“Here’s the deal, girlfriend. We are going on vacation together to a spicy little island full of hot and wicked men, and the kicker is, we’re going to get you laid in the first twenty-four hours if I have to hogtie you to a freaking bed!” Betsy jerked the car to a stop.
“What? Are you out of your fucking mind?” Stacy Rathbone exclaimed. Granted, she craved a man and his juicy cock buried deep inside to the point that toys were barely cutting it, but engaging in anything carnal was too damn risky for her to consider such a shameless thought. At least, to her heart.
“No, just sick and tired of seeing you wallow in shit.”
“Maybe I have no choice”
Flinging open the door, she shook her head as she climbed out. “Would you stop being a fuddy-duddy here. Pu-lease!” Betsy stomped around the side of the car, jerked open the passenger door, and tugged on her friend’s hand. “Get out of the car or I’m going to yank you out. And I won’t be nice.”
“Okay, okay. Jesus Christ.” Stacy slid out of the car. The sunlight bit into her eyes, causing another frown. She’d forgotten her sunglasses in the rush.
“See, there you go again.”
“The sunlight, girlfriend. As in, blasting in my eyes. Besides, I never said I wasn’t coming.”
“No. You’ve just been pouting for two days at the thought. This is only a bridal shower, for Christ’s sake. She’s supposed to be one of your very best friends. Remember Leana? You know the wedding? And you’re a bridesmaid? Fluffy mint-green dress and all?”
Stacy smoothed the edge of her miniskirt and grabbed the two presents from the back seat. “Yeah, well, maybe it reminds me that I have no real life and one pain-in-the-ass friend. Oh, and, count them… zero boyfriends.” Mint green, of all godforsaken colors. What was Leana thinking?
“That’s one of the reasons we’re going to St. Martin this weekend. You know, in case you forgot.”
“Oh, yeah. Like I’m going to find or care to find a boyfriend on a tropical island.” But her thoughts ran to the sinful side of the possibilities tasting a hot, sexy body, all male and primed. Yes, indeed, she could imagine his long fingers stroking her hard nipples as his tongue traced a line down her salty neck, and the thought sent shivers directly into her pussy. She could just visualize the way the heat of their bodies sizzled in the evening skies with every stroke and every sensuous caress. And, dear God, she wanted his hard cock pressing against her naked flesh as she moaned and whimpered. Commanding her. Disciplining her. She was truly losing her mind.
The sinful thought of his hands strumming a quiet orchestration of light and sound as he drew her in closer forced a trickle of her juice to edge past her panties. The mere thought of the husky timbre of his voice begging her to want him, to hunger for him, forced a shiver racing down her spine. And she wanted kisses so deep that it took her breath away. She quivered and dragged her nasty mind back to reality. Not gonna happen.
“Who’s talking about getting you a boyfriend? I’m serious. We are getting you laid. Now shut up and act like you care.” Betsy sashayed toward the front door.
As much as Stacy hated to admit it, her friend was right. She needed to get laid. Ever since her relationship with the esteemed Sampson Randolf the Fourth had ended bitterly nearly eight months before, she’d been a hermit and pretending men didn’t exist. Not that Sampson was that remarkable in bed, but he was a body anyway, and one to taste every other week or so. Somehow Stacy had thought her body, yeah, ri-ight. He filled her dance card and for some reason she thought he was the one. Oh, the joke was on her. Yep, nothing like finding your vanilla-laced boyfriend in bed with a woman whose chest was bigger than the entire New York Packers’ running backs. Wearing a cowgirl hat, hot pink-fringed boots, and nothing else was bad enough. Cooing “fuck me, cowboy” in her very best sultry Marilyn Monroe karaoke voice made Stacy want to flog her mercilessly. Somehow the vision of the lasso and bullwhip lying next to his naked body did nothing for her self-esteem.
The asshole had called her too kinky for her own damn good on more than one occasion. Yeah right, buddy. Jerk. Creep.
