Evelyn

Evelyn knew she was safe...

And that she could ask him anything she wanted. She liked that, because she was very curious—and she liked being safe. He did not push her overtly, he simply shared experiences and ideas with her—that upon some contemplation, seemed quite a bit more appealing than her knee-jerk denial of them would have initially allowed.

Evelyn knew as well that he was also very curious, and he was a very sharp man, as far as men went. All right, that was not particularly fair—he was a pretty damn good one. Not one to commit to, probably, but that was not really an issue, either. She was married—for better or for worse. And that was something else that was safe.

He respected that she had a husband, and never bad-mouthed or belabored Richard. She enjoyed ‘sneaking around’ with him—his description, delivered with a dance in his eye—because even when life weighed heavily upon him, he listened to her, and was thoughtful, and made jokes that were not dumb.

Not that they could comfortably go many places, without driving all over hell and back. But those places they did go—coffee-shops in towns just far enough away, with walking paths that they walk, along the piece of river, and the shore of the big lake. Or, as she had felt so adventurous—and disingenuous—suggesting, walking the never-used trails through the state park.

A boundary had been crossed on that one. She had wanted to—sitting in the little opening, the glade among the pines on the hill. Just to lie back gradually, until she was snugged up against him. It was the most natural thing in the world to do. And of course the saucy bastard had stretched himself out close by, and made such a thing convenient. She curved into him and felt him against her—back there.

No Fucking Way

All that behind stuff. And Jesus, those goddamn stories! She loved the way he wrote, and the beautiful way those stories made her squirm. And he liked to talk. Not always dirty, but about everything—and a lot of that did make her squirm. It made her squirm to think of how it felt, lying in the sun with him, the dogs off amusing themselves, wandering back through the glade occasionally, checking in.

He liked to walk behind her—never blatant about it, but always looking at her bottom. That used to make her blush, but she had come to take pride in the attraction her ass had for him —and enjoyed letting him look as he pleased. The jeans she liked so much—low-cut and stretchy—pulled way down when she bent over, and showed him the very top of her buttocks. He said that he thought she was not wearing panties, of all things. That made her squirm, too.

Evelyn Asked Him

One day, while on the deck of a cabin by a river, her legs resting high on the railing, wide enough apart that he might rest his hand comfortably upon her cunt,

“What about the stuff in your stories?” He raised his eyebrows and looked into her eyes. The question had been a long time coming, and had called for Evelyn to draw upon a set of reserves—just for the asking—that she was only recently aware that she possessed.

“Which ‘stuff,’ dear?” The day was hot—had been since the sun rose fully—and they had cooled off sitting close together in the river, the water shallow and swift-rushing about them, tugging at their legs as they struggled out to where the water would flow shoulder deep. She wore what she had described as her ‘old lady bathing-suit’—and it certainly was—a light turquoise sheath and skirt it seemed. If he remembered the descriptions rightly, from the Land’s End or L.L. Bean catalogs that carried such suits. Un-fucking-necessary, he thought. But she was shy, or at least uncertain.

“Um.” Deep breath. “The really naughty stuff. Being with a woman who wants you to use her as you please.”

“Women in contented and hungry touch with their inner slut?” He smiled at her gently. To rest his hand as he did, fingers gently exploring the bones of her pelvis, bringing the sweet bud of her clitoris to stand out against the tight fabric at her crotch. Full coverage, they would describe it. He could feel a wetness there, slicker than river-water, and she relaxed her thighs, letting her knees part just a little farther. She closed her eyes and heard the songs of birds in the bushes, all around them, and the sound of the river dancing.

“Yes,” she said, a whisper to the breeze, “those. Have you ever known a woman like that?”

“I have,” he replied.

“Would you tell me about it while you touch me?”

She Considered Telling Him

That she had forgotten her suit, on that next hot and torpid-feeling morning, but upon reflection, felt no need to make such an excuse. Evelyn caught his eye and winked, then indicated the river with a little jerk of her chin. She rose from her chair and peeled off the baggy tee-shirt she was wearing with one swift, yet tentatively dramatic flourish, reaching behind her to undo the insubstantial peach-colored thing that barely obscured her breasts. Evelyn did not need much support, and was frankly glad of that.

