by Lord Malinov

Lying on his bed, Jeff stared into the night. Tiny shards of brilliance speckled the field of black, each an insignificant point seen so far away, a vast array of fire and silent motion. Mars hung high against the milky streak.

Kathy wanted the bedroom the moment she laid eyes upon it, falling in love with the idea of the broad glass ceiling that made the room a virtual greenhouse. Jeff had fought her for a while, complaining of practical things, but conceded in the end. Her heart leapt to imagine sleeping every night together beneath the vault of heaven. As she pleaded for indulgence, Jeff found, despite prudent calculations, nothing could make him deny his lovely wife this luxury. A shooting star raced across eternity.

Jeff remembered how restless the black sky made him feel on the first night they slept in their bedroom. Opening his eyes, his head resting on his pillow, her head heavy on his shoulder, Jeff found himself filled with dread, overwhelmed by his own insignificance as the universe stretched out so wide above him. It was the small feeling he had known as a child, the weight he found he could only escape in the embrace of his mother’s arms, before she had gone. And now Kathy.

She had roused at the first shudder, as Jeff succumbed in an instant to his fear. Kathy had kissed his cheek instinctively, rising up to shield him from the vision, to diminish the expanse of darkness with a pale beauty in the shadows, kissing his brow, kissing his quivering lip. Kathy touched him knowingly and at once Jeff forgot the void of space and found assurance in her smooth caress. He kissed her, rose above her, took her.

It seemed so long ago, the first night beneath the slow turn of stars, when he had kissed her breasts uplifted, gleaming white in the glow of soft moonlight, Kathy’s nipples hard peaks tempting his kiss with a yearning insistence. It seemed so long ago, the supple scent of her belly, yielding to his tugs and pinches, the long sinews of her uplifted arms, the light gay laugh to tempt his kisses, a thousand slow deliberate tastes as the serpent traced her arc into the dark horizon.

Jeff wiped the tears from his eyes, but his heart crumbled in despair. The darkness seemed eternal, reaching out beyond the stars. Jeff felt the small fear and turning his gaze down, found no one to redeem him.

But he remembered the reflection of those same stars in her eyes as he rose above to embed himself within her, the acceptance and surrender of her love as he looked into her depths, the eternal night within her gazing eyes, as the moist kiss of her sweet cunny swallowed him within. Kathy, Jeff smiled to recall, had loved him absolutely, anxiously drawing the fire from his soul, teasing his passions into a pitch of rage.

The stars each burned a fiery explosion of billowing flames, a sea of energy and light, storming madly, pouring forth across the cosmos to tickle him as he lay in bed and tried to sleep, lulling him with a kiss of distant time, spurring him to live and burn, despite the cold, despite the dark.

Jeff could still hear her giggle as she shed her satin panties dancing and he leaned sitting against the headboard, admiring like an emperor the charms of his slave girl. She had pranced and bent and spread and teased in a celestial symphony of erotic motion, and Jeff could still feel the throb of his earthy cock, trembling in the sweet anguish of unbound desire, and yet the vixen teased him longer. He’d jumped from the bed as she waggled invitations, and stood behind her lean flanks to pierce the root of her being, the sweet swollen lips of her cunt suckling him with each ferocious prod. He leaned over to kiss her glistening back, the arch of wanting, the slender vase of her lascivious flesh.

He turned, weary with frustrations, and listened as a siren wailed somewhere in the valley beneath the house. Troubled, Jeff collapsed in knowing that life marched on around him, that another day loomed and would just as soon pass to bring him inevitably back into the shrine of this eternal night.

But the sky reflected her lost love, and Jeff drank the pale starshine.

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Morn is a new erotic story collection by the undeniable Lord Malinov

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by Lord Malinov

“Would a threesome excite you?” Debbie asked me as she entered the family room. My wife spoke calmly, almost disinterestedly, as though my thoughts on having group sex were of some academic concern to her. As such, the provocative nature of the question took a moment to sink in, but when it finally occurred to me, what Debbie had said, I looked up at my wife in utter surprise.

“What?” I began to say, but my thoughts were lost before I finished one. Debbie and I had never discussed anything like this. I don’t know why. It just never came up.

“I mean, like if we . . .” Debbie tried to explain.

