* Erotic Fiction
* Queer Fiction
* Kinky Erotica
* The Softer Side
By Alice Gray
The Fourth Veda
By Amanda Earl
Beating the Gothic Out of Her
Mercy and the Man. . .
Sex With An Old Woman
The Afternoon Circle Jerk Society
The Graffiti Artist
The Vampire Responds
By Ann Regentin
What Never Dies
By Arthur Chappell
Tedia, Goddess of Boredom
The Too Beautiful Boy
By Big Ed Magusson
Like a Brother
By B.K. Bilicki
Shades of Night
By Brady Sutton
Girls for Leash
The Peculiar Case of...
By C. Sanchez-Garcia
An Early Winter Train
Riding the Dog
The Girl With Kisses...
The Lady and The Unicorn
You Belong to Me
An Evening At...
Are You Kidding?
Bitsy Takes a Test
Cruising On A Sea...
Fridays At The Benoit
Mr. Merridawn's Hum
Readiness Is All
By Cherry Black
Just A Simple Black Dress
By Chris Bridges
By Daddy X
A Woman in My Position
Never For Punishment
Nikki Didn't Like It
By Dominic Santi
Kiss of Peace
By G. E. Russell
First Love, Last Romance
The Glass Cage
This Desolate Eden
You Like It Like That...
By Helen E. H. Madden
Husbands and Wives
Neighbor of the Beast
Over the Rainbow
The Fifth Horseman
The Monster Beneath...
When The Angels Fall
By Helena Settimana
The Space Between
By Huck Pilgrim
A Small Favor
He Sends His Regrets
By J.T. Benjamin
Advice From Miss Millicent
Secret Lives and Lusts
What are Friends For
Olivia's Ulterior Motive
The Baby Doll
The Journals of Chastity
Thornburg Sex Survey
Zachary's Perfect Date
A House On Fire?
It's About Sex
Maureen and Sheila...
Sheila Discusses ...
By john e
I Wish My Dick...
johnny's jackoff journal
In Praise of Pussy
Tight, Tighter, Tightest
You Rang Madam?
By Juniper Maclay
By Keziah Hill
Laying Down the Law
Strawberry Flavoured Joy
The Second Coming
By L.A. Smith
By Lara Nickles
By Lilie Berlin
Color Less Ordinary
Naughty Little Girl
By Mike Kimera
At the Adult Bookstore
It May Not be Art...
Living With It...
Paying For It
Playing With Barney
Sex with Owen
Till Death Do Us Part
The Last Taboo
By Nan Andrews
By Nick Nicholson
Grigore & Tatiana
Land of Smiles
By Nikki Isaak
A Rathskeller Jar
The Dread That Stained Kalos
Androids Behaving Badly
Eat Your Veggies
Fiend in Need Part II
I Am Not A Scorpion
Maybe You Can Go...
The Vow Part I
What Would Aristippus Think
By Raziel Moore
Invisible Lines (Novella)
by Big Ed Magusson
An Addictive Desires story in the Compassionate Courtesan Universe
“Mike, this is Sherri.”
I took a long look at the lithe brunette standing in Rose’s cluttered living room. She had old eyes, despite clearly being a third Rose’s and my age. She smiled and offered her hand. I took it, turned it, and raised it to my lips. Her eyes widened as I kissed it.
“Delighted to meet you,” I said.
“I’m pleased too.”
“Sherri and I attended the same Tantra workshop,” Rose said as she bustled by me toward the smell of cooking beef wafting from her tiny kitchen. “She’s traveling the country and thought she’d visit us here in Austin for a few days.” Then Rose ducked out of sight.
I looked at the poised young lady and raised my eyebrows.
“She told me about your arrangement,” she said, her voice low and smooth. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“I just pay for dinner,” I said. “Rose is a good cook.”
“So I’ve heard.”
I pulled out a cigarette and motioned toward the apartment balcony. “Excuse me.”
Sherri nodded and wandered toward the kitchen while I headed outside to smoke and think about what she’d said.
My arrangement with Rose was, well, one of convenience. Every Wednesday, she cooked me dinner and we hung out afterward. Sometimes we just talked. Sometimes we fucked. More often than not, I ended up on the massage table in her spare bedroom to ‘work the kinks out.’
