“Just below the streetlamp,” I tell the driver, “then you can take her…”

  Nathalie interrupts me before I have a chance to finish. “No second stop,” she says.

  I look over at her as she springs out of the cab, already halfway up the steps to my apartment, and then I lean forward to check the fare. The driver and I study each other’s faces in the light, my mouth slick with my own juice, and then he catches my eye and an understanding passes between us. I reach into my wallet and press a bill into his hand. He closes my fingers around the crisp currency.

  “My pleasure,” he says.

  The wine whispers the Sinatra lyric to me as I scramble up the steps. If I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere. Nathalie pulls me to her, reaching over to suck on my earlobe. Then the door to my apartment clicks open and we are inside.

  Trepidation

  RACHEL KRAMER BUSSEL

  Tonight is going to be the sexiest night of my life, by far—if I can get past my nerves enough to appreciate my dream come true: a threesome with the hottest guy and girl I’ve ever met. I asked for this. I instigated it all by myself. Still, I’m nervous. It’s my naughty dream, the one I jerk off to late at night all alone. I never actually thought it would happen, and I’m beginning to wonder if I should’ve kept it in fantasyland. But now there’s no going back.

  It started as a daydream; I was lying in bed, and when my hands started to drift towards my cunt, all I could think of was me, naked, eyes shut, with the two people who most turn me on (and terrify me) beating and stroking and caressing and spanking me. The more I thought about it, the more turned-on I got. After a few weeks of this scene popping up unbidden to play in my mind at all hours of the day and night, it wasn’t just my number one fantasy, it was my only fantasy.

  I was hesitant to tell my lover, Kevin. Would he go there with me? We talk all the time, and I’ve told him I’d love to do the most wicked of things, like have him blindfold me and take me somewhere public, someplace I might run into people I know, and fuck me senseless. We’ve talked about plenty of filthy fantasy scenarios that make me come like a rocket, ones I’d never contemplate actually trying in real life.

  But this was different; this one touched me to my core, made me willing to sacrifice any last shred of remaining dignity, suffer any potentially embarrassing discomfort, even risk my most treasured relationships for one night of the most incredible sex I could imagine. Just the idea of it sent chills throughout my body, ones that seemed to keep me permanently aroused no matter how many times I came.

  That persistence is what pushed me to finally tell Kevin. I mentioned it casually one day, hoping he couldn’t hear my heart pounding away, and things took off from there.

  Despite how long we’ve been dating or how close we’ve gotten, Kevin remains an enigma to me, a powerful, strong top who can pin me down in seconds, but also a shy, sensitive soul who cries more often than I do. I love him dearly and know him as well as anyone can, which, sadly for me, is only so far, never as much as I crave. I’m aware of demons that lurk in the dark caves of his mind where I can never quite seem to reach. I know that sometimes an innocent comment, a flirty suggestion, will trigger a reaction far removed from the one I’d wanted. His moodiness wreaks havoc on us, and I have to feel him out on even the smallest decisions or risk losing him to his private world.

  It’s not that he’s fickle or mean or uncaring, but there are parts of his past he holds so close I doubt any lover’s ever learned of them. So I thought he might be more likely to go for wild public sex than this most intimate private act I was proposing. Little did I know that his fantasies veered along the same course as mine, though he’d never mentioned this little fact to me in all our wild naked tale-spinning. Turns out he had a little crush on Betty too, had pictured her naked, pictured me with her countless times. He hadn’t ever let on, even though he was the one who introduced me to her and he had seen my eyes widen as I took in her sexy shoes, her tall, imposing, curvaceous body. But that was Kevin, always making me work to get at his thoughts, even if that meant he cut off his nose to spite his dick. Now that the truth was out, our path was set.

  So I waited patiently, as ordered, while they got together to seal my fate. The woman in my fantasies wasn’t just any woman, not some simpering bisexual stereotype who would walk in and fulfill some stereotypical fantasy of curves and soft skin and delicately-placed kisses. No, I didn’t want some generic woman to complement my most individual of men, but her, Betty, the beautiful, outrageous Amazon we were both desperately attracted to.

