Heat Wave Read online

  Then he picked her up and carried her down the beach toward the rocks. On a flat rock nestled within the tide, he set her down and went to work on every inch of her body, as she ached for more of his touch and more of his warm and pleasurable mouth. It sent butterflies all throughout Mallory’s body. The feel of his hot breath made her even hotter.

  With the water pooling around them on the rock, Damien planted his feet in the ocean’s floor and brought Mallory to the edge of the rock, the perfect height to enter her. With the waves crashing against their makeshift bed, Mallory felt the spray of the ocean washing over her skin as Damien penetrated her first with his fingers. The mix of salt, sweat, and sex made them wild and free. He kissed her hard on the mouth and rubbed his hands all along her back, down to her ass. She pushed her breasts out for him to suck and he slid his pulsing cock deep inside her. She let out a soft moan and he reached up to her face and put one finger in her mouth. With the wetness he found there he trailed down to her breasts, nipples erect and begging for more. He held her close as he came, kissing the crook of her neck, his hand clutching her ass. He loosened his grip as the waves of his pleasure slowed. Then he laid her back down on the rock as he took her to orgasm, plunging his fingers into her cunt.

  On that rock, they sat and held each other. As Damien kissed her neck, Mallory could smell her scent on his lips. He brought them to hers and they kissed, soft and sweet.

  “Hello,” he said with a smile.

  Staying Cool

  MICHELLE HOUSTON

  Emily sat behind her desk, not even attempting to stop her students from talking and laughing. There was no point in fighting it. The evidence of upcoming summer break wafted through the open windows with the smell of freshly cut grass and warm winds. As she counted the seconds until the bell rang, she fought the urge to rub her aching temples.

  The sound of the bell was barely audible over the clamor the students made as they hustled from the room. Bubbling over with energy, they all looked forward to three months of no school.

  Leaning back in her chair, Emily propped her feet up on her desk and mentally admitted to herself that three months of no students, and long, leisurely days by the pool at her friend Renee’s apartment, sounded heavenly at that moment.

  The last week of school was always bad, as she had heard from the other teachers, but she’d had no clue just how bad it really was. As her students all turned in last-minute papers and she had to rush to grade them, without handing out any new work, there was plenty for her to do, but nothing except busy work for the students.

  Listening to students in the hallways, slamming lockers and hollering at each other, she gave in to the urge to close her eyes and massage her temples. Renee leaned in the doorway and watched her friend. “Going to stay here all summer?” she asked, with a teasing grin.

  “Nope, just until I have enough energy to move,” Emily opened her eyes and glared at her fellow eighth-grade teacher. “How is it that you have so much energy?”

  Renee moved into the room and closed the door, masking the clatter of hundreds of students racing up and down the hallways, gathering all the personal belongings they had waited until the last minute to collect.

  “Well, Hon, since my last hour of the day is a planning period, I have had an hour to recoup my scattered brain cells. Plus, this isn’t my first year teaching, I’ve had some time to get used to the end-of-the-year rush.”

  Emily sighed and closed her eyes again. “Does it get easier every year?”

  Renee laughed, “Not easier, you just become better prepared for it.”

  Moving to stand behind Emily, she settled her hands on the silk of her friend’s shirt and gently massaged her shoulders, her light caramel-colored skin a striking contrast with the white of the silk.

  Emily purred softly as she felt a month’s worth of tension beginning to ease. “God, Renee, your hands should be put to better use than holding chalk and grading papers.”

  Chuckling, Renee worked the knots from Emily’s shoulders. “Some of us are getting together at my place next Friday to celebrate the end of another school year. You’re welcome to join us.”

  Emily opened her eyes and tipped her head back to rest against her friend’s stomach. “Thanks, Renee, you’ve been great. I don’t think I would have made it this far without your support.”

  Renee grinned and patted Emily’s shoulders before moving to sit on the edge of her desk. “Not a problem. Only two years ago, I was facing the same issues as you. I had help my first year, and besides, it’s part of being friends. Now, I’ve got to get out of here and get ready for my date tonight. See you next Friday?”

  Emily stood and hugged Renee, barely registering that her friend’s nipples were hard and straining against her shirt, as she pressed close. “Yes, Renee, I’ll be there.”

  The next week and a half passed slowly for Emily. After the hustle and running around of the last nine-and-a-half months, she found herself bored after two days of summer vacation. She had quickly run out of things to do. She had nowhere she had to be at any given moment. Although the thought of not having to schedule time to lounge in the sun definitely appealed to her.

  By the time Friday evening arrived, she was eagerly looking forward to Renee’s party, just to have something to do. The summer lay before her, relaxing yet lonely at the same time.

  The day’s hot, muggy air lay heavy on the city as she wondered what to wear. As little as possible, while still being decent, she thought. She didn’t know which of Renee’s various circles of friends would be attending the party, so it was always hard to decide what would fit.

  A tank top and jean shorts would be the most comfortable given the current heat wave, but after holding them up to herself in front of the mirror, she tossed them aside as too skimpy. Her favorite dress, a simple black number, would be too confining, and the outfits she normally wore to class were too bland.

