Deliberate Display - five erotic voyeur and exhibitionist stories (4 page)

Hera’s groans and gasps, increasing in intensity, filled Pythis’s quarters. She was bent double, her posture maximising the last deep thrusts of the black man’s penis. Her face – pressed into the sheets, flushed red, the eyes tightly shut – was contorted in what looked to Callidora to be a kind of blissful agony. It finally became insupportable. The male, gripping her firmly around the waist, unleashed his hitherto valiantly withheld semen. Hera, bucking with the force of its release, gave a cry halfway between a curse and gratitude, flailing within his arms in orgasm.

Hours later, after debating with herself on a park bench, Hera returned to the ship. She asked Pythis to assign her different duties and accepted the docking of pay and the more serious bad conduct mark which would stain her otherwise pristine service record. She didn’t care much. The old Hera would have cared, the new one – for she was new, transformed from the inside out – was indifferent. She knew there were more important things now. Such as feeling fully alive and fulfilled.

At 80 years of age, Hera was halfway through her life, but the first half had been lived as an automaton, and she was determined the rest of it would not be so wasted. But her brooding on how she could effect her emotional and sexual liberation was interrupted by the news that Callidora brought. Hera was to undergo immediate and full-scale hormonal neutralisation accompanied by cerebral synaptic realignment.

Fortunately for Hera, Pythis trusted Callidora to oversee her treatment. For Callidora, the Captain’s holo-porn bootlegging activities, coupled with his treatment of Hera, were the last nail in the coffin of her allegiance to her place in their society’s frigid status quo.

‘We have to do our bit in the overthrow of the Authority,’ she told Hera, both of them floating outside the vast hull of the ship in their vacuum-suits, looking up at the beautiful cloud-swathed planet.

‘I can understand that, at one time, our population had to be rigidly controlled in order to preserve our world’s resources and ecosystems. But population has been falling now for decades, and even if it rose again, we have the colonies to take the overflow. There’s no need for the Authority to continue sterilisation. Who are these bastard old men, these damned gerontocrats, to tell us what we can and can’t do with our bodies!’

‘But where do we start?’ Hera, recognising the North American landmass above her, was hungering for her human friends.

‘Here and now.’

‘What? Mutiny?’

‘No. We have to get Pythis on our side. And then head home and make contact with the Radicals.’

That night, Callidora slid into Pythis’s quarters and injected dream nano-serum into his arm. She’d spent the last few hours uploading selections from the Captain’s holo-porn banks into the serum which, as she pulled down his sleeve, and crept back to Hera’s quarters, would already be taking effect.

‘Sweet dreams, Pythis – and sticky ones.’

Something swam across Pythis’s unconsciousness. It swam back and stopped. It was female, with flowing, hair-fine filaments waving in the deep current on its head. A large, full-lipped orifice was mouthing some kind of greeting, its urgency accentuated with beckoning hands and lascivious flickerings of its long, curvaceous body, ending in the broad fan of a tail studded with luminosity. It was a fine specimen of the Mergirls of the ocean planet Nepente.

The nipples of her large, oscillating breasts glowed with luminosity too, and below her navel, hung with a necklace of scintillating points of light, her vagina was visible, glowing a hot pink through the semi-opacity of her piscine flesh; for it was mating season.

Her huge eyes shone and the lips almost split the face with a smile of recognition as she sped away, hotly pursued by her chosen mate. The Merman’s erect member a third of the length of his long body, curved upwards in a horn shape toward a pointed head which, as the water rushed over it in his pursuit, forced a stream of tiny, glistening bubbles of semen away from its spear-tip.

But would he catch her before the rush of his progress forced his ejaculation? Pythis’s consciousness followed. There she was, just ahead, the fan of her tail driving her rapidly upwards.

The Merman followed her up through the lightening water until she broke the surface. A bright golden sun was pouring out of a bright green sky, flooding with iridescence a spit of sand. The Mergirl plopped out of the water and lay down upon it, her vagina beating bright red like a heart, its every shell-like convolution palpitating with expectancy.

