Sweet Danger (9 page)

Authors: Violet Blue

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Anthologies (Multiple Authors), #Erotica, #Romance, #Contemporary

BOOK: Sweet Danger

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I could feel Trinh staring at me from the driver’s seat, gauging my reaction to what was happening. Trey was groaning, his voice desperate as he began to beg Elisa to slow down. I could easily hear Elisa’s breathing, heavy and labored as Trey’s urgings became more insistent, his moans louder and in rhythm with Elisa’s. Suddenly Trey gasped, his fingers tangling into Elisa’s hair, his face clenched in anticipation. I saw his chest heave several times as he humped up against Elisa’s mouth until finally his body started to convulse. A burst of grunts escaped him, and I knew he was coming in my wife’s mouth. He growled out a string of expletives, calling my wife his “little cocksucker,” his “filthy whore,” and below him Elisa had sealed her lips tightly around his cock, sucking and swallowing until she almost burst from lack of breath.

Their noises promptly lapsed into silence, with the exception of Trey’s ragged panting, and Trinh looked at me, smiling. My eyes locked suddenly with Trey’s, and for a moment I looked into them. For what, I didn’t know. Gratitude, maybe, as absurd as that sounded. But instead, I saw only pride. He seemed to feel conquering, victorious even, and I knew that in his mind he had just taken my wife in a way I never could; that it was Elisa, not him, who had just been pleasured, that he had been gracious enough to allow her to suck his cock; that she had been rewarded with his orgasm.

Elisa looked up at Trey like a child wanting praise, and I watched as she opened her mouth and showed him the shimmering pool of semen on her cupped tongue before she swallowed it.

“You’re a lucky man,” Trey told me for the second time that night, but this time Elisa seemed to flush with pride at Trey’s words. She sat up, tucking her hair behind her ears, and in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle I could see a smile pursing her raw and swollen lips.

I watched the needle sweep past one-forty.

Takes All Comers

AINSLEIGH FOSTER

With the headset on, Ariel looked like an extra from a bad science-fiction movie—or she would have, if she hadn’t been wearing her favorite negligee. Let’s be honest:
my
favorite negligee. What Ariel likes much of the time, when it comes right down to it, is what turns me on. In that, she’s very much a people-pleaser. Which is why it pleased her so to be given slut lessons by her husband while she talked a stranger off.

“You cheat on your husband often?” came the stranger’s gruff voice, crackling into his microphone.

Ariel looked at me.

I nodded fervently.

“Oh,” she said. “All the time.” I made a “keep going” gesture. “Constantly,” she said. “With all sorts of guys. Sometimes two, three times a day.”

The guy sounded shocked. “Three times a day!?”

I made a so-so gesture.

Ariel got the picture. She started improvising. “Well,” she said, “that’s a
good
day. I mean, you know, I do have to work and stuff!” I made a gesture so vague I wasn’t even sure myself what it meant. Ariel picked up on it and said, “But…you know, between blow jobs to my boss, the other guys I work with, sometimes I’ll go out to lunch—”

“Out to lunch!?” the guy choked.

I waved my hands.

“Um…yes?” said Ariel, cocking her head at me.

“With your boss?” asked the guy.

I nodded, waving my hands to indicate that she should nod along with me.

It took her several seconds to remember to say, “Uh-huh?”

There was a long pause, during which I was sure he’d figured it out.

Then he said: “That’s so hot.”

I grinned and made a thumbs-up.

Ariel winked at me.

“Yeah,” she said. “My boss totally takes me out to lunch. Sometimes I even jerk him off under the table. Right there in the restaurant.”

The guy was grunting, obviously stroking his cock. I had never fucked guys; I didn’t really know what they sounded like when blowing their loads—and especially not the buildup to it—but I was getting used to it.

“Right there in the restaurant?” the guy grunted.

“Right there in the restaurant,” said Ariel, her voice thick with sex. Another thumbs-up from me.

“With people watching?” the guy panted.

Ariel delivered her
next
response with the rapture of a student on her first solo flight: “With
everybody
watching. They try not to look, but they know what I’m doing under there.” She grew visibly more excited by her sudden surge of erotic creativity. “And if my boss tells me to?”

The guy groaned, hanging on Ariel’s every word.

“What? What?” he asked desperately.

“I’ll go down under the table and suck him with everyone watching. Just ’cause he likes it.”

The guy uttered a bestial strangling sound.

“And ’cause it makes me wet.”

“It makes you wet!?” The guy sounded genuinely shocked.

“Uh-huh,” said Ariel.

Her hand strayed down between her legs, and she gently caressed her cunt through the soft thin crotch of her teddy.

“Tell me more. Tell me more. What are you wearing?”

Ariel looked confused.

“Wearing now, or when I do this?”

The guy panicked. “I don’t know! I don’t care!”

She might have been the only phone-sex operator in the history of the business who had actually gone to work in a slinky black teddy with a built-in push-up bra, snap crotch, and black garters leading down to black fishnet stockings with little red bows on them, her perfect feet encased in six-inch black patent-leather heels. She had only herself to blame for this elaborate phone-sex getup. She had told me she’d wear anything I wanted, even instructed me to make her wear the sexiest thing I could imagine her in, because she was doing it all for me.

And she
was
doing it all for me. She didn’t need the $2.49 a minute any more than I needed to advertise her online as “Cheating Slutwife Who Takes All Cummers!!!” with blurredface lingerie shots marked CERTIFIED REAL. She didn’t need dirty-minded men from across the nation calling and pouring cumshots in her ear any more than I needed her in a slutty teddy, fishnets, and high heels to be crazy in lust with her.

