“Let her finish,” he whispered, through clenched teeth. The hunger had bitten him. Joolz smiled but looked away as he stripped and lay back against her again, his body taut with lust.

  “I was a bit…scared—when he undressed, and I saw his cock. I hadn’t seen a real man naked before…only pictures.” Ash jammed his cock against her side, his eyes glazed, his features contorted with restraint. She squirmed against him; he locked one hand over her hip, holding her against his pulsing cock. “He led me to the bed and spread my legs wide.” She gestured toward the end of the bed, her feet sliding against each other as she saw herself there.

  “He kissed me down there first, not deeply…like you do…” She paused to stroke Joel’s head again. He muzzled against her. “…but enough to make me whimper. When he touched me inside, I thought I would die. It was excruciating, but so good! Then, his cock… it felt huge, so huge. I wondered how I could ever manage it, but at the same time, I wanted to impale myself on it. To have it thrust—thrust right through me.”

  Joel groaned, his body writhing alongside hers, his hand lifting open her kimono, stroking her bare legs. She opened them in response.

  “Touch me,” she said, turning to him. His fingers slid against the wetness of her sex.

  “Go on,” Ash murmured, his body extending itself against hers, his mouth against her neck. “Don’t stop.” His erection was rigid. He pressed it against her thigh. Joolz gasped, completely aware of the male forces surrounding her, and still picturing herself spread-eagled on the bed, breathless and afraid, taking the huge cock inside her for the first time. She closed her eyes and let the feeling of Joel’s fingers questing through her wetness take her back again. She wanted penetration.

  “I wanted—penetration. I wanted it, but it also terrified me. When he began to take me I thought my body would break, he seemed so huge. But, God, it felt good!”

  Joel rammed his fingers inside her; she gasped, and then began to move on them, her head falling back, her body sliding down against the bed.

  “He fucked me so hard, mercilessly.”

  Ash knelt up, dragged her legs wider apart, and climbed between them. He pulled Joel’s hand away from her, his cock quickly finding the wet niche between her legs. Joolz cried out, a muted scream, as he thrust inside her.

  “Shut up!” he ordered. “Not another word.” His body drew back and reached. He was wild; it was as if he was suddenly furious at her words, and at the heat she was giving off. “Don’t say another word, Joolz.” He gritted his teeth as he thrust inside her. Oh, that was good. A demon sprang up inside her.

  “Harder than that… Ash, he rode me harder than that.” She held him with her eyes, urging him on, matching the challenge in her words. He rode up against her, thrusting repeatedly, more quickly, fiercely. Joolz was swept up into his rhythm, molten inside, sensitized to every movement.

  Ash thrust faster, rose up on his arms, and then freed a bitter cry of anger in his throat as his cock came suddenly, spurting into her. He had barely slowed his movement before Joel was there, ready to take her from him. Joolz felt a rush of departure, and then she was filled again. Two cocks, she was having two cocks, one after the other. God, that was good. The men with her and those in her memory a multitude of pleasures, already she was blossoming into orgasm. Her pelvis was awash with heat, her body shuddering.

  “I want more,” she cried out. Joel swore under his breath and fucked her harder, even while she was still clutching him.

  “You look so bloody hot when you come,” Joel whispered. Her core pounded, waves of relief washing over her.

  “I want more,” she cried out again, delirious with pleasure. Her eyes flickered open when she heard Ash’s voice.

  “Don’t come, hold up,” he said, his hands on Joel’s shoulders. Joel swore again, louder. The physical effort of halting, when every atom in his body wanted to go on, demanded all his efforts. Ash was standing beside the bed, fisting his cock, which was already long and hard again, ready for more. “She said she wants more, she wants more cock.” Ash’s eyes were flashing. Joel pulled out for a moment. Holding his aching balls tight, he sat back onto his haunches, pressing against the base of his cock to hold back from coming. Ash moved closer, offering his cock to her. Joolz turned her face into it. Oh, yes. She wanted to feel it fill her mouth; she wanted to taste his passion.