  They asked me if I wanted to know in advance what would happen, and I demurred. That would ruin it for me. Of course a part of me was dying of curiosity, but the real rebel in me, the one who gets off on being taken to new and unfamiliar sexual territory, who wanted to be brought to tears and scared out of her wits, wanted to know as little as possible of what awaited me.

  Finally the appointed evening arrives. They take me to dinner at an Italian restaurant of their choosing. I pick at my food and barely even make conversation, but when I am deemed too sullen or distant Kevin sharply taps my hand, or Betty yanks my hair. I’m so aroused I almost have to reach under the table to make sure I’m not gushing all over at the sight of them sneaking conspiratorial looks at each other across the table. I wait as long as possible, but when I finally rush to the bathroom to check myself I’m sure that all the other women crowding the vanity can smell just how very wet I am. Back at the table, every look from either of them, every double-edged comment, every bite of food they take heightens my anticipation, yet I don’t know exactly what I’m anticipating. It’s so deliciously maddening I want to scream, but I grind my teeth instead.

  After what feels like an eternity, we exit the restaurant. All this time they’ve been carrying on a seemingly normal conversation about work and politics, occasionally referring to me in the third person, as if this was one more of their planning sessions, while I sat patiently, silent for the most part, my head filled with infinite visions of glorious debauchery. I like the way they’ve been talking about me, like I’m theirs to do with as they please, because it’s true, I most definitely am. There aren’t too many people you can safely invite to treat you like a piece of meat. Tonight, I forget about anything outside of our special threesome, our perfectly-in-sync trio of lust, and give myself over to them.

  We get out of the car and they steer me into the house, coddling me, their hands warm and gentle, for now. We go upstairs and they slowly, worshipfully, remove each piece of my clothing, unrolling my stockings down to my toes, then lifting them off and placing them carefully on a chair. There’s none of the usual clothes ripping and flying across the room tonight. None of the frenzied madness that usually ensues with Kevin, when we are much too horny and impatient to make it to the bed and find ourselves pressed against each other in the hallway or on the stairs. Tonight, Kevin and Betty both act as if they haven’t a care in the world, ignoring my state of heightened horniness while their hands move slowly and patiently. Each soft touch makes me want to force them to unleash their full erotic energy. Are they simply buttering me up before taking me down?

  I’m left in only my black silk panties, which by now are completely soaked with my juices, as I’m made to sit in a wooden chair like a naughty schoolgirl sent in to see both the principal and vice principal. I look down at my lap, unable to face either of them, while Kevin taunts me. “You’ve been a very naughty girl, haven’t you? Trying to orchestrate this little evening, letting us know just how much pain you want, what torturous treats you wish to be subjected to. I guess I’m not good enough for you—you didn’t have a good time last night when I made you come nine times? You always want more and more and more, don’t you? I know the way you look at Betty, the way you think of her putting her hands all over you. I knew long before you told me about this fantasy of yours. Tell me what you want, you little brat,” he snarls at me as he pulls my hair, harder than he ever has before. I can feel my scalp tightening, the skin on my forehead inching up, and with each pull I feel a corresponding tightening in my pussy.

  I shift without consciously thinking about it. He notices and lets go of my hair, fast, then puts his hand on the back of my head, pulls me from the chair, and shoves me onto the bed, facedown, splayed out across the mattress. In a second, he pulls down my panties, spreads my bare legs and plunges his fingers inside my cunt, knowing I’ll be wet for him. This feels good and safe. He is testing me, making sure I’m ready for him. I am breathing so heavily I’m sure they can both hear how much I want them. I squirm and try to pull his fingers deeper into me but he takes them out. He walks around me in a half-circle, trying to decide the exact position he wants me in. I can hear Betty moving around the room but I don’t look up, suddenly shy and embarrassed at what I’ve gotten myself into.