The Merman burst through the surface and landed on his back next to the girl. It was an ungainly arrival, but the girl laughed in appreciation and immediately the Merman had broken through the thin hymenal covering of fine scales that shielded the entrance to the girl’s vulva and the whole horn was thrust unceremoniously inside. Pythis, close enough to touch, could see it penetrate through the soft, whorling configuration of her vagina, which ingested it in tight rhythmic swallows. Their bodies locked, their tails flapping, they rolled blindly in the rhythm of coitus, back and forth across the wet sand, until they hit the water again, rolling in and rolling out, churning the waves of the shallows into foam.

The thrashing of tails became the swaying of a vast field of a kind of crimson-coloured plant. Suddenly, a great wave of shadow swept across them, accompanied by the beating of wings, and Pythis’s vision was crowded by a host of excited naked arms and long legs borne up by sweeping, diaphanous wings, in whose beatings long strands of multicoloured hair swished, entangled. The stalks were now rigid, the crimson tubular skin drawn back on bulbous empurpled heads glistening in the sunlight. On these the winged females began to settle, after much jostling and argumentation and aerial fussiness. Some of the penile stamens of the sentient plants were too big, some too small for the numberless vulvas whose outfolded lips gleamed with moisture – a moisture manually encouraged by the fingers of the Aerials – which often dripped over a stamen, redoubling it in size and bringing it almost to the point of bursting, before the choosy Aerial flitted blithely on in search of a more commodious fit.

When the Aerials found what they were looking for – guided, seemingly, not just by the stamens’ dimensions, but by smell, colour, and other, indefinable factors – they drew up their long, slim, pink or white or brown legs. Then, their vulva lips drawn back to their full extent – pressed back manually in some cases – they sank down upon the chosen head, dextrously controlling its precipitate eagerness with deft and subtle flutters of their wings and limbs. Pierced through, they swayed back and forth as they rode. Sometimes they were unseated, accidentally or by intent, and teasingly remounted the frantically bulging stamens whose network of engirdling arteries visibly throbbed with the surge of fluid.

Soon the air echoed with the resounding orgasmic cries of the Aerials as, one after another, they broke like bubbles under the explosive release of the stamen heads buried deep within their delicate bodies. Satisfied, the Aerials raised themselves off the stamens and fluttered off, leaving them to wilt, though here and there one still stood proudly erect, the parted eye in its head acting as an ear, listening for a fresh wave of wing beats. And on they came, the stamens stood firm again, and Pythis’s vision was crowded with arms, scrabbling fingers and toes, and sparkling, dripping juices.

The images changed. A huge, shaggy-haired, leonine tribesman was chasing a supple-limbed, catlike female through a dense jungle. He burst into a clearing. She was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, she dropped upon his back, her prehensile tail wrapping tightly around him, its tip probing beneath his loose loincloth to draw out his already stiff penis. She swung around, her tail coiling round the shaft. Dropping before him, she pulled it toward her mouth … The image changed again … and again …

Now a dark-skinned female humanoid knelt before a dark-skinned male, pulling his huge penis back and forth. With hand on hip, he pushed it in her mouth, swabbing it within, drawing it out, the female licking and playing her full lips rapidly up and down the thickly engorged shaft. The female turned round to face Pythis, and he could see the phallus angled between her backthrust buttocks and driven into her vagina, with a force which pushed her toward him. A smile broke across her face. Pythis jumped as if hit with electricity. Her fingers had touched him!

‘Hold on, Tyler, our guest’s awake. Wanna join in the action, Cap?’

Pythis’s perception resolved itself. He was tied up on the hotel bed where he’d watched Hera’s antics with the earthlings. He looked down at his nakedness. He was there. This was no dream.

The black female had untied him and, keeping a handgun trained upon his head, was grinding her hips against his genital area as he lay back on the bed. Another naked female, this one white, sucked at the black girl’s breasts, while the black girl fondled hers in return. Pythis could hear the two black males playing cards in an adjoining room. There was no immediate prospect of escape. Though he felt peculiarly reluctant to make a determined effort.

