X-Art: Teasers Read online

  I use my fingers on my pussy, leaving my nipples exposed, pointing as if in accusation. I spread my pussy lips, then make tiny circles inside with my pointer. My ass clenches as my hole starts to leak. Circles widen, gathering speed until the teasing is too much, and I start slipping my finger in and out of my hole.

  I wiggle while I do so. My lips part, and my breath grows heavy. I feel amazing, alone and fueled by the threat of discovery. I push my body hard against the couch, lightly bucking, plunging my single digit in and out of my hole, now faster.

  My moans are insistent as I remove my finger and return to circles, now with a third one added.

  The coast is clear, but it won’t be for long. Mrs. Madison and Jason will surely both hear me. I sound like I’m choking.

  I use my left hand to spread my pussy lips wider and the right to widen my circles. My fingers go from sticky to soppy. I love that I can smell the sweet juice as I make it.

  I’m writhing all over the couch, swiveling position so my elbows are deep in the cushions, and my legs are spread close to their wingspan. My head’s pressed against the back cushion, tilted toward the sky. My eyes are closed, my nipples hard and throbbing.

  I imagine you opening the glass door and walking toward me. Then, because that thought is almost too much, I stop rubbing my cunt and start to again shove fingers inside me, almost violently, pretending they’re you.

  As if startled, I suddenly fly up on my seat until I’m sitting straight with my back to the cushion. I might be seen, and am certain someone will hear.

  But I don’t care so I go faster.

  Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah …

  I’m still pretending you’re with me, jabbing myself with a finger as the wind whips and blows about my body. I’m screaming and moaning; chewing my lip, pretending you’re on me.

  Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah …

  I moan louder as memories flood me, like scent in the breeze. I catch one, and it’s followed by another. I sniff the air and get wetter as I smell me. I croak another moan, and my scent grows stronger.

  I’m everywhere. My pungency’s on the air like juice on my fingers. I beg my mind for another memory. It gives me a favorite:

  We are on the beach and I say no, I don’t want to.

  I’ve never refused you before, but you’ve never asked me to fuck in the sand. I don’t want to, and I don’t want you to know why.

  It’s not a secret, just a memory with thorns.

  I hate having sex in the sand. It’s uncomfortable. Not just during, but after. It looks good in movies and pictures, but the gritty reality digs into the pleasure.

  I’ve done it, but not with you; I don’t want you to know that.

  I wish it had been you, and if I could make it so I would, but I can’t, and something inside me will die if you know. So I pull you to the sand and encourage you to billow my long, creamy cotton dress with the teeny straps up in a bunch around my thighs.

  Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah …

  But you don’t.

  Instead, you strip your shirt, unbuttoning buttons one at a time. You hook your hand in the bend of my knees and lift me, then drape your shirt like a blanket beneath me. You lay me down gently, then kiss me. Only after I smile do you billow my long, creamy cotton dress with the teeny straps up in a bunch around my thighs.

  You lick me softly until I cum once, then pull your body up smiling. I unbuckle your pants, pull out your cock, then wrap my hands loosely around your base and reach for your head with my lips.

  You pull yourself away and say, “Still your turn.”

  You take me gently, pushing your tip past my puckering, pink lips, holding me up by my legs, above the sand with my dress and your shirt beneath me. You fuck me slowly, somehow making me crash harder than ocean waves, without getting a grain of sand inside me.

  Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah …

  OHMYFUCKINGGOD!!!

  Remembering how hard you made me cum then helps me cum harder right now. I pinch my left nipple hard enough for the throbbing pleasure to ring in my ears as a fourth orgasm chases a third and shakes me from inside.

  A warm sensation slithers under my skin until it settles like a whispers’s finish, and I find myself drifting down from the high.

  Slowly.

  As if heaven is taking her time.

  When I open my eyes Jason is staring. His gaze shatters like falling glass, dropping his eyes from me to the dishes. I giggle, feeling the wind as it kisses my skin, this time in farewell.

  I lie back for another moment, enjoying the nip at my sticky clit, feeling the light throb from my still-hard nipples as the wind brushes by and brings sharp pleasure to my sticky, bald pussy.

