

Table of Contents

Title Page

SPEED BUMPS

SIMPLICITY

ANAL-YZED

THE BIRTHDAY TREAT

ANAL SUBMISSION... OR NOT

VERONICA'S ASS

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Copyright Page
**SPEED BUMPS**

Tenille Brown

**S** unny checked her watch before she gripped the bars on her bike tighter, bending low to take the curve.  She would be there in less than five minutes.  She had been shooting for fifteen, had wanted to be very casual and nonchalant about it, but that was the thing about motorcycles; they always made you appear too eager, even when the intent was to make 'em wait awhile. 

In this case, she was referring to her lover, Trip.  He hadn't always been the patient type.  Sunny had used it to her advantage back then, making Trip wait until he was almost crazy, but he had somehow learned patience over the last few months, that and other things, and it was just something else about Trip that Sunny had to learn to get used to. 

Trip—Trenton Louis Hill, III—had taught her to ride, had even given her the name she now claimed like a possession.  Sunny...for the glow on her wide, happy face, for the little yellow tattoo on her right asscheek, for the way he felt when she pressed that soft, tender ass up against him. 

Sunny slowed, smiling smugly at the rumble and pop of her bike because no matter how many times she heard it, it still excited her, and came  to a stop at the light.  She nodded to her right at a twentysomething fellow with spiked yellow hair sitting and grinning at her in a red convertible.  He revved his engine.  She revved hers back.  She could have him and five more just like him if she wanted, but these days, in the ever-present age of the cougar, Sunny found that cliché. 

Sunny shook her head.  It wasn't the kid's fault.  Twenty years ago she would have been in his league, but this time, he had guessed wrong.  Sunny blamed it on her thighs, the way they braced and held her bright yellow Harley in place. 

Sunny had legs for days, and she preferred her skirts short and her shorts—like the denim ones she sported today—even shorter.  She was short, barely five feet tall, but she made it count—round little ass, tight waist, and just enough tits to suit her. 

But Sunny preferred her men with a little dust on them. 

And it was her prerogative.  She was forty-one years old and had paid her dues.  She'd had the husband and the house in the burbs and she'd preferred to let the two remain a set, taking her clothes, her favorite pairs of shoes and calling it a day. 

It was all a part of traveling light, and Sunny knew there was no other way to do it.  Trip had known it, too.  He was a loner who ran a bar across town, who had mixed her Jack and Coke like he had been doing it since creation.  And now, she and Trip, they were in this life together. 

Sunny blew relief from her lips as she pulled into the drive.  She parked her Harley next to Trip's new sensible sedan—she wouldn't ride in that thing if you paid her—and let herself into the condo. 

It didn't surprise Sunny to smell baked chicken and fresh kale when she walked in the door.  Trip had traded in Chinese takeout for lessons in cooking healthy lately and Sunny was always playing the eager little guinea pig, because she was nothing if not supportive, tasting and trying his new creations.  After wrapping her arms around him and squeezing Trip's middle, Sunny reached in and tore off a piece of chicken. 

The breast was good, light on the butter and salt, but good. 

Trip swatted at her hand. 

"My little speed demon...so anxious." 

Trip knew Sunny well, but if it weren't for the ink that decorated his arms, neck and chest, she wouldn't recognize _him_ at all, wouldn't remember that he had once been a speed demon, too, a bad boy in every sense of the word. 

The heart attack had changed all that, though. 

He was cooking with his shirt off, the way Sunny preferred it.  When Trip turned off the stove, she ran her hands over his dark, fuzzy chest, pausing at the slick scar from his surgery. 

She touched it, now a pale brown line just over his heart.  Trip placed his hand over hers.  He was remembering, too. 

Sunny didn't like to think back to the day, but Trip wore a constant reminder of it. 

It was one of the few times Sunny had ever felt fear and the only time Trip had ever seen her cry. 

These days, though, Sunny denied it, said it must have been one of those mirage things Trip was having as he contemplated cascading into the light. 

"We going anywhere tonight, after we eat?"  Sunny asked, guiding herself back to the here and now. " There's a band playing over at Bentley's.  Or did you rent a movie?  Did you pick up that action flick I was telling you about?" 

Trip shook his head to all.  He cupped her ass inside his big hands and brought her to him, slipping, without warning, his warm tongue inside her mouth. 

He said, "I thought we'd stay in.  You've been going nonstop for the last three days.  How about a little bit of the boob tube and off to bed?" 

Trip winked and handed Sunny a freshly stirred drink. 

Sunny grinned, because that, thankfully, hadn't changed about him. 

And sure, it wasn't living on the edge, but it was something, she supposed, and these days Sunny took what she could get, settling on the sofa,  remote in hand, sipping on a fucking perfect Jack and Coke. 

There were times when Sunny didn't mind staying put, like now, when she was cuffed to their four-poster bed, facedown in a mound of pillows, sheets snatched up between her legs. 

She couldn't see him, but she knew Trip was there, and these were the times Sunny paid the most attention, when she was always on edge, waiting to see what was next. 

Now Trip was running pink feathers over her naked body, pausing now and then to pick up a soft leather strap to spank her eagerly twisting and waiting ass. 

If she knew Trip, and she was sure she did, Sunny expected he would take advantage of how far apart her legs were spread, how wet she had become from his teasing, and take her from behind, fucking her until she whimpered, until she scratched at the sheets and bit the pillows, but Trip surprised her, leaving her dripping-wet pussy alone altogether. 

Sunny was never one to protest, even though simple doggy-style would have suited her just fine.  But this, this thing she felt coming, what she could feel in her bones, this was much better than doggy-style.  It was better than her top three favorite positions and then some. 

Sunny felt the warm tip of Trip's tongue at the rim of her ass.  He had always loved her ass, had always praised and paid great attention to it.  He licked her awhile, poking, prodding and lapping until she was streaming wet there, too. 

"Sweet as pie," he said, and Sunny smiled, compliment whore that she was. 

And then Trip crawled up behind her, his hands on either side of her arms, his heavy, thick cock swollen and throbbing against her ass and the tops of her thighs. 

Trip was a well-endowed man but he had trained Sunny ever so patiently to get used to him.  He eased in slow, steady, always at the absolutely perfect pace.  He knew when to be gentle, knew when Sunny was  ready for all of him, no holding back. 

Sunny spread her legs as far as they would go.  She accepted as much of him as she could stand, grunting at the pain, gushing at the pleasure.  And when she felt she could take no more, Trip gave her just that, insisting, determined Sunny could take it. 

Trip had such faith in her, and Sunny wanted to make him proud, so she took it all, gritting her teeth, twisting corners of the sheets until they were wet and wrinkled in her palms. 

He fucked her in the ass, rhythmically stroking in and out, side to side.  The weight of his body kept her pinned to the bed and she loved it. 

The feeling was so good that, for the life of her, Sunny couldn't figure out what she had done to deserve it. 

Had she ironed his shirts? 

No. 

Done the dishes when it wasn't her turn? 

Definitely not. 

But Sunny knew it didn't matter why.  What mattered was that Trip was there fucking the life out of her until he was ready to erupt. 