Yeah, she could work the kinks out.
In exchange, I paid for groceries and massage oil and never ever raised the topic of her past in the parlors. “I’m not a whore,” she’d said, each of the few times she’d raised the subject herself. I, of course, agreed.
Yet, conveniently, every Wednesday I paid fifty dollars for what was usually pasta with a salad and sparkling water. Since I’d given up dating, the arrangement suited me fine. But how much had Rose told Sherri about it?
And more important, did it mean no after dinner ‘activities?’
I was pretty sure I knew the answer to that, which sucked because I’d been looking forward to it. I blew a long stream of smoke out at the stars as I imagined they were God’s face. Just my own private fuck you to the universe.
I stubbed my cigarette out in a planter before heading back inside.
Rose bubbled around the small stove, throwing this and that into a simmering pot. Sherri dutifully chopped carrots a foot away. The steady thunk of the knife provided the backing beat to Rose’s sing song voice.
“...so Janie’s got his dick in her hands,” she said, “but he’s not hard. She can’t get him hard.”
“Why not?” Sherri asked.
“She’s pulling and stroking, and he’s not hard. She even put his dick between her tits and he’s not hard.”
Sherri shot me an amused look.
“She’s even thinking about blowing him,” Rose continued, “though he never paid for that, and Norma’d have fired her if she found out. But Norma’d also be pissed if he left angry, ‘cause it’s the angry ones that call the cops.” She swooped Sherri’s carrots into the pot. “Anonymously of course.”
“So why wasn’t he hard?” I asked.
Rose started and seemed to notice me in the doorway for the first time. She giggled. “Because he was gay!” She giggled again. “He came in for a regular massage and didn’t have the nerve to say no when Janie took off her clothes!”
I snorted softly. I’d never heard Rose tell a story about ‘those days’ before.
She pressed three plates into my hand. “Set the table, please?” With a quick turn, she was back to making a salad before I could reply.
Sherri followed me out, bearing silverware. “Shall I get wine glasses?”
I shook my head. “I quit drinking three years ago.”
She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t ask. I stood there, wishing she had.
That bothered me—both my wishing and her lack of curiosity. Just how self-absorbed was she?
She was probably like most young people—sure she knew everything, when what they knew was crap. Rose and I knew how the world really worked. How mean and nasty a place it really was. We’d taken our hard knocks and somehow made it through, mostly standing. Rose more than me. That’s what made our arrangement so comforting.
How could this girl have a fucking clue?
Sherri was still eye candy, though. As we settled into our seats I couldn’t help notice how regal she seemed next to Rose. Her skin: smooth and clear. Her hair: dark and shiny and long. Her bearing: unbowed. A lot of it was simply youth. Rose probably looked the same at twenty and for some time after, until the extra pounds and the crow’s feet wrinkles added up. At least Rose kept a good attitude about it all.
“So,” Sherri said once we were settled, “Rose tells me you used to smuggle dope. What was that like?”
“You told her that?” I asked the older woman, a bit peeved.
“I didn’t think it was a secret,” Rose replied with an apologetic shrug.
“It must’ve been exciting,” Sherri said.
I shook my head. “Only if you like being paranoid 24/7. You worry about the Feds. You worry about the buyers. You worry about your partners. It gets exhausting fast. And the money’s not as good as you’d think.”
“So why’d you do it?”
“I kind of fell into it, but I only did it for a year. I don’t recommend it.”
“I don’t recommend escorting either,” Rose said with a pointed look at Sherri. “Yeah, I’ve got some great stories, but there were times....” She let out a ragged breath and bit her lip.
The younger woman forced a thin lipped smile and then turned to me. “So which of the jobs that you’ve done do you recommend?”
I sighed. “There’ve been so many. I don’t recommend handyman. It doesn’t pay too well.”
“At least not in cash,” Rose said with a dimple in her cheek.
I frowned. I didn’t think that was a smart thing to bring up.
“Well, which jobs did you like?” Sherri asked.
“I liked the army,” I said. “Those were good days. Working the oil fields paid well until I hurt my leg.” I shrugged. “Jobs are jobs. You do what you have to, to get by.”