  Finally she settled on a light-blue silk pantsuit, which perfectly matched her eyes. Once dressed, she took the time to apply a light coat of pale pink lip gloss and blush on her naturally pretty face. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but knowing Renee, the party would be fun.

  It only took her a half-hour to get from her place to Renee’s, but already she was tingling with excitement, and dampened by sweat since her car’s A/C had given out the week before.

  She couldn’t wait to get inside, to a nice air-conditioned room. Even with the sun setting, the heat was enough to add to her light sheen of sweat by the time she reached the door to her friend’s apartment. She knocked lightly on the door, confused by the lack of festive noises. There was no sound of a party in the place. After a moment, Renee opened the door.

  “Emily?” Renee gasped, “Oh, hell, I forgot to call and let you know. The party was moved to next weekend.” Standing against the door, Renee did her best to block Emily’s view of the inside of her apartment.

  “Oh,” Emily replied, already bummed at the idea of another boring week ahead. “I don’t suppose you want to hang out?”

  “Renee, lover, who is it?” Pulling the door slightly open, a petite blonde peeked out, only to blush at Emily’s gasp.

  “Hi, Emily.”

  “Julie?” Emily couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. Renee was in her apartment wearing only a robe, and Julie, a fellow teacher, was with her. Nearly naked but for a see-through negligee of pale green silk, Julie settled against Renee’s side.

  Emily could feel a curiosity welling inside her, but she did her best to tamp it down, even though the warm sensation in her stomach was nice.

  “I guess I should go, then,” Emily stammered. While she watched, Renee slid a hand around Julie’s side and clasped her closer to her own taller frame.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, Renee. I’m sorry I interrupted.” Moving away from the door, Emily heard a giggle escape before it closed.

  The drive home was a test of patience, as her car air conditioner still refused to cooperate. By the time she
arrived at her simple two-bedroom rental, the backs of her legs were sticky with sweat. While happy to be out of the heat, Emily found herself restless. She had planned all week to be at a party, and now that she wasn’t, she didn’t quite know what to do with herself. After lowering the settings on the air conditioner, she crossed the room to find something to do.

  Riffling through her to-be-read stack of books, her half-finished craft projects, and four monthly magazine subscriptions offered nothing of interest.

  In boredom, she sat on the couch and turned on the TV, quickly scanning through the channels, before deciding to be adventurous and look at the listings for Pay Per View. New releases that her students had talked about flashed by as she scrolled, none of them catching her interest for more than the few moments it took to read the description.

  Emily soon found herself scanning the adult-channel listings. Giggling at some of the titles, she couldn’t help looking at a listing for a Summer of Girl Love Marathon. Remembering the way Julie’s hand had settled so perfectly against Renee’s hip, the way their bodies stood close together in the doorway, she could easily imagine them making love.

  Fighting the urge, Emily clicked the remote to start back at the beginning and started to scroll through the basic channels again, debating her options of reruns and the news. Selecting a Law & Order episode she had seen dozens of times before, she found she couldn’t concentrate on the TV. Thoughts of her friend with another woman skimmed through her mind. The Summer of Girl Love Marathon intrigued her, teasing at the edge of her thoughts.

  Clicking on the channel guide again, she scrolled through the channels once again, even as she questioned the sanity of her actions. Women weren’t her thing. Sure, women were beautiful and sexy and sensual and soft, everything men were not. And a woman was capable of so much more, emotionally—but still, she wasn’t into women. Had never even thought about them that way, before today.

  Looking at the description again, Emily felt her pussy grow unexpectedly damp. Even as she told herself to turn off the TV and head to bed, she selected the lesbian marathon.

  She settled into the soft cushioning of the couch and watched as two women appeared on the screen, obviously a rich white society wife and her maid. The air conditioner chose that moment to kick on, sending a gust of cool air across her sweat-dampened body. Her nipples immediately tightened, straining against her bra.

  As the cheesy and predictable plot progressed, the wife seduced the maid into removing her clothes, with an offer to try on a glamorous evening gown. While the maid undressed, the wife leaned back on the bed and masturbated.

  Watching the pink pussy being spread open for the camera, Emily couldn’t believe how perfect it looked, so sweet and succulent. The lips were a blushing shade of red as they puffed up under the woman’s touch. For a moment it wasn’t the actress’s body on the bed, it was Julie, spread out before her in all of her glory, her shaven pussy parted and glistening in the dimmed light. Closing her eyes, Emily forced the image from her mind’s eye, then opened them again to find the actress back on the screen.

  The wife pulled the maid onto the bed with her. Seeing the other woman’s face buried between her lover’s legs, the pink of her tongue contrasting with the red of her boss’s lips, Emily couldn’t hold back a moan. Hetero porno had never done anything for her. She couldn’t get into the fast-paced fucking, the fake moaning, and the lack of a plot. But seeing two women on the screen, kissing and licking each other’s pussy, had her feeling breathless despite the stereotypical setup. Glancing down, she could almost imagine Renee’s kinky black curls between her legs, then her head lifting, her smiling ruby lips glistening with pussy juices.