  My flesh feels amazing, but incomplete.

  I stand from the couch, then slide the glass door and slip inside. I creep up behind you. You see my reflection before you feel me and lightly jump, like I caught you watching X-Art.

  But you’re not watching X-Art; you only have spreadsheets before you. I hold out my hand.

  “Still my turn,” I say.

  the end

  INSPIRED BY THE VIDEO “ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS” ON X-ART

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  Afternoon Snack

  Georgia crunched another chip between her two front teeth, nibbling like a rabbit before moving it to the back of her mouth, trying not to look at Ray like he was looking at her. She grabbed another chip, dipped it into the roasted salsa — her favorite — then nibbled at the tip until she chewed it and swallowed.

  All the tip nibbling and swallowing, it was too much. How could Georgia not think of Ray’s beautiful cock? She emptied the basket of another chip and tried not to think of the last time.

  Ray said, “What are you thinking?”

  He was playing the same game as last time. “You really want to know?”

  Ray laughed, took a chip for himself, dipped it into the salsa, then put the the whole thing in his pouted mouth. No nibbling for Ray. His puffy lips swallowed the chip whole and made Georgia imagine them swollen and puckered, red and mashed against her pussy. Like last time.

  He swallowed, then said, “Not if it’s about work.”

  “It’s amazing I can think about anything else,” Georgia smiled, “with Humphrey going all Keyser Söze over the Anderson files. He’s been on me for weeks. Shit, Ray,” she laughed, “I need a break. But no, I’m not really thinking about work. Not right now.”

  “What are you thinking of, then?” Ray asked, though he clearly knew the answer. Georgia could see it gleaming through the green in his eyes.

  An afternoon snack besides chips in a basket; your apartment and that gorgeous, white sofa; your mouth on my pussy; a quickie; your back flat against your couch, with your cock up inside; my hands flat on the cushions while I’m bouncing up and down; your cock in my mouth, spilling its cum.

  “The last time we went out to lunch, I guess.”

  “The last time, you guess?” Ray repeated, laughing as he returned his hand to the basket. He looked up from the grease then threw his green eyes to the waitress. She bounced over, breasts swaying just like they had when she took their drink order. She looked Ray over like she was ready to shove Georgia from her stool and bend over the empty seat.

  “How can I help you?” she asked.

  “These are plenty strong,” Ray said, pointing to their matching set of margaritas. “But I think we’d like something a little stronger.” He smiled. “Mind bringing us two shots of Patron?”

  “Of course,” the waitress smiled back, managing to look slightly disappointed.

  He’s mine, bitch. Georgia thought. Third time’s a charm.

  Before leaving the office for Roberto’s, Georgia wondered if they would do what they should never have done in the firs
t place, yet had done two out of the five times they’d gone out for lunch and margaritas. Now Ray was ordering shots of Patron, so there was zero doubt where things were going. In 15 minutes, and probably less, Georgia would be on her knees, lapping the underside of Ray’s shaft with the flat of her wet tongue.

  Ray said nothing; just stared and waited for Georgia to speak. He wanted her to make the move. It was her turn. He’d made it twice already.

  Her heart pounded as she reached for the basket. “I don’t want to go back to work.”

  “You have to,” he took a chip, brushing her knuckle on his way. “We both do.”

  “Humphrey’s an asshole.”

  Ray shrugged. “That he is. But he pays me well. It’s a good job, and I don’t want to lose it.”

  “Maybe for you. I’m stuck.”

  Her heart raced as her panties moistened. They were wet when she sat, but turned wetter when Ray took a chip, lowered it, leaned forward, then stared into her bright, blue eyes with his dazzling emeralds, and dropped his voice to a whisper. “That’s because your house is on fire, Georgia, and you don’t have a fireman. No way out, just a second story window to stare out and long for. But now you have me. Take my hand, tell me where you want to go, then we’ll get there together.”

  Georgia wondered if she could cum from a whisper.

  Her body shuddered. She said, “I want to go.”

  “Now?”