  My whole body is trembling. I’m on the verge of calling this off, and I start to feel like I do at parties where I don’t know anyone, where I want to hide in the bathroom until it’s all over or in a bedroom curled up in a blanket with a cup of tea. There’s no tea or blankets in sight, only the feel of my legs spread as wide apart as they can be, of the underused muscles in my thighs straining against the sensation, flexing and arching, raring to go. But go where? I can’t tell where I want to go, and I realize this is part of the reason I’ve asked to be here, so I don’t have to know where to go; someone else will decide that for me.

  All these thoughts are racing through my head when suddenly I feel the cold lube sliding along the crack of my asshole. I feel her fingers, soft and smooth, coating it on, pouring more, rubbing it up and around and all over. My asshole clenches, blocking the lube’s entry, and then opens, letting some of it in as she teases me, her finger gently pressing against my hole but not entering. I hear fumbling and some muted whispers, and then her finger enters my ass and I twitch crazily, thrashing all around as she slowly presses into my most sensitive area. I am dying for him to put his fingers, or his cock, back in my pussy; for something, anything to fill this cloying hole inside me, this insurmountable need, but I simply shut my eyes tight and bite my arm, afraid to jinx things. They know what is best for me.

  I try to let go and calm my mind but I can’t. The more I try not to think about her finger slowly pushing its way into my asshole, the more that is the only thing I can think about. I try squeezing my pussy and feel myself tighten around her finger. “You want more, don’t you, you little minx? I know all about what you like. Kevin filled me in, he told me exactly what kind of a filthy whore you are.” I jerk when she says the magic word—whore—the word that Kevin knows will always make me spread my legs wider, will always instill in me the urge to be fucked harder. “That’s right, you’re our whore tonight, and we don’t even have to pay you. You’re going to let us have our way with you for free, let us do anything we want no matter how filthy it is. I’m gonna leave marks all over you to make sure that everyone who sees you knows that I fucked you good and hard, so that when you take a shower or look in the mirror you’ll remember every minute of tonight.” She is speaking in a harsh whisper and her words send waves of heat coursing through me.

  She stops talking and for a moment there is dead silence in the room, and then she does what I’ve been dreaming about—she pulls her finger from my ass and begins to spank me. She doesn’t warm me up first like Kevin does, with light taps that prepare my body for what’s to come; no, she starts full force, slapping me hard as can be on one cheek and then the other, alternating but going so fast that I simply feel a continuous assault of pain. She scrapes her bright red nails down my ass, digging them in briefly before resuming her treatment. I can feel each smack reverberate through my pussy, feel my juices slowly dripping down my thighs. Just as I am starting to shake, quivering and on the verge of coming, she stops. “I think it’s time,” she says to Kevin, and I bury my head in the pillow, knowing there will be no turning back.

  Kevin leans over me and fumbles with something that I quickly realize is a blindfold, and I happily oblige as he straps it around my head. I want to feel everything, focus on each sensation they unleash upon me, and the lack of sight will help sharpen all my other senses. I can hear them each making appraising comments—“Good ass,” “She looks quite sturdy”—simple statements meant to put me in my place as their toy, their object, their plaything. And it works; I am no longer me, Janice, a whole person with an outside, professional, interesting life; I am only what I can offer to them, from the top of my head to the bottoms of my feet.

  Now fingers are probing my slit, stroking along my opening until I feel like I will die if they don’t enter me. They stop, and I spread my legs as wide as I can, urging them onward. I feel two sets of hands roving up and down my body, stroking, pinching, teasing as they lightly trail along my skin and send shivers wherever they go. I have ceased trying to figure out who is doing what, and just when I’ve all but given up on getting fucked the way I most want to, I feel something enter me, stretching my cunt until I cry out in pleasure. It must be the biggest dildo ever, sliding inside me inch by slow inch. But they are not done: I feel another invasion, something sliding along the tender skin of my asshole, pushing and probing, and I relax and let it in. Now I am completely filled and they both croon to me, telling me what a good girl I am to take so much, so fast, as each toy is worked in and out in tandem. I let out a sound that is half moan, half garbled sob, and relax into the sensation of being plundered beyond belief. They are working extra hard to push me past my limits, beyond the realm of anything I’ve experienced before, testing my body, and all I know is that I want to pass this test, want to make both of them proud of me. I am their little girl, their toy, their student—whatever they want me to be.

