Ethical Non-monogamy And The Full Moon.

The Magic Number

“How many guys have you slept with?” I asked before taking off her bra.

She pulled the straps back up over her shoulders and sat down on the bed.  She leaned back on her elbows and smiled at me until I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know the answer. 

“Do you want to know before you fuck me, or after?”

I moved in between her legs and ran my hands up her thighs.  Her skin was soft and her legs were full of muscles that twitched under my fingers.  She looked stronger and prettier than I remembered. I undid the buttons on her jeans and she didn’t move at all as I slid them off her legs and onto the floor.  I pulled my shirt off over my head as she pressed her small foot against my hardening cock. 

She smiled as she watched me step out of my pants and opened her thighs invitingly.  She reached out with her foot again and touched me so gently I could barely feel it. With one hand she slid her panties to the side and I’m pretty sure I mumbled something stupid about how perfect she was.

It didn’t take me long to slide a condom on as I pulled her legs and body to the edge of the bed.  Her smile seemed to test me and I couldn’t wait.  I thrust into her with a moan and with one hand on the back of her neck I pulled her to me and kissed her hard.  I covered her lips and chin with my mouth as I fucked her and she clawed her nails down my back.  She reached one hand up and grabbed me by the hair as we pressed against each other until she had her mouth to my ear.

“Do you want to know now?” she whispered. I could barely think as I fucked her, but I mumbled yes before I kissed her again.

“Call me a whore,” she said more quietly.  “Call me a whore and I’ll tell you.”

“Tell me, you fucking whore,” I grunted into her ear.  “Tell me how many men have fucked you like this.  How many cocks have you had inside you?  How many times have you begged to be fucked?”

I could feel her tighten around me as she moaned into my ear.  She kissed me again and wouldn’t let me pull away. I grabbed her harder as I thrust into her and I asked her over and over again.

“Oh god,” she whispered just as she started to come.  “I’ve fucked seventy-three.  I’ve had seventy-three hard cocks inside me.”

I don’t know which one of us came harder, but I’m sure we both woke the neighbors and I know that I could barely see.  I kissed her over and over again and she held me tightly against her. Finally, I rolled over next to her on the bed and I took her hand in mine. 

“I completely fucking love you.”

–Guy New York

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YOU | 3.08 Swing and a Miss

Forbidden

Here is the story I read at Impact last night. @msdarker read from Laura Antoniou’s The Reunion, which is the fifth in The Marketplace Series.

Forbidden

“Promise?” she whispered.

Her pink t-shirt was pulled up, as was her bra. Her thick black rimmed glasses were almost falling off and her bangs were in her eyes. Her breasts were big, pert, the imprint of the lace of her bra left pink and red patterns on the soft skin. Their eyes locked and she squeezed one breasts hard as her hips swayed. Her eyes were thickly rimmed around with black makeup and the corner of one eye was smeared.

She was straddling his legs as he laid back on the couch. She moved one hand down and grasped his cock again, biting her lip as she played with it. “I promise, but you’re the one on top,” he said quietly, aware of roommates who might or might not be asleep in nearby bedroom.

Keep reading

(via quickienewyork)

A Blind Test

“If I was blindfolded, do you think I could tell you apart?” “Tell us apart how?” he asked as we leaned in closer. She blushed a bit and mumbled something.  She took a drink and looked back and forth as if we should know what it was she meant to say. We asked her again, and she closed her eyes as each of us put a hand on her knee. The harder we tried to make her answer the more flustered she got until finally she just blurted it out a bit too loudly. “Fucking!  If you took turns fucking me, I wonder if I could tell you apart.” The dirty looks from the other customers ushered us happily out the door, down three blocks, around a corner, up the stairs, and into my apartment and bedroom.  At first she closed her eyes as we kissed her and she whispered our names quietly.  One of us tied the scarf without her guessing, and by the time fingers were undoing buttons she was nearly lost. As clothes fell to the ground and she lay back on the bed, she began to ask us to take turns.  One set of lips on her breast was followed by a guess.  One hand parting her thighs and stroking the soft flesh between them was followed by another, and before we knew it, each of us had a hand wrapped around us, and a name assigned.  She studied us each in the darkness until finally she sat up on the bed and put her hands to her sides. “Let me guess with just my mouth.“  We circled the bed and kept silent.  We touched her hair gently and kept moving until honestly even I wasn’t sure who was who.  One of us stepped towards her and her lips opened before he was even close.  She moved her head slowly hoping to find what she wanted and when she finally did she swallowed it all.  Her hands were still at her sides and she took him all the way into her mouth and then sucked, kissed, and licked until she thought she knew.  When she lay back on the bed and opened her legs she had correctly guessed us both.  By the time I pushed inside her she was calling out my name without doubt and pleading for more without reserve.  The first three times we switched she guessed correctly.  By the fourth time she wasn’t so sure and by the tenth she didn’t care. She finally stopped guessing altogether and her pleading change from the specific to the urgent. "Just fuck me,” she moaned to no one, and the more she asked the closer we got.  One of us came first, and she swore she could feel him pulsing through the thin latex.  She came with the second and refused to kiss him for fear of discovering whom it was.  “I thought you wanted to know,” we said, as the three of us lay entangled on the bed. “I did,” she whispered.  “At first I really did, but by the end it didn’t matter.  You were both here, and hard, and inside me, and the only important thing was that you didn’t stop.” “Should we take the blindfold off?” I asked. “Leave it on,” she answered.  “And let’s try again in the morning.”