He was feeling something grow stronger and more pronounced with each lithe grind of the black girl’s hips, something he only recalled dimly feeling many years before, when he was a youngster. He tried to drum up real anger against Hera and Callidora for what they’d done. For he knew he’d been injected with nano-serum loaded with the finest holo-images from his bank of alien pornography and handed over to these sex-crazed apes.

The two mutineers were doubtless watching right now, and doubtless recording the proceedings to use against him. Still, he couldn’t work up the fury he should be feeling. He could still see the plethora of strange matings from the serum shifting before his eyes, and in the middle of them, the black girl, massaging him with her hips. He could feel a strip of warm moistness. He could feel heat building in his groin, a dead part of his body twitching into life, his heart began picking up speed, the girl, grinning, began to move faster, the white girl began caressing his huge chest, and kissing his mouth, her two white breasts pressing their points into his rapidly sensitizing skin …

Hera couldn’t help the surge of envy almost choking her as she watched Wanda’s hips grinding into the Captain and the suckings of her breasts by the naked white girl. Her three nipples were tingling and eddies of cellular electricity were swirling round her clitoris, concentrating themselves there. She craved to be touched. How would Callidora react if she took her hand? Suddenly, the holo-image flickered and collapsed.

‘What’s happened?’

‘I think he’s on to us,’ said Callidora. Found a way to disable the signal. He’s a resourceful man, Hera.’

‘What do we do?’

‘I don’t know. Wait … but … what’s wrong, Hera? Why are you looking at me like that?’

Hera reached out and gently caressed Callidora’s face.

‘I’m sorry, I can’t help myself. I’m alive and I can’t stop it.’

‘What’s it like, this “alive” feeling?’

‘I don’t have the words to describe it. I can only show you, Callidora.’

‘So, show me.’

Hera kissed Callidora. Her lips were so soft! The skin of her long neck was soft too, and firm, and growing warm. She lay back in the chair and let Hera pull down her zip, her lips escorting its slow progress down over her great compressed mound of firm breasts, releasing them.

The light flashing on Callidora’s wrist console alerted her to the fact that Pythis’s personal pod had been activated and had left the ship, doubtless to pick him up. But it didn’t seem to matter. She lay back and savoured the delicious sensation of Hera’s tongue lapping at her moist vaginal lips, her tongue-tip flicking her clitoris, flooding her with waves of vibrant pleasure. Callidora was learning fast, or relearning something innate and ineradicable. Again, her fingers sought Hera’s vagina – or “pussy” as Hera preferred to call it – and caressed the moist, unbelievable softness. This elicited groans from her friend and redoubled the urgency with which her tongue licked Callidora’s pussy. Callidora lost all sense of time as waves of pleasure bore her and Hera away …

Suddenly, she was startled awake. She patted Hera, who woke too and almost leaped out of the bed. Pythis was standing over them, flanked by two burly, grinning security men.

‘I’ll deal with this. Back to your stations.’

The men withdrew with lingering backward looks.

‘Have you two any idea what I can do to you for what you’ve done?’

Hera shook her head childishly. Callidora looked round for something to hit him with. Better to go out with a fight.

Pythis pulled the sheet away from their love-stained nakedness. He smiled.

‘I’m not a hundred per cent sure myself but I’m going to give it a damn good try.’ With that, he undid his belt strip and pulled out a great missile of a penis.

‘With your permission, ladies.’

They were both too stunned to say anything as Pythis stripped off and climbed between them.

‘We’ve got a lot to learn. The whole planetful of us. But I’ve hired some help.’ Pythis activated the door lock. Xavier, Tyler, Wanda and the white girl walked in.

‘Hera! Babe! The Cap here made us an interstellar offer we just couldn’t refuse.’

This is just too good to be happening, Hera thought, watching the humans strip and join them in the bed.

But it must be happening. How, otherwise, was she to account for the overwhelming feeling that someone, somewhere, was watching?