It never took Trip long to come when he was in her ass.  It was a series of small, sweet tortures as he worked his way in, out a little, back in again.  But soon he was coming, hot and furious, semen streaming between Sunny's cheeks and down her legs. 

But Trip didn't forget about her, he never did.  He reached beneath her and stroked her pussy with his fingers until she came, too, and Sunny lay beneath her man, pillow tucked under her chin, exhausted and sweetly sore. 

And then it came. 

Trip breathed the words on her neck. " I went and looked at a place today.  Over in Asheville." 

There it was, his ulterior motive. 

Sunny could only manage a nod and Trip knew this would be so, had known all the time that when he fucked her like this, it was hard for her  mind to multitask. 

She soon realized Trip had planned it this way, wanted her too satiated and tired to protest. 

Sunny turned over.  In the brown glow of his eyes, she searched for the Trip that had been there just moments before, fucking her in the ass like a hungry beast, but that Trip was swiftly fading and was being replaced by the Trip of today, post–near death experience. 

Just like a fucking woman, Trip was getting restless, wanted something simpler, something different.  Wanted out of the city. 

Sunny gathered her bearings enough to protest. 

"I told you before, there are too many hills there to ride, Trip." 

It wasn't much of an excuse, but it was the best she could do given the circumstance.  Not that it even applied to Trip anymore.  He hadn't pulled his bike out of the garage since the surgery, and he had been cleared for riding weeks ago. 

Trip shrugged, bright eyes focused on the ceiling. 

"But we could camp, hike.  There's plenty we could do there." 

Sunny bit on her bottom lip. " Like grow old and wrinkled.  Like feel the damp weather in our brittle, tired bones.  No thanks, baby." 

And then there was his impatient voice.  His, _I'm tired of fucking debating_ voice. " It's what people our age _do_." 

"Well, _some_ people our age live by the philosophy, if it ain't broke..." Sunny's voice trailed off. 

Sunny had gone from satisfied to pissed, from zero to a hundred and fifteen in a matter of seconds.  It was always, every time, when she was distracted, when the last things on her mind were mountains and log cabins and hunting their own dinner that he brought it up and ruined everything. 

It was unfair and it was frustratingly ironic. 

He chose now to want to slow down.  Whatever happened to living every day like it's your last?  They had a good life.  Luck obviously was on Trip's side.  He had survived a fucking _heart attack_.  Now was the time to  test the waters, not rush to the shore. 

Even with the heart attack and his _aha_ moment, Sunny found it hard to understand.  She wasn't his China doll, wasn't his tender little miss, and Trip had appreciated that once.  He couldn't just turn her around like that. 

"You can't keep running forever, Sunny," Trip said. 

She could hear the exhaustion in his voice, and she knew that what he was saying was probably true, but for now, right now, she would run until she gave out. 

Sunny threw her legs over the side of the bed. 

"I'm gonna grab a shower.  Then I'm going for a ride." 

"A ride."  Trip repeated the words as if confirming them to himself. 

He shook his head, made Sunny feel like she was pathetic. 

"You could come."  She added it as a hopeful afterthought, a save to what was now a ruined night. 

"I'll be here when you get back." 

And she left him there, naked, hands locked behind his head of lion's hair and for a moment, only a moment, Sunny wondered what it might be like if maybe he wouldn't, but she quickly dismissed the thought and pulled the bathroom door closed. 

She had treaded lightly long enough to let the mountain talk subside, and now Sunny was taking a misty, summer's night drive.  Out of nowhere she found herself starving, yearning. 

Her cunt, vibrating from the heavy hum of her bike, wanted Trip. 

It would have been easy enough to wait at home for Trip, but Sunny wasn't the wait at home type, so instead she rode to the darkest part of town. 

She parked in the alley behind Trip's bar and slipped in the back way. 

Wearing black leather shorts and a matching corset, her beige cleavage resting over the top, Sunny eased up against Trip as he stood at the bar.  She wrapped her hands around his waist, let them slide down to the front  of his pants and rubbed on his bulge.  Fuck whoever was watching. 

The gesture didn't startle Trip at all.  He knew his girl, and he had stopped being mad days ago. 

He said, almost without even looking back at her, "You're gonna make me forget my orders." 

Sunny shrugged and pressed her crotch against his ass, which she noted looked exceptionally hot in a pair of dark Levi's. 

"So give 'em all water," Sunny said. 

Trip grunted. " I think you just broke a commandment." 

Sunny sucked her teeth. " Fine.  Meet me in five." 

Trip was there in three. 

He was there in the liquor cabinet, pressing Sunny against the wall with one large hand resting on it and the other working on Sunny's zipper. 

Sunny's tongue was in his mouth.  She tasted remnants of bourbon.  Sunny smiled at this nonconforming part of Trip's newfound conformity.  She fed him continuous mouthfuls of her lips and tongue, trying her damnedest to fill the space of her recent absence. 

Sunny knew how to bring it out of him, knew how to remind Trip that he, too, liked living on the edge, liked pushing until he slammed smack dab into a wall. 

And then, in a flash, Sunny's shorts skidded down her legs.  Trip didn't bother maneuvering her panties over her waist.  He tore them off instead, discarding them on the dusty floor. 

"There you go, baby," Sunny whispered, her voice low and husky, "you're still my bad boy." 

Trip's velvety, dark pink lips pressed hard against hers, so hard, Sunny thought, Sunny _hoped,_ they would bleed. 

Sunny had learned long ago the art of productive fucking.  Eight years in this thing had taught her exactly what it took to get Trip off. 

In her head, Sunny recited the instructions. 

Play with his balls until his cock is so hard against your palms it slaps you five.  Then when he's convinced he's ready...

Sunny dropped down to her knees and wrapped her lips around Trip's cock. 

Head first...he likes that...tongue around the rim...something about the sensation...fingers back on his balls...surprises and fascinates him every time even though you've done it a million...there...there...now he's begging and you don't give in and when his knees are just about ready to buckle, when his ass and thighs are trembling, when he's burgundy in the face...then you let go...demand that he save that sweet, hot come just for you...want to feel it inside of you...

As if on cue, Sunny rose.  She sucked on Trip's neck awhile, then darted her tongue in and out of his ear. 

"Now," she said in a voice low and hoarse, "you can fuck me.  And you'd better fuck me good." 

And as if the command were its own aphrodisiac, Trip's cock grew even harder as he lifted Sunny onto his haunches and backed her into the wall.  It was cool on her ass. 

She wrapped her pale legs around his dark ones.  She grabbed tiny handfuls of his thick, coarse hair, twisted into locks that fell past his shoulders. 

He pushed and pushed, going deeper and deeper.  Trip didn't ask Sunny if it hurt, didn't seem to really give a damn if it did. 

And Sunny was wet, wet, wet at the thought of Trip not caring. 

_Yes, Trip, think about you right now.  Think about us and this moment.  The pain doesn't matter.  It doesn't matter if I'm scarred or bruised.  It doesn't matter if I die right here, right now, just..._

"Fuck me."  Sunny was hardly able to manage the words with Trip ramming her until her shoulders, back and pussy throbbed. 