She stood before him smiling, in just the little cut-offs that hung so low from her hips. Evelyn had an elfin air about her at times, and swung her shoulder length blonde hair in a slow flash of golden veiling, that allowed her eyes to dance for but a moment, before hiding them, as her shorts dropped away. Modest her panties were, but small and nearly shear, nonetheless.

“There,” she said. “Is that better?” She knew it was, just from the appreciation apparent on his face, and the arousal evident—the khaki shorts he wore, all he wore, took on a very noticeable bulge.

“Yes indeed,” he replied and he too stood and let his pants fall—trying to appear as casual as possible with his big cock hanging out there thickly.

“It’s YOU who doesn’t wear the underpants!” She nearly shouted. But my God, thought Evelyn, look at it. I can’t touch it… But he stepped to her and put his arms around her waist, kissing her as he felt her bottom through the thin fabric of her panties, and she took hold of him, gripping him tightly, just remembering what a cock felt like in hand. So stiff, for her.

She Considered Tlling Him

Standing with her little panties on, touching her and kissing her. Taking her small nipples firmly between thumb and finger, twisting them alternately—and this brought forth a low moan from her, and made her push her open cunt harder upon the heel of his big hand. The wetness of her had dampened and darkened the crotch of her panties, and he held her upright as she shuddered against him. When her knees were trustworthy again, he steered her to the old pine bench and sat her down, back to the railing. He pulled his chair close, so that she had to rest her feet on the arms, and he put his to either side of her on the bench. Evelyn leaned forward between his knees and took hold of him again, riding her small hand up and down his shaft. It felt instinctive to her.

And when he exploded she held him tightly, taken by surprise. The first coursing jets of him, hot and powerful, spattered them both, and the bellow he let loose rang across the river and back, startling her.

He Made Her Come

With her back to him, Evelyn closed her eyes and simply felt—the water rushing against her, swirling about her body from the neck down. The marvelous tingling in her thighs and cunt—like left-over electricity, still running through the circuits. Cool, and so nice with the sun. His back held her facing upstream.

“I’m glad you take things so slowly,” she said. “Which sounds rather odd, considering what we just did.” Evelyn watched a hawk swoop down after a smaller bird and was relieved to see it escape the hawk’s talons and flee.

“It’s really you, Evelyn. Your curiosity is our guide.” She thought about that.

“I am very curious,” she said. “You know that. And I have been thinking way too much about what you told me.”

“Do you think you are ready to try more?” he asked her.

“I don’t think I am, not just yet,” she said, linking her arms in back of her, with his. “But I think I might like to watch.”

Sitting In The River

Lying on her belly on a blanket in the shade, the sun having proven much too warm. She lay with her legs just parted, that he might reach his hand between them, and take her so, from behind. He put his fingers inside her this time, and the sun upon the leaves cast them in green shadows, as Evelyn panted and thrust weakly at the blanket, her river and cunt-wet panties bunched up shamelessly between her buttocks. Slowly she quit her thrusting, and rested.

“Have I ever told you of my friend Anne?” he asked, stretched out on his side before her, leaning on his elbow. She shook her head. She had never heard of Anne before. “She is a woman like that.”

“She likes you to use her?” Evelyn asked. He nodded his head slowly. “What is she like?”

“Physically,” he said, “because it’s easier, she is a very tall woman—six feet even—very Norwegian looking, proportional. She has long, light-brown hair that is very thick—it almost looks like it would feel rough, but it’s not. I find her to be quite an attractive woman, and I think you would too. And a very interesting woman as well.”

“But why?” asked Evelyn.

“Because, at the most basic level, it brings her immense erotic pleasure. She is rendered helpless, sometimes physically, sometimes not—and she likes that. Her body becomes simply a vehicle for another’s pleasure. Generally mine.” He studied Evelyn closely. She lay on her side with her head down on the blanket. Her eyes were closed, and she might have been asleep, were it not for the slow, barely-perceptible movements of her fingers, just grazing her labia.