Laundry Day
by Sommer Marsden

The cell phone vibrated in my pocket and I ducked into the copy room, a huge stack of papers clutched to my chest, to peek.

You know what today is.
That was the entire message and my stomach felt like it was floating and falling simultaneously as I read it.

Just to draw out the excitement I typed nothing more than
???
. Then I hit send and wandered back down the hall, feeling slightly stunned with anticipation.

I’d known all day what today was, but I hadn’t let myself think about it until Clark’s text had come across to vibrate and titillate.

The phone went off in my skirt pocket again and this time the motion of it went straight to my already wet pussy. I read it stealthily, shielding my shaking hand with the giant stack of papers I plunked down on my desk.

Don’t be coy. Just 7 hours to go. Are you ready?

A small rush of fluid graced the crotch of my panties and I tried my best to keep my hands steady as I answered.
Of course I am. XOXO

‘What’re you up to tonight?’

I damn near dropped the phone when I started, giving a little cry. Madeline eyed me suspiciously. ‘Sorry,’ I said to my cubicle mate.

‘You need to cut back on the caffeine, Jade,’ she said. She rolled her eyes, but smiled at me.

‘Sorry. I was … lost in thought.’

‘So, what
are
you doing tonight? Wednesday night, not exactly the hot night of the week.’ She dumped some debris from a desk drawer into her waste can. ‘I have a date with the end of a good book and a bottle of Riesling.’

‘I have …’ My tongue was sticking to the roof of my mouth I was so jacked up. My God, why had Clark sent that message? All I had in my mind now were tumbling images of naked bodies and kissing and fucking. ‘Chores.’

‘Oh, chores!’ she sang out. ‘Wow. You are a wild one, Jade. What kind of chores?’

‘Just … laundry,’ I said, my voice semi-hysterical. I sounded so bizarre even to myself that I had to laugh. But the laugh was high and wild and borderline crazy woman.

Madeline levelled a finger at me as her phone rang. ‘Seriously, girl, cut the caffeine.’

Then she took her call and I pressed my thighs together tighter to keep them from shaking.

‘Are you ready?’ Clark asked, pushing me to the wall and kissing me deeply before I could answer.

My whole body reacted to him pinning me there. My whole being fell into that kiss. I parted my lips and let his tongue sweep over mine aggressively as he pushed his already hard cock to the front of me. It was a hot, hard line down the front of my soft silk skirt. Pressing the sodden split of my sex and making my clit thump in time with my pulse.

‘I am. You know I am.’

‘Chores tonight, love,’ he laughed and started to unbutton my raincoat. The day has been grey and somewhat rainy.

‘I’m worried. What if it rains too hard for us to see?’

‘It won’t,’ Clark said, spinning me as he peeled my coat off to hang it on the coat tree by the door. ‘I promise.’ He kissed me once more, pausing to pinch my nipples through my crisp white blouse. My body sang with the bite of pain that was followed by a pleasure chaser. ‘The lights in that room are insanely bright.’

I nodded and pushed my breasts into his hands, letting him kiss me once more. We were ravenous for each other come Wednesday nights. Sex was not an issue for us, we had it often and it was good, but Wednesday held a mystical quality. As if something otherworldly happened on Wednesday.

‘I know. I know,’ I said, pushing my hand down into his black trousers. His cock was still hard – felt harder, in fact, though I knew that was probably my imagination – and I gave it a squeeze. Just to say hi.

‘Don’t do that, Jade. I might come like a teenager.’

I laughed and let him lead me into the kitchen. He checked the chicken in the oven – his lemon chicken, I could tell by the lovely rosemary-citrus smell – and I checked the small window over our kitchen sink. There it was, as expected, a brightly lit rectangle of glass. The laundry room window for our neighbours across the alley.

Wednesday nights they did laundry and fucked during the first dryer load. Wednesday nights we had dinner and fucked while watching them fuck during the first dryer load. It was a win-win situation. A secret situation, but I liked to think we’d created a beneficial symbiosis. Everyone got fucked and Clark and I had a secret thrill, a naughty Wednesday night tradition that kept the spark alive in the bedroom – or the kitchen, actually.