And just before Trip clenched his teeth, just before he was shaking again, Sunny braced her legs around him tighter, tighter than she ever had before and she covered his ever-stroking cock with her glistening orgasm. 

Trip couldn't hold his own for long after that and he came, his nails clawing at her back, bringing her from the wall to his chest where she  panted and said, "So, I'll see you at home, then." 

Sunny was riding fast, fast, fast. 

She was on a good stretch of highway, nice, long and smooth.  The tar had just been redone.  She could smell it. 

Again, she would arrive earlier than she wanted, but it was okay.  The wind felt good on her face. 

She saw a curve up ahead; she liked those, liked the roller-coaster type feeling she got when she leaned down, then back up.  She liked the way she lost her belly then found it again. 

Then another, and it wasn't the sharpest of curves, but it caught Sunny off guard all the same and the bike leaned too far to one side. 

For once, Sunny was glad she'd worn pants, tight and low-rise so at least she would look good, tough so that maybe, just maybe she could keep a little of her skin.  It was the last thought that ran through Sunny's mind before she smelled burning rubber and she and the bike went down. 

It didn't ache as much now, but Sunny sure didn't like the skid marks it had left on her thighs and hips.  It had ruined a damn good pair of jeans, too. 

But she supposed she should be grateful, should take this as her opportunity to get with that harmonious, thankful-to-be-alive shit Trip had been harping about for all these months. 

He was here now, nursing her wounds, rubbing ointment on her scrapes. 

"You're lucky you didn't break your hip," Trip said. 

"Yeah, 'cause at my age it probably wouldn't heal worth shit," Sunny said. 

"I didn't say that." 

"You didn't have to." 

Sunny pulled at the bristly hairs on Trip's chin.  It wasn't the fall.  It _absolutely_ wasn't the fall.  Sunny had fallen before and harder.  She had  broken bones and gotten back up and was back hitting the tar again within a month. 

She couldn't put her finger on it, but it was something.  Maybe it was the tear that Trip had furiously tried to wipe away before her eyes fluttered back open and vehemently denied even existed.  Maybe it was the extra-large closet with the built-in shoe case, but suddenly, Sunny had begun hearing Asheville call her name. 

She looked over at the green and gold mountain bike taking residence in a small corner of the den.  It was a good day for a ride.  Cool.  Clear skies. 

She would be breaking it in the first chance she got, and Trip, he would be right there with her on an old-man bike of his own. 

Quickly, Sunny decided she would get a bell and a basket for hers, had to find some way to make the thing original.  She cocked her head, eying it again.  It certainly wasn't a Harley, but she knew, nonetheless, that her legs would look spectacular when she pedaled, scrapes, scars and all. 
**SIMPLICITY**

Gwen Masters

**H** is voice came low in my ear.  My eyes were closed, but I could see the flickering of the candlelight across my shut eyelids.  The scent of vanilla filled the air.  My breath was harsh. 

He had been teasing me all night.  I couldn't take much more, and I told him so.  I bucked up to meet him, but he held just out of my reach.  I squirmed, wanting more, yet wanting it to stop.  I couldn't stand the anticipation.  That voice was all he gave me, that gentle voice that could be so rough with passion or demanding with domination.  I bucked up again when he asked me to beg.  I showed him what I wanted. 

"Please, please," I whimpered. 

"Please what?  Tell me or I'll stop." 

"Please fuck me!"  I was close to delirious. 

Then I felt it.  His hard cock, sliding through the wetness that he had created within me.  The sweet nectar of passion was flowing down my shaved pussy, down onto the soft fabric of the couch.  His cock slid through it, and he groaned.  I groaned right along with him.  Then he let out a long sigh, and whispered the word I had been longing to hear: "Now." 

I arched and cried out at the invasion of his cock.  His head stretched me just enough, opening me for the passage of his shaft.  He jerked once at the sensation of being engulfed by the heat of my cunt. 

"What do you want?"  he panted, knowing damn well what I wanted, but wanting me to say it.  To let go.  To give myself over entirely to sensation.  To act like the whore he knew I loved to be. 

"I want you to fuck me deep.  Make me come, make me squeeze you so hard you can't move," I murmured into his ear. 

He groaned again, the reward I was looking for.  Then he drove deep, hard, and I held my breath.  The feeling was incredible.  When his balls came to rest against my ass, I crossed the point of no return. 

"God, yes!"  I spread my legs wide; so wide, my hips hurt.  He thrust in even deeper and I almost laughed out loud, so pleased to finally be fucked like this.  My hands clenched hard on the cushions of the couch.  I thrust up, meeting him each time he plunged into me. 

"That's it, baby.  Tell me what a whore you are.  Tell me how much you like that cock inside you." 

I started to shake.  I was going to come soon, and he knew it.  He knew what effect his voice, his cock, had on me.  I loved the feeling of his strong, hard body over mine.  But even the simple mindfuck was enough to make me beg for more.  And so I did. 

"I love being your little cockslut...I love spreading wide for you to fuck me...I want to feel you come...."

"Where.  Where?  Where do you want me to come?  You want me to shoot it deep into your pussy?"  He thrust harder and we both moaned. " You want me to slide this thick rod out of your pussy and slide it into your ass?  You want me to come deep in your ass, baby?" 

The thought was enough to drive us both right to the edge.  He slid out of me.  Then down.  He lifted my legs and pressed his cock right against that tiny hole. 

"Yes, yes!  Fuck my ass, make me take it...please...make it hurt...."

He slammed into me with one long thrust.  I cried out, the sound  echoing through the living room.  I bucked hard into him, wanting him deeper.  He spread my cheeks and gave me what I wanted.  I could hardly breathe.  The pain was pleasure, the pleasure was pain, and I didn't care, I just wanted more of his cock rocking back and forth inside me. 

"Fuck...yes...fuck me!"  He moved so slowly, as if time had suddenly come to a standstill, and it wasn't enough to calm the raging need. " I want you to come in my ass," I begged, and moved against him, trying to get more, faster.  He thrust again, harder this time.  The intensity of it made me light-headed.  My ass clenched hard around his cock.  I was going to come. 

"Baby...I'm going to..."

"Yes, you are," he taunted.  He began to move in short and deep strokes.  I reached down between us and touched my clit.  One touch, that was all it took.  My ass contracted around him, my pussy clenched tight. 

He murmured in my ear, "Come for me, baby.  Come for that thick cock in your ass.  Make me explode inside you...."

I came hard, bucking mindlessly against him.  I screamed, perhaps.  I was beyond conscious thought.  I thrust against the cock imbedded so deep in my ass, thrust up toward him, wanting more of him.  But he held just out of reach, letting the orgasm take me, letting me feel nothing but that heated rod gliding in and out of my stretched little hole.  More than I wanted my own pleasure, I wanted to feel him come, deep inside me. 

And come he did, his rod jerking hard inside me with every pump.  He cried out, some moans incoherent, some clearly my name.  I shook with the aftershocks of passion as he emptied himself out into me. 

