The Mammoth Book of the Best New Erotica Read online

  I was hanging out in one of those book bars. You know the one, the really well-lit place. Small and stuffy with the built-in bookcases lining the walls, a teeny-weeny fire in the equally microscopic hearth. I was there being stood-up. Nothing serious, though, no tragedie l’amour. It was just my intensely hyper garment-industry-worker girlfriend who had stood me up. She’d obviously got snagged into working more overtime.

  So I was alone in a surprisingly comfy chair, nursing a glass of red wine tentatively since I wasn’t sure if I was just going to turn around and go home. That’s when they walked in. Two unattractive married couples in their mid-fifties. They made an instant commotion, dragging a tiny table around and scooting a bunch of comfy chairs together so they could all sit down in high spirits, practically on top of me, and proceeded to order an incredibly expensive bottle of wine. I loved watching that; the waiter trying to find a spot to stand in that was anywhere near them while they ordered, and then having to set up an elaborate pedestal wine bucket somewhere in reach of them, too. Thank God they smoked. They really needed some more stuff on that tiny table.

  They couldn’t help but notice me right away since they were practically sitting in my lap, and they kept trying to engage me in their small talk. I resisted their stabs at friendliness until they offered to share their wine, which necessitated their ordering another bottle. The waiter was really glad to see a fifth party, me, push into the already unmanoeuvrable fray. So physically we got close in a hurry. We couldn’t help it. Still, one of the women, Fran, seemed to impinge on more of my personal space than I thought was really necessary. Right away I figured she was hitting on me. It took a couple glasses of that expensive wine before I realized they were all hitting on me.

  I went home with them mostly because I couldn’t believe they’d had the balls to ask me. They were so matter of fact about it, too, like they always came on to younger, much more attractive single women and got affirmative results. I was swept off my feet by their sheer blind optimism. Well, no. Actually I was swept off my feet by them, literally. I think they wanted to rush me into the nearest cab before I could change my mind.

  We wound up in the home of the couple who lived closest to the bar. It was a really nice apartment. That couple, Cy and Ruthie, had never had any kids. Every extra penny had been available for them to spend on themselves. They favoured upholstery, too. Everything was upholstered, in every conceivable pattern. I could tell an interior decorator had been paid handsomely to have his or her way with Cy and Ruthie. But I ceased noticing the decor when Fran started to undress me.

  At first I felt alarmingly uncomfortable because no one else was undressing. I shy away from being the only one naked in a crowd of strangers and I was wondering what I’d got myself into. But after she’d stripped me naked, Fran pushed me gently down on the sofa and began to massage my feet. I began to relax. I sank deep into the upholstered sofa while Fran sat on the coffee table in front of me with both my feet in her considerable lap. Her hands were unexpectedly soft and steady. She worked each and every one of my toes and the balls of my feet with just the right amount of pressure.

  She smiled encouragingly at me while the others just watched. I wondered if I was being lured into some exhibitionistic pas de deux with Fran. As I sunk deeper into the couch in an increasing state of bliss, I wondered how a group of people arrived at that sort of arrangement. “Hey, I know,” I imagined them saying, “let’s all go out together, find a girl half our age and watch her get frisky with Fran.” There would be general agreement all around.

  Then Fran broke my reverie. She lifted my foot to her mouth and sucked in my big toe. I was ready for it. Fran’s mouth was so warm and wet, I moaned. And slowly but surely things started to move around me.

  Cy got out of his chair. He came over and stood by Fran, his crotch level with her face. He unzipped his fly, but when he took out his dick it was flaccid. Completely limp. Fran didn’t seem at all perturbed but I felt a little indignant. I was thinking, Hey, I’m naked here! The least you could do is worship me, have a raging hard-on! But, alas, Cy was no longer nineteen and Fran appeared to be used to it. She went right to work with her mouth, alternating between my big toe and Cy’s flaccid dick until remarkable things began to happen. It turned out Cy was hung.