  They turn me over, and the butt plug presses against me in the most agonizing way, and as I squirm they each pin down an arm, and Betty leans forward and kisses me, her perfect lips soft and hot and juicy. The kiss is an oasis of tenderness, a heavenly caress in the midst of their plundering. Then their slow assault suddenly picks up its pace and they are fucking me again hard and fast. Betty is slamming the dildo into me with one hand while pressing on my neck with the other, allowing just enough air for me to breathe and just enough pressure to send even more heat throughout my body. Kevin presses his thumb hard against my clit, just the right motion to send me orbiting, orgasm crashing down all around me as my ass and pussy clench madly.

  But still we are not done, far from it. They slide the toys out of me, and somehow, instead of being tired or sore, I simply want more. Instead of keeping the blindfold on, they make me watch. Kevin spreads me out on my back and teases me with his cock, sliding it just inside, then out again. After a few minutes he gets up and Betty takes over, her lubed-up fingers slipping and sliding into my cunt, twisting and turning, pushing and pressing until I feel like I will explode. My mouth is open, moaning and sighing, and Kevin slides his cock between my lips, hovering over me, his trembling cock a most delicious sight. I have to focus on taking him into me, on making sure my neck is at the right angle, and I do, sucking and pulling him further inside as Betty pushes even deeper, sliding her thumb in to join her other fingers, pressing her whole hand into me, filling me up more than any toy ever could. Now I am totally theirs, my body fully invaded, taken over in the most glorious of ways. I writhe and twist, squeeze and suck, but never struggle. I close my eyes and shiver as I give myself—my mouth, my cunt, my being—to them. Kevin can’t resist the way I suck his cock for long, eagerly tightening my cheeks, stroking my tongue along the underside of his shaft, and he pulls out, splashing my neck and chest with his warm come. At the sight of his jizz spurting out, his face contorted in agony, I come a second time, clenching Betty’s hand for all I’m worth. I look at my gorgeous pair of lovers, old and new, both all mine, at least for tonight, and smile the smile of the truly sated, of the gloriously fucked, of one whose fantasy has not just been fulfilled, but enhanced and perfected beyond belief. They have given me what I wanted all along, and gazing at them, I see that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

  Cast of Three

  EMILIE PARIS

  My husband and I work at home. Jonathan is a webmaster and I’m a freelance writer. Some of our friends tease us, winking as they wonder aloud if we lounge all day in silk pajamas and satin robes. If they only knew….

  On a recent Friday morning, while I was speaking on the phone with one of my editors, Jonathan came into my office. His faded khakis were open at the fly, and his unbuttoned denim work shirt revealed his broad chest, muscular from many hours of nightly workouts. I met his gaze and instantly understood the yearning, hungry look in his eyes. As I continued talking to Fiona, I watched Jonathan take out his cock and begin stroking it slowly, deliberately.

  My editor, oblivious on the other end of the line, spoke to me of dashes and commas, of new paragraphs and run-on sentences. All the while, Jon’s hand worked faster on his cock, the ridge of his palm slamming against his body as skin moved on skin. That clapping sound was undeniably erotic, and I could feel a rush of heat color my cheeks. I love watching my husband jerk off. His brow furrows. His sea-green eyes squeeze shut. Near the end, his head goes back, revealing the seductive line of his long neck. I can see him swallow hard, steel himself as he tries not to let loose. Then, as he approaches his peak, he talks. Murmurs, really. Nonsense words, or unfinished words. Sometimes he says my name, whispers it.

  Fiona was saying it now. “Gina, are you listening?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “I mean, I’m here. Could I—?” I was starting to say, “Could I call you back?” but Jonathan stopped me, shaking his head quickly as he took a step in my direction. He didn’t want me to get off the phone.