The Mammoth Book of International Erotica

a few centimetres of the bottle into me, when Jean-Marc sharply pushed it in even deeper. I felt as if I had been split open, gaping in a way I had never been before. I screamed with pleasure, with shame and joy blending exquisitely in my mind and body. I felt Jean-Marc spitting against my arse hole and spreading his saliva across the pucker of my hole. I was scared; I hadn’t experienced anal sex often. He entered me with one single push forward, despite the bottle still filling my vagina. I was in heaven; my body had come to life thanks to the cock now ploughing my innards. Yvan was masturbating himself in front of me and I held my head high to eat him, milk him. All I could see was that dark column of flesh that I couldn’t reach and I begged him to let me have it. He found it amusing to tease me, to move his cock to the tip of my lips before withdrawing it again out of reach on a few occasions. I was going crazy and was impaling myself further down onto the bottle, spreading myself open even more. With a thrust of his cock, Jean-Marc pushed me toward Yvan’s member. Yvan had now sat himself down in front of me. He delicately pulled the bottle out and positioned me onto his friend’s cock. They must have done this before, as the manoeuvre was rapid and expertly done. I came at the very moment that Yvan’s glans pushed its way past my outer lips and again when he reached the pit of my cunt. Each thrust from the two men inside me had me screaming. As I felt Jean-Marc’s sperm flooding my arse, I shouted to Ivan: ‘Come in my cunt, come, come…’

“And he did.

“The three of us collapsed in a pile and it took some time for our energy to return.

“I needed to pee and asked where the toilet was. The two men accompanied me and asked me to pee in the bath tub with them present. Like a madwoman, I did so. Initially embarrassed, I soon let myself go and spread my thighs wide so that they might enjoy the view. Once I had finished urinating, their cocks had become hard again and I felt like sucking them. First I sucked Yvan off while Jean-Marc caressed my breasts.

“ ‘Now I feel like peeing,’ said Yvan, ‘but I’d like to pee on your pretty whorish face.’

“He had barely said the words when a warm and bitter jet invaded my mouth. I gagged but nonetheless continued to guide the stream of pee towards my face as if I were taking a shower. I had never felt so wet, inside and outside, my slit was dripping and I managed to insert four fingers into my cunt while Yvan shook his last drops against my tongue and I swallowed them.

“Jean-Marc joined me inside the bathtub and mounted me doggie style. He parked himself deep inside my pussy and began peeing inside me. I roared as the hot liquid conjured up a whole new feeling.

“Later, they both sodomized me slowly until each came deep inside my arse.

“The three of us took a shower together, still fondling each other wildly, and then they escorted me to a taxi rank.

“There you are, I’ve told you all.”

As soon as I’d finished my story, my husband leaped on me, his cock harder than I’d seen it for a very long time. Without a word, he threw me onto the settee and forced my lips apart with his girth. His lust was pleasing; my husband wanted me again. His erection was a gift for me and I sucked him off as if my very life depended on it, forcing him to spit out a torrent of come that I swallowed like a divine offering. His pleasure roared.

I gazed at my man with love, as if I was discovering him anew:

“Oh, the sort of things you have me imagining, my love.”

“Thank, you, mon amour.”

THE NAUGHTY YARD by Michael Hemmingson

YES, YES, OKAY now, it is time, you’ve been waiting long enough, it is indeed time, so gather around now, gather close, don’t be afraid to sit close to one another, maybe not too close, but close enough, all of us, around this fire, because it is story time now, it’s time for a story, a story set in the past, basically, you could even categorize this as an historical romance if you will, set in a time when there wasn’t so much fear about getting close, fear about sex amp;death, that horrid thing called AIDS was just around the corner like some foolish kid on his bike, going too fast and not looking where he’s destined – although right now (the time of this parable) it was rather remote and not widespread; you see, it is when this yarn begins, and people were happily careless when it came to (sex), careless because there was not that (fear of death), and you may not believe it now (but history proves this), as this tale (which is history) will prove it, and we will begin with the opening scene, as such: inside one of the bedrooms of a two bedroom apartment in Southern California, where we find a petite young lady of twenty-three, dark-haired, modestly tanned, in bed with myself, and her name happens to be, for the sake of this text, Kathy, she is in bed with me and we are making love, we are fucking, call it what you will, because this girl – Kathy – this girl and I don’t even know each other that well – I mean, we know each other, we’re friends as such, we have been friends for quite a while, were lovers for some time, until she called it off, called it off for a few months – that is, until this night in question here, where we have connected again, we are fucking again: at her proposal – you see, we were at this bar, drinking, talking, drinking amp;drinking (she loves beer) and we came back here, to her place, and we went into her bedroom and started to take off our clothes and then, well, you get the gist of the scenario; NEVERTHELESS, so here we are, so there we were, Kathy amp;myself, myself amp;Kathy, on her bed (which happens to be a noisy bed) the springs going eeeech eeeech with each thrust of myself into Kathy’s self, eeeech eeeech goes the bed, and she’s moaning. I’m moaning, we are, in fact, enjoying the moment, and – and I feel myself coming, yes yes yes, you understand this feeling (both you men and women listening to this), the intensity, you know it, the joy joy joy, this sudden moment where the world is ready to come apart like a badly stitched garment, where the Universe itself is on the verge of imminent collapse, as this bed is on the margin of destruction, and I come, I scream, I empty my balls into Kathy’s warm cunt (making it warmer), and in that brief moment I frightfully think of the moon, and Beth, my darling Beth now gone from me, but I push these baneful head things away for this is neither the time nor place, I should concentrate on Kathy, and Kathy grabs at me, legs in the air, going yes yes yes, come, and I am: and when I am done, I fall on her, she doesn’t mind, she rubs her hands up my back, into my hair, and I roll off her, light a cigarette, and she watches me as I smoke (she doesn’t smoke), my come starting to leak out of her, her pussy red and still open, and she watches me and she says I’m spent and she says (head propped up on pillow as Jackie Collins always puts it in her books) she says I feel good you know I’m glad you decided to come over.

I say that I am glad she invited me over.

She says well you know there we were, sitting in that bar again, that same bar we used to always go to, having the same drinks we always used to drink, and you know we were talking about all this amp;that, bric amp;brac, but you know I wasn’t really listening to what you were gabbing about.

I say you weren’t listening to me?

She says I wasn’t listening to us. She says I just kept saying to myself in my head I really want to fuck him tonight.

I tell her I had the same thoughts.

She says I was just thinking you know like we used to do.

I say it was nice the just-like-we-used-to-do – and then it stopped and there was no more just-like-we-used- to-do.

Kathy says maybe I was dumb to stop our just-like-we-used-to-dos.

I say yes you were yes you were.

There are two bottles of wine on the floor. One empty, one full. I pick up the full one, which isn’t all that full, and take a drink.

Kathy says well you aren’t supposed to say that, that’s not what you’re supposed to say. What you’re supposed to say is: no, Kathy my dear Kathy, you weren’t being dumb you were just confused so there’s a difference.

I say I was angry.

She says you didn’t show it.

No?