Read Engaged (The ABCs of Erotica) Online

Authors: Lexi Maxxwell

Tags: #erotica

Engaged (The ABCs of Erotica) (17 page)

BOOK: Engaged (The ABCs of Erotica)
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“You don’t want to hear my stories? You don’t want to hear about all the nasty things I let my old boyfriend and girlfriends do to me?”
 

“I want to hear every word, but not until you’re back in my arms and whispering. Until then, they are your stories to sift through, stretch apart, and stare into their center. Those stories are still live and happening. They must be over to be told.”

“OK,” I say, feeling rejected, and again unsatisfied. I’ll have to hang up with Richard, then go upstairs, and take care of myself. Zoe’s not home. She went out for groceries, to take a break from our two-girl orgy, and give me privacy. Instead, he says, “I want to hear a story. But it can’t be one from after you left. Tell me something old, something I already know. Something from Europe.”
 

I smile, feeling myself get wetter.
 

“Oh, I have plenty of those. Can you be a little more specific?”
 

“How about Paris?”
 

“Which time?”
 

“The first time.”
 

“OK,” I say, sinking into Zoe’s large living room chair. “I love this story.”

“I know, and you tell it well.”
 

I switch my cell from one hand to the other, then slip my freed hand down my panties and press two fingers softly to my clit. I gently rub as I start my story.
 

“It was my last night in Paris. The first time I’d been to the city since I was a little girl and went with my family.” I laugh. “We always joke that it was that trip that turned Mark gay. None of us really thinks that, but he did seem different once he was home. Me, too. I was 9, but I wanted to go back to Paris the second we left. It took a decade and a half to get there. I’d been in the city for two weeks, and couldn’t have been more in love. It’s as beautiful as everyone says, though of course you know that. France is made for fucking, Richard. And Paris is the G-spot. I spent long days sitting by the Seine, walking the tree-lined streets beside the Champ de Mars. I got lost in the Le Quartier Pigalle, and when I eventually found my way out, I practically crashed into the two girls who would occupy the next while of my life: Hope and Sasha.”
 

“Describe them.”

“Sasha is overwhelming. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever been with, and one of the most stunning I’ve seen. People pay her very well to take pictures, clothed and unclothed. She’s flawless either way. Worth every American dollar. She has tiny features. A small nose, not pixie-small like mine, but perfectly shaped and pointy. The rest of her is equally delicate, with tiny, perfect breasts, perfectly swollen nipples, slender fingers, and the most mischievous smile I’ve ever seen. Hope is gorgeous. She would be the most beautiful woman in any room, as long as that room didn’t have Sasha. She’s tall, with light-brown hair that spills perfectly over her shoulders. She has a small mouth and a shapely nose. Perfect arched eyebrows and a well-arranged face, as if painted by an artist in lust.”
 

“What did you think the first time you saw them together?”
 

Richard knows the answer. He laughed the first time I told him. He wants to hear it again. I know his cock is getting hard, if it isn’t hard already.
 

“I saw them walking down the street together, toward me. They were holding hands and practically skipping. I wondered if etiquette was really so different in France, and if it really was the city of love.”

“What did you think, exactly?”

“I was thinking of Hope first, since Sasha seemed almost too pretty to talk to. In my mind I walked straight up to Hope, asked, “Can I lick your pussy?” then turned to Sasha and added, “after hers.”
 

“What did you actually say?”
 

“I asked them if they spoke French. I took French starting when I was 4, so it’s even stronger than my Spanish, but that’s textbook. I never, and I mean never, get to practice. I’d mostly kept to myself that first couple of weeks, so I’d not really said anything much beyond the conversational exchanges that get you a room or meal. The language still felt slightly odd on my tongue.”
 

“What did they say?”
 

Richard’s breath has fallen an octave. His voice is slightly ragged. He’s stroking himself, softly.