“Get by. Huh. So when do you live?”
Given her uppity tone, I just gave her a “that’s a stupid question” look. She smiled and shrugged.
“My favorite job,” Rose said, “if you can really call it a job, was when I was a kept woman.” She laughed at my raised eyebrows. “Didn’t know that, did you? Back in the early seventies, I was the mistress to an oil company executive. Had my own apartment and everything.”
“Just the one man?” Sherri asked.
“Oh, he was the jealous type. He couldn’t stand the thought of me with another guy.” She giggled. “But another woman....
“I thought you were straight,” I said.
“I am.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “But I can act.”
I scowled. How often has she been acting with me? Probably a lot.
“Sounds like a fucked up way to live,” I said. “Being one man’s whore.”
Rose gasped. Sherri glowered at me.
“Sorry,” I said, “I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”
“So how do you see yourself, Mike?” Sherri asked.
She tilted her head toward the sputtering older woman. “You just called her a whore. What do you call yourself? If you call them like you see them?”
“I’m a bum,” I said, giving her a steely stare. “A no good piece of white trash and a fuck-up. Got a problem with that?”
She didn’t blink. “Not with that,” she said. “But I do have a problem with you calling my friend—and yours—a name you know she doesn’t like.”
Rose’s lower lip trembled. She looked like she couldn’t decide whether to cry or scream at me.
I sighed. “I am a fuck-up.” I met Rose’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I turned back to Sherri. “I really am. I can’t keep a job. None of my family will talk to me. I can’t even stay sober for more than a month.” I dug into my pocket, pulled out my chip, and tossed it her direction.
“What’s this?” she asked as she caught the coin.
“My one month sobriety chip. I’ve been in AA for three years and that’s the fucking best I can do.”
“That’s still a month,” Rose said quietly.
Sherri examined the coin. Then without looking up, she asked, “Did anyone die because you fucked up?”
“No,” I said. “At least not that I’m aware of.”
“Then you’ve been lucky.” She set the coin down on the table and met my eyes. “Or blessed.”
I snorted. “I’m not sure God knows I’m alive.”
“Oh, She knows.” She turned to Rose. “This stew is truly delicious.”
The older woman beamed. “I used to dream of having my own restaurant. I never seemed to manage it, though.”
“What type of restaurant?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Regular food.”
Sherri’s eyes flicked my way for the first time since my stunt. “What’s her best dishes, Mike?”
I nodded, grateful for the change of subject. “She’s really good with pasta,” I said. “She also can do some top notch Mexican. Her guacamole’s fantastic.”
“Aww, around here that’s nothing,” Rose protested.
“It’s still something,” I said.
She beamed at me.
“So what do you love to cook the most?” Sherri asked.
The conversation turned to food. Sherri had apparently done a lot of cooking growing up, though she said she didn’t have nearly the touch that the older woman did. Besides cooking, Rose had been wined and dined by some clients when she’d been younger and had stories of restaurants in Dallas and Houston. Sherri mentioned a visit to Chinatown right before their Tantra workshop in San Francisco that she’d really enjoyed. I contributed a few stories about Vegas buffets, but mostly I just listened.
As I did, something about Sherri struck me as odd. It took me a while to figure it out. She smiled and laughed at Rose’s stories, but her body remained tense. Could that be why she was rubbing me the wrong way? When she went to the kitchen to get seconds, I mentioned it to Rose and asked what her story was.
“Um, I’m not sure,” Rose said. “Margot noticed too, but Sherri wouldn’t talk about it. The most we could figure out is that it has something to do with her younger brother.”
She nodded. “He killed himself in October.”
“Would anyone else like some more?” Sherri asked from the doorway.
“Oh, I would,” Rose said. “Thank you so much, sweetie.”
“I could go for some more,” I added. “Rose is a good cook.”
Sherri nodded and ducked back into the kitchen.
I pitched my voice low and smiled at Rose. “She’s even better cooking in the bedroom.”
She rolled her eyes.
“After Sherri leaves, any chance...?”
“Oh, she’s sleeping here.”
Fuck. Just my luck.