Soon the earthquake passed, and the only sound was his harsh breath, coming in counterpoint to mine.  Soon there was my low laughter, and his answering chuckle.  I slowly opened my eyes as he slid out of me. 

"God, that was good," he said.  His demanding voice was soft, soothing, now that his passion had been sated. " Are you okay?" 

I laughed again, feeling light with the relaxation of the orgasm we had shared. " Yes.  I'm okay.  But I don't think I can walk yet!" 

We giggled together, saying the little things that have importance only  to lovers.  The candles were flickering low.  I stretched, groaning deeply while I did it.  The sigh of his satisfaction was the perfect ending to the long night. 

"Don't get up.  Don't go anywhere.  Just go to sleep.  Dream about me." 

I knew I would.  And with a whispered good-bye, I hung up the telephone. 
**ANAL-YZED**

Donna George Storey

**I** have no idea why I said it.  Or rather screamed it, just as I was riding my husband to a cowgirl climax. 

"Oh, god, I want you to fuck my ass!" 

Mike didn't say anything that time. 

But a few days later, when he was on top and we were both getting close, I growled in his ear, "Oh, yeah, I want your big, fat cock buried in my ass!" 

Basking in the afterglow, he asked, "So, what's all this about fucking your ass?" 

I blushed. " I don't know; it just gets me off to say it in the heat of the moment." 

He was quiet for a minute. " It's been a while, hasn't it?" 

"Yeah, I think it was that night last spring when both kids had sleepovers." 

"You wore that lacy thing from Victoria's Secret." 

"That's right." 

Neither of us said anything more, but my thoughts inevitably  wandered back to that night—how we ordered take-out Chinese and I put on my black lace catsuit and we watched _L.A. Confidential_ in bed.  How I wrapped my legs around his thigh and humped him to a nice glow while he idly tweaked my nipples.  Halfway through, we stopped the movie, and then somehow we decided he'd fuck my ass through the generous and convenient opening in the crotch of the body stocking. 

I also remembered something else: that I'd never liked it so much.  The tickly, stretching sensations aroused my secret muscles as he moved slowly in and out. 

The next time we made love, I tried to stop myself, but it just made me too hot to say it. " Fuck my ass, I want you to fuck my ass so bad, oh, _yes_." 

Mike stopped midstroke and frowned down at me. " That does it.  I _am_ going to fuck your ass.  Right now." 

"Not now, jeez, I was just about to come," I protested. 

"Listen, you've been leading me on so long with your dirty talk, you've got _me_ wanting to fuck your ass pretty bad myself.  So put up or shut up." 

I was indeed speechless as he rolled off and walked over to our sex-toy drawer. 

Eyes wide, I watched him pull out a condom and the bottle of lube.  The whole lower half of my body was a riot of sensation.  My clit and cunt still buzzed from the normal fucking, but now my asshole tingled and throbbed, as if his cock were already inside.  The very idea of being skewered back there had my pussy drooling onto the sheets with envy. 

"Turn over on your stomach," Mike ordered. 

Still in shock, I obeyed.  He lay down beside me. 

I thought he might just stick it in my backside then and there, but he surprised me by running his palm slowly up and down my back, occasionally dipping farther down to circle over the soft flesh of my buttocks. 

"So tell me why you're so hot for me to fuck your ass."  His tone was softer, but still determined. 

"I don't know," I murmured into the pillow. 

"Come on, what do you like about it?" 

It took a moment to put it into words. " Well, when you fuck my ass, I can feel every movement.  It's so _there_.  Like your cock is sliding all the way in up to my throat." 

"And that feels good?" 

"Sometimes it hurts, but most of time it's...tingly and nice.  And I like the way I feel afterward.  All loosened up.  And proud.  Like I've done something special." 

"Interesting.  I have another theory, though."  As he said this, his finger dipped between my asscheeks to stroke my tender pink valley. 

I shivered and arched up into his touch. " Theory?" 

"Yes, that anal sex is an unnatural act, so it makes you feel like a dirty slut to do it." 

My muscles down there—belly, cunt, asshole—immediately went into spasm, prickles of shame mixed with sweet twinges of pleasure.  He was right.  It was a turn-on to be a naughty girl who let boys in the back door.  But I suddenly realized something else, too.  Having him talk about fucking my ass—actually _analyze_ it like this—was making me incredibly hot. 

"But don't you think there's something...uh...almost noble about it?"  The electric sensation of his finger circling my anus was making it hard to speak. " Anyone can do it the regular way, but...oh, yeah, that's good... when you have anal sex you have to slow down and think." 

"You definitely have to take it slow," Mike said, nudging me up on my hands and knees and popping open the lube.  His finger brushed my crevice again, anointing my entrance with the slippery gel.  He paused, then slipped his fingertip into the hole a half inch or so.  I took a deep breath and willed myself to relax.  His finger slid in farther. 

"What are you _thinking_ now?"  he asked. 

"That I wish it was your cock instead." 

He seemed to agree because the next thing he did was tear open the condom wrapper.  I felt a smooth hardness pressing against my opening.  Tilting my hips up, I breathed past the sensation of something pushing out  as he went in, willing my asshole to open like a flower in May.

"You okay?" 

"Yeah."  In fact I was better than okay.  On impulse, I squeezed my muscles around him; _clench, release, clench, release_. 

He moaned. 

"You can move now," I said. 

He bent forward and reached around to pleasure me. 

"No, just enjoy." 

His hand dropped away, and I brought my own finger to my clit, strumming the hard nugget protruding from my slick, satiny skin. 

Mike began to thrust, carefully, as if performing an ancient ritual. 

He'd fucked my ass half a dozen times, but now the sensations were noticeably different.  I was softer, more open—yet still so aware of being taken and of giving myself solely to this exotic pleasure. 

I pushed back against him, quickening our pace.  It was good.  Really good.  I felt his thighs trembling against mine.  My own thighs began to shake as my orgasm gathered at the base of my spine.  Almost clawing at my clit, I exploded around his cock, milking him with my tight ring of muscle. 

Mike's moans rose up, up to a ghostly tenor, and I knew he was coming, too, his thrusts driving my hips forward and my face down into the pillow.  And then a second wave of pleasure bloomed inside me.  I'd gotten exactly what I'd wanted: I was getting fucked in the ass and loving every sublime, decadent minute of it. 

That's when it finally hit me. _ Think, slow down, pay attention, do it for the sheer sensual pleasure, embrace the extraordinary_.  Anal sex was poetry. _ Fucking_ poetry. 

When Mike and I had caught our breath, I knew I'd tell him everything I'd thought and felt and learned while he was fucking my ass.  Then maybe we'd analyze the poem we'd made together. 

Or maybe we'd just enjoy. 
**THE BIRTHDAY TREAT**

Jolene Hui

**I** t was nearly birthday time again.  This year I would turn thirty-four.  Still single.  Still trying to figure out what the hell life was all about. 

The Wednesday before my birthday, I received a birthday package from my mom.  It was wrapped in balloon paper with little turtles on the front.  She had always called me "Turtle," because I had this stuffed animal I just couldn't break myself of.  On top there was a note fastened: _Don't open this till your birthday...or else._  What?  Did my mom think I was still five?  I could wait until my birthday.  It was only two days away and her gift was really the only thing I had to look forward to. 

