loosening his trousers. “An injection. Do you know what kind of injection?”
I nod. “An injection of your big, hard cock,” I say, and at this I see a flicker of hungry desire travel across his features. Eager to set my eyes on his cock and get even hornier, I try to glance down and see whether it is big and hard, but the shadow of Jay’s white coat is obscuring my view. I pull the coat toward me, holding it out so that it makes a screen that no one will see through. To the casual observer it will look like we’re deep in conversation. I hope.
“That’s right,” he says, stepping in closer, and for a few delicious seconds I feel the soft round tip of his prick prodding against my swollen clitoris. I’m so slippery that he glides into my slit with ease. I gasp with pleasure as his dick turns out to be the biggest and hardest I’ve ever taken inside me. His legs are bent at the knee, and he’s thrusting into me, pulling out, pounding hard. He slides a finger between me and him, using his knuckle to make short sharp motions on my clitoris that precipitate the explosion.
I orgasm in under a minute, my cunt tugging and squeezing at his dick, and he’s a split second behind me. I come hard around his prick, milking it dry of spunk. We stay close, two pulses racing at a rate that any doctor would call terribly dangerous. Jay’s hard-on subsides, and I let the delicious aftershocks of my climax give his dick a few final squeezes. It takes longer to recover from the orgasms than it did for them to occur—from the moment of penetration to climax.
“So,” he whispers in my ear, “do you feel better now?”
“Oh, much, much better, doctor,” I reply, nipping his earlobe with my teeth. I look around the room over his shoulder. Everyone’s too busy on the dance floor or indulging in flirtations of their own to pay attention to the two medical staff sequestered in the dark corner. I pull back my hips, ease myself gently off his dick, and he tucks it back into his trousers.
“Glad to hear it,” he says. “But I do hope that you have a relapse very soon indeed.” He puts a hand to my cheek, a hand that smells of my own cunt, and only then do we lean in for our first kiss.
WINDOW - SHOPPING
Sex in public is one of the most common fantasies there is. It is also one of the hardest to realize, because carrying it out involves taking a risk—a big risk. But Bethany, who told me the following story, found out that the bigger the risk, the greater the reward.
I met Max at the designer furniture store where I work, an exclusive little emporium at the expensive end of town. I’d only been employed there for a few weeks when he came in to buy a new sofa. I noticed him as soon as he walked into the store. Sexy in an easygoing way, he had dark brown hair that stood up in a messy tangle at the front of his head. As soon as I saw his hair, I wanted to run my hands through it, to tug at it, to brush it away from his eyes. I made a point of going over and asking him if I could help him.
“Thank you . . . Bethany,” he said, reading my name tag. Later he told me he’d only pretended to look at my badge but actually had been trying to see down my top.
Max explained that he was outfitting his new bachelor pad. As I showed him our most cutting-edge, exclusive items, it became apparent that he had great taste and lots of money. He picked out some cool artwork and an edgy, geometric sofa. When I was helping him to choose an armchair, he bounced on a leather chair and asked me if I’d like to sit on his lap. I would have liked to, very much, but it was not the time or the place.
“Not here, not while I’m working,” I said. “But if you’d like to take me out to dinner, I’ll sit wherever you like.”
Max picked me up from work three hours later when my shift ended, took me to dinner at an expensive restaurant and then on to a cocktail bar. I went home with him, and sure enough I sat on his lap. Naked. For two
I nod. “An injection of your big, hard cock,” I say, and at this I see a flicker of hungry desire travel across his features. Eager to set my eyes on his cock and get even hornier, I try to glance down and see whether it is big and hard, but the shadow of Jay’s white coat is obscuring my view. I pull the coat toward me, holding it out so that it makes a screen that no one will see through. To the casual observer it will look like we’re deep in conversation. I hope.
“That’s right,” he says, stepping in closer, and for a few delicious seconds I feel the soft round tip of his prick prodding against my swollen clitoris. I’m so slippery that he glides into my slit with ease. I gasp with pleasure as his dick turns out to be the biggest and hardest I’ve ever taken inside me. His legs are bent at the knee, and he’s thrusting into me, pulling out, pounding hard. He slides a finger between me and him, using his knuckle to make short sharp motions on my clitoris that precipitate the explosion.
I orgasm in under a minute, my cunt tugging and squeezing at his dick, and he’s a split second behind me. I come hard around his prick, milking it dry of spunk. We stay close, two pulses racing at a rate that any doctor would call terribly dangerous. Jay’s hard-on subsides, and I let the delicious aftershocks of my climax give his dick a few final squeezes. It takes longer to recover from the orgasms than it did for them to occur—from the moment of penetration to climax.
“So,” he whispers in my ear, “do you feel better now?”
“Oh, much, much better, doctor,” I reply, nipping his earlobe with my teeth. I look around the room over his shoulder. Everyone’s too busy on the dance floor or indulging in flirtations of their own to pay attention to the two medical staff sequestered in the dark corner. I pull back my hips, ease myself gently off his dick, and he tucks it back into his trousers.
“Glad to hear it,” he says. “But I do hope that you have a relapse very soon indeed.” He puts a hand to my cheek, a hand that smells of my own cunt, and only then do we lean in for our first kiss.
WINDOW - SHOPPING
Sex in public is one of the most common fantasies there is. It is also one of the hardest to realize, because carrying it out involves taking a risk—a big risk. But Bethany, who told me the following story, found out that the bigger the risk, the greater the reward.
I met Max at the designer furniture store where I work, an exclusive little emporium at the expensive end of town. I’d only been employed there for a few weeks when he came in to buy a new sofa. I noticed him as soon as he walked into the store. Sexy in an easygoing way, he had dark brown hair that stood up in a messy tangle at the front of his head. As soon as I saw his hair, I wanted to run my hands through it, to tug at it, to brush it away from his eyes. I made a point of going over and asking him if I could help him.
“Thank you . . . Bethany,” he said, reading my name tag. Later he told me he’d only pretended to look at my badge but actually had been trying to see down my top.
Max explained that he was outfitting his new bachelor pad. As I showed him our most cutting-edge, exclusive items, it became apparent that he had great taste and lots of money. He picked out some cool artwork and an edgy, geometric sofa. When I was helping him to choose an armchair, he bounced on a leather chair and asked me if I’d like to sit on his lap. I would have liked to, very much, but it was not the time or the place.
“Not here, not while I’m working,” I said. “But if you’d like to take me out to dinner, I’ll sit wherever you like.”
Max picked me up from work three hours later when my shift ended, took me to dinner at an expensive restaurant and then on to a cocktail bar. I went home with him, and sure enough I sat on his lap. Naked. For two
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