  She nodded, wordless.

  “You want to wait for the Patron?”

  Georgia shook her head and Ray laughed. “OK,” he said, “let’s go.”

  Ray hopped from his stool, held his hand out for Georgia, dragged her outside Roberto’s and over to his Cayenne, then raced through four lights and seven blocks to his apartment, laughing and joking and soaking her more the whole way there.

  They exploded through the door and into Ray’s all-white apartment, kissing. Hot and heavy and playful and ready. Ray stumbled backward across the threshold, past the half-moon end table and the trio of lamps artfully hung in graduating lengths on his way toward the sofa as he sent his gray button-down onto the floor.

  The first two times they had burst through Ray’s apartment, Georgia had been hot. This time her body was made entirely of flame. And unlike those first two times, Georgia was no longer scared. She felt confident. Happy. Her smile matched his. Their kisses were urgent yet playful, hungry but full.

  Ray peeled Georgia’s gauzy, white top from her body, then followed by stripping the black tee from his tanned skin. Georgia continued to kiss him; his lips like toys, playing in her mouth.

  There was so much she wanted to say: about him, them, and Humphrey. But nothing seemed right, and escaped syllables promised only to mar their moment, so Georgia unbuttoned Ray’s pants instead, and surrendered to his devil’s grin.

  “Take this off,” he said, dipping down for a kiss.

  She pushed Ray onto the white cushion, her soft-washed jeans hanging just past her ass. Ray probably couldn’t clear the smile from his face with a car crash; his teeth were gritted and green eyes eager. He set his hot hands on her white panties, then brushed them all over a wide swath of pale skin between her panties and the top of her shirt, lifted to just under her tits.

  He kissed her again, pushing heavy breath and excitement from Georgia’s heaving body. She was so happy, alive, even if only for the length of their afternoon snack. She felt grateful for the diversion; to be gone from the office and from Humphrey.

  Without warning, Ray flipped, pulling the shirt from Georgia’s hot skin as he made a move for her jeans. It would have seemed like an attack, if Ray wasn’t so playful, pressing his lips into her midsection as her bra-covered tits rested on his head for the stretch of a second before he flipped from the couch, hooked his hands into the bend of her knees, then gracefully yanked the denim from Georgia’s body, and sent her into a fit of giggles.

  Georgia was hungry and waiting. The bangs in her eyes were like half-drawn curtains draping her anticipation. She smiled wider, her pussy so wet she could feel it sticky, everywhere between her legs and creeping up near her asshole. Her bra was still on, with her panties bunched above her jeans, which snaked her ankle.

  Ray sent one of Georgia’s knees up into the air, then draped the other on the floor to his right. He gave her a final grin, then dove for her bald pussy and his afternoon snack.

  Ray licked Georgia’s peach like ice cream on cobbler, his eyes closed as he tasted her, holding her right leg up by the ankle, lightly moaning as she chewed her bottom lip and shoved the back of her head into the cushion.

  She lost a whimper, then slapped her hand on the back of Ray’s head to shove him deeper between her legs. Her panting swelled in volume as his hand slithered up the length of her stomach, his digits like tiny snakes circling her nipples to fondle her breasts. Ray laughed, softly, still licking Georgia slowly, flicking his tongue at the top of her clit before lightly stabbing her several times with the tip.

  She was freshly shaved, just that morning, not knowing if they would end up on Ray’s snow-white couch for the third time, but wanting to be ready; some of her hoping they wouldn’t, and most of her hoping they would. Now, finally on the sofa together, Georgia couldn’t stop smiling. Neither could he.

  Like the last two times, Ray gorged on her pussy. That’s why she had shaved, hungry to feel his hot lips mashing against her soft skin, without any hair to get in his way. Ray seemed to be enjoying his meal even more than Georgia expected, making soft growls and purrs, pausing only to look up, his lips glazed as he looked at her smiling, sending his right hand north to squeeze her left tit.

  Ray returned to her soaking hole, clamping his lips on her pussy so he could juice her into his mouth. His sucking grew more insistent as his tongue thrust deeper inside her. Ray raised his shoulders like a cat arching its back and nested his face deeper between her legs, wrapping his lips harder around her clit, sucking and jabbing his tongue.