She’d regrouped after three days of intense Chunky Monkey ice cream infusions and did nothing but bury herself in her work. By day she was a well-respected attorney in Washington DC and by night she wrote short stories, sometimes comical experiences about her dreadful love life, and they were always laced with the truth. Lately she’d taken to penning highly erotic pieces, just to soothe the savage beast inside of her begging for a hard fuck. She was at the almost at the point, or so she hoped, soon-to-be published stage. Her ultimate dream, and something she would give up her six-figure salary for. She sighed. The notion was another big who the hell knows in her life? Damn if she didn’t have a significant amount of those floating around her.
“Would you try and remember the bridal shower is for our good friend? Damn, this is not a funeral!” Betsy chided as she rolled her eyes.
“I know. I get it, all right?” Leana Miller was a wonderful friend. They’d all been best friends for years and the girl was marrying the man of her dreams. And everybody else’s. The formally wild girl, she was already living out her fantasy. Leana was a highly paid publisher at one of the finest houses in town. She jetted off to New York on a regular basis and met with aspiring writers all over the country. Stacy wanted her life, or, at the minimum, her influences. For reasons that she hated to admit, she was too terrified to send any of her stories to her friend. There was nothing like your very best friend reading how you would enjoy a little spanking and silky ties holding you down while you begged for the man to allow you to cum.
“Yeah, right.” Betsy chortled.
Nope, she was not ready to be that naked to the world. “I am!”
“Then act happy.”
She growled. Leana’s fabulous hubby-to-be? He was a beefcake in a swimsuit offering champagne by a beachside pool and couldn’t be any tastier. He took tall, dark, and handsome to an entirely sick level. Oh, yeah, Stacy was one jealous woman.
“Earth to Stacy. Are you joining us today?” Betsy pushed her arm playfully and knocked on the excessively decorated front door.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m here. Maybe a drink will help.”
“Uh-huh. I hope the fuck so.”
Leana opened the door and tsked her finger. “Look what the cat drug in. ’Bout damn time my best friends got here! We couldn’t start the games without you.”
Games? Great. Stacy smiled glumly. Leana was a picture-perfect perky little blond that didn’t look a day over twenty-five. The three musketeers had gone through high school and college together, sweating over exams in the dorm room and toiling over hunky boys and pizza. The stories they could tell each other were sinful indeed. That was well over a decade-plus ago. How times had changed. “Sorry we’re late.”
“Yeah, sad sack here couldn’t figure out what to wear,” Betsy chided as they waltzed into the living room. “Okay where’s the booze?”
Leana laughed. “Margaritas are in the kitchen, and you know where everything else is, so help yourself.”
“Getting you a huge one too, girlfriend.” Betsy pointed at Stacy as she walked toward the kitchen.
“I haven’t seen you in too long.” Leana hugged Stacy. “I’ve missed you.”
“You’ve been busy.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m shocked how much time the wedding planning has taken. I’m so glad you’re here.” Leana eased back and grinned as she shook her head.
“Hmmm… So you and Betsy are going to the islands for, what, ten days? I think that’s yummy.”
“Yummy? That’s the current plan. I don’t know how I feel about being gone for so long,” Stacy said through clenched teeth.
“Come on. You’re lucky gals. Wish I were going.”
“Oh, please, Leana. You’re going to Paris for three weeks for your honeymoon with a man that only God could have kissed so well. Give me a break.”
“Sullen doesn’t work well on you, Stacy. Besides, it’s not a crime to have a little fun. Let your hair down. Find a hot guy. You could use a break and enjoy life. You know, like you used to? You work more than God does. Drives me crazy, and I only see you like once a week if I can get you out to lunch.”
“Why are the two of you so interested in finding me a man?” Stacy wanted to be miffed, but her besties had seen her through one too many bouts of tears. For a few seconds she closed her eyes, thinking about her latest erotic book, one entailing being taken captive by two hot men. She bit her lower lip as she envisioned being tied, spread eagled, one whipping her ass while the other wrapped his hand around her hair, forcing his long, thick cock deep into the back of her throat. She could almost hear her strangled moans as he erupted into her mouth, could taste the saltiness of his cum as it trickled down the back of her throat. Fanning her face, she bit back a whimper and blinked away the fantasy.
