Dirty Little Women–Bette

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Bette pulled the robe more tightly around herself as her flip-flops scraped and hopped against the laminate hallway to one of the dorms’ bathrooms.  Cold prickles of anticipation swam over the hair on her arms and neck. She had a few toys hidden among her routine bathroom soaps and sponges.

The door creaked and the sound of her loose footwear echoed loudly throughout the oblong, titled room.  Bette choose the third stall from the end—far enough from the door to increase the semblance of her privacy.

She hung the towel on the rung before pulling back the curtain and setting her basket on the bench inside the shower.  With curtain closed behind her, she turned the water hot and steamy until a head floated inches above the inwardly slopped floor.  After flinging her robe over the rail, Bette stepped under the spray, arching her body with arms in the air to feel the rivulets of water dance down her skin.

Nipples peaking hard, she gasped for breath as the water fell between her thighs, swaying against her swollen clit and readying her for play.

She reached for her basket, pulling moisturizing soap to lather against her skin, tracing the soft lines of her own breasts, the flat expanse of her stomach, the trimmed curve of her sex.  Fingers delved between her thighs and pressed along her core.  The anticipation bloomed through her this time, but she would wait until she had exactly what she wanted.

After a thorough rinse, Bette dug the other seemingly inconspicuous items from her basket—a strong suction handle, which she attached proficiently to the shower wall above the bench seat, and her favorite rubber dildo with suction cup attachment, which she fastened to the bench seat.

One final adjustment, she reached for the showerhead and turned it so that the stream would continue to fall against her, and she positioned herself above the head of her rubber cock, legs spread, and hands aiding her in her own penetration.  The thick, mushroom head popped into her, making her descent along the shaft smooth and easy.

Not quite as good as a real, warm and throbbing cock, but as her hips undulated over the shaft, her core squeezed its ridges from the pleasure mere penetration.  The pings from the water softly pelted her rolling body as she reached back for the handle.  Her body stretched upward, arms extended to keep hold of her prop, ass scraping against the faux marble bench seat.  She could have brought her slender anal probe and set it up, but she hadn’t.  She would the next time.

Spreading her legs made her fall over the rubber cock with much heavier thrusts, coiling sharp pleasure inside of her and making it spring from her mouth in breathy increments.

The pinging of the water like thousands of little fingers caressing her, winding her up as they tried to soothe her.

A bang made Bette’s body start, sending her closer to the precipice of the orgasm she so desperately needed.  She had no warm cock to play with, and she needed this to clear her mind for midterms.  The steam’s head swirled and dissipated some as the cold rush from the door made its way through the bathroom.

That cold wound around her calves and thighs as Bette dropped herself onto the rubber cock once more, grinding hard against the very ends of her.  She shifted herself with unrelenting need and passion, rebuilding the heat in her shower stall, arching herself toward the water, sharpening the angle of her penetration before the cord in her snapped, and she let out one short, gasping moan.

Her body trembled as she fell back against the faux marble wall; her core still spasmed around the invasion of her dildo before she could bring herself back to her feet.  The cock sat there, covered in her crème, erect and ready for the next round she surely needed.

Dirty Little Goddess: A sneak peak at Tass and Dylan’s story

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Tass twirled around the white marbled floors of the ballroom where the masquerade ball for the local art and music foundation was being held.  Her blue silk dress spun out from her hip to flash a fair amount of leg, like she had practiced many times in front of her full length mirrors.  Her sapphire studded mask hid her face well enough, she was sure that no one would recognize her, should anyone be there that might know her true face.

She spun into a man by the banquet tables, brushing her hands over his chest with a smile and blowing him a kiss before dancing off into another, whom she blew a quick breath in his ear, and to another, whose lips tasted like the champagne.  She groped and teased woman as well without discrimination.  Tass was the goddess of pleasure and needed only flesh and good music to have a good time.