Jillian and I were scheduled to go out for drinks on Friday after work to celebrate the horrific occasion. 

As I sat in my office on Thursday, I zoned out while squishing my earth stress ball repeatedly.  I thought of the life I didn't have.  The life that I had always wanted but had somehow escaped me: the large Victorian house, picket fence, dog, two kids, and handsome husband with a fabulous job.  It apparently was not intended for me, as by now nearly all of my friends except for Jillian had husbands and beautiful children.  The ringing phone  interrupted my thoughts of bounding around on the beach with Fido, little Lizzie, little Joe, and my muscular man. 

"This is Lynn, how can I help you?" 

"One more day!"  It was Jillian's squeaky voice. 

"Why?"  I put my head between my legs and sucked in my breath. 

"Should I invite the crew?"  Jillian asked. 

"No!"  I screamed, then breathed in a puff of air, my nose plugging and the blood filling my head. " I don't want anyone else there to celebrate my humiliation." 

"Oh come on," said Jillian. " Bobby, Jim, and Susie really want to be there!" 

"No, no, NO!"  I shouted, sitting upright, the blood flowing back down correctly through the rest of my body.  Good thing I had closed my office door. 

"Well, you have no say in it.  I'm picking you up at eight sharp.  You better be dressed and ready." 

"But..." I trailed off.  Jillian had already hung up. 

That night I went home and went through mounds and more mounds of clothing.  I wasn't sure what exactly to wear the next day.  Should I do flashy?  Sexy? 

I was on my fourth beer and modeling my fortieth outfit when midnight struck.  I heard the chimes of my antique clock in the living room.  My mom's gift was in the entryway.  Since it was technically my birthday, I could finally open the gift. 

On the front of the card was a picture of a little girl standing in front of a mirror in full dress-up regalia.  Inside, my mom had scribbled, _I had hoped for grandchildren by now, but, oh well, Turtle, you might as well not deprive yourself of sexual pleasure._ 

I tore open the wrapping and there it was—a slim, pink, slick mini-torpedo vibrator.  My mom had gotten me a vibrator.  She had given up on me.  The packaging was pretty hilarious, depicting a wan-looking coed sitting in a field of daisies.  Did she think this was really my first vibrator?  My  first vibrator had made its way into my bed when my boyfriend in college was so much of a drunk he regularly passed out before we could have sex.  My first vibrator, which I named Steve, was my favorite sexual partner at that time in my life.  Steve was slim, lime green, and always there when I needed him—especially after a long night of studying when I was stressed before a final, and even when I wanted to entertain guests that stumbled home with me after fraternity parties.  If my mom thought I'd never used a vibrator, she was seriously kidding herself.  But maybe she was just being clever.  Maybe she just wanted me to feel youthful.  I laughed and slipped the package into my handbag. 

"Happy birthday, you hot piece of ass, you!"  Jillian's voice buzzed into my living room at eight o'clock the following night.  I was putting the finishing touches on my freshly done hairdo when I heard her echoing voice. 

"Come on up, Jilly," I said into the intercom, rubbing some gloss across my lips and slipping my heels on.  I grabbed my bag just as Jillian burst through the doorway. 

"I am taking you out for a wonderful evening, my dear."  In usual Jillian style, her hair was up in a French twist and she wore pearls around her neck and a sexy strapless dress on her slim body. 

I always felt so much less sexy around Jillian.  But tonight I didn't care.  I was in a little black skirt and see-through top, my hair freshly straightened with a flattening iron I had treated myself to for my special day. 

"We're going to Charlie's for tapas and wine and then we're going out to Turtle Island with the crew!"  Jillian grabbed me and wrapped me in her thin, tanned arms. " I called them even though you told me not to!" 

"Jilly, I don't know!"  I pulled away and started heading out the door. " Have you ever even been to that club?  And isn't Turtle Island a snorkeling island in Maui?  I'll just get depressed that I'm not in Maui.  I think this club is mostly a college crowd or something." 

"Exactly," Jillian said as she shuffled behind me down the stairs.   "That's just what you need." 

"Happy birthday to you!"  The staff at Charlie's sang loudly and banged their tambourines as a candle burned slowly in a slice of raspberry cheesecake. 

As they walked away, I downed the rest of my Merlot and grabbed a fork. " God, Jilly, I am so damn old now, huh?" 

"Old?  Oh come on, babe, you look amazing tonight.  Every guy who walks by stares at you." 

We had just finished looking at my new toy and having a good laugh about the innocent-looking girl on the front. " They do not," I countered. " I look so old and haggish."  The server came by and refilled my glass. 

"Hey, slow down, hon, we still have to get to the club." 

I took the last bite of my birthday cheesecake and started to sip the glass of wine.  I could feel my face flushing from the alcohol I'd had already.  And the wine was going straight to my groin.  I could feel it pulsing.  Maybe the club wouldn't be such a bad idea. 

"I'll be right back," I said, standing up to head to the ladies' room. 

When I stood up I felt a hand on my lower back.  I turned around and came face to face with a young, tall, blond, hot guy in a silver shirt.  I'd seen him earlier in the evening, but hadn't realized that he'd caught me looking. 

"Hey, beautiful," he said, perfect white teeth glowing. " Happy birthday." 

"Thanks," I stammered before starting to walk away.  God, he was handsome. 

"Wait a minute."  Blondie began to follow me as I walked to the restroom. 

The restaurant was crowded, and I thought I'd lost him as I made my way through the people, but when I came out, he was waiting for me.  My thong dampened at the thought of his lips on my neck. 

"Come outside with me for a smoke?"  he asked and gently touched my  elbow. 

"But my friend is waiting for me at the bar...."

I felt a fingertip on my shoulder.  It was Jillian. 

"I've already paid up.  I've got to make a phone call and I'll meet you outside in ten, okay?"  She winked and left me alone.  Now my dream man and I were staring at each other. " Outside?"  he asked again. 

Without another word, I followed Blondie back through the restaurant to the rear door.  He pulled out a pack and offered me one.  It was my birthday so I accepted.  I could smell his cologne as he made small talk with me.  Everything he said was going right through my ears.  I wasn't retaining anything because I was staring at his shiny silver shirt, sucking on a Camel, and fantasizing about what it would be like to fuck him. 

"So, it's your birthday.  What are you, twenty-five?"  He put his cigarette out on the ground. 

"Sure, I'm twenty-five," I winked. 

"How about I give you a birthday treat?" 

A birthday treat.  I liked the sound of that. 

Before I knew what was happening, he stepped toward me and put his lips to mine.  Although there were others outside, we didn't stop kissing.  We were off in our own little area against the rear of the restaurant, and nobody seemed to be paying us much attention.  As we kissed, we moved even further away from the few customers smoking nearby. 

Blondie's hands worked expertly.  He backed me up against the brick and slipped his hands under my sheer blouse, touching the front of my camisole.  He pressed his body to mine.  He was much taller than me so I could feel his hardness against my abdomen.  My hands gravitated toward his crotch as if drawn by a magnet.  I moaned as his hands went under my skirt. 