“Because when you get fucked you’re a whole lot more fun. Now get your ass in here and pretend.” Leana laughed. “You look flushed. Are you all right?”
Coughing, Stacy nodded. No one knew she longed to be dominated, owned by a strong Master who could keep her in line, train her to be the perfect submissive. No one was ever going to know. “Peachy.”
“Uh-huh. You definitely need to get laid.”
I need to get spanked. Stacy growled as her dear friend dragged her into a room full of squealing women. “Now you too, Jesus.” Okay, so Leana was right. Mr. Blackie was sometimes exciting, but not nearly as fun as having a hot thick cock buried inside her dripping pussy. In truth, there was nothing like a little silver vibrator to help her get in the mood for her writing, the stories steamy and full of verve. Granted, her usage had happened entirely too much over the past several weeks. Eh, batteries were cheap. She gulped. Lately her hormones were swinging all over the place.
Betsy glided back into the room and preened. “Okay, Joann, let’s get the festivities under way. I think we all need a treat or two.”
“Treat?” Leana’s sister was so straight-laced, and seeing her in a tight leather miniskirt in the middle of the day gave Stacy a giggle. Oh, I need a treat, all right.
“Shush and try and have some fun,” Betsy admonished.
Joann raised her glass and grinned wickedly. “Ladies. We have a fabulous and very frisky game to play together today, and the prize, you guys are gonna love. Trust me, girl. This particular contest will have you squirming in your seats wishing this was a co-ed little party.”
“Oh brother,” Stacy whispered taking her first sip of the margarita and coughed. “Trying to kill me here? Way too much tequila.”
“Stop acting like a ninny and enjoy the drink,” Betsy hissed.
“As you all know, our lovely bride-to-be has a fantastic job at Ruel House Publishing, a hit maker and producer of some fine erotic stories and novels. As a matter of fact, the erotics are going mainstream, and they are kicking off their e-book website, as well as a publicity tour for our entire team of authors. We’re very excited about the possibilities of pushing some of our writers to the New York Times Bestselling List.” Joann’s eyes twinkled.
“Is she kidding with this?” Betsy raised her eyebrow.
Stacy had to admit she was intrigued. To be a bestseller was a dream.
“’Kay, girls, let’s just say they’re looking for new writers. Isn’t that exciting?” Joann winked and laughed as the crowd oohed and ahhed.
“Erotic online, the hottest trend, and one that Leana swore her house would never get into. How fascinating. You never told me,” Stacy whispered, imaging someone reading one of her saucy stories, glaring into a computer in the dead of night. The thought was mildly titillating. She wondered how that would work and keeping her prim and proper day job.
Leana turned to her and smiled. “You need to spend more time with me, girlfriend. I have a couple of books you need to read.”
Instantly Stacy thought of a tall glass of wine, a quiet Saturday afternoon with nothing to do but read a scintillating book about him. Fantasy man. The one wildly hot man of her dreams, and the stunning slice of chocolate, was in almost every naughty girl’s wild dream. Tingling, she could almost feel his fingers dancing down the side of her throat. She closed her eyes, imaging the fiery trace of his whispering touch so close to her breasts that her they swelled and her nipples hardened instantly as his ruby lips hovered over her one, tasting. The sinful thought of him licking her rock hard bud until she begged him to fuck her forced a tiny whimper. Could there be anything better than the way his hand brushed the softness of her skin as she moaned? Or was there anything tastier that fantasy hunk caressing softly down to her thigh and across to her pulsating clit? Her pussy juice trickled into her tiny crimson thong, making her pant. Then, the moment he twisted her nipple, forcing her to the floor… Whew. Goddamn, she was hungry. No, she was ravenous. If an eligible bachelor floated into the room, she imagined ripping his clothes off.
Stacy flushed and licked her lips. She had to get her mind out of the gutter. I want you to own me, use me, fuck me. Spank me. The words reverberated in her mind like a broken record. Blinking several times, she stared at Joann, her vision marred by the fleeting of his carved face, his cerulean-blue eyes. Somewhere she’d lost several minutes, and the heat flew into the nineties, causing prickles to dance across her skin.