“It could,” I interrupted. I would have surrendered an enthusiastic, “Hell, yes!” but women had taught me to suspect a trap when one of them started leading me down some naughty hallway. Who could tell what awkward confession I might be tricked into making? Perhaps overcautious, I would commit to nothing; If there was a chance we were taking a first step toward some outrageous fantasies, my best bet as a husband was to let my good lady wife lead us her merry way.

Of course the idea of inviting some lucky friend to join us in the bedroom aroused me to distraction, for I am a normal and forever perverse man, but being realistic forced me to give a nod to the short list of the unpleasant results which befall unlucky libertines when they dare to indulge in exercises of sinful pride. “But not unless it excited you,” I cautiously added.

“A man or a woman?” Debbie asked, pleading for I don’t know what.

“I think it could be interesting, either way. Why do you ask?”

“I was reading,” Debbie said. She sat down at the other end of the sofa. Until then, I hadn’t noticed the flush in my wife’s cheeks. Debbie moved a small pillow from beneath her leg and smiled nervously as she tried to collect herself. Her breathing was heavy, as though she had been running. Her manicured nails traced a slow curve along the crest of her thigh. Shy, my wife cast her eyes down, seeming to study the frill of the pillow as she sought for the words she was anxious to speak.

“There were these whole bunch of short dirty stories I found, and I found . . . ” Debbie’s quick words halted as her feelings overwhelmed her. Nipples jutted hard under her thin cotton shirt. “I found that stories about group sex make me wet. I’m turned on by them all; wife-watching goofs who let their wives fuck big studs, old college friends at reunions in bed-breaking threesomes, stripper sluts fucking whole bachelor parties, gang-bangs in bars, horny housewives licking each other until their husbands do them all . . . ” Debbie’s voice trailed off in hard rubbing distraction before she roused herself sufficiently to say in a slow sultry tone, “I love stories about sluts.”

By this time, her scarlet-tipped fingers had worked their way under her loose shorts and pushed away the thin film of her panties to give a vigorous rub to the lusty wet cunt underneath.

“Sluts?” I asked softly, staring as my wife slowly spread her legs and exhibited the way she teased a stiff clitoris. I watched in fascination and Debbie watched me watching her. Her dark eyes blazed with her desire.

“Sluts,” she repeated with a quick brush of her fingers along her full pussy lips. “You don’t know how much that word turns me on.” Debbie shivered and shifted. “Sluts sucking slut cunts and cocks fucking hot sluts. Wow. I started looking for stories about big sex and just skipped all the rest. Mack, I’m so turned on by this. You’ve got to help me. I want to fuck everyone.”

Debbie threw her head back and still rubbing her pussy, began to moan. I could see her cunt quiver as she lifted her bottom from the sofa to urge the orgasm in hot blasts from within, shivers of my pretty girl’s lust laid forth as a feast for my gluttonous eyes.

“What,” I dared ask as her ecstatic throes faded, “are you thinking, you slut?”

“Ohmigod,” my wife squealed at the word, her cunt clearly aflame.

“Does this mean you’re going to help me fuck Carrie?”

“When she licks me, you can fuck her,” Debbie said, short of breath. “That pretty slut has been wanting to taste my cunt for a long time.”

“I like that,” I told her, now stroking my rod. “And you’ll lick my hot spunk from her slit when I’m done.”

“Please,” Debbie whimpered.

“And I’ll give Jim a call, he’d probably like some of that.”

“Please,” Debbie whispered, fingers plunging inside.

“You slut,” I accused, a grin betraying bad intentions. My wife melted and gushed as my long cannon fired.

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by Lord Malinov

The phone rang, stirring Steven into consciousness.

“Hello,” he said, his voice thick with disuse.


“Hey, Dad.” Steven rolled out of bed and blinked as his eyes adapted to daylight.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, no. I was working.”

“We just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine.”

“You know, Steven,” his father’s deep voice spoke slowly, slightly unsure, “it’s been a long time since . . . . We just think . . . . Son, don’t you think it’s about time you pick yourself up and try to start over again?”

“I know, Dad. I am. Don’t worry.”

“We love you, Steven. Remember that.”

“Thanks Dad. Thanks for calling.”

Steven hung up the phone and looked out the window. Thick grey clouds filled the winter sky. Steven sighed and looked at his desk, piled high with books. He cleared a space, pushing one stack toward the rear and picking up another to place them on the floor. Tentatively, he sat down. Steven stood up and went to take a shower.