“They both spoke French, but neither was from France. Both were in Paris for a week of shooting — fashion models who had arrived in the city that night. They we’re out having fun. It was Hope’s idea to hit the red light district since they’d been to Paris together three times before and had always talked about going, but never had.”
 

“What happened after that?”
 

“Nothing and everything. Though all three of us were speaking in what wasn’t our native tongue — Sasha’s was Russian, and Hope’s was English like me — the things we said and laughed about were universal. Conversation was easy. In no time I was joining them for dinner, and then, of course, dessert.”
 

“Get to that part,” Richard breathed. “What happened in your room?”
 

“Do you want to know what happened that night, or my last night in Paris?”
 

I can feel Richard’s smile. “Your last night in Paris, please.”

“The first night, dessert wasn’t much of anything. We fooled around with lot of kissing and petting, maybe we will and maybe we wonts, but none of our pussies came out to play. I suspected that Hope and Sasha went off behind a closed door after I fell asleep that first night, and a few nights after. But when they were ready to leave on that last night, things got serious between us.”

“By serious you mean playful. Were things ever really serious?”
 

“No,” I laughed. “They weren’t. But that night was different. We’d hung out a lot, and in only a week the girls had started to feel like my sisters, except for the part where I really, really wanted to fuck them, and I didn’t hate them at all like I sometimes do with Samantha. Sasha said, ‘Tonight is our last night in Paris together. We make it unforgettable, yes?’ I knew what she meant by the music in her voice, and the way her lip curled in a mischievous smile.”

I paused a few beats, listening to Richard breathing.
 

“Their shoot finished late. I had to wait in the room. I wasn’t allowed on set. There was a wrap party afterwards. Both girls returned to our room slightly drunk.”
 

I purr, “Are you stroking your cock?”
 

“Of course.”
 

I love how measured he sounds. So much control.
 

“The three of us had planned to say goodbye in style. That style started immediately. I was already showered, though sticky from waiting. Sasha and Hope had spent a long day in makeup, and wanted to clean themselves. I waited on the bed, topless in panties. Sasha emerged from her bathroom first — the room had two — and crawled onto the bed beside me, also naked except for her panties. She pulled out her phone showed me several pictures of the day’s shoot, until reaching her favorite: a nude shot with her spread pussy, pressed against a sheet of glass, with a world of color exploding behind her. Her naughty bits were covered with smears of paint.

Richard said, “I know the photo.”
 

Of course he does, because it’s the photo that reminds me most of them, and the wallpaper on my phone for the first month I knew him.
 

“She took several pictures of me, then slipped her phone into my hands, and I took several of her. Then, Hope showed. She was either trying to be silent as she came from the bathroom, or I was so wrapped up with Sasha that I didn’t hear. Either way, she was on the bed before I knew it. She said, “We missed you, Liza. We’ve been waiting all day,” then kissed me.

I stopped to admire the frayed edges of Richard’s rising breath. It stayed ragged for beats. I listened then dipped back into the story.

“Sasha reached over and set her phone on the nightstand. Then she was back, sweeping between us so fast it felt like a flicker of light in the room. She brushed a thumb across my cheek, turned to Hope and said, ‘You hogged the camera all day, you can’t hog Liza, too.’ Hope laughed and pulled away from my face. Sasha set her lips to mine and kissed me like she hadn’t all week. Her mouth finally felt like a promise of more. I sank into it. My tongue swam in her mouth, loving the taste as I tried not to think of Zoe.”
 

“Did that work?”
 

“For that night, and for a while, yes. Sasha was the leader between us, and when she told us to ‘tend to her body,’ we did. She crouched in the bed’s center as Hope and I tended to her from either side. Hope suckled Sasha’s breasts as I kissed her skin. Hope’s lips left her breast with a loud slurping. I looked over and saw Sasha’s bright-pink nipple covered in spit and felt my wet pussy get wetter.”
 

Again, I pause. “Do you like that? Thinking about my wet pussy getting wetter, and all of the stuff I let Sasha and Hope do to it all night?”
 

