Can't Get Enough (25 page)

She took this back to the table and shoved her panties down until they tangled around her ankles. She lay down flat on her
back with her legs spread and her feet propped up on the slats of one of the chairs.

The potato masher's handle flared with an appealing curve. Samantha rolled a condom over it and smeared the end with lube.

Her cunt practically smacked its lips, she'd already gotten so wet. The handle slurped into her, long and a little too thin, and much cooler than skin. It didn't feel as good as a cock or a dildo, but that only emphasized how inappropriate it was to slide it inside herself. Samantha shuddered, her muscles fluttering around the foreign object. She pushed it in as deep as it could go, gripping the business end of the masher and stirring the handle inside herself as if her cunt juices were a thick stew. She wondered what would happen if she pushed it in even farther, about how badly it might hurt to force herself to take more length than her body could stand.

In seconds, her every muscle tightened and her breathing changed. Just a little twitch, a little brush against her G-spot, and she would have come right then. Orgasmic spasms hovered at the corners of her vision, but Samantha fought them, her hands freezing the masher in place. She didn't want this yet. Satisfaction now was the enemy. Samantha wanted to foster genuine desperation, the way she used to feel when she resorted to whatever vaguely phallic objects she could find. She wanted to be willing to fuck just about anything that might make her come.

It was a calculated risk. She'd learned over the years that if she didn't take an opportunity to come when it presented itself, her body seemed to freeze up a little, no longer able to nudge itself over the precipice once she'd pulled back. Denying herself now, it could be an hour or more before she could work herself to the same level of excitement.

Samantha yanked the potato masher out of her cunt, afraid
she couldn't continue to resist temptation. She traced its slicked handle over the tops of her thighs, teased her clit for just one dangerous second, then worked her way up to toy with the bottom of her camisole. It left a sticky, pungent trail of lube combined with her own arousal.

Samantha flipped the masher over and tried kneading her breasts with it. She pressed it against herself hard enough that its wavy pattern pinched a little even through the camisole. She pushed the garment up to bare her breasts and repeated the gesture.

It felt nice, but it definitely cooled off the threatening orgasm. Samantha's body still hummed with arousal, but she felt the entrenched inner resistance that followed attempts at control. It would be hard to come now, and so she could turn herself into a panting, horny mess.

She cast the potato masher aside in favor of the meat tenderizer. The weight of the metal object forced her to change her grip. She pressed it where the masher had been, sliding its nubby surface over her nipples, relishing the way it hurt a little. She wanted more.

The whisk wouldn't do to put inside herself, but she liked the way it rattled when she picked it up. Samantha let her legs fall outward into a butterfly pose and slapped it once against her inner thigh. Its metal loops made precise, stinging contact with her sensitive flesh. She squeezed her eyes shut and rocked as the sensation rippled through her. She liked the idea of what that would do to her clit, but it would be a struggle to actually hit herself there.

She feinted toward her pussy with the whisk, but chickened out at the last moment and brought it down on her thigh again instead. From the corner, Brandon spoke up. “Do you want me to—”

She brandished the meat tenderizer at him. “I told you to be quiet.”

Already, interacting with him threatened to break the spell she'd been building. She channeled her irritation into her next strike and this time made definite contact with her arousal-swollen clit. Pain flashed through her, but the whisk vibrated from the blow, and sympathetic trembling penetrated deep into her pelvis, to the subterranean parts of her clit that only the most powerful sensations could reach.

She gritted her teeth and tried the move again. She yelped and writhed away each time, but the blows landed, as if some diabolical other self drove her hand.

Brandon groaned. From the corner of her eye, Samantha saw he'd taken out his cock. Good. That should keep him busy.

She switched tools, allowing the whisk to clatter to the floor. The metal spatula she replaced it with whistled through the air and landed with terrifying force. Samantha went still, holding the cold metal tight against her clit. She ached inside. She needed something to touch her there, so high in her cunt it practically reached her guts.

She set the utensils aside and sat up fast enough to make her head spin. The kitchen chair she'd braced against tipped over and crashed. She jumped up to right it, then paused, her hand closing around one of its legs. She wanted it.

Another condom, more lube, and she was ready to take this, too. She turned the chair from side to side, searching for the best angle. Finally, she dropped to all fours in front of it and backed onto it, the square-shaped wooden leg parting her cunt lips.

It was thick enough that it resisted slipping straight in, even with the lube. The chair slid backward across the floor. Samantha shot her foot out to catch and anchor it, then tried again. She pushed the leg as far in as she dared, aware of its remaining
length but afraid of hurting herself. The chair leg angled up, rubbing her G-spot as she began to fuck herself against it. She moaned long and loud. She lifted one hand to rub her clit as she took the chair leg, but this put too much weight on her other hand. She grunted in frustration.

Now, she wanted to come. She liked the image of herself fucking the chair leg. She wanted her cunt to pulse around its hard wooden edges. She wanted to slip a little while in the throes of ecstasy and wind up with it nestled into her to the point of pain. Samantha shoved back harder. She squeezed her muscles and deliberately pressed until she had to suck air in between her teeth.

It was no use. She'd gotten so wet she couldn't feel the leg in the places she needed to get friction—not around her entrance, or along the sides of her inner walls. Its delicious pressure got her ready for more, but the leg itself could not deliver.

Her decision to hold off her orgasm had come back to bite her, and she began to regret it. Would it have been so terrible to fuck the chair leg while aftershocks quivered through her cunt?

She rocked faster, hurt herself a little more, but Samantha could tell this wouldn't work. She needed something thicker inside her, something she could really clench around. Whining in the back of her throat, she pushed off the chair. She kicked it out of the way, enjoying the violence of the gesture.