"I was watching you," he said, his eyes bright. 

"Yeah?"  I murmured. 

My handbag was still around my shoulder.  An object pressed under my armpit and I pulled my hands from the hot zone to move it away.  When  I touched it, I realized what it was.  It was my birthday gift.  When I had taken it out of the package to show Jillian, I had inserted the batteries and even flipped the switch to make sure it worked.  I pulled it out now and flipped the switch, glad that it was quiet, as we were just around the corner from the door. 

"Oh, my," he whispered. " Look what we have here."  His strong hand grabbed the slim buzzing object.  When he flipped the switch to OFF and stuck it between his expert lips, I let out a breath and unzipped his pants.  It was definitely my birthday, as an abundant present was waiting for me. 

"Wait a second."  Blondie took the vibrator out of his mouth and flipped the switch to ON. " You don't need to rush." 

Putting the vibrator under my skirt, he moved my thong aside and eased the wet object inside my willing pussy.  His tongue went to my mouth as his other hand slipped under my skirt to gently rub my clitoris.  I started to thrust slightly against him and stroke his large silky cock.  As he rubbed me, my feet started to shake in my high heels so I pushed back against the wall to help steady myself.  The silk of his shirt rubbed against my cleavage.  When I was on the verge of coming, Blondie flipped me around, my face against the brick wall.  I felt the vibrator slip further up my cunt and his finger move from my clit to my anus.  With the finger wet from my juice, he worked it slowly in and out, moistening me up.  He added more spit, making me desperately wet back there, and I panted, my cheek up against the brick. 

I couldn't believe we were going to do this—especially out here—but when I turned my head, I saw that we were all alone.  Everyone else had gone back inside.  My heart was pounding, but I realized that this was exactly what I desired. 

"Say you want it," Blondie whispered, as if reading my mind. 

"I want—"

"Say you want me to fuck you up the ass—"

Oh, Christ, I could hardly get the words out.  Half-stuttering, I managed to whisper, "I want you—" a deep intake of breath "—I want you to fuck  my ass." 

He groaned at the sound of my voice, and when he finally slid his cock up my ass I was already coming, my come sticky on the birthday present in my cunt.  I took the vibrator from him so he could put his hands on my hips to better work himself in and out.  Every contour of his cock rubbed against the ridges of my asshole.  When he came, he gripped my hips so hard I bit my lip to keep silent.  I could feel the phone vibrating in the bag still hanging from my shoulder.  He pulled his cock out and I reached into the bag to grab the cell.  It was Jilly. 

"Where are you, Jilly?"  I asked, self-conscious about my breathing pattern. 

"I'm still inside," she said. " I'm going to take a piss and I'll be right out." 

"Okay, I'm still outside.  I'll meet you out front in five." 

"Everything okay?" 

"Oh yeah, everything's good." 

Blondie laughed when I said that.  I hung up and turned around to see him running his hands through his sun-bleached hair.  I put my phone and the toy in my bag and made sure that the vibrator wasn't sticking out where anyone could see it. 

My skirt was a little crooked so I fixed it.  When I looked up, Blondie was smiling at me.  He kissed me quickly on the cheek. " Happy birthday, baby," he said before giving me a sexy wink and heading out into the parking lot. 

"Oh my god, Lynn," Jillian said as we climbed into a cab. " That guy was so hot!  Did you get his phone number?" 

"Er, not exactly," I said, feeling his come dripping out onto the cab seat. " We just had a smoke and enjoyed each other's company." 

"What, you mean you talked for a while and didn't even get his phone number or give him yours?"  She looked shocked. 

"Actually..." I trailed off and pulled out the shiny toy. 

"Lynn!"  Jillian exclaimed. " You naughty birthday girl!  And you didn't even get his phone number?" 

By the time we pulled up to the club I felt refreshed.  My confidence had been boosted.  I still had it in me even at thirty-four.  The house, kids, and dog might have to wait, but at least, for a moment, I'd gotten the guy. 
**ANAL SUBMISSION... OR NOT**

D. L. King

**S** o, is it?"  I asked. " Is it a submissive act, when I tell you to fuck me in the ass?  Or, is your doing it the submissive act?" 

The thing is, I love anal sex.  I mean I really love it.  I love receiving it and I love giving it. 

He looked at me, somewhat at a loss. " Oh, come on.  I know you know the answer to this one.  All right, I'll make it easy for you.  Would my fucking you in the ass make me the dominant and you the submissive?" 

"Yes, Ma'am, of course it would," he said. 

"Why?" 

He paused.  I could see the wheels turning. " Because when I'm naked with you, I'm always the submissive." 

"That's a cop out, Christopher," I said. " We're talking about anal sex here.  Answer the question." 

"Okay, it's more than that.  When I'm naked and you're getting me ready to be fucked, it always makes me feel submissive.  Getting fucked by you makes me feel more submissive than any other thing we do.  When you fuck me, I feel owned; I feel like I'm  handing myself over to you.  It's kind of like giving myself permission to be who I am. 

"When you wear your cock, it's like you're ten feet tall and, when I'm bent over in front of you, waiting to feel your fingers slide into my ass, or your cock push inside, I guess it drives home the fact that I'm your boy."  He looked at me before continuing. " I know you'll fuck me until you're satisfied and I won't have a say in it.  And that's what I want, and you know it, and maybe it's the only thing that really relaxes me, you know, really makes me feel comfortable in my skin." 

"That's lovely, baby, if a little long winded."  I fingered his asshole with two black, latex gloved fingers."  I usually wore gloves when I played with Christopher's ass and genitals.  Not because I thought there was anything dirty about that, but because it drove him into even deeper submission.  The snap of the latex and the smooth feel of it on his balls and in his ass could always coax a whimper from him.  If we were doing a medical scene, I wore white gloves, but if I simply wanted to top him or feed his masochistic side, I wore black latex.  There's something slightly dangerous about black latex. 

I had Christopher positioned on his back, with his legs suspended.  A spreader bar between his ankles kept him open.  I like this position because I can play with him face-to-face.  I like to watch his eyes when I fuck him.  I like to know the effect I'm having on him. 

I gently fucked him with two fingers, slowly sliding them in and out of his accommodating anus and watched the corners of his mouth curve up into a smile and his eyes slowly close. " You like that, baby?"  He moaned and made little positive noises. " But what about me?" 

His eyes and smile remained the same. " Hmm?" 

I flicked the head of his cock and my fingers stilled in his ass.  His eyes flew open. 

"Pay attention.  We're having a conversation." 

"Yes, Ma'am.  Sorry, Ma'am." 

I went back to gently fingering him, but his eyes remained focused on  mine. " I said, what about me?  What about when I tell you to fuck my ass?  Is that a submissive act on my part—or on yours?" 

"No, Ma'am.  It's not submissive on your part." 

"Why not?"  I asked. " Why, if it's an act of submission for you, wouldn't it be for me, too?" 

"You could never be submissive."  He paused and then said, "It isn't in your nature." 

