The Mammoth Book of Women's Erotic Fantasies (71 page)

I have never been so full of flesh, only a thin wall of muscle separating the two cocks. As I begin to ride them both, awkwardly at first, but then beginning to find a rhythm, I give a wild cry,
trying to accustom myself to the bizarre new sensations I am experiencing.

As I expected, there is no finesse, just hard, deep thrusting. I reach down between my own body and that of the blond, seeking my clit where it is hidden in the damp folds of my sex flesh and
stroke its head in the rapid, circular motions that are guaranteed to bring me to orgasm.

It is the blond who comes first, his long thighs tightening beneath me and his buttocks bunching before he shoots his semen deep inside my pussy. It is enough to trigger my own orgasm, my
muscles clenching around the softening cock in my vagina and the still solid one in my anus. His brother follows quickly, unable to resist the pressure of my spasming passage. I can already feel
their seed leaking out of me as they slide their softening pricks from my body.

They release my husband from the chair, and tell us we are free to go. They insist on keeping my wet panties as a souvenir, and my husband drapes his jacket round my shoulders to save me having
to walk back to the car in just my skirt and bra. As we are leaving the flat, the older brother says, “So we’ll take that as a down payment on what you owe us.”
“Yeah,” his brother laughs. “Call it a deposit.” We drive back to the house in silence, unable to talk about what’s just happened. I have been thoroughly,
disgracefully used, but sexually I have never felt so alive. And what my husband doesn’t need to know is that I am already planning to visit the Lee brothers again, to see what other depraved
things I can do for them to pay off our debts . . .

¹
This instantly sparks a fantasy of a chance meeting with the old Beat poet – who better to talk to about my reason for being
here? But when I offer him sex he reminds me that he’s gay. “If only you were a young boy,” says Ginsberg. I tell him we can pretend but he shakes his head and says: “That
will never work.”