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  Any Day of the Week

  A collection of five erotic stories

  Edited by Miranda Forbes

  Published by Accent Press Ltd – 2010

  ISBN 9781907761409

  Copyright © Accent Press 2010

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Xcite Books, Suite 11769, 2nd Floor, 145-157 St John Street, London EC1V 4PY

  The stories contained within this book are works of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the authors’ imaginations and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  These stories have been previously published in a full anthology entitled Sex and Satisfaction 9781905170777 (Accent Press Ltd, 2007).

  Contents

  The Blue Roman Cathryn Cooper

  Netsuke N. Vasco

  Any Day of the Week Jeremy Edwards

  Rock Hard Kristina Wright

  The V.I.P. Phoebe Grafton

  The Blue Roman

  by Cathryn Cooper

  ‘Are you going to buy me a drink or what?’

  I remember stammering a bit at first. My experience with women was minimal. But I got her a drink anyway. I know now that she was a patsy. I bought her a drink, I had another. Each drink I drank, she got a cut. That was the way things were at the Blue Roman. But I didn’t know that then. I was just glad to have someone to talk to about my troubles. Besides, she smelt delicious. Her perfume was like a drug. The more I breathed it in, the more it filled my head. I drank more too. The more I drank, the more I let loose about how crappy it was working at the DA’s office. I thought I had the makings of a really good DA, if someone would just give me the chance.

  ‘The DA’s office?’

  I vaguely recall a certain look coming to her eyes just then, but didn’t give it too much account. I was too wrapped up in myself, my personal life and my career prospects to notice anything much.

  ‘Never you mind, honey,’ she said, patting my arm. ‘I think I know someone who might be able to pull a few strings for you.’

  I don’t remember quite what I said then. I only remember taking a swig from my glass as she sauntered off to a table half hidden behind some curtains.

  Her painted fingernails landed on my arm just as I was ordering another drink. My head was spinning, but, hey, what the hell! I didn’t care.

  ‘I want you to meet someone,’ she said.

  I followed where she led like a dog following a bitch on heat. At least I hoped she was on heat. That was the kind of dog I was.

  ‘Hi there,’ said the guy. He was dark and swarthy, Sicilian I suppose. I didn’t care. Chloe, as I heard him call her, was nibbling my ear and fondling my ass. I didn’t care where he was from as long as the broad kept fondling my crack.

  ‘I hear you’re a guy who wants to go places,’ he said. There were two other guys with him. I didn’t catch their names but took a seat when it was offered.

  Chloe’s fingers ran down my jacket and onto my thigh. I fixed my attention on the guys though it was far from easy, especially when her hand dived between my legs.

  ‘We can fix anything for you,’ said the swarthy-looking guy.

  My senses reeled; not due to the generosity of his offer, but because Chloe had disappeared beneath the table and was doing things to my cock.

  I felt my buttons being undone, my underwear being adjusted.

  ‘Call me Blue,’ said the guy.

  I gasped as a pair of plump lips sucked at my dick.

  He smiled.

  ‘As I said, I can get you anything. Chloe’s proof of that.’

  So that was it. He knew she was beneath the table licking my mushroom, running her tongue town my stalk. Her teeth nipped at my thatch. I wanted to joke that I didn’t need a haircut at present, but on the other hand I understood that this was a serious blow job. Why interrupt a good thing?

  He started talking business – about warning him if the Feds were planning to raid his cross-border activities – you know – booze from Canada. I had to force myself to listen. Chloe was cupping my balls, her painted nails pleasantly scratching my scrotum – doing a far better job than when I do it myself, I can tell you.

  Anyway, I was having trouble trying to bring my lips together to speak – mostly because the tip of my dick had hit the back of Chloe’s throat. Her palms were warm and moist around my stem and her fingers were groping behind my sac and heading for my g-spot.

  It seemed crazy! Exhilarating! Around us people were dancing and getting drunk, the whole speakeasy skipping and swaying to the throb of a black-faced jazz trio. And I was in a world of my own; my dick was now trapped between Chloe’s perfect pair. The tip of my knob was still in her mouth. My love machine was surrounded with flesh – female flesh. I felt I was being devoured by her body; I secretly hoped she’d be up for a second helping!

  Blue was carrying on talking as though being sucked to distraction while talking business was the most normal thing in the world.

  The guy next to him, who he called Ice, raised a podgy hand. Each finger sported a glittering gold ring. He waved a warning finger. ‘Play ball with us, and we’ll play ball with you.’

  I wanted to say that as long as it was Chloe playing with my balls that was fine by me.

  My dick was jerking as though it wanted to leave my body. Feeling it would be impolite to gasp my orgasm across at Blue and his pals, I held my breath. My body meanwhile shivered with the intensity of it. Like when a long extinct volcano erupts, I shot a hotter, bigger load than on an everyday event. Chloe gulped down every drop. Once she was satisfied she’d swallowed the lot, she wiped my slick tip against her hair before putting my cock away. I guessed she was the sort who liked things to be neat and tidy.

  Sensing I was finished, Blue smiled. ‘She does a good job, huh?’

