Sex Every Day, Volume 4: 7 Single Serving Fantasies Read online

  Sex Every Day Volume 4

  7 Single Serving Fantasies

  Lexi Maxxwell

  EROS | A division of Sterling & Stone

  Contents

  Title Page

  I’m Fucking My Co-Worker

  Church Secretary Gangbang

  Intermission Quickie

  Fucking For Charity

  Sweet Pussy (And Sweeter Revenge)

  Fucking the Gardener

  Officer Voyeur

  About the Author

  © 2017 Lexi Maxxwell. All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.

  Thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought the book, or telling your friends about it, to help us spread the word.

  For a free ebook and news about upcoming releases, please visit leximaxxwell.com.

  I’m Fucking My Co-Worker

  Working in the kitchen at the Greenville Country Club started out like any other job I’ve ever had: Everyone tried to figure me out while I ran around like a mad woman trying to prove myself. The only difference with this gig was I was finally in my element, surrounded by men.

  Since I was 13, the opposite sex has always intrigued me. I lost my virginity a couple years earlier than I should have. I’ve tried figuring out what makes guys tick through dating, but that never really worked since guys are rarely themselves when you’re the girlfriend.

  Instead, I figured out it was best to friend them first, so you would know everything relevant about them before convincing them it was best to vent the sexual tension, to of course become better friends. After that, they’re putty in your hands.

  That was my experience, until I met Damon.

  Damon was the sexiest man I’d ever met, without a close second. He had everything I wanted, including what I imagined was a giant black cock, which kept me endlessly curious. We bantered back and forth while chopping vegetables, flirting as if an audience was cheering behind us. Despite my attraction, I knew nothing would, or ever could, come from it. There’s no point mincing words. My family is filled with racists, and though I know bullshit when I see it, I can’t tolerate tension, and with scant income from the kitchen, I needed the grace of my family to help me survive. My parents were dead. All I had left was Uncle Carl and my three cousins, all guys. They gave me a place to hang my hat and rest my head, so long as I was willing to tolerate the shit.

  My friends come in all shapes, sizes, and colors. I think the word race is total crap. There are no races; we’re all people. When I have children, that’s what I’ll teach them, instead of what I was taught – that everyone should date and marry within their own color. I loathe the thought that my dating pool should stay limited to the same bigoted assholes I’ve grown up with my entire life. I’ve never fit in with many of my family members, mostly because of their ignorance. Racism is just one example of many. But I tolerate them all, both because I need a place to live, and because that’s what family does.

  Damon and I grew up in the same general area but never hung out. There was a silent division at our small-town high school. And after graduation, the entire town was like thirteenth grade forever, with everyone living their lives under the same whispered division. I hated it with all my heart, and desperately wanted to move someplace where simple-minded fools were the minority, and everyone else could live how they wanted.

  Uncle Carl’s house wasn’t much more than a shack, situated smack-dab in the middle of a farm. I had made my home in an add-on room on the side of the house ever since my parents died in a car crash on their way to Kentucky four years earlier. I planned to leave once I could save enough money, so I squirreled every cent I could, but I couldn’t afford to get kicked out before then.

  As much as I wanted to fuck Damon, I didn’t want to get into trouble, so that’s not how our relationship started. Even though I wasn’t letting his black mamba go slithering in my snake hole, I could never bring him to the farm without Uncle Carl or Billy or Jake running to grab the shotgun. Jimmy never would since he was always too drunk, and rarely did anything except laugh.

  Damon lived by himself, so we would always meet up after work, trying to draw as little attention to ourselves as possible. His house was 10 miles from our farm, so I’d follow him home and we’d watch TV until early morning, when the night turned so black it was almost purple. Then I’d leave, unsatisfied and wanting to drag Damon back to his bedroom and fuck him, and wondering what kept me so scared that I wasn’t willing to do it.

  It wasn’t like I wasn’t already alone in his house.

  My pussy turned to soft peach just watching the man – smooth, dark skin stretched over tight muscles, teasing my tight aching hole whenever he changed from his work uniform in the middle of his living room floor. My God, did that man test my willpower. We discussed our town’s raging stupidity, and spent many drunken nights dreaming of bailing the limits and moving to a place where we could be ourselves.

  Despite the crackle between us – I could practically feel his desire to shove his fat fuckstick into my white little pussy – things stayed platonic. Though neither of us said it, we were both quietly frightened that the moment he poured his coffee into my cream, my Uncle and cousins would be bursting through the door to drag him through a field.

  So we hung out and did nothing, except bitch about work, then I’d drive back to my house, crack another beer, pretending it was my first as I shot the shit with my cousins. I’d act like I gave a crap about their construction jobs while avoiding Uncle Carl like he had herpes.

  I was certain he could smell Damon on me every time I walked through the door. I’d hide in my room and text Damon until one of us was asleep, mostly about when the hell we could finally get the fuck out of Dodge. The man was a helluva chef, but he wanted to do more than flip grilled cheese at the Greenville Country Club. There, his only chance for advancement was moving from one kitchen to a slightly larger one, where he’d have to smile wider for the extra 90 cents an hour that came with the job.