Having danced with near every patron in the place, Tass pranced into a man’s chest that she had not met before.  A chest that stood broad and tight, and higher than her own under a white dress-shirt. A curve of rich pink flashed a smile before her eyes, making her blink in surprise.  There had not been a single man all evening that had been taller than her.  She was six-two without the four inch spiked heels she wore.  The beat of his heart under her hand matched her own, and her body had become a statue modeled of feathers, loosely strung together with string.  Parts of her would soon tear away, and she couldn’t explain why.

His strong arm cinched around her waist, pulling her more firmly against the front of his body, stealing up her hand in his own and beginning to circle with her in an elegant dance.  She’d become a princess at the ball, never a dream of hers, but the heat of his body against hers told her that she was foolish for having never dreamed it.

But she quickly fastened the feathers of her body in more tightly and looked at the man’s face.  He wore a stark black mask, sharp and angled around his face, pierced by strands of blonde hair.  Startling crystal eyes peered down at her through the jagged holes in his mask.  He must be astonishingly beautiful under the mask, or astonishingly ugly.  There could not be an in-between for this man.

Tass allowed him to spin her across the dance floor, weaving a beautiful mosaic with her feet and hands.  He was a were, she was sure.  The masculine smell of him carried the distinct smell of wolf, of moss and musk and pheromones.  She teased him just the same.  Leaning in closer than necessary, brushing her lips against his without giving him the satisfaction of their embrace, even though she wanted to taste him.

His hand slid up her back, his other keeping her hand high so that her breasts were pressed against him.  As the song ended, he dipped her low, causing her leg to curve around his hip instinctively, and nipped the tops of both breasts with his teeth as he straightened her against him.  The wolf held her against his body, his hand on her knees to keep her leg around his arousal, even as she stood.  Her whole body flushed with heat as some clapped for the show he had used her to give them.  Tass looked up into those crystal eyes sternly, and he let her leg drop to the floor slowly.

As the audience turned from her and the wolf, Tass began to slip away as she was accustomed to doing, taking pleasure in only the play, the teasing, never staying to fulfill the promises she made, but he held her hand, preventing her from leaving.  Though she could easily get away, resorting to her powers here, where so many other magicks mingled, wasn’t her first option; she gave him her smile instead.

“Don’t run off on me, Voluptas.” His voice was soft and low and commanding, stopping her heart as her true name dripped from his mouth with such sweet desire.  He smiled at her, and she suddenly wished she had her mother’s power to read minds.  His hand reeled her in again. “Don’t leave until you have let me sip from that sweet mouth of yours at least once.”

Her insides clenched, knees nearly buckling, making her grip his shoulders from inexperience with the way her muscles clenched together, giving no more than an inch between her lips and his.  His smile widened, eyes heated and animalistic.

“Your name?” Her voice was softer than a whisper, although it rang through her head like a cannon.  Tass gulped, struggling for composure, trying to retie the feathers that were shaking loose.

“Dylan, my love.” His breath fell over her neck, making her knees lose the little self-control they had attempted to gain.  She peered around the ballroom.  Far too many gazes followed every inch of her as she reacted to him.

“The coat room.” Tass stepped away, willing her knees to not embarrass her. “Second floor.”

She grabbed the hand of the nearest lad, letting him twirl her around, stroking her fingers across his face and neck, but this boy’s presence didn’t shake her powers, only strengthened her as she moved to kiss a thin woman with a peacock headdress.  As she slid away from the woman, she looked back to the dance floor where Dylan still stood, watching her with his arms folded across his chest.  Dylan looked more like a god than a wolf.  Meeting him in the coat room wasn’t a good idea, but she would.  She was the goddess of pleasure and unwilling to give up such an opportunity.

Tass danced and teased her way to the full curving staircase, glancing again to where she had left Dylan, but the spot was empty, and her legs willed her to move faster.

He can wait for me. I am a goddess.

But she drew herself up the stairs with a sense of speed.

The coat room was mid-way down the long upper hall, which was empty except for two drunken patrons, groping each other playfully.  Her hand trembled at the double door, smelling the wolf and making her breath catch.  She swung the door open and slipped into the dark with unusual expectation.