  I agreed that she did. My cock had been tucked back in my underwear and my flies were re-buttoned.

  ‘So,’ said Blue, a fat cigar protruding from the side of his mouth. ‘How do you like my place?’

  Due to Chloe diverting my attention, I hadn’t taken in much of my surroundings until now. She’d made her excuses and gone to powder her nose. I guessed it might be pretty shiny by now from her burrowing among my pubic hairs.

  ‘I know,’ said Blue, his black button eyes glinting with amusement. ‘You were otherwise engaged.’ He waved the cigar at the Romanesque pillars surrounding the central dance floor. ‘See those pillars? Some nights I’ve got nubile young men facing those pillars, their hands chained above their heads, and cute little strips of cloth separating their buttocks. Any member of the audience is entitled to stroke them if they wish. None of the young men will complain of such handling. They’re volunteers. Every man jack of ’em!’

  I noticed the fat Italian on his left licked his lips.

  A tall woman with breasts the size of melons came up and whispered in Blue’s ear.

  ‘Ah,’ he exclaimed, his grin broad enough to divide his face in half. ‘We have a cabaret.’

  He whispered something back to the woman and nodded approvingly. I wondered what was next, but didn’t really care. Nothing could possibly surpass Chloe’s performance, could it?

  A couch upholstered in red velvet appeared. It had leather belts and other things hanging from it, facts that became obvious as it was upended, the foot of the bed fastened to the floor.

  The jazz musicians blew a fanfare on their brass. Four dancers marched onto the stage wearing leather corsets that were no more than a strip between their legs, a belt around their waists and straps that kind of
scooped beneath their breasts and over their shoulders. They also wore high boots that came half way up their thighs and were attached by suspenders to their belts. On their heads they wore Roman-style helmets with leather visors that came down over their eyes. Each of them carried a whip, and as they danced they cracked them in time to the band.

  All conversation ceased. A strange apprehension glowed in people’s eyes when suddenly the music stopped. One of the dancers stepped forward.

  ‘I demand justice! Someone here has been messing around where she shouldn’t have been messing.’

  Standing like a gladiator, she looked straight at Blue.

  ‘That’s for the audience to decide,’ he said. ‘Ask them.’

  A thrill of electricity ran through those watching.

  The chief dancer spoke again. ‘I say this adulteress should be stripped naked and punished by other women. What say you?’

  Put like that – the mention of nakedness – the whole audience went wild.

  A gasp went up when two of the dancers leapt forward and dragged a woman out of the audience.

  I licked the dryness from my mouth and barely stopped myself from leaping onto the table to get an even better view than I already had. But that, I decided, would be ill-mannered.

  The woman had red hair tightly fastened in an old fashioned bun. It came adrift and floated around her shoulders when she struggled. She looked terrified, crying out that it wasn’t her.

  I had no doubt it was all a put-up job; she was one of the cast and knew exactly what was about to happen. It didn’t matter. My cock was leaping in my pants. I guess everyone else’s was too. Even the women must have been seeping with excitement.

  The girls asked the guy she’d been sitting with if their accusation was true and that he belonged to someone else.

  Well, he wasn’t going to spoil the fun was he? Like everybody else, his eyes were on stalks.

  The girls stripped the girl and fastened her face down to the upended couch. They asked the audience how many strokes of the whip she should have. I think they decided one from each girl – for starters.

  The first stroke landed. The girl screamed. The lead dancer decided they couldn’t have that sort of noise in a respectable establishment, and had one of her minions gag her.

  Her bottom was quite red after half a dozen strokes. They began to unfasten the leather wrist and ankle cuffs that held her there. I thought that was the end of it, but I was wrong. They turned her round.

  Her breasts jiggled provocatively; her stomach was as flat as a pancake which served to accentuate her fiery red nest. Her waist was narrow and her hips flaring in the kind of curves you want to lick with your tongue.

  I could almost hear the audience salivating, and I didn’t need much imagination to know that there were more than a few stiff pricks and wet crotches in the audience.

  ‘This is what you like, isn’t it?’ one of the leather-clad girls said to the one tied up. She squeezed the girl’s breast and played around with her nipple. Another girl did the same to the other breast. The other two pulled the outer lips of her sex aside; those at the front of the audience leaned forward to get a better view of the slick, velvety interior.

  There was no way the girl could not respond to that sort of treatment; they were pressing all the right buttons. Within no time, the girl’s hips were jerking against their fingertips. Everyone could see her sex getting glossier and twitchier. Her hips jerked and the dirty bitch even had the nerve to open her legs even wider. Each girl took it in turn to sink her fingers into the bound girl’s juicy fruit, finger-fucking her for all they were worth. With their free hands they rolled her tits about, pushing them together so the nipples almost kissed, sucking them until they were long enough to use as coat hooks.

  At last her whole body shook with climax, her eyes rolled in her head before closing, and like the tide, her body surged with release before ebbing away into calm repose.

  The audience burst into applause.

  I thought that was the end of it, but I was wrong.

  Someone shouted for an encore.

  I saw the dancers exchange knowing smiles. There was more. My dick jerked in my pants. I looked around for Chloe and her delicious mouth. I had need of her services.