–Guy New York

Remorse

Did that even really happen? She thought. The damp sidewalk felt like ice under her feet. It’s only been a few hours, maybe less. It already feels like a drunken hallucination. 

The problem was that it’s hard to tell what’s real when reality itself is so far from normal. The status quo of this situation was just hopelessly warped. 

It had started with a look.  

That’s a lie, she thought to herself. It started with whiskey.

The whiskey was probably why she noticed the look he’d given her… the look that transformed friendly, getting-to-know-you-as-a-person conversations with acquaintances into a mischievous game of what was basically just chicken. A dare.

It had escalated quickly. Before long she’d sat at his feet, and he let her. Of course, he probably didn’t really know or care about the sort of surrender that implied to her, in her own drunken mind. He didn’t play those games, as far as she could tell. However, he still would have known that she was sitting far too close to be appropriate. He would have been aware that her shoulder against his knee was far too familiar for a casual co-worker.

The others had stepped out to smoke… and that was when he finally called her bluff, reaching down gently and ghosting a feather-light finger over her breast. The sensation shot through her as sharp as if he’d slapped her. Holy shit, is this happening? She couldn’t believe it. Her senses were muddled from too many drinks, and she was supposed to be getting home soon… But god, the week had been so hard. And her feet hurt from standing and her face ached from smiling at rude customers. And backing down felt like running away. She’d never been good about denying herself what she wanted. And she really, really wanted to stay.

It was dimly lit, almost spooky at this time, since the place was normally bustling.  

“It’s been a long time since there’s been a naked girl in this room.” he murmured, and watched her pull her shirt over her head. His words shot straight to the pit of her belly. She spared an idle moment to mourn her mismatched bra and panties, not to mention the fact that she knew her dexterity and skill were never at their best after so much drinking, but then he pulled her closer and she forgot why she was worried.

She couldn’t remember how he smelled. The whiskey had stolen that from her, and it bothered her. She loved to know a man by the way he smelled. But she did remember flashes: the smile on his face, the tattoo she’d never seen, the piercings he always covered, the dark look in his eyes. Her hands were everywhere on his body now. his groped hers freely. Clothes were unbuttoned, unfastened… the details of how it happened had been robbed from her mind by the liquor, and the clear snapshots of memories flashed through her mind as though seen through a strobe light… Eventually though, the frenzy slowed and she remembered with crystal clarity that the first warm feeling of skin on skin was magnificent.

“I cannot believe it’s you doing this,” he groaned. 

Neither can I, she thought back at him, gazing up at him from her knees, mouth watering as she finally went to achieve her conquest. “I try to be very accommodating, at work. We aim to please.” She revelled in the filthiness of it.

“I really need to do this more often.” he’d replied with a groan.

Jesus Christ people eat at this table. WE both eat at this table. I don’t care. Fuck me now.

It was sloppy. it was hurried, and a little clumsy. And it was the most exhilarating night she’d had in ages. In the end, they were both late to go home… and she sent him away with red fingernail welts on his chest. Rushing to meet her friends, she hurriedly ate a slice of pizza, to quell the dizziness from the drink, and to mask the taste of him on her lips.

Nothing I’ve done in ages has felt this wrong, she thoughti. The taboo made her more excited. What if his wife found out?

She laughed, a bit hysterical at the state of affairs, reeling from adrenaline and lust and the rush of a new cock in her mouth, of tasting a man she’d never even dared to consider. What the fuck was wrong with her brain? What possessed her to take things this far? Was “normal” not fucked up enough? Everyone would be so hurt if they knew… She could never tell anyone, she realized.

Later she was racked with guilt even as she brought herself to orgasm thinking about it, her fingers working hard to replay the events of the night as the images flashed through her mind, along with fantasy scenarios she desperately craved as she told herself in the same breath they should never be. 

It had been a hell of a week.

Giving In

Warm curves under a fuzzy sweater, socks up to her thighs with a little roll where they cut into her. Chubby cheeks and wide eyes.

As we kiss on the couch her skirt rides up. At some point she stopped tugging it back down. We are becoming a hot wrinkled mess. My cock is so hard it aches under my too tight jeans.

The movie and our promises forgotten.

It’s okay if it’s just kissing. It’s okay if I just feel her up a little. Each little hurdle is rationalized as it is passed. Over her shirt. Under her shirt. Just touching her thigh. Just a little. Just for a second.

If we don’t take off her panties it doesn’t count. We can just pull them to the side for a second.

She closes her legs around my hand but doesn’t let me pull it away. We are both begging. Little whimpers and needy whines.

When I kiss her neck, just under her ear, her legs open, as if I slipped a key into a lock.

When I finally feel how wet she is, she buries her face into my chest. Her hands go to my belt. Everything spins and turns as we finally give in.

Because sometimes, you just feel fabulous. (via)