The door clicked closed behind her, and bulky arms seized her immediately, pulling her against a broad chest and taut stomach.  Her body lifted from the ground and was pressed back against the wall with a pleasure she had only experienced second hand.  The warm brush of his mouth burned against her neck and shoulder, nipping at her flesh.

Yes. This is what she wanted—someone to tease her back, to make her want.

“I didn’t think you’d come.  I thought it was some goddess trick.” Dylan drove his hips against hers, his erection evident.

Tass gasped, tilting her head back, a wet heat gathering between her legs as he rubbed himself against her.

Dylan planted soft kisses up to her chin, grazing his teeth against her jaw.  He touched her with skill, and her legs tightened around him.

The door clicked and swung open, letting light flutter into the oversized closet.

Tass started, fear wiping away the pleasure of having the wolf against her.  She flashed herself home to not be caught, landing hard against her bedroom wall, still suspended in the air by the wolf’s body. How could she have brought him with her?  She’d never had a problem before.

She pushed at him with her palms.  “You can’t be here.”

Dylan paused and met her gaze before glancing around. “Why not?”

Aggravated, she pushed at him again. “Because this is my home.”

The wolf grinned, and her insides blazed again, stealing the breath from her.  He leaned his mouth down to hers, running the tip of his tongue over seam of her lips.  No one had ever dared touch her like this before—commanding and confident that she’d respond.

And she did, opening her mouth to him as her eyes flitted closed, trembling with the rest of her body.

As his warm mouth sipped from hers, he hiked her skirt up over her hips, pressing himself against her again.  Her bare skin responded instantly, swelling and expanding.  Moisture gathered as he pushed again, rubbing the rough fabric against her core and making her moan into his mouth.

Dylan’s tongue swirled around hers in a primal dance.  Tass’s head spun.  She had never experienced such a kiss before, nothing that could compare to the heat raging through her body with the swish of his tongue and the push of his hips.

His panting mouth dropped from hers, skipping down her shoulder and collarbone.  His deft fingers tugging at the straps of her dress so that it seems her dress falls below her breasts by accident, coincidence.

A growl vibrated down her chest bone as his kisses fell down her body.  His large hand cupped her left breast as he shifted his hips to drive against her at a new angle, hefting her knees higher on his waist.  The near painful pleasure arched Tass’s back as a moan filled her room—choked into oblivion as Dylan’s mouth enveloped her right nipple.  He tugged it between his teeth, flicking his tongue over it relentlessly until the pleasure of it had her hands sunk into his hair and her head falling back and forth.

Her core tightened against his thrusts, her nerves so swollen they could burst.  Hiccups of pleasure erupted from her as he rolled her nipple against the roof of his mouth.

Tass’s whole body clamped down and exploded simultaneously, flashing a bright white behind her lids.  She gasped and her body bucked forward against Dylan’s.

Her vision returned quickly, but the room is dark again, damp and moldy.  She flashed away from the wolf, covering herself as she stood behind him.  He whirled on her, gaze filled with satisfaction and need.

His hand grazed the fabric covering his erection, obviously wet even in the dark, and brought two fingers to his mouth, licking them as he watched her.

Her entire body shuddered, and she flashed away again.

Back in her room, Tass leaned back against the edge of her bed, willing her legs to stop shaking.  She dried the wetness sliding between her legs with a burst of power and gripped her sheet.  Was that…? Was that what all the fuss was about?  Was that what an orgasm was supposed to feel like?

Dirty Little Couples–Chet & Beatrice

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Beatrice leaned over the sink in the guest bathroom.  An over-the-top dinner party churned in the large dinning and living rooms just across the hall.  She’d walked up behind her husband as he spoke with his boss and whispered in his ear. “Bathroom, ten minutes.”  Her hand swiped down and grabbed a handful of his ass before she’d slipped away.

Now, she waited. He had less than a minute to meet the deadline, and she’d dismissed three party guests from entering already.  She touched up her lip-gloss in the mirror as a knock reverberated softly through the oversized bathroom.