Drying his black curls, he looked again at the empty space on his desk. He could remember a time when sitting down to write had been an indispensable part of his morning routine. Steven shivered. “Damn, it’s cold in here,” he said, tossing the towel into a pile of dirty clothes and reaching into his closet for a shirt.

Brushing through his hair, Steven looked at himself in the mirror. A self-conscious smile flickered past his face. “Dad’s right,” Steven said to himself. “I’ve just got to move on.” Picking up his boots, he sat down in his desk’s chair. Deliberately, Steven turned and tried to feel at home. He stared for a moment at a small photograph of a young woman locked in a silver frame. As if the floor had dropped out from under him, Steven felt his spirit sink. “I’ll just go out,” he said, standing abruptly.

Pulling on his long wool coat, Steven started the short walk down to the shopping mall. Cold wind bit into cheek as he turned down the hill. A long time had passed since Steven had dared to go out in public for no particular reason, telling himself he just preferred the quiet solemnity of his apartment. Trips to the store had been infrequent, quick and intensely pragmatic. Steven lowered his head and trudged forward, determined to take at least this simple step.

Pulling open the glass doors of the broad building, Steven was immediately assaulted with the bright lights and noise of the modern day town square. Possessed by a wave of discomfort, he slowed his pace, eyeing the color and motion anxiously. A crying child pulled at her mother’s coat while the young woman searched the depths of an embroidered purse. A man in a brown tie arranged a number of blue and gold books in a short pyramid. A whimsical song of decades gone past drifted down from above. Steven walked intently along the tiled wide hall, stepping past reflections of subdued white lights hung high above.

Warmth began to loosen his nervous tension as he approached a tall fountain spending water in circular streams. Steven found a bare bench and sat down, wearily. He wondered if coming out was really such a good idea. Steven bit at a finger nail. Maybe he just wasn’t ready.

Looking up, Steven stopped thinking. A sudden glimpse of beauty in the guise of a young woman caught his eye. Steven looked away nervously, but found himself glancing back again. She traced a motion, graceful and fluid, deliberate and smooth. The vision caught him, distracted him, attracted and held him.

Steven watched her as she placed a package down beside her feet and rummaged through the pockets of her long coat. She lifted her head, elegantly, beautifully and Steven held his breath. Her soft pale hair swung and stopped, caressing her draped shoulders. Delicate fingers fiddled with her coat’s collar, and she gently bit a coral lip. Reaching back into her pocket, she withdrew a small fold of white paper and in a flash of disinterested recognition, she pushed it back in.

Steven stood and approached her. Even as his feet moved forward, he gasped, wondering at what he was doing. He stopped a few feet away from the girl. She looked up, her deep blue eyes radiant and cool.

“Excuse me,” Steven said, “but could I buy you lunch?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, wrinkling her brow.

“No,” he said, blushing. “I’m just . . .” Steven turned to walk away.

“Wait,” the young woman said. “Please. I’d be delighted.” Steven listened as the sound of her voice echoed in his ears, a sweet melody of compassion and delight. He looked at her and felt his heart warm as she smiled.

Hours later, they stepped out into the cold day together, walked slowly away from the mall and the quiet repast of their long lunch. Steven shivered, as much from delight as from the biting harsh wind, feeling nervous and enflamed by the woman walking beside him. Snow fell in floating flakes, unhurried in their peaceful descent. The ground gleamed with a thickening shroud of crystalline white.

“I’m a writer,” he said after an extended pause.

“I thought so,” Kristen said. “You have a way with words. What are you writing?”

“Nothing,” he said, his heart sinking. “I can’t. I haven’t been able to work in a long time. Almost a year. Well, exactly.”

“Oh,” she said. “I guess I understand.”

“But you, you’re a dancer?” Steven asked, curious.

“Almost,” Kristen replied.

“I love dance,” he said. “I love the beauty of motion. I used to go to the ballet. The glide of the dancers as they almost trip over the stage, deliberate and yet fluid. It takes my breath. I think it is my favorite style of performance.”

“I like dance,” she replied with a teasing smile.

Steven took Kristen’s gloved hand in his own as the path turned down a short hill and wound around, approaching a small pond. A busy crowd filled the icy circle, slipping and sliding in delicate arcs, speeding runs and sudden falls. The snowy hills echoed their laughter until the whole winter afternoon seemed to ring with joy. Steven fought an urge to hurry down the hill, to take a familiar place against a snow-covered fence and watch the revelry.