“I do,” Richard breathed. “Tell me more.”
 

“Do you mind if I play with my pussy while I finish the story?”
 

My words are as playful as my voice.

“To tell the truth,” Richard says, “I’m slightly disappointed if you’re not already.”
 

“Well, I
have
been touching myself. I just haven’t put any of my fingers inside me yet. I was thinking of doing that now. Would you like that?”
 

“Yes, Liza. I would love that.”

I love how he’s breathing.

“So, I’m still behind Sasha, kissing her neck. She turns to me, points to her bottom lip and says, ‘Right here, Liza. This is where I want it.’ I start kissing her on her mouth, and she starts kissing me back while Hope dips her fingers down into Sasha’s panties. Sasha starts moaning, rocking her body so she’s pushing her middle up against Hope’s hand while kissing me harder. There we were, the three of us on the bed. I’d never seen anything more beautiful. My body was on fire, tingling like it does when you’re making me wait and I’m practically begging.”

My words leave my mouth clipped, barely there behind my moaning. I stop for a moment, stirring a finger in and out of my flaps before returning my breath to its usual beat.

“Sasha pulled away from my kiss. She put one arm around me and the other around Hope. ‘Now,” she purred, ‘you two kiss.’ So we did. And it was soft and sweet and beautiful. I danced in her mouth, brushed her cheek with my knuckles. My pussy kept tingling, waiting for attention.”

Richard lightly grunted. I slipped my middle finger deep into my hole and wiggled.

“Hope and I broke our kiss. She dragged her lips softly across Sasha’s skin while I kissed Sasha harder. I expected urgency between us, but there was none. It was our final night, and we were acting as if we had forever, taking things slow, one kiss at a time. All week long I felt like the odd girl out, not in a bad way, just the way that it was. They knew one another before me. But that night, for the first time, I could feel our three souls touching.”

Richard pants, “Is that all that was touching?”

I love, love, love him, but sometimes even Richard, the most mature man I’ve ever met, can still be a little boy.

“Oh no, there was plenty of touching to come. I took charge, not taking Sasha’s orders, and showing her I was more gifted at giving pleasure than she had realized. I pulled away and lowered her to the bed. She rested her head in my lap, nestling into the natural cradle at the bend of my leg from my waist. I dropped my breast into Sasha’s open, waiting mouth as Hope went to work between her legs. She parted the panties from Sasha’s slippery lips, held the fabric to one side, leaned into her pussy, inhaled, and thrust her tongue in between Sasha’s lips.”
 

“The smell is new,” Richard said, calmly, as if he had gained more control of his breath.

“You’re right,” I say. “I added that detail for you. I thought you would like it. Do you?”
 

“I do.” He waits a breath then says, “Are you still rubbing your pussy?”
 

“Yes.”

 
“Are you close to cumming?”
 

“No, but only because I’m telling the story. I’ll be ready when you are. Are you still stroking yourself?”
 

“Of course.”
 

“Stroke faster.”
 

He didn’t answer, just grunted. I slipped another finger into my hole, then curled and held it, rocking my body back and forth as I continued.
 

“Our room was quiet. I would’ve expected noises: heavy breathing, moaning, wet sucking from our kisses, or Hope’s mouth on Sasha’s cunt. But there was so little that our room was almost silent. Sasha’s whimpers were tiny, steady, and rhythmic — short blasts of air puffing up from her lungs. She looked so dainty, delicate, small features poised for pleasure, seeming to inhale us both. I looked down at Hope as she looked up at Sasha. Hope was so hot, with her tongue out and buried in Sasha’s folds. She lightly lifted her ass from the bed and swiveled it in circles around Hope’s mouth. Hope clamped, trying to keep up with Sasha’s swivel, while lapping at her pussy like a saucer of milk. I had to brace for what was coming.”
 

BOOK: Engaged (The ABCs of Erotica)
5.22Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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