“Pineapple,” she called—their code word.

The door clicked open and closed again before she saw Chet’s dark blue suit in the mirror, his hands as they appeared on her hips over her simple black dress.  His icy blue eyes looked at her reflection as he kissed the side of her neck.

A smile filled out her features as warmth bloomed down her belly.  Her dress gathered in his hands as the hem inched its way up her thighs.  Beatrice smoothed her gloss and put her applicator back in her clutch on the counter, gasping as her husband shoved his trouser-covered-erection against her bare ass cheeks.

“Let’s just get these out of the way, darling.”  Her panties dropped down her thighs to a tiny puddle of cloth around her feet before Chet bent, gathered them in his large hand, and hid them away in his jacket pocket.

Moisture gathered between her thighs as his hands found her bare legs, just above her knees, where he lifted her onto the edge of the counter.  The cold of the marble burned her knees and rose up into that triangle between them.

Heat combated the cold as her husband bent and drew his tongue over her folds. Her hands found the mirror, and she arched her back, lifting her hips and butt, and Chet rewarded her with another slow, wide swipe from his tongue.  Beatrice’s nipples hardened against the loose fabric of her dress as the tip of his tongue broke the seal of her folds completely.

“Spread them wider for me, give me access.”  His warm hands found her waist and pushed her lower, spreading her legs so that barely an inch separated her sex form the marble counter.

Tightness gathered in her limbs, and she couldn’t be sure how long she could keep this way.  But her compliance rewarded her with the fat head of his cock and his soft groan as he worked his way inside of her.

Beatrice tried to relax for him, but his sharp thrusts made her body ripple.  He filled her so completely and then some.  She could barely breathe through the pleasure, her body shaking until the moment he’d buried himself completely inside of her.  A low moan ripped form her as her body convulsed around him, drenching them both in the wetness of her first orgasm.

Chet’s hand appeared on the mirror beside hers, his other gripping her, holding her steady as rammed his hips against hers, hitting the very end of her with each stroke. The bouncing of their movements warmed the muscles in her thighs and hips so that she could roll herself with him, over him, sharpening the angles of her penetration.

His hips slowed as hers gained momentum, and she watched him lean back to watch her ass bounce.  When his gaze met hers in the mirror, the wanton heat behind the ice in his eyes made her crazy, sent her hips in circles.  And his gaze fell, back to watching her move.

“Yes, sweetheart, ride me.”

Chet’s cock jerked inside her to show her his approval.  His hand smoothed up her body under her dress, fingertips across her stomach, over her ribs, cupping the underside of her breast. Rolling his thumb over her nipple sent a shudder through her and renewed her attentions to the way cock opened and filled her, stretching with each rotation.  Beatrice’s orgasm built again, making her hungry for his.

A large hand cupped her throat, not squeezing, but controlling and stabilizing her.  Chet drew her back from the mirror, sharpening the curve of her back.  His mouth appeared at her ear as he thrust into with renewed.  “Come on me, make me come with you.”

A jangle of the doorknob vibrated a low moan from her chest. She gulped, twice, before she hoarsely called, “Occupied.”

Beatrice couldn’t keep her moans in any longer with her husband pounding his hips against her ass as he was, his head scraping and striking at her womb.  The intense pleasure shook her, but she held on as long as she could, squeezing and squeezing.

“Take me with you,” Chet ground out in her ear again.

And she obeyed. With a great convulsion, she clamped down around her husband, milking him as his rush of pleasure filled her.

She collapsed against the mirror; Chet’s hands roamed her body once more, moving downwards as he ground himself against her.  His smile spread across her shoulder before he laid down a kiss and eased her aching legs down and her feet to the floor.  Her dress lowered around their joining.  Still filled with him, she gasped, the tendrils of her orgasms latched onto her.

Husky and deep, her husband’s voice caressed her along with the ghost of their pleasure.  “Brilliant as always, sweetheart.”