“Nothing’s her fault if she can’t move,” said Evelyn softly. “So she really isn’t that dirty, is she?”

“Oh she most certainly is,” he replied. “Beautifully so. She wants to be made vulnerable like that, dear. Her cunt gets wet when she imagines herself bared before others, so that her most intimate places are on display. Her ego disappears and she becomes an object—and it is made all the better for Anne because she can do nothing further about it, once she enters into that context.”

“Wow,” said Evelyn. “May I watch you with her sometime?”

Evelyn Shuddered Again

Evelyn wondered. Or maybe even a "ho"? Jesus that’s a dumb word. A dirty girl, yes. She could live with that, and it rather pleased her to think of herself that way. It was even sort of fun with Richard—surprising him and bringing him unexpected pleasure, however long it might last. Which was not particularly long at all. Poor Richard. She had bent over naked, straight from the shower, little rivulets of water still glistening upon her skin, bent so that she could see him, and what did he say?

“Evelyn, please. I can see your asshole.” Well, Richard. That was the point. And that was another reason her conscience did not bother her terribly. She rather thought Richard had come to lack the imagination necessary for venturing further a-field. He could have if he wanted to—he was gone the better part of two weeks each month. It wouldn’t be so bad if he did. There had not been enough of anything for a long time.

Evelyn stood in the bathroom before the big mirror, wearing only a small pair of lacy panties—string bikinis that barely covered her bottom. She slipped the soft fabric between her cheeks and smoothed it. She liked the look, the fabric disappearing between her buttocks, tight against her. Evelyn had a nice ass, and she had never worn a thong.

Anne Thinks The Idea Is Intriguing

He said to her one morning over the phone. This scared Evelyn. Why was she never careful what she fucking wished for? She took a great breath.

“She does?” was all Evelyn could manage in response.

“I told her about you—honestly and everything. She knows of your life and what we have shared. And she very much appreciates your curiosity and your hesitation, as well. She would like you to watch.” Great. She was shaken, and her panties were wet at the thought. Will I have to touch her?

“Anne does have some things that are stipulations of a sort.”

“For watching?” Evelyn asked, in a soft voice.

“Yes,” he said. “You will be in your panties when she arrives, and you will be blindfolded for a bit.” Evelyn felt a bit light-headed. “Until Anne is ready, and then she shall be blindfolded as well. Then yours will be taken off.”

“So that we aren’t able to make eye contact.” Evelyn thought that was a wonderful idea. She wasn’t sure she would be able to meet this woman’s eyes.

“Darling,” she said slowly, “will she be hungry for me?” He laughed gently from the other end of the line.

“Anyone in their right mind will see you and be hungry, love.” He let that thought trail off while Evelyn digested all this.

“What will you do?” she asked him.

“Whatever we please, Evelyn.”

Anne Thinks The Idea Is Intrigung

And Evelyn felt his hands upon her bottom, reaching around to stroke her pubic hair, his stiff cock brushing insistently against the backs of her thighs. It wasn’t quite the same, but she enjoyed her husband’s urgency as well. Richard was a little easier to take care of than that other devil, or satyr. Whatever he was. She took hold of Richard and turned round to kiss him fully. Richard, my husband, she thought, placing his hand upon her cunt, tonight you shall make me come…

Evelyn knew how to work her man after so many years, and held him off—making him touch her, placing her hand over his so that he touched as she pleased. Only when she was ready, when the great and wondrous abyss opened before her in all its promise of mind-clouding envelopment, did she roll over onto her knees and bare herself for her husband, allowing him to mount her. Look at my asshole, Richard. It is beautiful, she willed. And before Richard slipped his hasty cock into her, he felt the need to gently part his wife’s buttocks, and marvel in the beauty of her open cunt. Such a wonder it is, he thought. Pity her asshole’s so close by.