“I used to come here and skate,” Steven told Kristen as he leaned against the boards. “I can’t tell you how many hours we spent here, laughing and playing.” Steven sighed. “So many memories.”

“Oh,” she said, quietly.

“Do you skate?” he asked.

“No.” Kristen turned and started to walk further down the winding path, heading toward the woods. Steven shrugged and caught up with her. The snow fell hard, silent in the thick cedars. Their footsteps crunched rhythmically along the freezing blanket of crisp virgin white. Long evergreen branches, heavy with the winter cold, stretched down across their path. Steven reached down to take a handful of snow and made a ball. Kristen gave him a warning glance and he threw it into the woods, sending a thick cascade of glittering crystals to the ground. They walked on in silence.

A small cottage sat in a white covered clearing. Kristen withdrew a key from her purse and unlocked the dark wood door. They went up a wooden staircase and into a dark cozy room.

“Would you light the fire?” Kristen asked. “I’ll fix us something to drink.”

Steven knelt on the brick hearth and struck the long match. The kindling sputtered slightly and then burst into a dim yellow flame which traveled along a spreading maze of thin fibers, licking at the black logs. Steven stood, brushed his hands and looked around at the cozy surroundings. Smiling to himself, he picked up a frame from the mantle.

The photo showed a girl in tight blue stretched out as she glided along the crystalline ice, a moment seized in elegant perfection. Steven smiled and replaced the picture to the pine shelf.

“I thought you said you didn’t skate,” he said. Kristen handed him a large mug of warmth. The spicy richness of the steaming drink tickled Steven’s cold nose.

“I did. I don’t.” Kristen frowned slightly. Steven lifted his mug to touch hers.

“I understand,” he said and took a sip of the hot cider.

“I know you do,” she said softly. He sat his mug down and kissed her. Kristen put her arms around Steven, drawing him hard against her. He looked into her deep eyes, felt the soft caress of her tears.

“But it’s so beautiful,” he said. “You are so beautiful. I would love to see you.”

“You will,” she said.

Steven lifted Kristen in a single, fluid motion, taking her in a kiss up the stairs to her bed and held her tight as they burrowed themselves warm under the covers. Their somber caresses grew playful as the touch of their desire drifted through hours and he fumbled with hers while she fumbled with his and in a sudden laughing explosion, their clothes flew from the bed. Steven lingered in an electric moment of contact as he pressed her bare breasts full against his naked chest, feeling the tightening of her nipples as they brushed his tender skin. Her lean legs wrapped around his, and their bodies melded together.

“I haven’t,” he said as he entered her.

“I haven’t,” she giggled, embracing his presence.

Steven raised himself up on his arms, hovering over Kristen and paused, his prick barely suckled by the soft lips of her cunt. He drank in the moment, the splay of blonde hair spread over her pillow, the hungry gleam of her lazuli eyes, her tantalized smile, the milky white rounded breasts and her darkened tight nipples.

“I want you,” he said, plunging in hard.

“Yes,” she moaned, lapping in the thrust. Steven rolled into Kristen with a deliberate rhythm, delighting in each succulent lick of her lips. She lifted her hips to meet each firm stroke. The union transformed and blossomed as they felt their hearts melt.

They loved until dawn while snowfall buried their world.

Steven trudged through the glittering crystals of cold, working his way slowly back to his home. His thoughts lingered with Kristen, and her warm, loving touch. Steven opened the door to his place with a sigh. He peeled off his coat and hung the damp wool on a hook. Shucking his pants, wet with melting snow, he dashed up to his room to find some dry sweats. Steven pulled on the soft leggings, leaning on the desk’s chair as he pulled down the cuff.

Pausing, he looked at the empty place on the desktop.

Steven sat down and reaching into the top drawer pulled out his notebook. He took his fountain pen from the case and refilled the tool with dark ink. Tempting a drip from the nub of the pen, he stretched out his arms and leaned forward.

“From out of the snowfall, a crystal white nymph. . . .”

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Song of Songs

Song of Songs

by the ultrarad Lord Malinov



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Stepping Over the Line

Stepping Over the Line
by Lord Malinov

I reached for the phone reluctantly. The ring caught me mid-thought but it was almost as if I knew it was coming. I tried to control my nervousness as I spoke my hello.