“Girls, we have a very unusual game that we want to play today, so here we go.” Joann unveiled a large wheel, complete with colored numbers, across slices of ruby-red felt and crisp white envelopes, each one attached with silver clips.
“What’s this? Wheel of Fortune?” Stacy asked, laughing as she stared at the contraption. Obviously homemade, yet they’d been able to recreate the ridiculous game show centerpiece fairly well.
“Bingo, ladies! But this is a very special Wheel of Fortune. Call it the Spin the Wheel of Lust, giving you the very reason and the approval to make your very own delicious and highly sensuous fantasy come true. You spin and the wheel, and, depending on the number, chance doles out, karma gives you a scenario to complete, and each one is naughtier than the one before. Think of all the yummies, perhaps having sex with a stranger in an elevator or a hot night at the beach with copious amounts of sex with a surfer babe in the back of his van while a crowd parties outside, chanting as you fuck the hot male.”
“Are you serious? Stacy coughed.
“Absolutely,” Leana stated, raising her eyebrow.
Joann smiled as she continued. “Who knows what the wheel has in store for you? All you have to do is dare to dream. Now, some of these luscious scenarios are based on actual stories that we’ve been cutting out of the newspapers over the last few months. Of course, we’ve made a few… changes. Sadly, not all the numbers have a fantasy to create. There are some duds up there, ladies, but we have a bag full of treats as a consolation prize.”
“No fair!” Betsy quipped.
Leana snapped her playfully. “You don’t need any help to make your fantasies come true. You’re a walking erotic time bomb!”
“Oh poo!” Betsy pouted as the girls laughed.
“Here’s the fun part. If you complete your selection from the wheel and provide us with some steamy tawdry details penned on paper, that very sexy story will be printed as an E-story on the Ruel Publishing website. You’ll get to go on tour with the team of authors all around the country, and you could potentially land yourself a contract for more work. You have three months to complete your task, so that should be enough time for everyone, and if it’s not, dear God help you women!” Joann beamed.
Crawl to me. Come and suck my cock. Stacy’s mouth was dry and she scanned the room, certain her fantasy man was calling to her. The husk of his voice donned her dreams every night. Commanding in nature, she knew she’d succumb to him in any manner he demanded.
Leana clapped and looked around the room. “What do you think, my best girlfriends? Seeing your wicked stories published. Knowing the entire scene was of your creation and your very wanton desire, there for the entire world to see. Just imagine the possibilities. This was all Joann’s idea.”
“I think both of you need a CAT scan.” Stacy gulped. She certainly wasn’t a prude, but the wild and crazy thought of having sex with a stranger in an elevator was Looney Tunes. Sinful. Hot as holy hell… Oh, boy… her pussy clenched at the mere thought. What would it be like to see a sexy male stranger just waiting for her, wanting her? Somehow she could envision a tall, dark, and very mysterious man. Could she follow him into the tiny space, push him hard against the back wall and place his massive hand under her short crimson skirt? Wearing no panties, the wafting of her desire would float between them. He’d ease a single finger inside her wet folds, sliding in and out with wild abandon. Shivering, she could see enticing him to drop to his knees and lick her swollen clit until she came in wave after amazing waves of pleasure. Had she lost her mind?
Every part of her body was electrified. She needed some air. Swallowing hard, Stacy could feel the tingling sensation as heat rose from her belly and up to her neck. Either she was having early hot flashes or she seriously needed a man.
“Where do think you’re going? This is hot!” Betsy barked.
“Just another drink. Don’t worry. I can’t go far. You drove, remember?”
“We’re not waiting for you!”
No problem. Stacy moved toward the kitchen, her legs shaking. Why was she so embarrassed? Of course she knew what it boiled down to. While she’d never been a wanton teenager, sex used to be a joy and something she loved. Sinfully delicious. She and the girls had even experimented a bit in college, but when she met Sampson, somehow all the inventiveness seemed to fade away. She’d blamed their complacency on their busy schedules for almost two years. Still, she had tried to spice up their relationship. First she had tried planning sex on different times of the day and then surprising him at his office in a skimpy thong and trench coat. God, she was forever hunting for kinky toys and sexy outfits. He never bothered to even pay attention long enough. Hell, he’d even made fun of her on more than one occasion.