I stewed in my disappointment while Sherri refilled our bowls. Once she’d retaken her seat, she smiled at me.
“So...,” she asked, “how did you two meet?”
“Mike fixed my sink,” Rose said.
“I do a lot of odd jobs in the complex,” I said.
“So you two hit it off?”
I looked warily at Rose. “In a manner of speaking.”
She giggled. “I blew him.”
“Really?” Sherri asked, her eyes wide.
She nodded. “He was so sweet. When I couldn’t come up with the money, he said not to worry about it. He meant it too.”
“Why didn’t the landlord pay for it?
“I don’t know if you looked around,” I said, “but the landlord doesn’t pay for jack shit. The motherfucker is so cheap, he makes ‘slum landlord’ look like a step up.”
Rose nodded in confirmation. “He wouldn’t fix Mrs. Esposito’s heat when we had that cold snap last winter, and she’s elderly and can’t get around much. He said she should just use more blankets.”
Sherri raised her eyebrows. “What’d she do?”
“Mike fixed it,” Rose said with a smile to me. “Didn’t charge her either.”
I shrugged. “We take care of our own.”
“Hmmm,” Sherri said. She took another spoonful of stew while she looked thoughtfully at me. When she’d finished, she turned to Rose.
“I’ll add dealing with the landlord to the list of things I talk to my friend about.”
“Your friend?” I asked.
“She’s a lawyer,” Sherri said, “back in DC, unfortunately. She used to work with my mom, but before that she lived in Texas and knows a bunch of people.”
“Sherri’s helping me with some legal issues,” Rose said. When she saw my questioning look, she added, “nothing big. I’m not going to jail or anything.”
“Mostly taxes,” Sherri said. “The IRS doesn’t care how you earn it, as long as you report it.”
“I’m now a ‘personal counselor,’” Rose said with a grin.
“Personal counselor?” I said. “Why?”
“Because it doesn’t require a license,” Sherri said, “and massage therapist does.”
“I can’t get a license because of my past,” Rose said. “Sherri thinks we can get that conviction cleared, though.” Her eyes twinkled. “If she does, I’ll take the certification classes at night.”
I sucked in my breath. “You’re going legit?” I asked.
“For the most part,” she said. “It’ll depend on the client.”
I let out a long sigh. For a moment, I’d been scared she was saying our arrangement would end. Of course it still could...
“Still,” I said, “that’s a big step. You were never one for school, and it’s been, what forty years? And you’re going to take night classes?”
“She can learn,” Sherri said, “and if she sticks it out, it’ll be better money and better screening for her ‘alternative’ clients.”
“I don’t know...,” I said. Wednesdays are probably toast. She’ll be in class, or she’ll find a guy who wants her as his mistress, or...
“She can also teach,” Sherri said.
“Teach what?” I asked.
“Well.” Sherri exchanged a look with Rose, who nodded. “Well, tonight, if you’re willing, she’s going to teach me how to give a handjob.”
I couldn’t help it. My chin dropped.
Rose giggled behind her hand. Sherri just kept a smug grin across her lips.
I blinked. “Uh....”
Sherri pushed herself back from the table. “Let me clear the plates,” she said as she excused herself.
“You’re kidding,” I said to Rose once the younger woman was out of the room.
She shook her head. “She wants to learn. She wanted to meet you, though, before she decided if you were the guy to do it with. She was worried you might be an ass.”
I swallowed hard. I was, but apparently not too much of an ass.
Then I shook my head. This beautiful young thing wants to give me a handjob? She must be seriously fucked up.
“They taught us a little in the Tantra workshop,” Rose said, “but she wanted to learn more. I told her about my past, and, well, here she is.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“What’s there to get?” Sherri asked from the doorway. “Rose talked about you quite a bit at the workshop. She said you were a great guy, even if you were Oscar the Grouch a lot of the time.”
“Oscar?” I said looking at Rose, who blushed slightly.
“A guy who likes to stew in his own garbage,” Sherri said.
I just stared at the women, completely at a loss for words.
“You do so much for me,” Rose said, “and Mrs. Esposito and everybody.”
“And for that, I get a handjob?”
