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  “Come here, lay down, and I’ll rub you down.” No arm-twisting was needed. I immediately flopped, naked, face down on the bed.

  “Flip over!” she commanded. “I want to do your front first.”

  I rolled over and looked deeply into her eyes. I began to lose myself inside them.

  “Put your arms above your head.” I obliged. She climbed on top of me and straddled my chest. I quickly realized she had no panties on under the skirt she wore. Her pussy was warm and wet against my chest. I reached up to caress her legs.

  “Now behave and keep your arms up!” I put my arms back where they were. She slid further up my chest and leaned forward. Her breasts smothering me through her blouse. I felt her tie something silky around my wrists.

  “What are you doing?” I knew what she was doing and her smile for an answer told me she knew I knew. She fastened both wrists to the bed frame and, still straddling me, slid back down towards my waist. My cock was hard as the tensed muscles in my arms.

  “Now comes the fun part,” she teased.

  Button by button she slowly took off her blouse. I didn’t blink, my eyes fixated on the delicate dance of fingers on fabric, exposing her wonderful flesh. Her beautiful bra, black, almost menacing, the only barrier between her nipples and my steady gaze. She tore down that wall quickly, deftly removing her support with a flick of her fingers. Her skirt, the only fabric left on her magnificent body, stretched across me, spread between her strong legs. It served as another bond, using her weight to force me into the bed. I became even harder; my cock wanted what was under that skirt.

  Joani reached over to the table by the bed and grabbed the massage oil. She took a palmful and warmed it by rubbing her hands together, releasing the spicy aroma. She placed her warm slick fingers onto my chest and firmly began to rub.The reality of the game had begun to show itself in my muscles, and Joani’s skilled fingers teased this soreness to her delight—and mine. It was just enough pain to endure. Enough to know I was being touched, worked on by someone who knew what she was doing. She was in control and I relaxed into it, her fingers firmly blazing trails through my aching flesh. I moaned with pleasure and pain. Joani beamed in achievement as she milked each cry, the conductor bringing music out of her instrument. I sank, I let her play me.

  She slowly, achingly returned to my chest, where she paid particular attention to my rather hard nipples. She gleefully pinched them, eliciting a yelp from me in response. She moved down to my abs, where she carefully drew borders around each muscle with her fingers. She moved to my inner thighs where she enjoyed touching me softly, making my dick even harder.

  “Please,” I begged. The torture of touch had brought me to my boiling point as my arms strained against their silken bondage. She smiled in response, her fingers slowly making their way up my groin. When she delicately took the head of my penis between her thumb and index finger and pinched, I knew . . .

  I was hers.

  Sex Club Hopping in Paris

  BY LISA ARCHER

  The man peered at me through a crack in the door. “Do you know what kind of club this is?”

  “Yes.” I had found it searching Google for clubs échangistes.These “swingers’ clubs” were also known as clubs libertines, which sounded like an invention of the Marquis de Sade: a club for committing acts of unbridled lust and defiling innocent youths.

  Smiling a mouthful of stained teeth, the man opened the door. Several men at a dimly lit bar grinned at me, leaning over each other to get a better view.The sign above the door read: 50 Euro per couple, 80 Euro per single man. It didn’t mention women.

  “How much is the cover?”

  The man with stained teeth smiled. “For you, it is free.”

  A disco ball threw circles of colored light up the spiral staircase. The dance floor was empty. Men lolled around in oxford shirts and khakis.They circled me, exchanging wary glances. One of them—shirtless, with wiry muscles—blew me a wet kiss and ran his forefinger under my chin. Another danced almost on top of me, like a dog jerking himself off on my leg. I recoiled, accustomed to San Francisco’s private sex parties, where “Ask before you touch” was the rule.These parties forbade street clothes and required nudity, fetish wear, or lingerie. Finally I saw a woman in the middle of a throng of men. A man in an oxford shirt and navy blue socks knelt between her thighs, fucking her, his white briefs around his ankles.What was it with the oxford shirts and khakis? I couldn’t imagine anything less sexy.There were no other women in sight.

  Perhaps women came here for gangbangs. I was not into gangbangs in foreign “libertine clubs,” where people might have a much different idea of what a consensual gangbang meant. I was ready to leave.