  “Do you still want more?” Ash asked her, his voice controlled. Joolz groaned, her body ricocheting with a riot of opposing signals; she was unable to form words. “Yes?” he murmured, and she nodded her head, her hair trailing over her face as she swayed, intoxicated with it, overwhelmed with shame, shame that flooded her sex when she was forced to concede that she did want more.

  “Yes, two cocks, I want you to fill me up,” she blurted out, moving round so that her head was hanging back at the edge of the bed, opening her mouth to him.

  “Sweet Jesus,” Joel said, pressing harder still.

  Ash’s cock was close to her lips, still slick and oozing, a drop of come weeping out onto the swollen dark-red head. He drew back and Joolz cried out, grabbing at him, thrusting him into her mouth, suckling hard. He stood directly behind her and slid deep against her throat with each slide in and out of her mouth. Joolz wanted it, but she wondered if she could take it without gagging, if she could breathe at all. Then she found her rhythm, swallowing a good length of him and an intake of breath on each of his thrusts. She felt Joel’s hands on her again, urgent, and the nudge of his cock in her sex. She wanted this so badly, she wanted to be filled and used, to be taken every way, so full of cock that every ounce of her was going to be drenched with come.

  “That’s it,” Ash whispered, panting. “Oh, yes, you’re so good at that, baby.” He rubbed his hand over her breasts, examining her, his fingers hard against her peaked nipples. Joolz felt feverish, weak, and agitated all at the same time. She was so thoroughly pinioned and exposed. Waves of sensation skittered over her whole body. It felt thoroughly debauched, but right and true, as if being subdued and penetrated by them both like that was what her body craved in that moment. She felt like mother earth herself, rooted through and penetrated with virile roots spilling their seed on her land. Her body went limp, malleable, absorbing each wave of sensation. She began to come again, very quickly, her body lifting up, her sex clenching and spasming.

  Ash grunted, his body gleaming with sweat and taut with effort, his hips rolling. Joel was panting, his cock rock-hard, at its most swollen as it finally shot its load. Ash cursed loudly, then his cock began to jerk: once, twice, three times, giving her the taste of him, before he pulled out, still spurting furiously over her neck and breasts. He leaned over her, panting, and when she caught her breath again, she pulled him down onto the bed with them, dizzy with pleasure.

  “Enough cock, Madame?” he asked, his voice edged with sarcasm.

  “Enough—for now,” she retorted.

  “You’re insatiable,” Joel murmured, collapsing back on the bed.

  “Not with you two around.” She chuckled.

  “Well, if this Laurence friend of yours should drop’round,” Ash mused, as he lay down and kissed her forehead affectionately. “I think we should tie you to the bed and show him how to really fuck a woman.”

  “Oh, now there’s an idea,” Joolz said, smiling. She had to admit, the suggestion fascinated her. “But he might just drop’round anytime, so you should get ready to act on that threat of yours.”

  Ash’s head jerked up and he looked at her possessively. Joolz raised her eyebrows at him, hauling him closer.

  “Just teasing.”

  “Sure you are,” he replied, and they looked into each other’s eyes, the suggestion he had made taking root. With Joel at her back, the three of them began to drift toward sleep, limbs entwined, sticky, and happily sated. For now. Joolz smiled to herself; tomorrow she might just have to up the ante again. One important lesson that she had learned from the countryside was that if you made your hay while the sun shined, then you were sure to be kept well stocked, and satisfied, all year around.

  Craving Faces

  TOM PICCIRILLI

  Sometimes you just want to go home and toss in a horror DVD—Bride of Re-Animator or something by Fulci, The Beyond maybe—page through a men’s mag and check out the latest articles on who was out there getting laid, what the new scene was, where it could be found, who painted themselves with liquid latex in the clubs you could never find, whatever the hell was happening in the heartland.

  But no matter how hard you try to skip out of work early, they get you in a hammerlock and hang you up for an extra ninety minutes.