"You got that right," I said and smiled.  He smiled back and I gently prodded his prostate.  His muscles clenched around my fingers and his cock thickened. " There's a good boy," I said, going back to the gentle stimulation.  I pushed a gloved finger into his mouth.  He sucked on it and wrapped his tongue around it while I continued playing in his ass with my other hand.  His eyes watched me intently and I added a second finger, pushing them both in and out of his mouth with the same rhythm I was using in his ass. 

His eyes began to close again and his sucking got stronger.  He clenched his ass around my fingers and I watched his balls begin to tighten. " May I come, Ma'am?" 

"Certainly not," I said.  I pulled my fingers from his mouth and stopped fucking his ass, but left my fingers inside him.  I curled them, stroking his inner walls and said, "So if it's not submissive on my part, what is it?" 

He paused again.  I guess he was a bit distracted.  I watched his expression as he searched for the conversation thread that led to my question.  I thought he'd lost it, but then he said, "It's dominant." 

"How do you figure that?"  I asked, my fingers continuing to stroke his interior. 

"Are you gonna fuck me?  Please fuck me.  I need you to fuck me now." 

"Aren't you a greedy little boy?"  I smacked his face lightly. " Not on the agenda.  Now answer the question."  I could tell he'd forgotten it again. " Oh, good god, what a short attention span."  I smacked his nipple with the back of my gloved hand and was rewarded with his sharp intake of breath and the muscles inside him trying to crush my fingers. " I want to know  why you think fucking me in the ass would be dominant on my part, but when I do the same to you, you're being submissive." 

"Really?  Really?  We're gonna have this conversation now?"  I looked at him, my fingers continuing their slow stroking motion. " 'Cause you're dominant. _ You're_ dominant.  Nothing you do is submissive.  You tell me to do something and I do it.  You tell me to fuck you and I fuck you.  You tell me to stop fucking you, and no matter how close I am to coming or what I want, I stop fucking you.  Because you're dominant—and I'm not.  That's us; that's how this works—how we work.  It's what makes us happy.  Now, why can't you just fuck me, already?" 

"I said it's not on the agenda."  I pulled my fingers out, stood up and removed my gloves, throwing them in the trash.  I love the way he looks with his legs open and suspended, his ass red and glistening from the lube, his face flushed.  I walked over to the cabinet and removed the extra large stainless steel plug, the one that would seat itself inside him and not fall out, no matter what. " It's not on the agenda," I said, "because you're going to fuck me.  It's not always about you, you know," I said. 

I pumped some more lube onto his taint and watched it slowly run into his hole, then pumped some into my palm and rolled the plug in it.  His ass was relaxed and open, but it was a big plug.  I pushed it slowly past his sphincter, with very little resistance, until his body sucked it inside, up to the red-jeweled guard.  Once plugged, I went to the bathroom to get a towel and came back, cleaning my hands off.  I lowered his legs and removed the spreader bar, but left the cuffs on his ankles because I enjoy outward signs of his submission. 

"Sit on the edge of the bed, Christopher."  He slowly rolled over and backed off the bed, until he could stand and turn around before gingerly sitting down on the edge of the bed. " Now, open your legs and plant your butt on that bed."  I knew exactly how it felt.  Every motion reminded him about the two-pound ball of steel inside him, and that's what I wanted. " Stroke your cock for me, Baby.  Show me how much you want to be in my ass.  That's right."  He'd been fairly hard, off and on—mostly on— since I put the plug in, but he became appreciably harder as he watched me undress. 

I handed him the lube and a condom and got on my knees on the bed, resting my weight on my forearms. " You know what I like, baby."  Christopher has a great cock for anal sex.  It's about average length, but it's thick.  I like a nice thick cock in my ass.  I love that feeling of being stuffed full.  Anal sex is better than anything, in my book.  I felt his slick fingers smoothing lube against my pucker, and as he added more lube, his finger started to tease, rubbing back and forth and swirling around until the muscles began to relax. 

Anal sex takes time to do right and I'd taught him well.  He teased me until his finger went in easily.  Adding more lube, he fucked me with his finger until I was loose enough for two. 

"Now, Christopher," I said.  I don't like to be too open; I'm not one for three fingers before getting fucked.  I like the feeling of a cock having to push its way past my control.  I like it nice and tight.  I like to hear a guy moan when I squeeze him. 

I felt the head of Christopher's cock against my anus.  I reached behind and wrapped my hand around him, rubbing the head against my opening, making him groan.  A little more lube and he pushed the tip inside.  He knew just how I liked it.  A little push and a full stop; a little push and a full stop; another push and a full stop until, finally, he was balls deep. 

"Stay," I said.  My muscles squeezed him rhythmically, getting used to the feeling, kneading him until he growled.  I pulled away and pushed back against him.  He added more lube and I continued my dance, a little further with each push, fucking myself on his cock.  Once I'd established a rhythm, my thrusts became more and more powerful.  I pounded back against him with each one.  He couldn't remain passive and as he began to move with me, little whines escaped him.  I knew, the harder he fucked me, the more he was fucking himself with the steel plug in his ass as his muscles contracted against it and released with each stroke. 

I like nothing better than a long, hard pounding; my ass eats it up.  It's  kind of a mental thing as well as a physical thing.  It's like it feels so good against the nerve endings, but it's also like, "Wow, someone's in my ass.  There's a cock invading my ass, stretching me wide.  That's so dirty..." And it all adds to the intensity.  It's like that catch phrase I heard once, "Just the right amount of wrong." 

I rested my chest on the bed, ass in the air and attached to my boy, and reached underneath to touch myself.  Christopher's little noises were becoming more and more insistent and I briefly mused on whether to let him come, or not, but I couldn't keep my mind focused on anything more than the pure pleasure of the sex.  I decided he could do whatever he wanted, as long as he didn't do it before me, and buried two fingers in my cunt.  Christopher grunted when he felt my fingers on the other side of the wall between my ass and cunt.  I pressed the tips against him as he fucked me and moved my other hand underneath to stroke my clit. 

"Ma'am, may I come," he managed to pant out.  I ignored him.  I was on the verge of coming, myself.  Just a couple more strokes brought on my orgasm. 

Anal orgasms are the absolute strongest for me.  As a sensation of heat and cold rushed up from my toes to my brain, my ass squeezed Christopher's cock like a vise and he roared as I convulsed against him.  He couldn't last.  He couldn't possibly last.  His orgasm overtook him as I was feeling the tail end of mine. 

"Stay there," I said.  I slowly removed my fingers from my pussy and caught my breath as the walls of my ass kneaded his still-hard cock. " Hang onto that condom," I said as I slowly slithered away from the heat of his body until he fell out of me. 

"You came," I said.  I heard him take one last breath and hold it. " Go and take that filled condom off and clean yourself up," I said. " Leave the plug in.  Come back and I'll decide what to do with you." 

Yes, I know I actively made a decision not to decide.  Yes, he did ask permission.  Yes, I ignored him, which was tantamount to saying yes, and yes, really I was happy that he came as it added to my own pleasure.  But  as I watched him silently walk out of the room, head down, the red jewel nestled inside his muscular ass cheeks I couldn't help thinking that there's always time for a teaching moment. 