  “Do you feel comfortable here?” asked young man in a bright blue button-down shirt. He was handsome in a pale way, with aquiline nose and brown hair, parted on the side. I sat down next to him, thankful for someone to talk to.

  “I wish there were more women.”

  He nodded. “This is a special club.They allow single people. Most clubs are for couples. It’s unusual to see a single woman here.”

  I shrugged. “I would rather have gone to go to a club for couples, but I leave Paris tomorrow. I didn’t know any men I could take with me.”

  “If you want, we could leave here and go to a club for couples. I am called Etienne.”

  I looked at him. I prefer more bohemian men, and it isn’t every day I climb into strangers’ cars to go to “libertine clubs.” I wasn’t sure I could distinguish between sexy and crazy in a foreign culture. But, sex-starved, I decided to go for it.

  We walked to his car in the crisp night air.

  “I just broke up with my girlfriend,” he said, unlocking the door of a blue Peugeot with a baby seat in the back.The baby seat made me feel more comfortable. It suggested he had something to lose.

  “Did you used to go to clubs for couples with your girlfriend?”

  “No. She didn’t know about them.”

  I was surprised: I knew lots of couples in S.F. who went to sex parties together. “Then who did you go to clubs for couples with?”

  “Women I met at clubs—like you.”

  “Did you ever think of telling her about the clubs?”

  “No. I made that mistake once with a girl I was dating. She said she never wanted to see me again.Then she told all my friends, ‘He goes to those kinds of clubs.’ I told them, ‘She’s lying.’That was that. I never saw her again. I like the anonymity.

  I think that’s what I like about the clubs.”

  I listened, fascinated by his double life. He was one of those people who share their darkest secrets with a stranger on a train they’ll never see again.

  We pulled up alongside a restaurant with a red carpet leading to the entrance. A valet opened the car door for me.

  “This is it?” I asked, having never seen a sex club with a red carpet and a valet.The doorman beckoned us into a dining hall with black walls, high ceilings, and hundreds of red leather chairs.The tables were empty, except for a party of three elderly women eating dessert with their lap dogs.The French bring their dogs to restaurants—apparently to sex clubs too.

  On a sofa by the bar, we kissed for the first time. Etienne was a good kisser, but something cold and wet was probing my thigh. I glanced down. A well-groomed Shih Tzu regarded us with interest, wagging his tail.

  Etienne pulled back, quickly buttoning his shirt.“They don’t like us to do this in the restaurant. Let’s go upstairs.That’s where the club is.”

  Upstairs a dozen couples mingled in the dimly lit play space.The women dressed in slinky black lingerie, while the men wore requisite oxford shirts and khakis.The place seemed clean, but had a distinct lack of condoms, lube, gloves and other safer sex supplies.

  We kissed on a black vinyl-covered bed. Suddenly a hand crept up my thigh. A large man, wearing only a v-neck sweater, was prodding my pussy with his bare hands—which had probably fingered every woman in the room. I grabbed his
wrist and pushed him away, swearing to get a full STD check as soon as I got home. He generously offered to fuck me without a condom. I was graciously declining, when a woman with spiky two-tone hair crept up on my pussy— cooing at it, as if it were a small pet—and eyed me as if to ask, “Does it bite?”

  “She wants to eat you,” said Etienne. I nodded, confused by foreign sounds and gestures.

  The woman marveled at my cunt as if it were a saintly relic, too fragile and holy to touch. Finally she lowered her head, slurping enthusiastically. Etienne kissed me. A black woman lay down beside us. A black man, naked and uncut, slid his cock into her and ran his hands over Etienne’s ass.The woman with spiky hair whispered sweet nothings to my pussy in French. I couldn’t understand her, since her mouth was full. But soon I was coming in waves.The woman glanced up at me with a worshipful expression and batted away the man in the v-neck as he tried to fuck her doggy style.

  When I finished coming, I glanced around for the woman. She was already busy fucking Etienne. I raced off to the shower.

  When I came back, Etienne pulled me down next to him and kissed my feet, working his way up my legs.The black couple lay down next to us again and stroked us as they made love. Etienne put on a condom and slid into me with long, slow thrusts. I came again. Then Etienne came, his back breaking out in a sheen of sweat. I kissed him, licking the sweat off his neck.