“Hey, buddy, can I meet you for lunch?” Rob asked, his question sounding more like a demand than a request.

“Sure,” I answered, at once analyzing my friend’s tone for hidden meanings.

“Riggo’s at twelve?”

“Sure,” I replied.

I hung up the phone slowly, my whole body shaken by the sudden reality of my situation. The day before had begun so ordinarily, but somewhere in the middle of the afternoon, I had crossed a threshold. I didn’t go see Julie deliberately. I never planned even a word of our brief encounter. It just happened. And now at twelve, I felt certain, more was going to happen. What that more might be consumed my thoughts as the next three hours dragged by.

Rob and I had met for lunch at Riggo’s at twelve regularly, twice a week more often than not over the last seven years. There was nothing strange about the way he called, nothing unusual about the way he spoke. I tried to tell myself as I sat staring out the window of my office into the grey winter morning that I had no reason to think Rob knew what I had done.

He stood in front of the orange neon light that spelled Riggo. Rob had gained size over the years, although he had always been a hulk of a man. Lunch, for Rob, was a serious event. Meals, I should say. Rob ate hungrily, although he never seemed to weigh more than a man of his build should. I stepped up bravely. Rob slapped a heavy arm around my shoulder.

“Dan,” he said heartily. “I’m glad to see you. Today I feel great, and it’s good to have a friend to share my joy with.” I greeted him with a smile and we stepped inside the cozy restaurant. A young man showed us to our table and Rob spoke terse instructions for wine and bread as he unfolded a napkin expectantly onto his lap.

“I had a meeting this morning with the Commissioner. Did I tell you he called and asked me to help him with his trade project? I gave him the figures he needed and we discussed the contracts. I think we might be able to wing another deal out of this.” The waiter brought a basket of warm bread and Rob had begun buttering a piece almost before the wicker hit the table. The young man offered a perfunctory glance at the label and began to open the Chablis. Rob nodded while he chewed a bite of bread.

“Porter has a new secretary. Did I tell you? Mmmm,” said Rob. I wondered if he meant the bread or the girl.

“No,” I told him.

“Pretty girl. Young. Nice eyes. I talked to her yesterday after lunch for a little while. Really good butt.” Rob shoved the remainder of the bread in his hand into his mouth just as the waiter offered him a taste of the wine. Rob hurriedly chewed the hunk of bread while nodding at the waiter.

Our lunchtime discussions usually revolved around tales of Rob’s women, their appearance, his approach, their seduction, and his conquest. Today, I was doubly glad to hear him start on plans to dine at another table. The fact that Dan cheated on Julie so lavishly had started the whole mess. Knowing his thoughts were occupied by some secretarial ass comforted my guilty mind.

“Excellent,” Rob said, holding up the glass for a fill. The waiter poured. “Anyway,” he said, “I’m going up to Boston next weekend and I’ve already got Porter’s permission to ‘borrow’ some help. I’m looking forward to this one. Good tits.”

Rob looked forward to them all. He devoured women with the same relish he had for buttered bread. My thoughts drifted back to yesterday.

I had dropped by the mall on my way back from a meeting with a client because I needed some socks. It was one of those things where the whole universe seems to conspire; Driving down the freeway, I reached down to pull up my sock and with the first tug, the nylon tore. Even before I had finished cursing the fabric, I realized I was approaching the exit for the Oak Forest Mall. I laughed as I recognized the good fortune of proper timing and pulled off the highway and into the parking lot of one of the large anchor stores.

Five minutes later I had paid for a bundle of socks and sat down in one of the chairs of the shoe department to change my worn socks for a new pair. As I wiggled my toes, I looked up and saw an attractive blonde woman looking over a pair of cream pumps.

“Julie,” I said at once. Her blue eyes rose and discovered me.

“Dan,” she said sweetly, “what a surprise.”

I told her about my socks and she told me about her shoes and we walked along until the aroma of brewed coffee inspired me to ask her to join me in a cup.

“Sure,” said Julie. “I’ve been on my feet too long.”

I don’t know if I would have said so yesterday, but the truth is that I have had a serious crush on Julie for a long time. There is something about her that just melts my heart. We sat talking over coffee, about I don’t know what, and as we laughed and remembered and speculated, despite years of devoted friendship with Rob, I found myself horribly in love with his wife.