And her desire for discipline? He’d spanked her once, then refused on multiple occasions. Sighing, she had no fond memories.
So she’d given up. Then the blond bomb had hit, yanking her self-esteem right into the toilet. She wasn’t sure anymore if she was desirable at thirty-four. Stacy knew she had a decent enough figure, tall with long legs. Sadly, she wasn’t model gorgeous or standard in appearance by any means, but at least she had excellent boobs. Perky. They were just large enough to fit perfectly in a large man’s hands. And her nipples stood at attention almost constantly, especially after scraping against the thin lace material of her bra, just like they were doing right now. The thought made her laugh. Certainly that was an attribute to put on a resume.
Oh, hell. Maybe Betsy was right. Going to St. Martin was a fabulous idea. Just two single girls, blazing summer sun and copious amounts of alcohol seemed perfect. A nude beach and bodacious sexy island men, possibly in her favorite flavor of chocolate would sooth her nerves, dark, creamy, and delicious. As sinful as the thought sounded, as she allowed her naughty mind to hunger for the very event, she knew she had longed for a tall black gorgeous man to make all her fantasies come true since college.
Stacy exhaled as her nipples scraped against the thin lace of her dress. Her off-the-chart desires might have had something to do with the one particular Rocky movie that was her favorite. Who knew, but she was weak in her knees just thinking about fucking a stunning man, perhaps Spanish in descent. Okay, she had to fess up. She was hot and horny. Maybe now was her chance to rev up her life. No strings. Just a few days of blatant sex would bring her back into real life. Tasty.
Hmmm… the decadent thought gave her pause. Another margarita would help. Stacy stood sipping the frothy concoction and sighed. The entire world knew she needed an attitude adjustment. Could she let go? That was the question.
“Leana told me to come and find you.” Betsy scowled.
“Not from what I’ve heard.”
Stacy moaned. “Would you two of you sex fiends stop it!”
“A teenager gets more sex than you do.” Betsy patted her ass and refreshed her own drink.
“I didn’t know every day revolved around sex, you know.”
“In my book every day is much better because of sex, and you’re playing the game. Period.”
“Fine, darling ex-friend of mine. What have I missed?” Hissing, Stacy had to resist giving her the finger.
“Come and find out. You have a turn waiting for you.” Betsy gave her a knowing smile.
“You are so wicked. Like playing the game or the outcome is going to matter.” Stacy sighed.
The other girls were laughing hysterically as they walked back in. “Tell her what she missed,” Betsy suggested.
Stacy could tell Mary and Gina were way too much into the game. Maybe she was too conservative, too set in her ways. The term ‘over the hill’ came to mind.
“Uh, hem. ‘Manager discovered naked in the laundry room of an apartment community last Saturday. She and her maintenance man were found engaged in some illicit acts by several of the neighbors. The community security camera showed the relationship had been going on for some time.’” Mary laughed reading the actual article.
“That really happened?” Betsy asked.
“Yep, right in Annandale like a month ago.” Leana chuckled as she shook her head.
“Gees. Boy, I thought I was hard up.” Smiling, Stacy could only imagine the interesting legalities.
“You are, sugar. You are.” Betsy pinched Stacy’s arm.
“So… I get to seduce a maintenance man, hopefully on camera. You betcha I have the perfect one in mind. He happens to work at my building. And girls, he’s that yummiest hunk of a man creature that ever walked the earth. Trust me what I can do with that stud muffin. ‘Yummy’ with a capital ‘Y.’” Mary giggled and fanned her face.
“Mine is to have sex in a car wash. During the rinse cycle.” Gina couldn’t stop laughing. “Before you ask, no, this one is made-up! Look at this! I can’t wait for the real ones.”