  We slipped away to the locker room, showered, dressed, and went downstairs.

  Etienne paid the bill, flirting with the pretty coat check girl.

  I wondered if she’d be the next woman he’d take to a club for couples. For all I knew, he was asking her right then.

  The next morning, as I lugged my suitcase out of the hotel,

  I saw Etienne reading a newspaper in the window of a café.The woman across from him held a baby in her arms. He looked up and pretended not to notice me.

  After all, he led a double life.

  Speaking in Tongues

  BY EDWARD BEGGS

  Driving through this forest country of scented Douglas firs reminds me of Norma, a woman I knew years ago. Norma was not strikingly beautiful but she was sexually audacious. Like her mother, she was a large woman, not fat, but tall and ample bodied. She had fair skin, honey-blond hair, blue eyes, and full, sensuous lips. Her blushing smile was disarming and her seductive come-ons seemed as dangerous as live cobras. As her pastor in those days, I was impressed with her quick mind but was guarded against her flirtatious overtures.

  Before leaving that community Norma invited me to go horse-back riding. As Norma saddled the horses I was wondering if she had any plans to fulfill her sexual ambitions with me. As we began the ride, Norma’s horse made menacing moves toward mine. The striking hoof missed the shoulder of my horse but nicked my left ankle. My ankle was seriously hurt.The ride in the isolated woods would have to remain a titillating fantasy.

  Traveling in this mountain forest years later stirs up old memories of Norma. I wonder how her face and body have changed. I had obtained her phone number from her mother and I decided to act on this stimulating impulse.

  Norma had in previous years married a preacher who ranted against a special taboo. Like many church denominations, this man defined himself by what he tried to forbid. As the Mormons prohibited Cokes and coffee, the Methodists fine wines and beer, the Southern Baptists dancing and rock and roll, the Catholics self-pleasuring and premarital sex, and the extinct Shakers sex, even in marriage, so Norma’s preacher man and his Covenant of the Strict Path defined his denominational brand, like the rest of them, by forbidding an obvious pleasure. To insure product differentiation, however, he would specialize. He would be against oral sex!

  Rubbing up nightly against these preacherly prohibitions Norma’s curiosity about oral pleasures grew intense.The Reverend became increasingly uncomfortable as the more he admonished the congregation to avoid the vile and filthy practice he could only indirectly discuss from the pulpit, Norma was nibbling closer in her adventurous quest for variation in the holy bed of matrimony. He banished her from his bed, expelled her from the Strict Path and had the marriage annulled.

  When I finally reconnect with Norma she is living by herself in a trailer on a horse ranch near the highway I’m traveling. I left my pastoral persona in the dust years ago and am thrilled at the prospect of seeing Norma face to face. Hearing my maroon van driving up on the gravel she steps out of her door, looks directly at me, smiles and says, without blushing, “I’m so happy to see you again!”

  She wears faded jeans and a long-sleeved blue flannel shirt. She likes the beard I’ve grown since I knew her.We greet each other with a tentative hug, our first. There is no one looking over our shoulders and no professional roles to uphold.We are both free agents.

  We’re also cold!

  Norma breaks free, takes my hand and leads me into the trailer where a wood stove throws out enough heat to convert a freedom-loving winter hobo to the joys of domestic servitude.We talk and laugh about her former attempts to seduce me and her equally frustrating times in the Strict Path.We are shy and nervous about what is about to happen. I shiver now, not from the outside cold, but from sheer nerve-wracking sexual excitement.

  Demonstrating amazing restraint, she suggests we take a horse-back ride to see Calamity Point. Norma saddles the horses, and with nary a kick to anyone’s ankle we ride off.We wade the horses through Rush Creek and pink-tinged heather.We climb to an overview of a wide valley of sage and blackened rock surrounded by snow-topped mountains—Calamity Point, a vista view of ancient volcanic eruptions. Eventually we turn the horses homeward and they take us swiftly back to the cozy warmth of the wood stove.

  I kick off my shoes and pull off her scuffed brown boots. She lies back on the front room couch and her blond hair splays across the pillow. I snuggle next to her body and enjoy her scent. Like a pony’s velvet lips nibbling clover blossoms, I touch my lips to hers. After massaging her neck and shoulders I rest my palm on the soft mound of her shirt-covered breast.