Evelyn gladly let her husband use her, taking her by the hips and filling her, his belly slapping loosely against her bottom, and the shouts of her pleasure brought him quickly to release. He slid out of her as she slumped forward, his cock shrinking and sticky against her flank. A serviceable lover, Richard. From whatever soft and slightly muddled place she had landed, Evelyn could only think of that moment when her blindfold would be removed.

Richard Was In The Mood To uck

As she lay beside her husband Richard. She pictured the woman—such a big woman, too—wearing the blindfold, unable to see. Evelyn looked upon her with wonder. She was naked and her nakedness was so beautiful. Her cunt was shaven smooth. Evelyn wondered if he did that to her, or if she simply kept herself that way. Dream Evelyn stepped quietly to the bound woman, wishing even to deprive her of the sound of her soft foot steps, and she pulled upon the long light brown hair, wrapping her fingers in it, feeling it thick, drawing Anne’s head back so that her mouth hung open. And Evelyn kissed her with hunger, placing her small hand over the smooth planes of Anne’s pelvis. Perhaps she would shave hers too. It might scare Richard.

Evelyn Saw Her In The Nght

She told him. Evelyn liked wearing nothing but her panties when she was with him. She liked that her arousal was so evident to him. And she wanted this Anne to see her like that as well. Evelyn was done imagining and touching herself. She told him about making Richard fuck her more often, and he liked that.

“But rather a cruel way to put it?”

“Perhaps,” said Evelyn. “Okay, leading him along to satisfy my needs. As well as he is capable.” There was no way Evelyn could ever tell him of Richard’s asshole comment. For some perverse reason, that made her blush. Not for herself, but for Richard. “And it’s not cruel, anyway. It’s just realistic. I have to be myself in spite of and around another person. Richard’s not even aware that I’m asking questions. Much less the kinds of questions I think I’m asking.” Evelyn hardly knew. She just wanted to find out.

“Goddamn Richard didn’t want to see my asshole!” she burst out with an exaggerated pout. “And at this point in the game that just feels rather insulting!”

He laughed and took hold of her arms, spinning her about that he might bend her forward and look at her bottom.

“If Richard won’t look,” he laughed, slipping her panties over her round and struggling buttocks, “I certainly will.”

I Am Ready To Watch You

Caledonia, a sharp and intuitive woman, who had had adventures herself. Not that Evelyn had ever felt comfortable enough with her sister before to even consider discussing such matters. Nor really did she now, and she had no intention of saying anything anyway. And so she didn’t, but Caledonia had shot canny looks at her all through lunch. She always seemed to know, but she never pressed.

Evelyn and her sister stepped out into the late afternoon sun of a perfect day in mid-June. They left the little café in the town by the big lake and walked along the sidewalk arm in arm, not saying much, but enjoying the pleasure and comfort of each others company in a way they had quite possibly not known before. It was very nice. Whatever it is you’re up to, my lovely sister, thought Caledonia Barnes, five years her senior, it shines upon you radiant as sunlight!

“Evelyn,” said Caledonia softly, “it is a beautiful afternoon.” And knowing she knew; Evelyn found a measure of safety and comfort there. Whether she told her sister, or not.

“Yes it is, my sister,” said Evelyn, just as soft. “Yes it is.”

Evelyn Had Lunch With Her Sster

Light green pants that hung low on her hips and showed well the roundness and firmness of her bottom. A small top, and a jacket of linen that matched her pants. She looked beautiful and she knew that, in a good way. And he would take these things off her and leave her in her panties, to wait blindfolded. Evelyn was certain her arousal had dampened the crotch of the light linen pants.

She drove back from the highway, down the short and winding road to the river, where the air carried the scent of pine so heavily on these afternoons of long sun. The little road rose and fell and wound through the trees, finally depositing her in his front yard. From his back windows it seemed you could touch the river. She parked her car between great beds of blooming iris, the tall bearded ones in all the colors he found pleasing. And he barely did it on purpose, the clever fucker, this painting of his river-bend.

Evelyn Was Dressed In Linen

A pier upon the ridge-side he had built, that did indeed hang nearly over the water, this rolling stretch between high banks, where the river gathered itself into rapids. Evelyn looked down through the pines to where the current began to tumble, and he undressed her—carefully taking her jacket from her, and her top. Pulling loose the drawstring that let her pants ride low upon her hips.