“You don’t want it?” Sherri asked. She rolled her shoulders back, which thrust her breasts out.
My dick stirred, trying to jump up and chase my imagination about what those breasts looked like bare.
“I’m not stupid,” I said.
“Good,” Sherri said, “because I really want to learn Rose’s two handed twist technique.”
Rose’s cheeks dimpled. “And I want to show you my magic thumbs trick.”
I don’t deserve this, but I’m not going to argue.
So we ended up in Rose’s studio. I stripped and stretched out on the table with my face in the little cradle. The women talked quietly and soon the scents of lavender and sandalwood wafted through the room. Soft new age music played from the CD deck and then Rose’s firm hands pressed down on my shoulders. She took her traditional three breaths and then began the massage.
Rose completed one full pass on my back—kneading, stroking, lightly caressing. On the second path, softer hands joined in. Sherri didn’t press as deep, but didn’t take long to synchronize her moves with Rose’s. It took me a while to relax and adjust to Sherri’s presence, but it did feel good. My muscles quickly forgot the pains of the day. I started floating long before the women worked their way down to my legs.
As they massaged me, Rose explained quietly what she was doing to the younger woman. Sherri asked the occasional question, but caught on quickly. By the time they’d finished my feet, their words largely faded into the background. Until Rose mentioned my ass.
“...so I don’t do more than lightly brush my fingers over his skin,” she said. “However, many men like more attention.”
“Including penetration?” Sherri asked.
“Mmmm. It depends on the guy. Most want me to save that for later, but I used to have one guy who wanted me to slide a finger in his ass before the flip.”
“What does Mike like?”
Rose skimmed her nails down my asscheeks, light enough to almost tickle. I squirmed and spread my legs. She repeated the caresses along my thighs and then up the bottom of my balls.
“Let me try.”
I let out a rushed breath. All else—the incense, the quiet guitar—faded as every ounce of my concentration centered on Sherri’s fingers. Slowly, ever so teasingly slowly, they traced ski runs on my buns before circling my thighs and pressing softly into my scrotum.
Rose chuckled. “I think he’s ready for the flip.”
I nodded and rolled over.
To my delight, both ladies were nude. On my left, Sherri’s small breasts were capped with nipples not quite hard. Her trimmed black pubic hair almost formed an arrow pointing to her treasures. She wore a relaxed smile, with neither shame nor concern.
To my right, Rose’s familiar sagging breasts weren’t contained in the bra she often wore during this part of our sessions. She didn’t seem self-conscious about that, nor about her waist, despite her regular complaints in the past that she was getting fat. She smiled too, a bit more nervously. Her eyes seemed eager.
“You’re beautiful,” I said to Rose. I turned to Sherri. “You too.”
She nodded, and Rose said something about starting with my shoulders, and the massage began again.
Rose didn’t shortcut the frontal massage, which turned it into one long tease. They did my shoulders, scalp, stomach, arms, and the front of my legs. Neither minded when I caressed their bodies when the stood within my reach. The one time I turned my head to Rose, kneading small circles in my upper arm at the time, she just smiled and lowered her nipple to my lips. After a few sucks, she fed me the other. Sherri watched and smiled warmly.
So by the time they reached my upper thighs, I was ready. My cock lay stiff against my belly, almost twitching in anticipation of their touch. Except they paused and looked at each other first.
“Do you want to do it?” Rose asked the younger woman as they stood on either side of me.
Sherri shook her head. “Let me watch first.”
Rose nodded and squirted some oil onto her hands. She rubbed them together and reached for my shaft.
I sighed in relief. After all the anticipation, after all the tease, it was time. Rose stroked up and down, with the perfect pressure and the perfect twist. I sighed again.
Sherri’s eyes sparkled in amusement. “She’s good, isn’t she?”
I nodded, a little too lightheaded for words.
“You try,” Rose said. She stopped stroking and waited for the young woman’s hands to replace her own.
“Like this?” Sherri asked when she’d wrapped her fingers around my shaft.
“Try a little tighter,” Rose suggested, “a little more pressure.”
She did, and I let out a long happy breath.
The two women exchanged a grin.
“Keep doing that,” Rose said.