But none of it hurt our sex life. She was on her sixth call that night, her second night. She decided not to stick to our initial one-night-a-week plan, “just to spice things up.” She actually suggested that she could, you know, learn faster if she did it every night for a while. The fact that we’d had fucking incredible hours-long sex last night starting the moment she rang off her shift—that couldn’t have had anything to do with it.

Just twenty-four hours ago, Ariel could barely utter the word “fuck” without some hesitation. Now, with only a little prodding from me, she had a mouth like a sailor.

Was I invading the men’s privacy? Well…in a word,
yes
. I was listening to them fuck my wife. She was selling a fantasy, and on some level I was invading that fantasy. I was also probably breaking some kind of telecommunications law.

But
fuck
, my dick was hard. Crime had never turned me on so fucking much.

Of course, my favorite teddy was a little worse for wear—last night, she’d worked three hours. But then, I liked her dirty. When she asked to do it again tonight, how could I have told her to wear anything but my favorite?

And besides, describing what she was wearing was a hell of a lot easier when she told the truth.

Though she did pretty well with her business suit, too.

“And when I suck my boss off under the table? I’m wearing a short, tweed skirt, a low-cut, pearl-colored blouse, nude-colored stockings and—”

“Does your husband go down on you?”

Ariel cocked her head at me.

I shrugged.

“When I’m sucking my boss?”

“No,” said the guy. “Whenever. Like, tonight. When you go to bed after fucking your boss, will he go down on you?”

I was there before she answered. She gave off a merry little giggle as I buried my face in her crotch.

She tried to shove me away.

I wasn’t having it. I kept at her. She kept trying to shove me away, but her heart wasn’t in it.

“After I fuck?”

“After you fuck your boss.”

“When I’m dirty,” she said.

Simon made a hungry, desperate sound.

“Yeah, yeah. Dirty,” he said. “Filthy, dirty.”

“Dirty.”

“Filthy.”

“Dirty.”

They kept at it like that for a while, saying “Filthy” and “Dirty” back at each other, while Ariel tried to dodge my face and shove me away from her crotch. She even tried to close her thighs, but that was not in the cards—not least because Ariel clearly didn’t want it. She just kept saying “Dirty” and “Filthy” as we both got breathless from our wrestling match. Ariel took greater pleasure in each word with each recitation, Simon clearly becoming more aroused.

“Does he?” he finally asked.

“Well, you know, he does go down on me,” she said. “Though not
nearly
as much as he should. No husband ever goes down on his wife as much as he should.”

“Don’t I know it!” chortled Simon.

“But in fact, he’s here right now, and I think—”

“He’s there with you?” The guy sounded slightly upset.

“He just got home from work.”

“Oh, man,” said the guy playfully. “He’s gonna be mad you’re having phone sex.”

“Mmmmm—I don’t think so,” she said. “You want me to tell him?”

“He’ll be mad.”

She finally relented and let me get my fingers under the snaps of her crotch. I plucked them away.

“I’m having phone sex,” she told me.

I looked shocked.

“Is he mad?” the guy asked. I still couldn’t tell if he was amused or dismayed. I didn’t care.

“And I fucked my boss at lunch,” she said, biting her finger seductively as she looked down at me.

“Oh, man,” said Simon. “Is he mad?”

“What do you think?” Ariel asked sexily, looking down at me for guidance.

But I was between her legs. My only answer was that I popped her snap crotch, reached under her ass, and pulled her onto me.

I started working my tongue against her clit, licking her eagerly. She gasped. Punctuating my excitement, I wriggled the tip of my tongue against her supposedly well-fucked entrance. I licked deep and slid two fingers into her. She tasted ripe and tangy—delicious. I started licking her clit.

“He’s not mad,” sighed Ariel.

“I knew it!” gasped Simon. “He’s a cum-lapper, isn’t he? He loves it when you’re dirty.”

“Fuck if I know,” breathed Ariel. She arched her back and began to rock against me as I licked her clit.

I shoved my fingers firmly into her and worked her G-spot. She moaned and moved her hips in time with my thrusts. My own headset was getting in the way, so I tore it off.

“Fuck if I know,” she repeated. “I don’t give a damn, as long as he licks me like that.” Then, as if remembering she was getting paid $2.49 a minute to do this, she asked, “How about you, Simon. Are you stroking that big, fat, hard cock for me? I
always
insist that guys stroke their dicks when they’re around me.”

She tapped my forehead and gestured at me, looking annoyed.

Obediently, I took my cock out. It was hard. I started pumping as I licked her.

“Don’t come yet, Simon,” Ariel panted. “I want to come for you. Will you let me come for you? For real, I mean?” Simon liked that idea. I licked more firmly, thrusting more deeply, lapping at Ariel’s clit as I fingered her.

She must have been damned close already. She leaned back in the chair, lifted her hips, and put one hand on the back of my head, holding me in place so I’d be there as she came. It was her way of saying “Don’t stop.”

But she said that loud enough with a soft cry of orgasm. She came for Simon, and she came for me. Simon groaned so loud I heard Ariel’s headphones crackling.

She moaned: “Oh, yeah, baby, come for me, yeah, baby, stroke that big cock.”

She finished coming herself, panting heavily, and said, “Was that good, Simon? Did you come hard, Simon? Simon? Simon?”

“He’s gone,” I told her, coming up from between her legs.

She frowned bitterly.

“Men,” she said. “You’re all the same.”

“Not all of us,” I said. “You still want a good-night kiss?”

She leaned forward and planted one on me.

“Nah,” she said. “I think I’ll do the kissing. C’mere.”