Samantha scanned the kitchen again, looking for something else to fuck. She could see Brandon's cock pulsing from the corner of her eye, but right now she didn't want to fuck her boyfriend or anything that would clearly fit in a vagina. She wanted to stretch, to fuck an object, something that would make her feel dirty and a little ashamed, something that scared her.

Her gaze fell on the rolling pin tucked behind a set of
nonstick pans. The story she'd told Brandon flowed into her mind in a rush.

She seized the rolling pin in a fit of lust, its thickness in her palm dropping a thrill of fear into the pit of her belly. She didn't know if getting it inside her was at all possible or just a fantasy, but she had to try.

Samantha lay on the table again. At some point, she'd started sweating, and the wooden surface felt cold against her sticky back. She worked big handfuls of lube into her cunt until she couldn't have gotten traction on her clit if she'd tried. She snapped a condom over the rolling pin, slipping it over the thin rod at the end, then spreading its base wide to get it over the thicker roller. She took a deep breath and tested it.

The rolling pin was heavy, hard to hold up with one hand. The rod slid into her easily, but the roller itself seemed impossibly thick. Her pulse sped as she explored herself with the handle and felt the roller probe at her entrance. Now, she fantasized about Brandon, imagining him rising from his chair in the corner and taking heavy, impatient steps toward where she lay. With one hand he would hold her down, and with the other he would force the roller past her body's resistance until she lay gasping and stunned, more full inside than she'd ever been in her life.

Samantha moaned aloud at the image and spread her legs as wide as she could, bracing them on the edges of the table. She bore down with her cunt muscles on the roller and gripped the utensil with both hands, trying to drive it into herself.

The pressure it placed on her entrance was just the sort of thing she'd been looking for—except she needed more. Samantha pulled the rolling pin out and spread her cunt lips as wide as she could with the fingers of one hand. Unfortunately, when she repositioned it to push in, her own fingers were in the way.

Samantha almost sobbed with frustration. She squirmed on the table, struggling to open her legs even more. When she made no progress there, she closed her legs a little and used her thighs to prop up the rolling pin so she could use both hands to work it in.

She reached between her legs and tugged her cunt open, trying to wrap herself around the thick roller. She fit one side in, then lost ground when she tried to fit in the other.

She held herself half-lifted, the awkward position dictated by her need to manipulate her cunt until it took the rolling pin. Sweat poured from her neck onto her chest, then slid down to her stomach. She felt hot and smelly. Her fingers skidded over her clit and labia, too lubed up to gain any purchase against her recalcitrant body.

From his corner, Brandon gave a strangled cry as his cock shot come onto his chest. Samantha responded with desperate irritation. Of course he'd come from watching her display, while she still writhed, helpless with lust for this damned monster of a rolling pin. She felt convinced that she would not be able to come without getting it inside her body. She was too slippery and numb everywhere except for where it counted—everywhere except the exquisitely sensitive ring of flesh and muscle just at the entrance to her vagina, where she and the rolling pin had become locked in a pitched battle.

Samantha needed it to penetrate her, and yet it had no give. It would not compromise any bit of its hard thickness, would not compress in response to her squeezing the way flesh would. Utterly implacable in its challenge, it made her desire it all the more.

She gripped it again with both hands, flung her head back and lifted her hips as high as they would go. She relaxed into the pain of the thing straining her opening, and held it in place
until she couldn't breathe. She shook her head from side to side, growling and sweating.

Then it came, that alarming involuntary ripple of muscle she remembered from the time her cunt had swallowed the bar of soap. Slowly, inexorably, the rolling pin sank into her cunt. White light flickered over Samantha's eyelids and she screamed her agonizing pleasure.

The spasms that started a moment later were ecstatic torment as well. Her stuffed cunt, stretched to capacity, had nothing left to give, and yet her muscles forced the skin to undulate around the unforgiving thickness of the roller.

As soon as she could bear to, Samantha unclenched her hands from the rolling pin and let it fall. Aching everywhere, she sought Brandon's eyes, expecting to see disgust on his face, or fear at the power of her orgasm around something other than his cock. Coming down now, she no longer wanted shame. It took all her courage to meet his gaze.

All she saw in him was awe, the very sentiment that spread through her own body with every pulsating aftershock.

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

JACQUELINE APPLEBEE
(
writing-in-shadows.co.uk
) is a British writer who breaks down barriers with smut. Her stories have appeared in publications including
Best Women's Erotica
,
Best Lesbian Erotica
,
Penthouse
and
DIVA
magazine. Jacqueline hopes to write a best-selling novel so she can live in a lighthouse with a few adoring fans.

PRESTON AVERY
(
PrestonAvery.com
) resides merrily by the sea, working and living with only slightly less than reckless abandon. She loves reading almost as much as writing and is featured in the anthologies
The Big Book of Orgasm
,
Geek Love
and
Morning
,
Noon
,
and Night
.

ERZABET BISHOP
has had a love affair with books since she first started reading. Just recently, she discovered that writing naughty stories was even more fun. She lives with her husband, a menagerie of dogs and a mountain of books she is sure will crush her one day in her sleep.

LOUISE BLAYDON
writes erotic romance of various kinds from the house she shares in Oxfordshire, England, with three cats and a lot of fortifying coffee.

HARPER BLISS
writes lesbian erotica. She's had short stories published in anthologies by Xcite Books, House of Erotica and Storm Moon Press. She is the author of the
High Rise
series and several other novelettes and novellas for Ladylit.

RACHEL KRAMER BUSSEL
(
rachelkramerbussel.com
) has edited over forty anthologies, including
Only You: Erotic Romance for Women
,
Orgasmic
,
Fast Girls
,
Women in Lust
,
Gotta Have It
,
The Mile High Club
, and the
Best Bondage Erotica
and
Best Sex Writing
series. She writes widely about sex, dating, food, books and pop culture.