  The lead dancer, the same one as before, stood centre stage, knuckles resting on hips, a faint sheen of sweat glistening on her naked breasts. She held her head high and looked to be enjoying herself.

  ‘This broad likes more than one fuck per week and with more than one man. She might as well have a few more. You’re all invited to have a go. Now,’ she said, as murmurs of wild excitement swept through the audience.

  ‘I’ll go first.’

  I couldn’t believe I’d said it, but there I was making my way forward.

  The lead dancer smiled, glanced down at the front of my pants, saw that I was up for it, and looked directly into my face.

  ‘So. How do you want her?’

  I didn’t fancy the thought of entering her as she was, my ass facing the audience. After all, they were paying to see her ass not mine.

  ‘Down on all fours.’

  The legs of the bed were brought back to the floor. The girls got the redhead into position, the leather straps readjusted.

  I unbuttoned my flies, hoping that the stiffness in my dick wasn’t down to imagination. I glanced down. So did the girls, expressions of admiration brightening their faces.

  Obligingly, the girls held the girl’s buttocks apart so I could more easily penetrate. I slid into her void like a steel rod into a velvet glove. She gripped me tight. I pounded and pounded, slamming my pubic bone against her ass, my balls swinging and slapping her clit.

  As I slammed, the two girls holding her buttocks apart kissed me and fondled my ass. One of the others fondled the redhead’s breast, while the other fingered her clitoris and tickled my balls each time they came within reach.

  I kept going, wanting to spurt but unwilling to come too soon and stand aside for the next guy. I wanted to be the first – and the best!

  ‘Now her ass,’ shouted the lead dancer, taking me completely unawares.

  Now usually a little lubricant is called for – a little saliva, some kind of gel; this girl came armed with champagne.

  Slick with the redhead’s juices, my dick slid out but stood firmly to attention when I caught sight of the champagne being poured between her buttocks. My cock head lapped it up.

  The girls held her cheeks away from her tight little rosebud. At first I tickled it, teased it a little, then inch by slowly disappearing inch, I pushed it in.

  She arched her back, her smooth behind brushing my loins as I hit target, buried up to the hilt.

  Someone was kissing my balls. I don’t know who and didn’t care. For the second time that night I gushed hot lava into a willing vent.

  Blue collared me before I left. ‘You’ll have to come again. You know you Feds are always welcome here.’ He stuffed a $50 bill into my top pocket. ‘That’s for services rendered – now and in the future.’

  I checked my hat and looked back only briefly before leaving. A queue had formed behind the willing redhead. Her gag was off and besides being plugged at the back she was sucking on a dick, her hands clutching his scary white shanks.

  I smiled to myself as the big bruiser on the door let me out.

  ‘See you again,’ he said as though it were a foregone conclusion.

  ‘I doubt it,’ I muttered once the door was safely closed behind me. Yes, I had been a federal agent, but that was all behind me now. Like I was trying to tell Chloe when I’d first gone in, I’d got the chop and all because my rampant wife ran out on me and I’d fallen apart. But I’d heard rumours and had wanted to see her again. She’d always wanted to be on the stage, and now she’d achieved it. I’d just wanted to fuck her one more time. And I had. Now she was anybody’s; literally.

  Netsuke

  by N. Vasco

  ‘Tell if you like,’ Jim heard as he walk
ed into the Oriental gift shop.

  The store was empty except for an old Asian woman sitting behind the counter, her dark, slanted eyes giving him a curious look as he walked down a narrow aisle lined with shelves displaying all kinds of curios and gifts.

  He sniffed the air and noticed a smoking incense stick sticking out of a small jade box on the counter where the lady sat.

  ‘Smells nice in here,’ he said, trying to strike up a conversation.

  She didn’t respond. She watched him explore the shelves until he walked up to the counter and said, ‘I’m looking for a gift ... for a woman.’

  She responded with a sly smile, before stepping from behind the counter and leading him to the back room. That’s when he noticed the graceful, leaf-shaped gold armlet on her right arm and the tight mandarin dress she wore. His gaze travelled down to her nicely shaped backside, her trim yet curvy hips swaying with each step, a hint of ivory thigh peering from the waist high slits, as the “tap” of her black, stiletto heels echoed in the dim interior.

  A little too provocative for someone’s grandmother, Jim thought. But a nice ass.

  The old woman must have read his mind. She looked at him and giggled as they stopped in front of a wall lined with shelves. Jim avoided her gaze but was unprepared for the spectacle before him.

  They stood in front of a table covered with phalluses of every size, colour and texture. On the shelves were dozens of three-inch high, nude figurines. He gazed at a riot of naked men and women. Some masturbated by themselves. Others were involved in everything from one-on-one sex to orgies that would’ve broken the laws in a few states.

  She selected a woman kneeling with her mouth wide open and said, ‘Called netsuke. Very detailed, yes?’ She turned it to reveal tiny painted hairs around two holes. One for the pussy. Another for the anus.

  ‘Very realistic. Arrange anyway you like,’ the woman said. She placed a kneeling man with an erection behind the woman and slid the porcelain cock into the anus.