  Ruthie came over to join us then. She undid her husband’s trousers completely, letting them fall rather dramatically to his ankles. Then, while Cy went to work on Fran’s mouth with his stiff dick, getting her complete attention now as my feet lay limply in her lap, Ruthie kneeled behind Cy and seemed to be tonguing his ass. Her face was way in there and I figured if I was Cy, as I watched his huge erection pumping in and out of Fran’s mouth while his wife, fully dressed and on her knees, tongued his asshole . . . well, I figured I’d probably be liking that an awful lot. I got wet between my legs watching those three carry on like that.

  Kenneth, Fran’s husband, was the last to take the plunge, but suddenly he was sitting on the couch next to me and he was naked. He had a lot of hair. A touch more than I would have preferred. He didn’t seem to notice that he didn’t appeal to me, though. He lifted my arms and held my wrists together behind my head, then proceeded to lick my armpits. It was an unusual move but it made my nipples shiver and get erect. As Kenneth licked his way down to my breasts and when his mouth closed around my erect nipple, I moaned again. Hairy or not, he was good with his mouth. My nipple swelled from the perfect pressure of Kenneth’s sucking and I decided, at that moment, that I ought to have sex with older people more often, they understood pressure.

  The coffee-table gang was starting to get rambunctious. Fran was flat on her back now as Cy straddled her on the low table, completely humping her face. She was making these eager but smothered little sounds that made it seem like she was liking it a whole lot. And Ruthie had removed Fran’s panties. She’d pushed apart Fran’s legs and buried her face between Fran’s fleshy thighs.

  Kenneth’s mouth was still working expertly on my nipples, moving from one to the other, tugging tugging tugging, but now one of his hands was between my legs, rubbing my slippery clit.

  I didn’t think I’d be able to take much more of it; the free show on the coffee table and the prefect pressure on each of my three most responsive spots. I thought I was going to come.

  That’s when Cy startled all of us. He stopped humping Fran’s face and went for her hole in a hurry. Ruthie had to get out of the way fast. She plopped down next to me on the sofa. She was the only one still dressed. She began to unbutton her blouse while Kenneth was rolling a rubber onto his erection. I felt a little overwhelmed. I didn’t know who to focus on. It was obvious Ruthie wanted me to suck her fat little tits, but I was kind of hoping Kenneth was wanting his dick in me because I was definitely ready for it. That’s when it occurred to me to quit sitting like a blob on the sofa and get a little assertive; get into the rhythm of being a swinger. Nothing was preventing me from having them both.

  I turned over and raised my ass in Kenneth’s direction while I let Ruthie guide my mouth to one of her jiggly tits. “Would you look at that tight tush,” Kenneth declared as he slapped my ass hard. “Fran had a tush like that when I married her. Thirty years ago.”

  Then he mounted me. He slid his substantial hard-on into my soaking hole without needing any help from me. He slammed into my hole hard, making me cry out right away. He had a firm grip on my tush and was going to town.

  Ruthie lifted my face from her breasts and started kissing me. Deep. Her tongue was crammed into my mouth while I grunted from the force of Kenneth’s cock pounding into my pussy from behind.

  I had never been with more than one person at a time before. It was kind of a scary feeling. I felt myself becoming insatiable. It wasn’t long before I was flat on my back on the carpeting. Ruthie had stripped completely and was straddling my face. She had a tight grasp on each of my ankles as she kept my legs spread wide, giving Kenneth’s hard cock free rein on my helpless hole, pound pound pound.


  Ruthie’s snatch was completely shaved. Her mound was smooth from the tip of her clit to the cleft in her ass. It had to be a wax job, I thought, she was that smooth. And I wondered: who waxes a fiftyish woman’s pussy completely bald? I figured her husband, Cy, had something to do with it.

  Cy was sitting in a chair now, sucking on a cigar, taking a breather, but his dick was still rock hard. It was poking straight up like the Chrysler Building. Not that I could see him too well with Ruthie’s ass in my face, but I could tell that Cy was watching me get nailed. I was curious what he was thinking.

  “I have to pee!” I suddenly announced as the urge came unmistakably over me. Rather than cause a chorus of disappointment and regret among my fellow swingers, the news didn’t cause them to miss a beat. They’d switched partners before I’d even stood up.