So I was sitting in this coffee shop, staring into Julie’s placid blue eyes, trying to imagine some way to make her understand my feeling of affection, trying to elicit some small hint of encouragement from her, when Julie began to speak endearingly about Rob. A black shadow stole over my soul as she told me what a wonderful husband and father he was, and I felt cursed with envy and hate.

“He was in a meeting with Allen until after eleven last night,” she said. Something evil possessed me.

“But Allen’s in Prague.” The color left Julie’s face. I tried to rope her heart with an endearing gaze, but a frown stole over her lips and she shuddered slightly as she gulped down the last sip of coffee. She looked at her gold watch.

“Anyway, Dan, it’s been good seeing you.” Julie stood up and held out a hand. I took her fingers warmly, and she reached for her packages and almost ran away.

“Good,” bellowed Rob as the waiter brought large plates of spaghetti to our table. “I’m starved,” he said, almost drooling with excitement. He plunged his fork into the steaming pasta before the waiter’s fingers had released the plate.

I took a bite of food. Dan nodded happily and beamed, a red stain of sauce already coloring his lips.

“Just incredible,” he said. “Speaking of which, I have got to tell you about last night. In all my years of marriage, I have never had such a night.”

I choked on my food and grabbed for the wine, washing down my sudden stroke of nerves with long gulps of the Chablis. Dan looked concerned, and took another mouthful when I nodded my improved condition. My heart raced.

“I came home about seven-thirty last night. I had a meeting with Rogers that wouldn’t end. I was starved. I thought I’d be getting a casserole and a sandwich, but I opened the door and wham! Veal Parmesan.” Rob let the words roll deliciously off his tongue and took another mouthful of spaghetti.

“Mmm,” he continued before swallowing. “The whole table was covered with dishes, artichoke hearts and clams and potatoes and a big loaf of fresh bread. I could not believe it. I sat down at the table without even taking off my coat.”

“Jules walks in from the kitchen, and then I got suspicious.”

“Why?” I asked, gently touching my lips with my napkin.

“I figured her mother was coming. What else would make her get all dolled up and fix me a feast on a Wednesday night? She has to be buttering me up for something. Anyway, she’s sly. She just told me she loved me and begged me to eat up.”

“Probably her mother,” I said.

“Yeah, that’s what I figure. But with a plate of hot veal in front of me, I wasn’t looking in a gift horse’s mouth. It was incredible, you know the way it just melts in your mouth, but you know what was even more unbelievable?”

“No,” I said, taking a piece of bread.

“I have this mouth-watering feast set out in front of me, and after a few bites, I’m staring at my wife’s tits. She had on this silky blue shirt that hung down low, and she leaned forward with her elbows on the table and my eyes just fixed, right there. Who’d have believed it?”

“Not me.” Rob laughed hard.

“Never in a million years. After dinner, she tells me to go into the den and relax while she cleans up. She’s a peach. So I go sit down in my chair, kick up my feet and Julie brings me a cigar. Julie. How many times has she wrinkled her nose like I was a disgusting pig because I lit a cigar? She snaps the lighter and lets me puff. I figured I was in heaven, and picked up the remote to see if I can find a game. She took the remote out of my hand. I think, here it comes, thinking now is when she tells me about her Mom, but you know what Jules said?”


“‘Let me entertain you,’ she said. She slinks over to the stereo, wiggling her hips, and turns on some of that new dance music. I take a deep whiff of my stogie and figure, what the hell. Then Julie starts to dance.” Rob smiled devilishly, and downed a glass of wine.

“You remember Angie, a girl I was messing with a few months ago? The nasty one? Always wanted me to finish by coming in her face?”

“Okay,” I said.

“Last night, Julie could have taught her a few things. I was almost embarrassed watching her. She started out dancing and that was all right, but then she starts stripping off her clothes. I tell you what, I’d almost forgotten what an excellent body Jules has. She was just wicked, bouncing her big titties in my face, squeezing them in her hands. Julie’s nips become tight little nubs when she gets horny, and she’ll squeal when I bite on them. She loves to have her tits sucked.”

Rob piled spaghetti on a folded piece of bread and shoved the mass into his mouth, mumbling his appreciation. I looked into my plate, flushed.