“You’ve worn a thong, Evelyn,” he said, stepping back from her to fully appreciate the sight.

“I might as well show it off,” she said. “It is a lovely ass, after all.”

He smiled at her and brought her to him, touching her between her legs, on the damp triangle of beige silk that barely covered her cunt. A lovely ass indeed. Thin silk disappearing between lovely pale buttocks—the effects of ‘full coverage.’ Absolutely charming. They listened to the river and watched the trees bend gently in the light breeze, killing time before Anne. He in that seemingly eternal summertime uniform of his—the old khaki shorts and moccasins, some kind of shirt, or not.

They talked freely and laughed. Even about Poor Richard. He said that Richard had a very bad case of the Bung Fear, and made himself laugh out loud. He leaned over her, pleased with himself, and ran his wide hands over her sun-browned ribs and breasts. The asshole thing still had her miffed.

Evelyn Stood Upon Thick edar Planking

Lengthened and cast themselves in dark beams over the dance of the current below them. It promised to be a cool evening, and he had lighted a fire in the Franklin stove that sat in the far corner of the cabin’s great room. They would wait for Anne—she would wait for Anne—in the loft above. Evelyn had never asked to see that before. His bedroom. The setting sun left her goose-pimpled and chilled, so instead they sat upon the long couch before the wide window looking over the water. It was worn, comfortable and had been the seat of a succession of large dogs—none of which were present at the moment. He pulled her close to him and she shivered, so nearly naked. She felt the heat from the stove radiate out into the room, touching her bared flesh. If she kept herself within that immediate moment she was fine—a creature of her cunt and the myriad other senses she possessed. But her stomach jumped when she got ahead of herself and thought, my God, he’ll be taking me up those stairs soon and covering my eyes.

The Shadows Of The ines

Took his hand and followed him to the stairway. He insisted she go first. The light silk of her negligible panties pulled tight against her full and swollen labia, as Evelyn willed one foot after the other to ascend the stairs with him behind her. She knew he was looking at her asshole, and felt the thin band lying right atop it, hard into her arousal. Evelyn paused at the head of the stairs to take in the loft of his cabin. Wide pine planks were the ceiling and the roof as well. Log rafters crossed the width at regular intervals, and a great long trunk of pine went from end to end of the cabin—peeled and varnished long ago, with a patina upon it built up of long stories and loud laughter, wood-smoke, music and the complementary moans and murmurs of the passionate.

Also along these beams of pine she saw hempen rope, passed around the beam several times and secured with half-hitches—all quite nautical, in a north-woods kind of way. Save the chains that hung dependent, with interesting looking pieces of hardware attached to them. She realized that each of these was a separate point of restraint, and that every one represented the baring of a different combination of vulnerabilities. Christ.

His bed was to the far end from the stairs, broad and wide, set back where the roof-line swept low. An old wicker ottoman, darkened with age and topped in cracked and worn brown leather, sat before the bed—for her? It was a simple place and it suited him—the books on so many low shelves, the paintings and prints crowding the sparse vertical wall space. And so fucking naughty.

He had her kneel upon the ottoman, facing the bed. He showed her how to hold her bottom out, an invitation. How to arch her back nicely, so that her small and firm breasts were thrown forward prominently. Another offering.

“Just relax for now,” he told her, a different note come into his voice—firm and stern, where there had been such a gentle strength. “Anne will expect to see you like that, Evelyn. She will expect that of me. So when you hear her enter, make all of yourself an offering.” It was still there—there was just much more with it. She lowered her bottom onto her heels and breathed out deeply. Evelyn knew exactly what he meant. He sat beside her and caressed her bare buttock and thigh. She was relaxed. Really.

Evelyn Nearly Naked

On the ottoman, her eyes covered, Evelyn could not tell anymore. He had looked at the clock, which read twenty before the hour, and he had put the blindfold over her eyes. Then left her alone. Twenty minutes, fifty minutes? Evelyn smelled and heard, and felt. Time floated off and did not mean much.