  When I came back into the living room (and I hadn’t been gone long, mind you), Fran was down on all fours with Kenneth’s hard-on seriously down her throat and Cy was fucking her ass. The incessant pounding she was getting at both ends was making Fran’s boobs bounce around like crazy. The whole thing was mesmerizing; what the men were doing to her and the way Fran seemed to be wildly into it.

  Ruthie came in from the kitchen with a tray of decaf espressos. She had that look on her face, like she’d had her orgasm and was feeling completely contented. She sat down next to me with her cup of espresso and we both watched Fran go the distance with Cy and Kenneth. And right when Fran started to jerk around and squeal, an indication that Fran was probably coming, Kenneth pulled his dick out of her mouth and shot his load in her face.

  She seemed a little peeved by that, but she didn’t do much about it because Cy was still going hog wild on her ass. I wondered if Kenneth was going to hear about it later, though, when he and Fran were home alone: “How could you come in my face like that?” I could hear Fran saying. I knew she’d be capable of some serious chiding. “In front of everybody,” she’d probably continue. “You know I hate it when you do that.”

  But for now everyone was amicable. Everyone was drinking decaf espresso except me. I hadn’t come yet. I felt fidgety and distracted. Since I’d never been a swinger before, I didn’t know the proper etiquette. Was it up to me to let everyone know I wasn’t through yet, that I hadn’t come?

  I felt so ignorant, so ill equipped to swing. I toyed with the idea of slipping off to the bathroom again, to take care of myself alone. No one had to know what I’d be doing in there. I could come quick, I felt certain of that. Still I felt a little let down. I’d been having too much fun with everybody to suddenly resort to climaxing alone, in some stranger’s bathroom.

  After only a few moments, it seemed as though coming alone in Cy and Ruthie’s bathroom wasn’t even going to pan out. Fran and Kenneth were dressing. It was late, they said. They had a babysitter running up a fortune.

  Then I wondered how old Fran really was if she had a child at home still young enough to need a sitter.

  I figured I’d better get dressed, too. I didn’t want to overstay my welcome. I helped Ruthie clear up the remnants of the espressos while Fran and Kenneth left.

  “I’ll get your coat,” Cy said to me. “I’ll walk you down to the street.”

  “That’s okay,” I protested half-heartedly. My head was pounding. This swinging business had left my now sober nerves a little raw.

  “Nonsense. It’s late. I’ll walk you down.”

  Cy helped me into my coat and we got on the elevator. He pressed the button for the basement. I saw him do it. Maybe he was going to show me out the back way.

  When the elevator doors opened, Cy led me down a narrow hallway and then out a door that led to the tenants’ parking garage. It was dimly lit, with only a couple of naked bulbs burning.

  “Look, you don’t have to drive me,” I insisted uncomfortably. “I don’t live far. I’ll get a cab.”

  “Why don’t we get in my car anyway? I didn’t come yet either.”

  I couldn’t believe I’d heard him correctly. “What did you say?”

  He looked at me and smiled engagingly. “I didn’t come yet, either. I thought maybe I could persuade you to fuck around with me in my car.”

  I was stunned. I tried to feel affronted, but actually it kind of appealed to me. The parking garage was deserted.

  Cy unlocked his car door and we slipped into the back seat. “We’d better not undress all the way,” he said, “just in case anybody sees us.”

  I agreed.

  I climbed onto his lap and started kissing him. On the mouth. My tongue was shoving in deep. Cy’s breath tasted like wine and espressos and cigars and he suddenly seemed like he was seriously grown up. I felt incredibly attracted to him. “How old are you?” I challenged him. “Are you old enough to be my father?”

  “Probably, why? Did you want to do a little role playing?”

  “Excuse me?” I didn’t know what he was talking about.

  “You know, I could pretend to be your irate father and slap your fanny really hard until we’re both really hot. Then we could cross over that line together.”

  I didn’t reply. I felt a little overwhelmed by how instantly appealing his idea sounded.

  I let him manoeuvre me until I was across his lap. He methodically lifted my coat, lifted my dress and, with minimal effort but a nice long lecture, he tugged down my tights, then my panties, and left them halfway down my thighs.