Stacy knew Gina’s boyfriend wouldn’t have a problem in the world accommodating her sinful fantasy. He enjoyed parading his own oversexed body around all the girls. Mark took hot and bothered to an entirely kinky level.
“Mine was a dud and that’s no damn fair!” Betsy pouted as she glared at the card.
“Oh, that will help our time on vacation together! Great.” Stacy rolled her eyes.
“Your turn, Stacy.” Leana nudged.
Stacy frowned and gazed at the wheel. Each number was covered with a folded envelope so there was no way to determine what fate or perhaps a certain reincarnation of Mother Nature had in store for her. Without a doubt, she had the distinct feeling this game had been centered around her. “Growl. You guys are bad.”
“No, we just knew we needed to jump-start your life.” Leana giggled.
“I’ll get you all for this.” Stacy rose to her feet, pressed her sweaty hands down her dress and sauntered toward the wheel, glaring at the contraption like she was going to be able to pick the magical number. Hell, the thought seemed luscious. Sighing, she brushed her hand through her hair. Why was it shaking? What would she want, anyway? A one night-stand with a masked man? A tumble in the hay with a police officer as he thrust his hard dick into her pussy time and time again seemed plausible. Oh, yeah. She could see herself getting arrested. Yep, she could just see what her boss would think of her when she ended up in the Washington Post. Handcuffs and a full color expose would add to their circulation. Granted, the thought was sexy as hell, but no. Sadly, she was only but so adventurous.
“Oh, go on, for God’s sake,” Betsy growled. “Maybe one of us gets to have some fun.”
“She’s right, Stacy. Go for it.” Gina’s eyes shimmered with mischief.
She huffed and stared at her wide-eyed friends, who were waiting like cougars hungry for their prey. “All right, already!” Stacy put her hand on the side and took a deep breath. She spun the wheel forcefully, and as it went round and round she could feel her blood pressure increasing. What a crazy, stupid, wonderful little game. Laughing as the colorful wheel finally slowed down, she inhaled deeply.
“Lucky number 13.” Leana giggled, her look knowing. Mischievous.
“All right, girl. Open the envelope.” Joann handed her the crisp linen.
Stacy frowned as she fumbled to open the flap, every nerve on edge. She pulled out a newsletter article and read it to herself, knowing damn good and well the entire game had been one huge plot.
“No fair. What does the card say?” Betsy asked.
“‘Straight-laced Wall Street financier found new life, passion and love with not one but two men she met on vacation in the Bahamas. Finding every fantasy fulfilled and then some, she fell in love. Giving up her six-figure income, she is now living her dream life in the islands, submitting to their every need.’” Stacy gulped. Submitting? Did they know her secret? Had they read her mind? No, but you’re losing it. Shit. This was crazy. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of her neck. “Did somebody plan this? I mean, come on, ladies. If I grab another envelope, will the exact same thing be written?”
“Now, how would we be able to rig the game, so you’d stop on lucky number thirteen?” Leana’s eyes twinkled as she moved in front of the wheel. “Read the rest.”
“I know you, remember?” Stacy opened the other section and her eyes grew wide. “On your next vacation, hopefully to an exotic location, you are to meet and seduce not just one but two men at the same time. Both gorgeous men are to be from the island, preferably ones who don’t speak English. You’re required to tell us how your erotic and very kinky nights need no words, simply the passionate language of love and wild wanton sex. Yep, this was planned, all right.”
The girls squealed.
“How did you get so lucky?” Gina gasped.
“I want yours.” Cindy chugged back her margarita.
“Now, that sounds like a plan.” Betsy smiled.
“I’m in deep trouble, and I will get you for this, Leana. You will never know when or how, but trust me, I will.” Stacy paled and stared at the paper again, dumbfounded. Suddenly, her fantasy man was standing right in front of her, a collar and leash in his hand. Stars floated in front of her eyes.
“Worth every moment of it, sweetie.” Leana smiled.
“You’re really serious.” Shivering, Stacy realized Leana knew all her secret fantasies. Nothing was hidden between them, and at that moment she blushed, knowing exactly where the planned fantasy was going.