Sherri started pumping me, imitating what she’d observed. She didn’t quite have Rose’s touch, but it was good, real good.
After a bit, the women switched again. Rose demonstrated a different stroke and then Sherri repeated it while the older woman provided commentary. They did it again, with another stroke, and then again.
I floated in a haze of pleasure.
As I did, I took in the sight of the two women. Young. Old. Slim and fit. Showing the signs of age. Both beautiful.
“So how do you finish him?” Sherri asked as she tugged on my cock while simultaneously stroking my balls.
“Just go a little faster, with a little more pressure,” Rose said.
The younger woman nodded and did so.
The pressure that had been building in my balls boiled. After a few strokes, I exploded. My hips bucked and I cried out as I spilled my seed all over Sherri’s fingers.
“That’s right,” Rose cooed, looking at me. “Enjoy it, Mike.”
Between gasps I nodded my head.
Sherri slowed, and then stopped playing with me. She continued to hold my shrinking dick between her hands. Then, to my surprise, she bowed her head as if in prayer. Her lips moved, but no words came out.
“I’ll get a towel,” Rose said. She sauntered over to her supplies and returned with a warm damp cloth.
Sherri looked up. “I’ll take care of him,” she said. “Do you want to get dessert ready?”
Rose nodded and reached for the kimono she kept hanging behind the door. She smiled at me as she slid it on. “We baked a chocolate cake this morning. I hope you like it.”
Sherri slowly rubbed my abdomen soaking up the oil and semen. She smiled. “She did say chocolate was your favorite.”
I nodded. “She knows me well.”
“Biblically,” Sherri said.
Rose giggled, slipped on her kimono, and waved on her way out the door. Sherri continued to soak up the oil and semen with her cloth. She lifted my shaft and slowly, almost lovingly, washed it.
“Was that good?” she asked.
I snorted. “What’s not to like?”
She shrugged. “It’s only the third time I’ve done it.”
She shook her head. “That’s why I need to learn.”
“Why the fuck do you need to learn how to be a whore?”
She let my cock thwack back against my belly and shot me a dirty look. As she cleaned her hands, she turned away.
I sighed. “Yeah,” I said. “I shouldn’t say that.”
“No, you shouldn’t.” She set the towel down and began to dress. She still didn’t look back at me.
I sat up and shook my head in frustration. “I told you I was a fuck-up.”
She paused and turned. “Well maybe you should stop being one.”
“And how the hell do I do that?”
She arched an eyebrow. “You know how. Rose says you’re very sweet at times. You’re just need to practice being consistent.”
I snorted. “Like that’s easy.”
“One day at a time,” she said.
I reached for my shirt. “Yeah, sure.”
“You earned your one month chip. Just repeat what you did for another month.”
“Uh huh. If I could do it, I’d have done it by now.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell you what. You earn that two month chip and I’ll ask Rose to give me a blowjob lesson. Think you could do it then?”
I sucked in my breath. The thought of her lips around my cock... my blood raced just a bit, despite having just come.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Sherri finished dressing and waited.
“I still don’t get it,” I said. “Why do you want to learn how to give handjobs and blowjobs?”
“Because ignorance kills.”
“Maybe when I know you better, I’ll tell you.” She tilted her head toward the door. “C’mon, we’ve got chocolate cake waiting.”
I frowned, but she was already gone.
I slowly tugged on my pants and looked for my shoes. I couldn’t help thinking about what Sherri was hiding. Ignorance of handjobs killed? That didn’t make sense. A guy wouldn’t be looking for a handjob from Sherri anyway—she was Grade A fuckable material. Hell, I wanted to fuck her, even if she could’ve been my granddaughter. But even with ugly girls, men didn’t care. A bad handjob was still a handjob and we were damn grateful we got it.
I glanced at the massage table before I left the room. I certainly was.
But Sherri was young, I mused, and maybe things were different now, then they were back in the day. Only guys got shit for being bad in bed. Word got around, even though the girls supposedly never talked. Thank God my older brother gave me some pointers before I took Sandy over to Lookout Ridge. I don’t know what I would’ve done without him.
What if Sherri’s brother asked her for pointers?