‘See, good to go. No need to worry,’ he said, smacking my ass and then at the last second cupping his hand to my bottom and giving me a squeeze.

I sighed before I caught myself.

‘Like that?’ he murmured against the back of my neck.

The sensation had my nipples pebbling inside my bra and my belly aching low and heavy with a need to be with him. To feel him inside me.

I could only nod.

‘Tell me.’

‘I like it.’

‘I need proof.’ I heard him chuckle and his hands, warm and familiar, slipped below the waistband of my skirt and then down into my panties. His fingers stretched to find my clit and he pressed and swirled over and over again until my fingers curled to the lip of the sink.

‘We’re supposed to … wait,’ I managed, though my voice had come down to a growl I was so close to coming.

His teeth found my earlobe, my neck, my shoulder. ‘Think of this as an appetiser for you, wife.’

I nodded repeatedly like a deranged bobblehead – I sure as hell felt like one at the moment – and pressed my eager body against his seeking hand. When I came, I bit my lower lip to keep my outburst tamed.

I shuddered against the sink, against his fingers and felt my heart pounding in my temples. ‘God, Clark.’

‘You can thank me later,’ he said and moved from me to wash his hands.

Our dinner was delicious but we barely tasted it because our excitement was so high – barely contained.

At six o’clock the oven timer went off and we went through the house like a well-practised heist team, shutting off lights and drawing all blinds but for the kitchen. In that small darkened room, we stripped bare and stood, holding our breath, near the sink to watch them enter.

I found Clark’s cock in the near darkness and wrapped my hand around his heated length. I squeezed him so that he made a noise that always made my cunt wet – made it flex. I swept my thumb over the tip of him, feeling the delicious silken drag of his precome across his glans.

‘Here they come,’ he said, his voice a little rougher than normal. I imagined it was due to me stroking his cock with exaggerated slowness.

And there they were. Our across-the-way neighbours. The Donaldsons or the Davidsons or … something like that. All we knew was we joked about them being our Wednesday night fuck buddies.

‘Oh look,’ I sighed as Mr Donaldson/Davidson, just a moment after the Mrs started their first load, swept his wife up and deposited her on the now running washing machine. ‘He’s starting early this week.’

And he was. He’d dropped to his knees, crouching there between her parted legs. She helped him get her yoga pants off by lifting her hips. Clark pressed hard against the back of me and cupped my mound. Just cupped it. Nothing more, nothing less. But that bit of pressure on my sex had my blood racing.

When the Mrs was bare, our neighbour went ahead and kissed the small amount of down on her mound. Then he pried her legs far apart and I watched, holding my breath, as his tongue darted out to taste her. I moaned and Clark echoed me.

‘This is new,’ I said.

He nodded, saying nothing else. A few more licks and he was burying his face against her pussy, eating her in earnest as Mrs Donaldson/Davidson clutched the edge of the vibrating washer, her head tossed back, eyes shut in pleasure.

I almost jumped when I felt Clark’s tongue press to me. He’d dropped to his knees and insinuated himself between me and the cabinet door beneath our sink. He stayed wedged that way, tasting my nether lips, flicking his tongue against my clit as I watched them. Seeing her pleasure enhanced mine and I found myself shoving my pussy against Clark’s eager mouth, not remembering to use my manners at all.

‘She’s coming,’ I breathed, my voice nothing more than a puff of air.

Clark nodded eagerly, sucking my pussy with his demanding mouth, his tongue darting every which way so I was always locked in pleasure but could never anticipate his movements. ‘Good, give it to me,’ he said and pushed a finger into my sopping cunt.

I gave it to him, pleasure firing off in my body like hot electric jolts. I came with the heel of my hand shoved to my mouth – my fear always being that the people across the way would hear us somehow and then they’d know our dirty little secret.