She heard the crunch of gravel beneath another car’s tires—the sound reminded her of a song by Lucinda Williams, a song full of pent up emotion and desire. The thought made her raise her bottom instinctively, and more than anything she wanted to see him take this woman, Anne. Save maybe feel him taking her.

Evelyn strained to hear their voices—her voice, really—but they were standing looking over the water, and all that came to her were the soft, indistinct tones of their distant conversation. How does her voice sound? She thought, with a calmness she might have considered odd even yesterday. Is she quiet and respectful towards him—as she should be? She wondered if Anne stood before him with her eyes lowered. Or maybe she was on her knees.

Soft laughter accompanying their footsteps, punctuated by a small moan. Clothes dropping lightly to the floor, and other little sounds. Another moan and a surprised yip, as if something had taken her painfully and quickly unawares. Evelyn so erect on the ottoman—perched there quivering—felt her own body jump. Did he take her by the hair? She wondered. Or nipple between fingers?

She heard wet sounds—a little gag—and more soft moaning, an eager edge to it now. Evelyn heard labored breathing. Then she heard,

“Enough. You’ll make me come with that, slut. And I want Evelyn to see that. Upstairs now.” Foot steps on the stairs. She could feel his eyes upon her bare buttocks, between them. Her bared intimacies. His.

She Is Beautiful

Anne said, in a voice so gentle it was little more than a whisper. Evelyn felt tears start in her eyes. And hands upon her, touching her soft and strong. A woman’s hands were upon her cheeks, upon her belly, touching her so lightly and compellingly. And a woman’s lips upon her own, that sweetly and so briefly ravished her. Long silence and a deep exhalation. A moan of sensual protest and a cord drawing taut. Could she feel her own limbs being stretched so? Could it be the subtle scent of Anne’s cunt that came to her, of jasmine and musk?

His hands to either side of her face, sliding the blindfold up and off her head. She could see. She blinked and saw him. Naked, with a tremendous erection. Evelyn was afraid to look up at the bed, but she did so because she had to. She stared at the naked woman upon the bed, such a big woman, and so lovely. Thick cuffs of black leather were about her ankles and wrists. A bar of varnished oak, a long thick dowel, held her ankles well apart, and they were drawn high towards the great log rafters through a small pulley set into the pine. Her wrists were drawn ceiling-ward in the same fashion. The woman was helplessly open, covered only with the frail cotton of her little panties.

Anne Is A Slut, Evelyn

He said. “Of the most beautiful and precious sort. I know no one else like her.” He stepped toward Evelyn and brought her face close to the urgency of his cock. “She shares herself with me, and she wishes to do so with you, as well.” Evelyn could not speak. Her breath came in little shuddering gasps, as if she might tumble over that sweet abyss into orgasm at but the sight of this woman, trussed so.

The tip of his hard-on, thick and velvet against her cheek, grazing her lips. She took it into her mouth and raised her eyes to him.

“Say hello to Anne, Evelyn,” he said.

Slowly she rose, willing movement into her arms and shoulders. Into her thighs. His cock slipped from between her lips and she continued to stare at the woman on the bed. Anne fascinated her. Evelyn felt the presence of life within her limbs once again and moved quickly to the bed, springing up beside the restrained woman, touching the backs of her long thighs, letting her fingers drift across the planes of her buttocks perilously close to Anne’s cunt. She put her face close against Anne’s—he had wrapped a thick black bandana about her eyes—and she kissed Anne, shyly and with hunger.

“Hello, Anne,” she said. Anne smiled back at her.

He Made Anne Moan

And yelp with surprise and pain. And say things that made Evelyn wish to cradle her head and kiss her. He took awful looking, thin clamps and put them upon Anne’s nipples. There was a screw mechanism to bring the jaws tighter together, and Anne’s sensitive flesh bulged out under the pressure. They looked so cruel.

“May I pinch them instead?” she asked him shyly, not wishing to cross bounds unwelcome.