“So I’m sitting back, enjoying my private show, and Jules pushes her skirt down and I start thinking if she’s going to act this way, her mother should visit more often. Then Jules bends over to push down her black panties, and I’m looking up her ass and then the lips of her cunt with a little tuft of golden hair curled underneath and Jules starts bending at the knees, you know, spreading her pussy open while she’s diddling her clit. She has beautiful full lips that just unfold when she gets excited.”

“Wow,” I said, nervously looking at my watch.

“I know,” said Rob, mopping up his plate with a piece of bread. “Then she starts begging me to fuck her, which I did, and the whole time she’s telling me how much she loves my dick and how she’ll do anything for me, and how crazy I’m making her and I start imagining new things to try and she’s fucking ready to do anything I say. I fucked her tits, fucked her mouth and then,” Rob paused, and whispered, “I even fucked her ass. She’s never let me do that before. I tell you, Dan, it was fantastic.”

“Uh huh.” I picked up my coat as the waiter put the bill on the table. Rob reached for it.

“No, this is on me. Good fortune needs to be shared. I don’t know what got into Julie, but I hope she gets into that mood again. I could stay married with a wife like that.”

I left Rob in a daze, my heart aching, bruised and torn. Some days you can’t win for losing. Some lines just shouldn’t be crossed.

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by Lord Malinov

I’d had a few beers and the night had just reached that point when all I could think about was the complete and utter lack of sex in my life. I began the drunken moan of a young man in heat, wailing for women I’d long since cast aside or lost or never really knew. When I mentioned Monica, Jack put his hand on my shoulder.

“Steve. Listen to yourself. You know as well as I do that Monica was a seriously psychotic bitch. She tried to kill you, with a knife, remember the last time you saw her?”

“She fucked great,” I said. Something like that, anyway, no doubt with a bit of a slur to my speech. Really bad sexual depression like doubles the effect of alcohol on me.

“She’d cut your fucking balls off before you laid a finger on her. Are you really so desperate that you’re fantasizing about the man killer?”

“Jack, I need someone.”

“Friend,” said Jack, laughing and opening another can of Milwaukee’s Finest, “don’t look at me like that. Actually I think I can help you. Not like that, you dolt. There’s this woman I know. Let me give her a call.”

“I haven’t got any money,” I said, sobering slightly at the suggestion of an actual sexual encounter.

“She’s not like that. She’s just a little desperate herself.”

“Wait,” I said, grabbing Jack’s arm as he reached for the phone. “What’s she look like?”

“Ha!” Jack snorted. “A second ago you were wishing Monica was here. I could call her, instead. I’m sure she’d be glad to come over and fuck you up.”

“Jack,” I said, whining stupidly.

“She’s all right. I’d do her if I were only half as desperate as you are, if I Angie wasn’t so hot for me.”


“Brunette. Good tits. Do you want some or not?”

“Yeah,” I replied, aching. “Call her.”

“There’s a catch.”

“I knew it.”

“Nothing harsh. This has to be zipless. You know what I mean? In, out, thank you ma’am. No names, no call-backs, nothing personal. You have to fuck her and go home. Capisch?”

“Groovy.” It sounded too good to be true. Who was I to argue with a catch like that?

Jack made the call and told me to go to his place. He lives at the end of my block. I started smiling.

“Two hours. After that, I’m calling the cops. No names. I’m counting on you.”

I strolled down the street, letting the night air and a sense of anticipation invigorate me. Jack was one of my oldest friends, and as I walked toward his house, I felt real love for the man. He was taking care of me, better than I could take care of myself. As I opened his front door, I knew there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him.

I sat on his green plaid sofa and waited. A few minutes later, headlights illuminated the front window and my heart began to race. I peeked through the thin white curtains, but could only see the dark night. Then she opened the door.

She was beautiful. Tall, stacked, elegant, delicious. My knees buckled as I tried to stand and greet her. My words caught in my throat. She shook her long dark hair loose and took off her jacket. Her full, firm tits wobbled slightly and my cock stiffened hard, draining me of any thoughts except the woman.

“Hi,” she said. She had a sultry, inviting voice.

“Hello. I’m St . . .”

“No,” she interrupted me. “No names, or I’m leaving.”

“Right.” I felt nervous in the face of this stunning vision. She began to unbutton her blouse. My jaw dropped in amazement at her ready boldness. I tried to restore my sense of cool, but could only fidget. The black lace of her bra peeked between the silky gap, filled with soft, creamy melons of flesh.