Leana glided toward her friend with a devious little sway in her hips. “One. Thousand. Percent.” Leaning over, she lowered her voice. “Think of the concept this way. You can finally let go, submit in every way you desire. You’ll be on an island and no one has to know who you are in real life. Imagine the possibilities.”
Stacy blushed seventeen shades of crimson. How in the hell had Leana figured out she needed to submit to a man completely and totally? Damn if the thought didn’t roll through her mind like a wildfire. Oh, Lord, what was she going to do with this?
You’re going to learn to obey me, please me in every way, my chérie. You’re going to become my sweet slave.
Stacy blinked several times. The powerful image almost forced her to her knees.
“And you know what they say about having two men…” Leana teased.
The entire group of girls squealed as if they were teenagers.
“I’m definitely in deep shit here.” Stacy faded onto the couch.
I will own you…
Her heart remained thumping in her chest as she lay in bed. Stacy couldn’t believe all her friends… all her friends planned on her seducing two finely-studded male species. Submitting to strangers? Writing about the sordid tale? Right. She didn’t have the guts. Or did she? Every one of the women was gunning for her to win the prize. Her! Well, she was the only writer of sorts in the group. She growled inwardly, knowing she wasn’t that uninhibited. Or am I? All the nights she lay dreaming about every sexual fantasy that came into her mind. Hell, she had notebooks full of ideas and desires. Wicked desires. They were certainly of the rather erotic kind, and ones that would make her mother blush. Stacy knew she could write. Her mind worked overtime thinking of fantasies. But they were just that: kinky fantasies to keep her remotely satisfied, and not real.
She pressed the back of her hand over her mouth and absently fingered her neck, longing for a collar to be fastened securely. How long had she fantasized about being owned, disciplined? The truth was, her entire adult life. But how could a well-respected attorney, one who dealt with powerful clients every day, admit to that?
God, she was horny as hell after the sexy game and the four spicy margaritas. Then there was the goody bag stuffed with three erotic books and a fine selection of red condoms, not to mention one evil-looking vibrator. The handcuffs looked like regulation manacles meant for an escaping prisoner. Did every one of her friends know what she craved? Shivering, she couldn’t help but giggle to herself in the darkened room. There had indeed been a fantasy about a naughty policeman on the wheel. She was trying to figure out which would have been better. Growl. At least Leana had fessed up after several drinks about their nefarious plan. How could she be angry with them?
Sleep. That’s what she needed. She lay under the sheets as her cotton nightie bunched around her legs and closed her eyes, willing herself to stop thinking lascivious thoughts. Why had Sampson never cared about those thoughts or tried to entice her in bed? Damn, she hated the man! Asshole!
Several minutes later Stacy threw back the covers. “Shit!” She was too horny to go to sleep. With nothing but relief on her mind, she turned on the bedside lamp and glared at the enticing red foil bag on her dresser. Frowning, she climbed out of bed, hesitating for a few seconds before snagging the treat. She dumped the bag onto her bedspread and gazed at the contents, licking her lips.
The vibrator was long and sleek. The hot red stick was not as thick as her trusty dildo, but enough so that with the vibrations she might enjoy the sensations. Enjoy? “What am I doing?” Groaning, she hissed at her reflection in the mirror. “You need a man bad.” As she turned on the tiny switch, the initial soft thumping in her palm was soothing. She slid her hand down the length and imagined a tall, dark, handsome man in front of her and a delicious, weighty, thick cock nestled in her hands. How she longed to tease him relentlessly, licking the blood-engorged tip while he moaned at her touch. Oh boy, she could really enjoy something so dangerous. Oh, yeah. Electric current trickled down her spine as she walked back to the bed.
Come to me, my chérie, let me taste your sweet pussy.
“Yes, sir.” Stacy lay down gingerly and turned off the light, thinking nothing but shameless thoughts about meeting her perfect gorgeous man on the beach as the wind blew softly behind them. Her visions filled with luminescent shades of tangerine and cerulean blue, she could easily picture the lazy afternoon sun giving way to a star-filled evening. “Jon Paul, my sir.” The whisper hoarse, he’d always been her fantasy lover. The stunning dreamboat was so tall, she had to stand on her tiptoes to trace the tip of her tongue around his full lips. His shoulders were so broad and sculpted that she could spend days staring at his body.