  She whispers: “Oh, God!”

  I unzip her jeans and move down to her feet to grab her cuffs and pull them off with gentle tugs. Moving my fingers under the elastic, I slip off her white cotton panties. I inhale the awesome scent from her cunt.With hands on her knees I spread her warm thighs and move between them. Parting her labia with a moist tongue I introduce her to the liberating joys of the oral tradition. Her whispers to God have now become loud pleas of “Oh, Jesus!”

  Burying my face in this primal place makes the tick-tock marking of time irrelevant. I alternate between slow tongue strokes up and down her entire labia to rapid flicking of her clitoris.This goes on and on until her breathing becomes quicker and deeper. As she begins to thrash around and arch her back I hold her thighs tight to maintain contact with my tongue.

  Her moans deepen and seem to come from such a primitive place they scare me. I feel her shudder, hear her scream, and as her taut body collapses onto the bed, I lift my head from her vulva. I feel a different kind of pleasure in seeing her satisfaction. Eyes closed, she rests quietly.

  Now her eyelids lift and rising on one elbow she smiles broadly and exclaims: “Wow! No wonder the church didn’t want us to do that.”

  Birthday Rap

  BY KECIA

  On my birthday morning I was awakened by the burning desire to make love. My partner had his children visiting and so we didn’t sleep together the evening before. As I lay there, the fire in my loins throbbed and grew with each moment. I decided to go to the room where he was sleeping to see if I could get some goodies before the girls woke up. I quietly crept in and began nuzzling his ear and neck. I whispered in his ear, “Can you come and play this morning before I leave?” He smiled and said yes.

  Even though we have made love while the children were sleeping before, he was not on the same page and could not get his mind or his member to task. Now I do know that he loves sex with me and I crave him all the time, but sometimes he can be in his head an
d cannot get out enough to perform, if you know what I mean. Because of time and a pending appointment I was forced to abandon my efforts to help him cum around.

  It was a beautiful summer day. Children were playing; men greeted me with approval as I approached the bus stop. I thought about how badly I wanted to fuck.

  While I was standing there I noticed a car that came around with a gentleman who looked at me as if he knew me. He said hello and asked if I would come to the car and talk to him. I said no, he would have to get out of the car and come talk to me where I stood. He pulled over, got out of his car, and approached me. He was a handsome younger man, neatly dressed in a sweat suit that showed his well-built frame. He asked if he could give me a ride somewhere. I told him I was running late and would appreciate the lift. I got in the car, and we started talking. He told me he had seen me as he passed and had doubled back to see who I was. He said he was attracted to my sumptuous behind, which he noticed as I was standing there.

  As we drove he put his hand on my thigh and raised my dress to reveal my thighs. He caressed my leg and then I noticed his hard-on. It was quite large, and I could feel the moisture growing between my legs as he stroked me. I’m a sucker for a big dick so I pulled it out of his pants and started touching it as he drove.When we stopped at a light I swear I thought the woman at the bus stop could see me stroking his huge beautiful cock. By now my mouth was watering. I wanted to suck his dick right then and there, with the woman looking at me. (I’m an exhibitionist sometimes too!)

  We were just a few blocks from my destination and I had to compose myself quickly. When we got there he said he would wait for me. As I got out of the car he grabbed me and planted a big kiss on my lips and pressed his hard dick against me. He said he would sit there and smoke a blunt while he waited.

  When I came back, he said he had to make a stop and asked if I had time to go with him. I said sure and off we went. We caressed each other till I thought I was going to explode. He finished his errands and said let’s go for a ride, I want to fuck you so bad I can’t wait. We stopped to pick up some condoms and something to quench our thirst. We stopped at a park up in the hills, a rugged place with no people around that we could see, so we got out of the car and proceeded to look for someplace in the brush where we could satisfy our lust. We looked around and didn’t see anyplace that was easily accessible, so we went back to his car. As he opened the door for me and I sat down I could not help but grab his hard cock. I pulled it out and began sucking wildly on it. The huge head on his cock felt good to my tongue and I couldn’t stop sucking even with a car approaching.