“If you pinch them very hard,” he said. Evelyn scampered around to undo the terrible clips and Anne groaned—first at the release of the sweet clamping pressure, then at the pain Evelyn’s pinching fingers brought. Evelyn loved the full heavy feeling of the big woman’s breasts in her hands, cupping them. Such big breasts she had!.

Evelyn wanted to touch herself and released one hand from Anne’s breast, to slip it under the silk of her sodden thong and play her fingers against her cunt’s wetness, and that insistent nubbin of clitoris, so swollen for so long. But he shook his head and she twisted Anne’s nipple anew.

He Showed Her Things

That Anne enjoyed—things that hurt her. A broad leather strap, stiffened, that left distinctive stripes upon her upraised tender thighs. Evelyn felt it lightly brought across her buttocks, and jumped at the touch of the leather. He licked her relentlessly and made her squirm against her bindings, with fingers in her cunt and asshole. A monstrous dildo he showed to her, of a length and girth she found inconceivable, and he held it against her bottom. And he fucked her with it, sliding aside the thin band of her thong to push that great thing into her open and aching cunt, and make it wet for his whore. Evelyn thrust against it and whimpered when he pulled it from her.

“Put your cunt over her face, Evelyn,” he said, and she needed no further instruction, pivoting a leg over the helpless woman’s face to slowly seek out its contours with her cunt, pulling aside the damp nothingness at her crotch that she might hold her swollen labia to Anne’s mouth.

And finally, with Evelyn astride the bound and thrashing woman, chattering nonsense at him, he slipped that immense hard-on into Anne, and she groaned and grunted like a beast to feel him fill her so tremendously. Evelyn knew he was fucking her ass and felt Anne’s breath roar out hot upon her cunt. He filled her again and again, the length of him pushed shatteringly into Anne’s tightness, sending rippling shockwaves throughout the breadth of her big body. Evelyn leaned towards him, her mouth open and her eyes shut, and he pulled her to him, his fingers twisted in her hair, and he kissed her that way, her mouth held tight to his.

Evelyn Was So Close

When he came, roaring into Anne, that she might have nudged herself easily into the abyss, but he held her back while Anne quivered and shook beneath her and the echoes of his bellows still filled the room. She held fast on the edge, her body taut and vibrating, her hips thrusting forth of their own volition.

He stepped ever so slowly back from Anne’s bared holes, his cock fragile as glass, glistening with the seed of his explosion. He put Evelyn upon her back and held her so, while he loosened the cords that held Anne’s limbs tightly upraised, and freed her hands. A haze not unlike the mist that rises along the shore, warming until it burns off, enveloped her—and him as well—making their movements to seem slow and deliberate. The arms that encircled her, thick cuffs at her wrists. The sheer size of her. Hands upon her buttocks. Possessing her. And the great fake penis that Anne had worked once more inside her.

Evelyn Felt Stretched Beyond Belief

When she put the thing into her. He held her head and kissed her, while Anne wrapped the rest of Evelyn’s small body—so tight, like a clock-spring wound one turn too many—in her own and fucked her. To make her cry out and moan. To make her shout and thrash about. And finally to shriek and to shudder, with Anne’s long, slim finger in her bottom—giving her the headlong thrusting nudge that sent her careening off to a place where there was nothing but cunt and asshole. Her own. She might have been drooling. Or crying. But finally her hips ceased thrusting and her breathing slowed. She was sandwiched between them. Evelyn could see properly again. She smiled.

But Why?

“Because I can,” replied Anne, softly. That was all Evelyn really wanted to know.

And One Night, Not Too Much Later

With Richard hard and hungry, rubbing himself against her buttocks, fanning the flames of hers that never seemed to quite burn down, she took hold of his straining cock and pressed it tightly above her little asshole.

“Richard, if you want to fuck me...” Evelyn said. Richard needed to hear no further. He moved to her bottom. It was a beautiful thing.

and it was good...

If you enjoyed 'Evelyn,' you are in for a treat! Nice Girls, Naughty Sex is an anthology chock full of short erotic fiction from the best contemporary writers of the genre. Arousal is us!