I froze at the thought. I played back everything she’d said. About ignorance killing. About someone dying because she’d fucked up.
I couldn’t quite figure why a younger brother would ask his sister for advice on sex but it was easy to see why she’d say no.
And if they humiliated him the way we did Joey Bucholtz....
I shuddered. Old fears and scars throbbed, until I shoved them down into the depths again and reached for a cigarette.
I found the women laughing at the table, with the dessert already dished out. Once again, Rose seemed more relaxed and happy in the younger woman’s presence than I’d ever seen her. I waved toward the balcony and they nodded. Outside, I inhaled the sweet nicotine and stared at the stars.
You screwed over that woman, God. I exhaled long and slow. You really fucked her over. A gorgeous woman like that should be in college, not learning how to be a whore.
But damn, she looks good naked. And she’d done a decent job getting me off, even if a lot of it had been Rose’s tease.
And she’ll blow you if you can stay sober another month. I mentally checked the calendar and corrected myself. Another thirteen days.
Could I do it?
I was a fuck-up and probably couldn’t. Hell, my assholish behavior almost cost me a damn fine happy ending. But if I could...?
My gut tightened and my mouth went to cotton. My heart pounded, more from fear as from excitement.
Could I do it?
I was sure I knew the fucked up answer to that.
But, damn, what a reward. And who knew what could happen after that?
“Hey, Oscar!” Rose called. “Your ice cream’s melting.”
I flinched at the name, but then rolled my eyes. I looked at the stars again. You’ve got a sick sense of humor, Motherfucker. Between Sherri, Rose, and me, there’s enough garbage to fill this entire apartment.
I stubbed out my smoke and took a deep breath. Well, maybe it’s time to take some to the dump.
The women greeted me with broad smiles when I came inside for some cake.
© 2013 Big Ed Magusson. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
Bio: Big Ed Magusson has been intensely curious about aspects of sexuality, good and bad, for most of his life. For most of the past decade, he has captured his musings in fiction. More of his work, and more Compassionate Courtesan Universe stories, can be found at www.besplace.com and www.besplacebooks.com.
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You're the Only One
By Robert GSK
By Rose B. Thorny
Only When It Rains
Power and Glory
The Thing Under the...
The Principal of the Thing
By Sidney Durham
I'm Only Shaving!
Junk Yard Goddess
Sometimes I Can ...
Speaking of Escher
The Road Not Taken
By Tulsa Brown
Debt of Honor
Flesh On A Woman
Half Moon Girl
By Valentine Bonnaire
Bing Cherry Silk
Have a Nice Day
Once Upon A Time . . .
Yellow, like the daffodils
By William Dean
A Hand in the Bush
Buy Me Something
Forest for the Trees
Kiss Me And Then...
Stranger in the Bonfire
by A.F. Waddell
A Filing Fling
by Addison Long
Menage A Cart
by Adhara Law
by Alana James
Torn in Two
by Alicia Night Orchid
by Angela Caperton
by BJ Franklin
by Beth Vox
Frostbite the Ice Pimp
by Chuck Lovepoe
The Accidental Fetish
So Much in Common
by Daphne Dubonet
by Delores Swallows
The Hand & I.
by G. Gregory
The Puss Hater
by Inna Spice
One for the Road
by J. Corvo
by J.D. Coltrane
Naked Over New York
by J.Z. Sharpe
The Chocolate Wife
by James Robert Sands
by Jamie Smithe
by Jean Roberta
Caitlin Comes Clean
by Jerry Rightson
Something To Make...
by Jim Parr
Melanie and Jay Go...
by Jude Mason
It's Lovely. It's Horrible.
by Kathleen Bradean
by Kaye Heche
A Husband's Lesson
by Kim Bax
Better Than a Blow...
by Lauren Mills
Page 12 - No. F
In The Name Of...
by Michael Michele
by Nettie Kestler
The Wounded Healer
by Nicholas M.
by Nick Santa Rosa
by P. E. Brink
by Riccardo Berra
The Right Man
by Sam Thorne
Newly Reformed Woman...
by Seneca Mayfair
by Sybil Rush
by Teresa Lamai
by Teresa Wymore
Shadows of De La Rosa
by Tori Diaz