She could envision the way his waist narrowed to a set of chiseled hips. Stacy could almost taste his perfect ruby, full lips that begged to be kissed. They were the sensuous kind you could kiss all night long and so soft and supple, swollen from long licks. And of course he had long cinnamon muscular arms with rough hands that she could imagine working daily. His skin was creamy, like a hint of spun silk. His runner’s legs, long and lean, were as sexy as hell and meant to wrap around her on a cold winter’s night. She sighed and moved her hand down her stomach, tracing a circle round and round, barely touching the soft hairs gathered between her legs. Her other hand lazily circled her swollen nipples, pinching first one and then the other hard enough sharp pain coursed through her body, warming her aching pussy.
Obey me and I promise you ecstasy.
“Yes. I’ll obey you.” Stacy moved her fingers down her stomach, teasing the edge of her swelling clit with a single tip of her finger. Closing her eyes, she could envision his face gazing down at her with a burning intensity. Then she would stare into his dazzling black eyes, burning with flecks of shimmering need as his huge hands grabbed her buttocks, yanking her toward his massive erection. She liked her lips and could feel him pinning her body with his, never letting her go.
Nibbling her bottom lip, she swirled her finger around her clit, finally pulling the sensitive flesh between her thumb and forefinger. With lazy motions she traced a line down the length of her quivering pussy darting just inside her wet heat. “Oh!” Her lithe fingers pinched her tender nipple with just enough force to cause a shaking whimper and thought about his head dipping to suckle her hard bud in his mouth. Hungry, he feathered his tongue lazily over her sensitive tip. Dear God, she could feel his hard body positioned over hers as she struggled and moaned.
Hot and hungry, her slickened pussy quivered in almost desperate anticipation, waiting and wanting. Positioning the toy at her entrance, she slipped just the tip inside moaning the instant the hard rubber sliced pulsed against her tender flesh. So wet, as she pressed the dildo deep inside, her pussy muscles gripped the thick invasion, forcing the thick rubber further and deeper. There had been no need for extra lubrication. The instant she felt the intense vibrations, she erupted in a powerful orgasm. Panting, she dragged the toy back out almost all the way, teaching her clit and pushed the toy into her pussy further, an inch at a time, until she could stand the pressure no longer and thrust the hard rubber completely inside. “God, yes!” In and out she drove the toy harder and deeper, feeling every tingling sensation as the vibrator took on a life of its own.
Kneel in front of me. Take your place by my side.
She imagined Jon Paul laying her down on a soft towel, jerking her legs apart, desperately hungry for her. Somehow she could envision his eyes roaming her naked body as he spoke to her softly while she shivered from the slightest touch, the feel of his chiseled body against hers. As she opened and closed her eyes she could almost feel his hot breath dancing across the flush of her skin as he yearned to be inside her, thrusting deeper. Stacy gulped as she moved the vibrator in and out at a manic pace. The vision of Jon Paul lowering his body to hers, placing his own throbbing cock at the entrance fueled her hunger for relief.
Now you belong to me.
He’d impale her with his cock, driving his shaft deep inside as he held her down, fulfilling his need.
“Oh, yes!” Stacy screamed as a violent wave of orgasms crashed over her body and her imaginary lover impaled her with his thick shaft. As she pressed the thick vibrator deeper and harder, she could feel his fingers brushing over her as he whispered words of obedience and submission. “Aaaahhhhh!” The scream ragged, her heart raced as the electric heat of the climax sizzled her blood. “Shitshitshit!”
She lay still finally, panting as the thick dew of moisture coated her legs. Oh, my, my, she prayed to God that a Jon Paul truly did exist. A vibrator was wonderful, but nothing would ever beat the real thing. Finally giggling, she could see his sweat-laden face smiling, beckoning for her. “Mmm…”