“C’mon,” she said invitingly, “show me what you’ve got, mister. We don’t have much time and I need to screw.” I fumbled with the button of my jeans, and yanked at my shirt and tried to keep cool and undress as quickly as I could manage without falling over or looking like a moron. She unfastened her bra, letting it fall off gently, revealing her dark, thick nipples. I groaned and nearly tripped trying to pull off my briefs. She pushed her skirt over wide hips, down long lean thighs to nestle at her feet. As she stepped out of the pile of cloth, my gaze fixed on the thin wisps of black hair atop her swollen pussy lips, the pink of a hot clit already peering forth. My thick cock defied gravity.

“Hmmm,” she purred. “Let me suck on that a bit.” I stood amazed as she knelt below me and took the first hungry lick. I threw my head back and sighed, sending a telepathic thanks to my good buddy Jack, while this dark haired beauty sucked on my prick. I looked down to watch and found myself entranced by the supple line of her back receding, the slender indent of her waist, the faded line of a bikini tan, the round white fullness of her ass. I caught our reflection in the mirror of Jack’s window, the elegant fold of the naked beauty’s crouch, the swelled udders of her big breasts, the vision of her angelic or demonic face, her pretty smile as she sucked my raging cock.

“Wait,” I said, pulling away. “I don’t want to come yet, and at this rate, you’re going to get a mouthful.”

“Mmm,” she said, slightly disappointed. I fought the urge to shoot and lay atop the vixen. My prick slipped easily into the wet folds of her cunt. I raised myself up and began to rock with a hungry rhythm. Her fuck felt like warm honey. I looked into her dark eyes, the radiant pools of her beauty, and felt myself falling into her, for she looked happy and grateful and aroused and delighted and I squeezed her left tit and she moaned and kissed me hard and kissed me and I bit at her neck and put my hand in her thick hair and she moaned and I kissed her and she said, “fuck me, lover,” and I did.

She rolled me over and rode me wildly, her titties bouncing in a slow gallop and her nipples tightened and I squeezed the heavy flesh and her hips began to grind fast and an open mouthed smile spread over her pretty face and her eyes looked deeply into mine and I urged her on with my hands around her round ass, driving her forward. She squealed as she came and leaned backward and forward and rode until the last ripples left her tight cunt and she kissed me hard, fiery with passion.

Our lips melted together and I rolled her around until I knelt hard behind her and rammed my cock deep and she groaned and I fucked and I knew she was coming again and I watched her reflection as she flailed her long hair and pushed hard against my pounding hard rhythm and her tits swayed like a stormy ocean wave and she said, “fuck me, lover,” and I did. In a rampage, I shot my load deep in the sopping wet folds of her luscious hot cunt.

Out of breath, I leaned back against the sofa smiling and she kissed me delicately, provokingly, intoxicatingly and I smiled when she stood with the rich aromatic explosion of fucked air and my sperm slurped from her damp lips onto Jack’s floor.

“Beautiful,” I murmured as she started to dress.

“Thanks,” she said in her sultry dark voice. “I needed that.” She leaned over to lay her boobs into the cups of her bra, and I stared at the dark furrows of her delectable ass. She stepped into her panties and lifted her skirt.

“I’m Steve,” I said, suddenly realizing she was going to leave. “What’s your name?”

“No,” she said sharply. “Jack told you the rules. It’s been real, lover, but now it’s gone. She buttoned her blouse.

“But,” I said, lost for words. “But, I want . . .”

“You had plenty,” she said with a tempting smile. She pulled on her jacket and reached for the doorknob. “Thanks for the roll.” She opened the door and stepped into the blackness.

“Steve Jacobs!” I screamed, desperately. “Call me! 553-8406! 553-8406!”

She blew me a kiss as she got into her car. “Please,” I muttered and she drove away.

I went back home. Jack had fallen asleep on my sofa. I struck him in the arm.


“Shit. I want her name. I want her number. I think I love her.”

“Sorry buddy. You got all you’re getting. Good, eh?”

“I’m gonna kill you, Jack, if you don’t tell me who she was.”

“Sorry. Must have been good. You forgot to zip your fly.”

I reached down and yanked. “Shit. My zipper’s stuck.”

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