‘They’re doing it, they’re doing it,’ I babbled, gripping the edge of the sink for dear life. As if the world would fly away and I would fall through the floor should I let it go. He had me so worked up my lips were trembling, my face tingling.

‘Kiss me,’ Clark said, turning me for just a second away from the light of the window and the couple on show there.

I kissed him. Softly at first and then more roughly as he made demands of me with his hands and his words. ‘Lick yourself off my lips,’ he said, grinning in the stark splash of light from the window across the way. It painted his face with dots of white and I could see his lips wet with my juices.

I did as he asked, licking his lips and kissing him eagerly as he held my wrists tight in his hands, keeping them down by my side so I couldn’t touch him.

When his lips were clean of me and I could smell myself on his skin and mine, I begged. ‘Please. Let’s …’

He nodded, turned me, planted my hands on the edge of the counter and knocked my legs apart, wide enough to accommodate him.

‘I’ve been waiting for this all week, Jade.’

I nodded, shivering a little in the chill as the rain picked up to a driving staccato outside our window. I could still see them, though, in the silver spotlight of their laundry room overheads. The driving rain was nothing more than falling tinsel on the scene. It didn’t hinder at all, if anything it made me feel safer from discovery.

As Mr Donaldson/Davidson parted his wife’s pretty pout with his fingers and slid the tip of his cock to her entrance, Clark mimicked him. His fingers on my slit and his cock sliding along my opening had me feeling so weak I locked my knees to keep from falling.

As our neighbour slowly drove into his wife, Clark slid into me. His hands rough on my hips as he held me steady to fill me in a short thrust that rocked me forward on the tips of my toes. His mouth came down – hot and wet – on the back of my neck, forcing all the fine hairs on my skin to stand at attention.

‘He’s fucking her,’ I whispered.

‘And I’m fucking you,’ he said, licking my skin. I knew that no matter what he was doing back there, he was watching them over my shoulder, getting off on the tableau they offered as surely as I was.

I leaned forward a bit, grinding myself back against him. Clark growled, gripping my hips so tight I felt branded by his touch.

Mr Donaldson/Davidson was slamming into the Mrs. His mouth was moving as he held her steady and fucked her hard. I wished I could hear what he was saying. But I imagined it to be filthy and rude and perfect. I whimpered and Clark said, ‘Hold on, hold on. I want you to come with me.’

I could tell our neighbour was about to do his trick. He did it every week and it was one of the reasons we liked to watch what we considered our own little porn movie.

He reached around to touch his wife, his fingers rolling vigorously, but not seen in detail by us, in front of her arching body. No doubt he strummed her clitoris expertly as he fucked her. Her head tossed back, her lips parted in a silent cry. I whimpered again, pushing my own fingers to my clit, sliding my wet digits over my plump clit.

Clark grabbed my hair and wound it around his hand to pull my head back, hold me still, to claim my momentary submission. That made me whimper a third time and then he whispered, as the Mrs across the way was clearly, but silent to us, singing out her orgasm, ‘Here it comes.’

I held my breath, my fingers still moving, every driving thrust of Clark’s cock into my aching pussy accenting that moment in time. He’d repeatedly slammed my G-spot with each entry and now I was trembling, perched there on the edge of release.

As his wife continued to shudder and shake, Mr Donaldson/Davidson withdrew and he came, in great arching jets, all over her lower back. Painting her skin with the evidence of his pleasure.

I came too, biting my lip so hard I tasted the coppery tang of blood.

‘Jesus,’ Clark growled, driving into me once, twice, three more times and then coming with a low groan that sounded like he was dying.

It made me laugh and then he was laughing too, both of us ducking low below the window sill so we couldn’t be discovered. He kissed me and I kissed him back.

‘Happy laundry night, Jade.’ He tweaked my nipple and I jumped.

‘We don’t do laundry until Saturday,’ I teased.

‘Hey, their laundry night is way more fun than ours.’

This time I pinched his nipple and he jumped. ‘Maybe we need to do something about that. Maybe both laundry nights can be fun.’

‘I like the way you think,’ he said.

So did I.