  So I was trapped at the office for the duration, on the Friday before Thanksgiving, caught right at the crux of holiday rush hour. There was no point in getting on the expressway because I’d just as soon relax in a McDonald’s for the evening sipping coffee than sit in my overheating car trapped in gridlock, feeling my pulse bust one-fifty.

  I got some fast food, read the paper, and people watched, staring at the upper-middle-class teenagers acting loud and funky, talking white-bread trash like they were ghetto rappers who’d come up off the streets.

  Joy walked in about then. She temped for the office where I worked, and was polite without being amiable. Midtwenties, draping bangs of black hair, young but with something of an old school punk attitude. She had a mouth that was a little too large for her elfin face, and I found it arousing, those lips shining under the harsh lights. She had her entire upper left arm covered in tattoos of roses, scowling eyes, and distorted mutant children. One other design sort of peeked out from around the top button of her blouse. I couldn’t figure out what it might be.

  “Hi Joy,” I said and motioned her to sit with me.

  She didn’t. She stood beside my table and quietly said, “Hello,” in such a way that I realized she didn’t even know my name. It made me a touch pissy and kind of curious, wondering why I didn’t rate enough to make an impression. Sometimes you found your pride when you least wanted the damn thing.

  We chatted for a few minutes and bored each other to shit. She seemed filled with a nervous energy that bled through and nearly brushed me back in my seat. Her eyes were dark and brimming with an intensity and eagerness, and prodded me in all the right places and some of the wrong ones too. I couldn’t be certain if it was a sexual tension, but I sure was hoping.

  “Would you like to go somewhere for a drink?” I asked.

  It was a loser’s play, really, thinking you could just calmly drift from McDonald’s to some quaint blues bar, but suddenly I felt each minute of my life being wasted. The thought caused an abrupt sense of dismay to lurch inside me.

  Joy shrugged and the motion tossed a handful of hair over one eye. She appeared quite aware of each one of her gestures, their inherent cuteness, as if somebody had commented on them all at one time or another. Her grin was bright but sorrowful, and it stopped me.

  She said, “I’ve got a full plate of double death-by-chocolate cake out in my car. I brought it for a friend’s baby shower this morning. I didn’t realize it was poor etiquette to offer a pregnant woman something so fattening, and I got reamed for it. Want a piece?”

  “Sure.”

  Leading me with the angle of her jaw, she directed me through the parking lot to a red vintage ’64 Chevy Impala that had seen a lot of miles and fender benders. But it was still a classic ride, and I was soon tapping into the Americana road myth of my youth, imagining myself behind the wheel, the hum of the asphalt vibrating up through the steering column, a gorgeous girl beside me as we swung from town to town.

  The Chevy took up three spots in the back parking lot by the dumpsters, tail end huge enough to fit a family of six. I started getting into the passenger side when she folded the seat down and slid in back. I got in with her feeling the charged possibility of the moment growing thicker, already smelling chocolate and my own rising sweat.

  We sat on the bench like two kids waiting for their parents to take them to church. She handed me a closed cake box and I held the thing without any idea of what to do with it.

  On the page it would’ve been different. Standing in a bar at midnight we could’ve spoken about all the meager goals that stung the back of our skulls, but now I’d about lost every ounce of my cool. No slickness in the least, and she picked up on it. I wondered if we’d ever get a chance to talk literature, European art, the burning world of everything we hated and prized. The McDonald’s coffee had thrown me off my game.

  She said, “You’re getting upset. Am I making you nervous?”

  “It’s not that exactly. It’s just—”

  “We’re not on a date. Not in a sports bar. And this isn’t a candlelit restaurant or the office. So you’re not sure how to act.”

  “Essentially.”

  She smiled, the wide mouth easing back and back, those lips arching. “You always feel the need to put things in their proper places, in a nice matching order?”

  “I was toilet trained at eighteen months,” I told her.

  “My, you have a lot to be proud of.”

  Sometimes you know you’re being a whole lot more ignorant than you should be. I turned to stare at her, still holding the cake. What the hell was I doing holding cake? Why’d she have cake in the back of her car anyway? Who brings cake to a baby shower?