  When my ass was completely bare and smack dab over his knee, he let loose with a good old-fashioned spanking. The stinging, smarting kind.

  “Shit!” I cried, trying to shield my ass.

  But he wasn’t at all deterred by my screams. He lectured me sternly on the perils of going home with perfect strangers, and behaving rather wantonly to boot.

  I squirmed around in Cy’s lap as my bottom heated up and I tried to dodge the steady, stinging slaps, but Cy kept them coming. He clamped my waist tight against his thigh and aimed directly for my helpless behind.

  I could feel Cy’s erection growing underneath me. He was really laying into me, spanking me hard, making me squeal out promises that I’d never do it again.

  When my ass was completely on fire and I didn’t think I could stand any more, Cy released me. He turned me over in his lap and unbuttoned the top of my dress. Slipping his hand inside, he worked my bra up over my tits and fondled my nipples. They were instantly erect.

  I was still naked from my waist to my knees. The feeling of being so awkwardly exposed, my bare ass burning, while Cy fondled my breasts and tugged on my nipples made me want to get irredeemably dirty with him. But that was going to be difficult to do while keeping our clothes on.

  I turned over and undid Cy’s trousers. I unbuckled his belt, unzipped his fly and his dick sprang out. I was happy to see it looking so lively. I buried my face in his lap, taking as much of his shaft down my throat as I could. I kneeled on the back seat with my naked ass in the air and I didn’t care if anyone could see me. I was feeling unabashedly aroused. I sucked Cy’s dick more fervently when I heard him begin to gasp and moan.

  “Turn over,” he said insistently. “Lie down on your belly.” My bra was still up over my tits and the leather car seat was icy cold against my nipples. It felt great.

  Cy unrolled a rubber onto his erection and told me to raise my ass up a little.

  I did.

  He mounted me with my tights and panties still around my thighs. I felt his dick poking into my asshole. At first I thought he didn’t realize he had the wrong hole, but he knew what he was doing.

  The lubricated condom slid into my ass without too much effort but the pressure was intense.

  “God,” I groaned. Then I cried out uncontrollably while his huge tool went to work on my pitiful little hole.

  “I hate to have to do this,” he grunted, “you know that. But maybe this’ll teach you not to go home with people you don’t know.”

  “God,” I was panting as he pounded into my stretching hole. “Jesus, God.”
r />   “Are you going to be a good girl now?” he continued, lifting my hips off the back seat and deflty sliding his hand down to my swollen clit.

  “Yes,” I whimpered, “yes,” while he rubbed my clit hard.

  “Yes what?”

  “I’m going to be a good girl,” I cried, as his cock seemed to swell in me even more, filling me to capacity with every thrust.

  “And what happens if you’re naughty again? What is Daddy going to do?”

  “Spank me,” I sputtered. “Daddy’s going to spank me!”

  “And what else?”

  “Fuck my ass!”

  “That’s right,” he concluded. “Daddy is going to fuck your ass.”

  These last words he enunciated with amazing diction because he was coming at the sound of his own words. He slammed deep into my hole then and mashed me down on the seat. “Jesus!” he exclaimed with one last powerful thrust. “Jesus!”

  And I was saying it, too: “Jesus!” Partly because I was coming underneath him, shuddering and squirming against the leather seat, but mostly because I was testifying. I wanted my joy to be heard.

  L’Enfer

  Alice Joanou

  We had a magnificent passion for dark alleys, expensive champagne, and each other. She was very rich and unhappily married. Happily, I was neither.

  She was generous or silly enough to pay my way during the length of our affair, and I had the wit to make no objection. Her husband was an old man – yes, it was one of those marriages. She was an ornament, a gesture of diffidence towards his ageing, and a symbol of his wealth: having her on his arm meant virility, especially in the public eye. The old man didn’t seem to mind that she was out nearly every night cavorting in the underworlds of Paris. She adored the cabarets and the most sordid cafés in Montmartre. He was glad to have her as his companion once or twice a month for the opera or some business function. Certainly, she was one of the most exquisite women in Paris.