  Closing her eyes again, Emily slid a hand down and softly rubbed the crotch of her silk pants. Feeling the material growing damp, she moved her hands to the buttons of her blouse and unbuttoned them, pulling her blouse free from her pants and shrugging it off her shoulders. Kicking off her shoes, she stood and quickly removed her pants. She sat down again, clad only in her bra and panties. The sensations racing through her body were familiar, yet they had a delicious current to them she hadn’t experienced before. Something just felt right about watching the women on the screen touch and tease each other.

  Sliding the lace of her panties aside, Emily softly stroked her pussy lips as the women licked each other to orgasm in their sapphic sixty-nine.

  Rubbing her clit in little circles, Emily soon had herself gasping and grinding her crotch against her fingers as she orgasmed. Watching the women on the screen, their faces coated in love juices, their eyes closed in ecstasy, she whimpered her release.

  As her breathing calmed, she felt satisfied but oddly still in need. Sliding her fingers down between her lips, she gently thrust two into her aching pussy, and was soon rubbing her clit with one hand as she finger-fucked her pussy with the other. Thrusting her fingers in faster, she watched as the dark-haired maid strapped on a dildo and fucked her employer.

  Trembling and gasping as her orgasm crested, Emily kept her eyes glued to the TV, unwilling to miss even a moment as she worked her quivering flesh into another climax.

  After driving herself into a third orgasm, Emily finally felt the familiar sensation of tiredness filling her limbs. Lying back on the couch, she removed her fingers from her pussy and suddenly had the urge to taste them. She tentatively flicked her tongue against her fingers, then sucked them all quickly into her mouth. Moaning at the taste, she closed her eyes and savored her musky juices as the credits for the first movie rolled up the screen.

  Settling into the soft cushions of the couch, Emily tried to convince herself to turn off the TV and head to bed. She even opened her eyes long enough to locate the remote before the urge passed. Snuggling into the cushions, she pulled her shirt over her sweat-glistened flesh and tried to think about what the last hour meant, but her eyes drifted closed despite her best efforts. Its pull too strong, she soon surrendered to sleep. Tomorrow would be early enough for questions and whatever answers they would bring.

  Across the room, the TV flickered with the opening scene of the next movie. Two women were in a pool, making love, staying cool on a hot summer night.

  Tan Lines

  THOMAS S. ROCHE

  Normally she dresses a little sexy, a little saucy, a little provocative. Just a little bit like a slut. But on those rare days when the sun comes out, the mercury climbs, and San Francisco becomes a summer city—be it in June, September, or February—things change. The moderately tight, somewhat low-cut jeans are traded in for shorts that leave much less to the imagination, and the snug belly-baring T-shirts vanish in favor of cropped spaghetti-strap baby tanks, and whether or not there’s a bra cradling her teacup breasts, her prominent, easily hardened nipples show tantalizingly through and drive me crazy.

  Tan lines only add to the provocative display, because my fair-skinned northern European princess also sports a healthy dollop of Italian blood, and after a couple of days or a week of this she’s got a pale line or two where her robust golden brown is decorated by the slutty white-hot stroke of yesterday’s misplaced spaghetti strap, last week’s thong peeking above the waist of her shorts, Saturday morning’s infinitesimal bikini top as she dozed in the sun with a forgotten porn novel splayed next to her. She asked me once if the tan lines bothered me. I told her they made me want to fuck her so hard she’d scream.

  Mid-June found us on wooden benches sipping wellearned iced lattes under the magnolias of a favorite café patio on the pregnant edge of a not yet tourist-swollen Golden Gate Park. While a few scattered spandex-clad early birds drank fitness water next to their expensive Bianchis, Vanessa inspected the Sunday comics and I sketched her in my spiralbound sketchbook. I could never get her quite right—or, that is to say, I could get everything right except the tan lines. It’s next to impossible to render tan lines in pencil, and Vanessa’s have a texture to them that is unmatched, as if you placed Italy on top of Norway and the white snow poked through the rolling
Neapolitan fields. Today the mercury promised to hit triple digits for the third straight day, and Vanessa’s tan had already begun to glow deliciously. The more it glowed, the more she liked to show it off.

  My rendering of Vanessa’s breasts was even more salacious than the original, her nipples showing dark through the tight red baby tank as if it were made of mesh. When I showed her my drawing, she frowned.

  “Are my tits really that big?” she asked.

  “Bigger,” I promised her. “Or at least, the nipples are. Especially right now.”

  It’s hard to make Vanessa blush, especially after she’s had a few days to tan. But when she looked down and saw that her nipples, indeed, had hardened on some 10 A.M. breeze and were showing more clearly than ever through the thin fabric of her top, I could have sworn I saw that lush tan darken a bit more.

  But when she looked up, she was smiling. I felt her bare foot snaking up the side of my leg; she had kicked off her sandals. She quickly located what she wanted and began to knead and stroke. She found me already halfway hard.