A submissive act?  I don't think so. 
**VERONICA'S ASS**

Matt Conklin

**M** y wife, Veronica, has the sweetest ass I've ever tasted.  I mean that both literally and figuratively.  It's curved so perfectly I can only imagine some divinity somewhere intended it to be used the way I use it, the way she likes me to use it.  I've been with women who loved nothing more than having their nipples sucked or pussies licked; one loved to have her feet massaged and swore she could come that way. 

But my Veronica is an ass girl and rightly so.  When she strides out of the house wearing a clingy red dress paired with matching heels and either fishnets or bare legs (and sometimes sans panties), her ass is what gets noticed.  She is a curvy, sensual woman who never misses a chance to play up her assets or let me play with them. 

If we're standing in line waiting for a movie, I'll stand behind her and "accidentally" brush against her sweet cheeks, while she'll find any opportunity to bend over and show off her greatest asset. 

A typical morning will start with her prodding me awake, rubbing her luscious, naked body against me.  She's smooth all over, with long, silky brown hair that tickles my skin.  I'm pelted all along my chest and arms, but  she says she likes it, nuzzling her cheeks against my nipples, seducing me before I've fully woken.  It's when she turns around that I fully rise, in all senses of the word. 

Her butt beckons to me, the pale, round skin so inviting.  I reach for those cheeks and squeeze, and she moans.  I pull them apart and she gasps.  I lift my head and grab her so my tongue can nuzzle her pussy and she squats over me, her ass resting against my forehead, my tongue deep inside her wetness.  I greet the day by greeting her pussy, my dick getting hard.  Sometimes it wants to fuck her ass, to enter into that forbidden hole—well, forbidden for other people, not pervs like us. 

Other times I'm content to simply fondle her butt, to see where it leads me.  This morning, in fact, I ate her to an orgasm that had her trembling so hard she almost toppled over.  She laughed as she caught herself, then turned around to kiss her taste from my lips.  Her pale, lightly freckled cheeks were red, her eyes dancing as she wiggled around me.  Something in me stirred and I sat up and positioned her so she was bent over the bed, ass in the air.  Except as gorgeous as it was, that wasn't enough, not at that moment. 

"Step back, Veronica," I said. " Show me that beautiful ass and your pretty pink lips."  She whimpered and did as I said, bending so her hands were wrapped around her ankles.  There are times when I want to take her so hard, viciously, I suppose, even though she's the love of my life.  Maybe because we're both so secure in what we have, we can treat each other the way some people only do in fantasy.  Who knows, really? 

All I know is that when I pressed her body tight to mine and slammed my cock hard inside her, she felt so tight, so perfect, so wonderful.  I grabbed her asscheeks and leaned forward, maximizing the effect. " Hold on, baby," I said, and looked down, watching as my very hard cock disappeared inside her.  Somehow, even after all these years, that sight never gets old and always feels a little bit like a magic trick.  Not that my dick disappears, but that it feels so damn good, like I'm a virgin again. 

I feel her twisting, squeezing me inside while her hips rock just  enough, and I grunt.  I slap her ass, then slap her back, loving the noise, the freedom to grab her and use her in any way I please, because I know her so well.  I reach for that shiny hair and tug, bending her head back, while my other hand seeks and finds her clit.  I pinch it just enough to feel a corresponding tug deep inside. 

"That's it, baby, I'm gonna come soon," I say, and we shift again so she's back to the original position, head tilted on the bed so I can see her, hair spilling onto the sheets.  Her eyes are closed, but it's like I can see inside her mind, and I watch her as I feel my come burst out from me and fill her up.  Tears spring to my eyes as I struggle to catch my breath.  Veronica's ass—her whole body—brings out something in me that makes me feel like I'd die happy if I died fucking her. 

I pull out and we kiss softly, then less softly.  She slips into her purple silk robe, then sits on my lap, but I can still feel the globes of her ass pressing against me, so warm, so delicious. " Put on your thong," I tell her. " The one I like the best."  I know she still has my come inside her, that it'll probably drip out and wet the fabric, and that makes me smile. 

She gets up and, like a burlesque dancer, drops the robe down so I can see her perfect backside and then that ass.  I want to bite it and spank it and stroke it and fuck it all at once.  Instead I watch her put on the thong, then check herself out in the mirror.  I see how it perfectly bisects her bottom and know that all day, when she feels it, she'll think of me. 

There are people who say it's hard to keep the sex alive in a marriage, and maybe it is; we've certainly had our moments when it wasn't smooth sailing.  But whenever I've been even vaguely tempted to stray, all I have to do is think about Veronica's ass to know that there is nothing better in this world.  I'm a lucky man, and I make sure Veronica—and her ass—knows it. 
**ABOUT THE AUTHORS**

**TENILLE BROWN** is a Southern, shoe-shopping, wine-drinking writer whose erotica has been published online and in over thirty print anthologies including _Ultimate Lesbian Erotica 2007_ , _Fast Girls_ , _Making the Hook Up_ , _Iridescence_ , _F Is for Fetish_ and _Best Bondage Erotica 2011_.  She blogs at thesteppingstone.blogspot.com and tweets @TheRealTenille. 

**GWEN MASTERS** (gwenmasters.net) has seen hundreds of her short stories published in print and online, and her erotic novels have been translated into half a dozen different languages.  When she's not writing smut, she is exploring the world with a camera, researching interesting yet obscure topics, hopping a plane every few weeks, and masquerading as a serious news journalist. 

**DONNA GEORGE STOREY** is the author of _Amorous Woman_ , a steamy novel about an American woman's love affair with Japan.  Her short fiction has appeared in _Passion: Erotic Romance for Women_ ; _Alison's Wonderland_ ; and _Best Women's Erotica_.  Read more of her work at www.DonnaGeorgeStorey.com. 

**JOLENE HUI** 's literary fiction has been published in _Tonto Short Stories_ , _Tonto Christmas Stories_ and _More Tonto Short Stories._  She's been published by a variety of newspapers, magazines, websites, Cleis Press, Pretty Things Press, Logical-Lust and Alyson Books.  She is based in Los Angeles. 

Editor of _Carnal Machines_ , _Spank_ , _The Sweetest Kiss_ , and _Where the Girls Are_ , **D. L. KING** has contributed short stories to _Best Lesbian Erotica_ , _Best Women's Erotica_ , _Girl Crazy_ , and _Broadly Bound_ , among others.  She's published two novels and edits the erotica review site _Erotica Revealed_.  Find her at www.dlkingerotica.com. 

**MATT CONKLIN** turns his perverted pursuits into erotic fiction whenever he has the chance.  Look for his work in _The Mile High Club_ , _He's on Top_ , and other books. 
Copyright © 2012 by Cleis Press. 

All rights reserved.  Except for brief passages quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio, or television reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. 

Published in the United States by Cleis Press Inc.,   
2246 Sixth Street, Berkeley, California 94710. 

eISBN : 978-1-573-44937-3