  We grew closer over winter, and nearly fucked a hundred times through spring. By the time summer arrived to tell a dying spring to get the fuck out of the way, my pussy would pound every time I thought of Damon I often thought of him when I was awake, but it was almost a constant when I slept.

  Summer was the busiest season of the year for us in the GCC kitchen. Time passed faster when we were together, juggling endless orders and events while pretending to bend our ears toward the endless bitching and whining from people with more money than sense.

  I loved the kitchen because behind the swinging white doors, color and age didn’t matter. Everyone worked their fingers to the bone, and all were cogs in the process. It gave me hope that the way things worked in the kitchen was the same way they worked outside the borders of our redneck town, and that one day Damon and I would be able to go out for drinks, without judgment, and my family would be too far away to matter.

  My uncle started asking questions, and my insides crept from slightly nervous to reasonably scared, and finally, to a tinge of terror that remained a constant. But I wasn’t willing to stop seeing him, even though he had rejected me a few times already. I tried rubbing my pussy all over him a couple of times, but it only led to a lot of blue on his black balls. I think he was more afraid of Uncle Carl and my cousins than I was. I never stopped nursing the hope that we were more than best friends.
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  Still, I had to lie to my family every night when I came home. I had so little that I couldn’t bear the thought of have nothing. Fortunately, I had Jack, the only white guy I’d found who shared our contempt for the town. Jack was my default boyfriend and gay as a rainbow tee. He knew exactly how Damon and I felt imprisoning our true selves.

  Damon and I had been talking about driving out to the lake for a while. Though we’d only danced around the topic, I was certain our tango was to the same tune. The more miles we put between Uncle Carl, the greater the chance that he would be hosing me with cream before sundown. I’d caught a glimpse of that big black cock just once, and I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

  I called Jack from work to beg him for a favor.

  “Hellooo beautiful!” he sang as he answered the phone.

  “Hey Jack. I need a huge favor; I wouldn’t ask but my uncle’s having me watched. He thinks I’m doing something behind his back.”

  “That’s because you are, honey,” Jack laughed. “And you’re the worst when it comes to keeping shit from people who know you.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I need this Jack. Will you do it?” I pled. “For me?”

  “You haven’t told me what it is yet,” he prodded.

  “Damon wants to go out to Blue Hole Lake. I told him I’d go tonight, but I forgot my cousins from Tennessee are coming in.”

  “Oooo … how is my sexy bucket of dark meat?”

  “He’s good,” I laughed. “Says he’s got something he wants to show me there … and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to miss it, if you know what I mean.”

  “Girl, the Queen would know what you mean!” he laughed. “I will only call your uncle and pretend to be your straight boyfriend if you promise to tell me every teeny tiny little detail – not that I expect anything about that man to be teeny or tiny,” Jack whistled. “And I don’t mean stupid-ass details like how good it was; I want the dirty, right down to how far it went into your girl gnome.”

  “Jack, you are a sick individual,” I giggled into the phone. “And why are you referring to my pussy as a girl gnome?”

  “Because pussies are kittens and I like kittens. Gnomes are scary mystical creatures I want nothing to do with – a much more accurate description for how I feel about lady parts, dear.”

  I laughed hysterically. “Alright, Jack. Call Uncle Carl and tell him you’re taking me out so he can fall asleep tonight confident that I’m doing my part to keep the family’s color integrity intact. Tomorrow, I’ll tell you every detail about whatever it is Damon has up his sleeve.”

  “Up his sleeve?! Shit girl, I don’t care what’s up his sleeve. You can tell me what he has up his pants leg! This shit’s gonna be good – you two are crackling with more sexual tension than a trucker pulling it out at a glory hole.”

  Jack was descriptive if nothing else.

  “So you’ll call Uncle Carl and tell him you’re taking me out, today right?”

  “You know I will, but only because I love you and you need a dick between your legs worse than any woman I know. How long’s it been?”

  I groaned, “Six months, and each one has felt like Lent.”

  “How is it that I get laid more than you, and I’m a gay guy living in Bum-Fucked-Egypt?” Jack asked, his voice raising one octave per word.

  “Because your family knows, and lets you out of BFE whenever you can scrape up enough money … and they would rather you get out of town than have them outed to the community and shunned from their precious church.”

  “You speak truth, good heterosexual woman.” He laughed then added, “You do know that once you go black, you never go back, right? I’m calling Carl now. Toodles!”

  I thanked the universe, or the being above, or whatever for leading me to such a wonderful man, then slipped my cell into my pocket and readjusted my ridiculous chef’s hat just as Damon stepped through the door, all smiles.

  “So what’s up girl? We goin’ or not?”

  “We’re on,” I said, grinning back.

  The final two hours crawled by. I fantasized about whatever it was Damon wanted to show me, hoping in my heart – and soaking wet hole – that what he wanted to show me was at least a foot long.

