Sex and the Stranger 2: A Mischief Erotica Collection

There was no resistance as he slipped one finger inside, then another. She reached back for him and he guided her hand to his erection. She wrapped her fingers around his hard cock, squeezing to make it pulse harder. She could almost taste him, the hot salty meat of him. But her mouth wasn’t where she wanted him the most. Not just now.

She released his cock and he positioned himself behind her. She expected him to plunge forcefully inside her cunt, filling her in a second. But he made her wait. He pressed the head of his cock against her slick folds, pushing it in slowly, agonisingly slowly, one inch at a time. Nancy pushed back against him, urging him on. But he was in control, and he wanted her to know it. He fisted one hand in her hair, while with the other he held her firmly by the waist and made her take him at his own languid pace. Her head swam with lust, with the feeling of being overpowered, controlled, used. It was exquisite. Not even her most skilled lovers – not even Xavier – had ever done anything like this to her. She never wanted it to stop.

Finally he was inside her, filling her completely. Her legs felt like water, incapable of holding her up. She clenched her muscles around him and he responded with a sharp intake of breath. He released her hair and tightened both his hands around her waist as he began to thrust, slowly at first, then with more and more force.

Nancy ground her hips against him, whimpering at the exquisite sensations as he fucked her slow and hard, then faster and faster. She was only vaguely aware of their surroundings, but she bit her lip anyway to keep from crying out. She couldn’t help imagining some other photographer hiding in the trees, telephoto lens zeroing in on the shameless couple shagging in the grass like wild creatures while the zebras looked on, bemused.

His thrusts grew longer, harder, deeper. She pressed her hands against the ground to hold herself steady against the onslaught, gasping and whimpering each time he drove himself fully inside her. Her whole body was quivering with the thrill of it, the lewdness of it, the unbridled, primal lust of it.

When her arms began to burn with the strain, she folded them and dropped her head to the grass like a penitent. The position engendered a feeling of deep submission that made her flush with exquisite warmth. Her lover gripped her pelvic bones as he pounded her sex, plundering her, making her body sing. She closed her eyes and bit the back of her hand to stifle her cries as she felt the rising twinges of a spectacular climax, like fireworks inside her flesh.

The sensation built and built until it consumed her, flooding her with pleasure so intense it was almost painful. She screamed into her skin, muffling her throaty groans as her sex throbbed and flared around his cock. He came with her, filling her with hot jets of semen. Wave after wave of bliss washed over her, sweeping her under, threatening to drown her. Lights flared behind her eyes and she collapsed in the grass, gasping and spent.

It was a long time before the sensations began to subside, and then at last to diminish and fade. By then he was curled around her, spooning her. He kissed the back of her neck, making her shiver. He cupped her breast, tweaking her nipple back to a hard little peak that reawakened the twinges of ecstasy between her legs. She felt his cock stiffening against her arse. The skin was pleasantly sore from the spanking.

‘Oh, my God,’ she moaned, ‘I can’t even walk yet!’

He laughed softly, a rumbling purr in her ear. ‘I can carry you.’

Nancy smiled and pressed back against him, enjoying the strength of his embrace, the warmth of his body against hers, the flare of heat in her bottom. She imagined him parting her cheeks to fuck her there and a little shudder of lust ran through her limbs, making her feel faint with desire. There were so many things she wanted him to do to her, so many positions, so many places. What other lascivious tricks must he know?

A little murmur was all she could offer him in response. She loved the idea of being carried off by him, either in his arms or thrown over his shoulder, fireman-style. If she kicked and struggled, he would just smack her again until she behaved. Then he’d have to tie her up. She squirmed in his embrace, her mind overflowing with fantasies he could fulfil.

The sun was beginning to set as they both struggled to their feet and retrieved their discarded clothes. They dressed in silence, but they were not alone. Zebras surrounded them. They had spread out across the field during their human visitors’ exertions and come closer, no doubt intrigued by the strange sight.

Whey they had packed away their equipment, Nancy curled into her new companion’s embrace once more.

‘Why don’t you come back to my place?’ she suggested. ‘We can look at our photos together.’

‘I’d love to,’ he said. ‘I got some fantastic shots.’

‘Me too.’

He smiled, then added, ‘I even took some pictures of the zebras.’

California Dreaming (#u24b48870-6580-59ce-a9cc-83d5ac11fd9b)

Senta Holland

The blood-red skirt was spread out all around me. Silk cooled my shoulder blades. I felt like the angel of lust with wings of vermilion.

Or maybe it was just the music he was playing …

My legs were bound safely to the bed.

My arms tethered wide so I could fly.

Lust streamed up from my ankles, all the length of my legs. My thighs trembled. My vulva lips stood big and round.

My hips ached with fire.

Just the slightest touch with the tip of his finger on my clitoris …

‘Senta,’ said the stranger, ‘you are beautiful.’

I breathed a deep sigh into the delicate veil on my face.

You Said That All the Men You Knew

The sun takes its time to set over the Pacific. Particularly when viewed from Nepenthe, the fabled new-age restaurant high on the promontory in the middle of the Big Sur. Up there, where you can see rows and rows of rugged cliffs running north to Monterey and south to Don’t-Even-Want-To-Know-Where, time stretches both ways, too.

Or maybe it’s just the legacy of five decades of well-heeled Californian weekend hippies.

Four of them had driven me up that afternoon in the beat-up maintenance truck from Esalen Retreat Center further south, where we were all working the grounds and kitchen by day in order to finance exploring our spirituality at night. They were lovely boys, really. Maybe some other time …

Right now, I was waiting for someone very different.

‘Be careful,’ the guys said, ‘he’s a stranger.’ And drove off.

Yes, yes, I thought. And you were strangers too, three weeks ago.

Ever since I had announced my plans to travel around the world by myself, back in London, many months back, disapproving voices popped up everywhere, warning me about the perils of strangers.

And those were the people who thought I was just travelling.

I can’t imagine what they would have said if they knew that the main purpose of this journey was to find love. Lovers. Lovers all over the globe.

Sometimes, when the voices insisted, I got fed up enough to present them with the statistics. ‘The most dangerous man you will ever meet is the man you live with’, I said. They didn’t hear me.

By the time I was waiting on the terrace at Nepenthe, suffused with vermilion shadows from the huge sun spilling its light all the way from Japan, I had had quite a bit of experience with strangers.

And with lovers, too.

Stairway to Heaven

I didn’t know who was going to come up the steep Nepenthe stairs, hopefully not breathing too heavily. All I knew was his name, Simon, and his love of music, and of the New Yorker magazine. And some other shared interests, of course.

The first time I got to the cliff of the Big Sur, the very first day, I ran through the scent of the pine trees towards the soft moist ocean, and I saw two huge grey whales.

They surfaced just as I got there, ascending from the blue waters in a long elegant arc that looked absolutely effortless but must have challenged all their enormous muscle strength.

Then they submerged again, in perfect sync, without so much as a splash. Power and control.

Was this what I expected from Simon as I was waiting in my four-inch heels (slipped on surreptitiously for good luck after the boys in the van left)? Was I waiting for the Tall Dark Stranger that every fortune teller had promised me?

Mobile reception is very bad in the Big Sur. So all I could do was watch the gathering shadows. And the door.

I had become quite good at recognising who my suitor was when he entered the place of our rendezvous. I always tried to be there first, and this time I had positioned myself carefully, on the terrace, just outside the big glass doors to the well-lit restaurant inside. I could see him before he could see me.