  Ray pinched Georgia’s tits tighter between his fingers as his tongue drifted from her pussy over to her sticky inner thighs. He stared up at her again and made her wetter. Her fingers drifted down to meet him, pressing into her skin and pulling it back toward her, as if that might send more of her pussy into his mouth.

  Ray took her prompting and pulled at Georgia’s clit with his lips as if gently tearing meat from a bone. Georgia thrust her hand behind her, clutching at the couch and its cushions as her moans grew swollen and Ray lapped at her faster.

  His face felt amazing mashed between her legs, but she was starving for his cock. She could imagine how hard he was, like a rock with a layer of skin stretched long across it, still bulging against his black underwear and denim. As if to prove it, Ray grew insistent, pawing Georgia’s body as his mouth clamped harder against her skin and he nuzzled his jaw harder against her.

  Finally, Ray freed Georgia’s left tit from her pretty white bra, clutching it with his right hand while grabbing her ankle hard with his left. He moved fast, almost thrashing, but could only manage so long before his control started to slip. He practically tore his mouth from her sopping pussy, and Georgia tried pushing it back. Ray looked up as he moved his hand from her ankle to leg, then to her waist and up to her other tit.

  Georgia begged him with staccato breath, through the tiny O of her open mouth, lost in a series of pre-orgasmic whimpers, one right after the other, like waves beating sand on an otherwise silent shore. Georgia could feel Ray’s craving, and that — as much as she wasn’t used to such chivalry — he wanted to please her more than himself. He fucked her cunt harder with his face, as if on a mission, and hurled her into the afternoon’s first orgasm.

  It was soft, a sweater of pleasure hugging her body, starting in her ass cheeks then rushing up through her body, settling into her shoulders for a second, before it slithered up and around her neck and settled into the lobes of her ears. It tingled her flesh; beautiful and full-bodied, though nothing like what promised to follow if this afterno
on was anything like the two times before.

  Impossibly, Ray was everywhere: his lips lapped at the sticky mess coating Georgia’s inner thighs, his tongue lapped up, on, and around her clit as it thrusted deep into her simmering hole, his fingers brushed her hard nipples through the edge of her bra up top and rubbed the raw nub of her juicebox below.

  Georgia was on fire, her every inch aroused. She squirmed, losing control of her rattling body as she glazed her lover’s face. She could practically feel the throb of Ray’s raging cock, even though it was nowhere near her, still trapped as it was behind the cotton of his boxer briefs. She longed for him to take his turn, and knew it had to be coming at any second, but just as she was certain he would take it — yank his pants down and plunge himself inside her hungry cunt — Ray spread Georgia wider and thrust his tongue deeper into her open, pulsing hole, while yanking down on her bra.

  A second orgasm crashed through her body, harder than the first; enough to make Georgia whimper and moan and bite her lip hard enough to taste droplets of copper dappling her tongue. And still she knew it nothing compared to what would be coming.

  She couldn’t wait, and wasn’t willing to. Georgia gestured for Ray, pulling him toward her. He eagerly came, meeting her mouth as his back hit the sofa’s soft skin. She pulled away, pushed him down, then climbed on top to meet his mouth again, straddling his right leg so his knee gently pressed up into her naked pussy. Ray unbuckled his pants while staring at Georgia in anticipation.

  Her left tit hung from her bra and seemed to turn Ray on. He sucked air into his nostrils, half panting and still smiling like only Ray could as he grabbed at Georgia’s bra and ripped it from her body. She lost another laugh, a tiny twitter as he tugged his jeans low enough to pop his rock hard cock from its shell.

  She smiled wider as he pointed up toward the ceiling, as if his dick was meant to compliment the trio of low hanging lamps. Happy to finally have the hot cock she’d been craving since long before Ray suggested Roberto’s for lunch, Georgia dragged her tongue from his base to the tip, then met his reddened head with a soft kiss, puckering her lips at the tip, then holding her loose and moist pout at the top.