  It was amazing how long chopping vegetables took when you were dreaming that the man beside you was putting his strong hands all over your body and bracing it to receive a full pound of cock. By the time I moved from carrots to peppers, my panties were seriously sticky. It soaked out from my center, through the cotton, and onto my inner thighs.

  When work was finally finished, we bolted to the locker rooms to change, hopped in Damon’s car, stopped for a case of beer, then raced toward the lake. The ride was mostly silent except for the steady beat of Talib Kweli’s “Just to Get By,” which Damon wanted to play, over and over – at least 25 times in a row. I didn’t mind. The verse was infectious, but the pattering chant and rumbling bass did nothing to ease the tightening muscles low in my stomach.

  We reached the lake just as the sun was eaten by mountains and the lake turned crimson beneath its final rays.

  I stared at what had to be the most beautiful thing in our tiny town. “This is amazing!” I breathed.

  “Figured you might like it,” Damon said nonchalantly, popping the top from a bottle and passing it across the console to me.

  “Most of the girls you bring up here like it, huh?” I joked.

  “Yeah,” he said winking. “Gets me laid a lot.”

  I feigned shock. He slapped the steering wheel. “Damn, there I go, letting the pussy go purring out of the bag.”

  “Damon! Is that what you brought me up here for?” I said, still teasing, but dying to know if I was wrong about why he brought me all the way out to Blue Hole Lake.

  He said nothing, just opened his door and sauntered out, jeans hugging his tight ass as he walked toward the lake and sat on the grass. I opened the door and followed, dropping to the grass beside him. A cool breeze kissed our skin as we stared at the last rays of sunlight sinking from sight, drawing long pulls from our bottles and enjoying a comfortable silent.

  After a season of waiting, Damon set his bottle beside him in the grass and rolled over on top of me, placing one hand on each side of me as he stared into my eyes and stole my breath.

  No matter how many times I’d imagined this moment, the reality was more intense. Even if it took months to happen, I loved that Damon was so aggressive when making his move. Most guys I knew were nothing like that. It was as if they needed permission to act like a man, wanting to talk about what they were going to do before they did it. I figured that was but one of the endless differences between the men my uncle was trying to marry me off to, and those living in the real world.

  Damon’s light brown eyes were almost black with desire as he set his mouth to mine. I caught my breath as our skin touched and his lips claimed mine with a force that sent me back to the grass.

  He hovered above me, propped on his arms. “I thought you were tougher than that,” he challenged.

  I smiled as I picked myself up from the grass and smashed my lips onto his. I struggled to keep my wits about me as the atmosphere crackled with heat around us.

  A low growl rumbled up from his throat as I nipped at his tongue and lifted myself higher toward him, wrapping my arms tightly around his chest, and throwing my weight against him, knocking him off balance.

  He tumbled to avoid falling on me, and I twisted my body so I landed squarely on top of him. I spread my legs to either side of his beautiful frame, grinding my hips into his before firmly planting another kiss on his lips. He held his breath, seeming shocked that I took control. He growled, wrapped his strong arms around me, and somehow managed to stand.

  I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, pressing our mouths closer. Our tongues twisted together as they plunged in and out of one another’s mouths, igniting the mutual passion that had been bottled for too long.

  I lost mysel
f in the forbidden. He walked us to the closest tree, pressed me against it, then pulled back and lifted my shirt over my head. As soon as it was off, his hands were around me, fumbling with my bra’s double latch. He released them from their cloth prison and captured a nipple between his lips, scraping his teeth across my tender skin.

  I arched against the rough bark as it dug into my flesh. He pulled my nipple between his lips, caught it in his teeth, and gently sucked, tugging it into an erect pebble. My hips involuntarily moved from a sway to a buck, rubbing against his already engorged cock, trapped withing the denim. I wiggled free from his grasp, then dropped to the dirt.

  I tugged open the buttons on his fly, then smiled hungrily as his pants fell, puddling at his ankles. I worked his boxers free from his waist. I slid them to his thighs, then pulled the largest dick I’d ever seen all the way into my mouth.

  I swirled my tongue around Damon’s swollen girth before stuffing enough of it in my mouth that I nearly choked. His head fell back as his hands found the sides of my head, gliding my lips gently forward and back as his long, thick shaft grew fat enough for me to feel corded veins on the insides of my cheeks. He tasted glorious. The only thing I loved more than the feel and taste of a dick in my mouth was the feel and taste after it was inside me and I was licking my own sweet juices from the skin.

  I sped up and Damon groaned. My pussy ached and my thighs were slick with my hot juices.

  My hands stroked Damon’s coal-colored thighs, thick with bulging muscles. Goosebumps skittered across his flesh and flooded me with an overwhelming sense of power. I stripped from my jeans and slid my soft, soaking wet cotton panties down my thighs and past my ankles, stepping out of them and freeing my legs so that I could wrap them like ribbon around his naked waist.

  A primal growl rumbled from deep inside him as he positioned his throbbing cock against my sopping hole. Foreplay was over and Damon was aiming for the goal. His tip pressed against my tight, wet pussy, and I tensed for entry. He pressed gently, knowing his size and being careful not to hurt me as he inched himself inside.