  Christ, on occasion the simple became nothing but nonsense. Joy smiled and let out a soft chuckle, and I understood she’d been playing me a touch, which was fine. She had it all over me.

  I tossed the box down and felt the sudden burn in my guts and in my brain, the wanting of her now when I didn’t much care a minute ago. Maybe it was the laugh that did it. Maybe I just wanted to see those tattoos up close.

  She noticed that I was looking and said, “Don’t be shy.”

  “I’m not,” I said. “I want to watch for a moment.”

  “Yes, you can do that,” she breathed and I leaned forward and ran my tongue over her neck, up across that lengthy jawline as she groaned. “I want your attention.”

  There it was, our relationship established. The sound caught me good and low like a serrated blade and raised my cock to three-quarters mast. She knew it too and placed her hand on my inner thigh, casually brushing her fingers over my trousers from side to side until I was completely erect.

  And I knew she didn’t want me, but instead wanted something from me. I was there for her, and it tripped me up for a second, but the heat was on the back of my neck. She gave that condescending giggle again and I grunted in frustration. Joy undid my pants, unzipped me and stared at my tented shorts, pinching her chin, inspecting.

  “Come on,” I urged.

  “Beggar,” she said.

  “Hell yeah.”

  “But you haven’t begged enough.” Not cutting, but with a lightly irritated tone.

  “I’m great at whining.”

  “I bet you are.”

  She pulled the waistband down. My cock bobbed forth and she knelt over me.

  It wasn’t a subservient position. She was in complete control and knew it. I looked out the back window at the folks heading to the drive-up window. Nobody noticed us. I sprang to full attention, thrust toward her mouth. She contemplated my body and took time to examine my cock carefully. She touched the head softly, using her thumb and forefinger to pluck a drop of precum away. I shrugged out of my shirt and kicked off my pants. I let out a snarl like an angry dog, and maybe I was one just then. Maybe always.

  “You don’t run the show,” she said.

  “What?”

  “You like to be in control. Little boys who are potty trained at eighteen months are disciplined and like to be in command.”

  “Uh, hey now, not necessarily.”

  “Or do you like to be controlled?”

  She rubbed the tender meaty ridge and brought her lips low, nibbling at it. I wanted her to gobble me but she had a hint of the tease to her and kept toying, making me writhe. She drew her tongue along the reddish pink ring directly under the head of my cock, her bottom teeth scraping gently.

  Twinges shot up into my belly and I had to shift again, an animal loose in my throat.

  She held on tightly and whispered, “No, you won’t get away, unless I want you gone.”

  “I…know.” I always did.

  “You do, don’t you?”

  “Uh-huh,” I breathed between clenched teeth. Joy opened that lusciously large mouth once more, and I gasped as she took me in. She threaded her fingers through my pubic hair and clutched at it, tugging too hard until I snorted and then she tenderly smoothed it out. She tapped her fingers against my nutsack, bobbling it in her hand as she sucked me harder.

  The edges of my vision melted into white light. She let my cock slip from her lips and pressed her face into my crotch, breathing in the musk of my groin. I grabbed the edges of those funky bangs and parted them to view her forehead, where all the thunderstorms happened. She seemed drunk from the heady scent, or maybe it was only the power over a mostly simple man. She carefully hefted my balls and slid first one and then both into her mouth.

  Her tongue darted back to the head of my cock and I shivered and snorted while the loudspeaker squawked Can I take your order? Monotonous voices ordered happy meals, no cheese, extra fries, apple pies.

  Seizing my shaft Joy started jerking me harder, slapping my cock against her cheek as she made eye contact and grinned up at me. It got the tickle going, and I thought I might cum right then, but she instantly stopped and left me on the fence, in pain and thrashing from pleasure.

  Freakin’ A right I didn’t run the show. She said, “I’m doing this because I want to, do you understand?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good. I wish this.” She tantalized me and giggled, and after I’d calmed, she let my cock graze her chin again. I shoved forward, fucking her mouth while she took it, and then her hands reached over and she exerted a pressure on my hips, holding me down.

  “Not too fast,” she said.