, waiting for her next command. Hoping she would want to finish me off, or at least let me touch myself. Anticipating it, because she always pleased me.

Today was no exception, but instead of sucking me or wanking me off, she went to the drawer and pulled out an egg vibrator.

“ Lie back,” she ordered. I fell back onto the center of the bed, my legs and arms spread, bound only by her wish. She climbed between my legs and examined my painful hard-on. It glistened at the tip, and pulsed when she bent over it.

She put the plastic egg right on the end, wiggled it around until it was covered in the wetness there.

“ Go ahead,” she said. “Touch yourself.”

My hand flew to my cock. I slowly slid it up and down, unsure if this was allowed.

“ That’s right,” she said. “Masturbate for me. But you aren’t allowed to come until I remove this.” With that, she flipped on the vibrator. It sent pleasurable pulses through my already throbbing cock. Combined with the steady stroke of my own fist, the pleasure was almost unbearable.

Up and down, and too soon I was ready to blow. But I couldn’t, not while she held the damned vibrating egg to my cock. My strokes grew jerky, almost pulling away from the vibe each time in their vehemence. Little sounds escaped me, whimpers maybe. Pleas definitely. Her eyes, though sated from her own release, twinkled at my predicament, making it harder to hold back.

She pressed the vibe down harder on the head of my cock, and my eyes rolled back. The pressure built through my balls, up through my cock like a goddamned volcano exploding, and then she lifted. For one second I thought it was my hopeful, desperate imagination, but no.

My eyes snapped to the sight of her licking the wet spot on the vibrator. “Finish it,” she said softly.

I exploded, wet bursts of cum all over the fucking place, my stomach, my own hand, the bed. Everything went black and muted and wonderful. When I came back to, I saw Melissa examining her hand, where a stray stripe of cum had landed.

“ I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I’ll clean it.” With a washcloth or with my mouth, however she wanted.

But she cleaned it herself, with her tongue, then closed her eyes as if to savor the taste. My cock, soft against my thigh, twitched at the sight.

She noticed. “Ready for round two?”

A grating sound pulled me from my memories. I looked up from my desk. My temporary secretary cleared her throat again. I snapped my mouth shut from where it had hung open, and tried to remember her name. Bambi? That couldn’t be right.

She peeked over my desk at the bulge in my pants then smiled smugly. She propped her hand on her hip, pushing it out and pushing up her cleavage. Clearly she thought she was responsible for this. And she was, her damn lookalike shoulder, but not the way she thought.

“ Need anything, Mr. Tripp?” She smirked.

Not from you. “No, thank you.”

“ Are you sure? I’m at your service, you know.”

“ Uh… I’m good. Why don’t you take the day off early?”