H Is for Hardcore Read online

  The blond raised his head and stared at the hand jerking his cock, his face dazed and his stomach heaving to the beat of the fist in his guts. “I’m gonna blow,” he hissed.

  The guy fisting him never stopped pumping the iron-hard dick as come arced into the air, the first shot hitting the blond’s chest then dribbling into little puddles on his belly. A third guy leaned over and licked up the blond guy’s come, then took two steps back and shot his own load in the blond’s face.

  “Jesus,” I whispered, my clit twitching like crazy. I needed to jerk off now more than ever and wondered if I could just go lean against the wall like a few other guys I could see were doing and get a quick shot off.

  “That’s his lover,” Jerry whispered, pointing to the guy who’d just blasted off in the blond’s face.

  “Who’s their friend?” I asked, tipping my chin toward the dark-haired guy who eased his hand out of the blond’s ass, stripped off a glove, and tossed it on the floor.

  “That’s who I want you to meet.”

  Before I could reply, the fister turned to face us, and I was looking at a woman so hot I forgot all about my stiff clit and needing to jerk off. Her eyes were dark like her hair and her expression remote, as if she hadn’t just fucked some guy for an audience. She had smallish breasts about like mine and stomach muscles that were etched and pumped from the workout she’d just had. Her mons was trimmed, not shaved, and framed by her chaps, which was all she was wearing. From what I could see of her cunt, it was swollen and shining with come. If she hadn’t gotten off during the fisting, she must really need it bad now.

  “Ask her if I could please suck her off,” I said desperately to Jerry, having no idea what the correct protocol was, but I didn’t care. “Ask her please. Anything she wants if I can just suck her clit.”

  I stood still while Jerry made his way to her and said something. Then she stared at me for a long moment before walking over. I didn’t say anything as she held open the edges of my vest and stared at my breasts. She flicked one nipple ring with a long finger.

  “Are these for show?”

  “No,” I croaked.

  She unzipped my leathers and slid her hand down my pants. I sucked in a breath as she explored my clit with one finger. After a minute of that I started to sway, but I was afraid to touch her to steady myself.

  “What do you want?” she asked, dragging her fingertip up one side of my clit and down the other, over the head and back again.

  “I want to suck you off.”

  She pulled her hand out of my pants and I fought not to whimper. “What about that pretty little hard-on you’ve got in your pants?”

  “I’d like to come for you,” I whispered. “I’d like to come for you harder than I’ve ever come for anyone.”

  “Any way I want it?”

  “Yes.”

  She gripped my wrist and dragged me through the crowd, past the sling where she’d fucked the guy, to the corner where a padded pole a foot thick ran from the floor to the ceiling. She stripped off my vest and dropped it on the floor, slammed my back up against the pole, and jerked my arms around behind it. I felt her buckle leather shackles on my wrists before she came back to face me. She yanked my pants down to my ankles and kicked my feet as far apart as they would go.

  “Is there anything you want me to know?” she said, rubbing her palms in rough circles over my breasts, bringing my nipples screaming back to life again.

  “I don’t fuck men.”

  “What else?”

  “I’m not sucking anybody’s cock.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  She grabbed my face and shoved her tongue into my mouth. I couldn’t breathe, so I bit her, just hard enough to make her ease back. Then I sucked her tongue until she couldn’t breathe.

  She pulled out and licked my lips like she wanted to eat them off my face, flicking her tongue into my mouth too fast for me to catch it again, although I snapped my teeth and tried. She laughed.

  “You think I’d waste these sweet lips on a cock?” She bit my lower lip and twisted my nipple rings. I whimpered. “I’m saving your mouth to come in myself.”

  Breathing fast, she rubbed her cunt on my leg. She was hot and slippery and her clit was a hard knot in the center. “I’m going to drown you in juice.”

  She kept at it, rubbing and sliding, until she shivered once, hard, and jerked away without coming. My cunt was spilling and I was drenched to my knees with her come and mine. She forked her fingers, clamped my clit in the vee, and squeezed.

  “Fuck,” I whispered, sagging against the pole.

  “You’ve got a nice fat one, don’t you?” she murmured, jacking me slowly. Too slowly to make me come but enough to make me need to so fucking bad tears leaked out of my eyes. She pinched the head with her nails and I did cry. “Poor baby. Let me make that better.”

  “Please,” I begged, all pride washed away in the sea of blood pooled in my cunt. I wondered if I was supposed to resist, but I didn’t care now. I just wanted to come.

  She pulled something off the waistband of her chaps at the same time as she spread my cunt open with one hand. I couldn’t see much, but when I looked down, my clit was standing up between her fingers. Even in the dim light I could tell it was wet and the dark color it got when I was about to come. If she jacked me now, I’d shoot.

  She did, and my legs started shaking and my clit got extra hurting-hard, the way it did when I was ten seconds from coming.

  “I’m almost there,” I said because I thought I should tell her, but she must have known because she stopped cold. “I’m about to come…please.”

  “Breathe, baby,” she whispered, and before I knew what she was doing, she replaced her fingers on my clit with a two-inch spring-loaded clamp. It closed onto the shaft of my clit with a snap and the rows of blunt teeth dug in and banished the blossoming orgasm into oblivion.

  I screamed.

  “Shh, shh, shh,” she crooned, her mouth on my neck oddly gentle as she licked the sweat and tears that ran down from my face. She rubbed my lower belly, pressing into me in deep circles that somehow made the profound ache inside almost bearable. “Does it hurt, baby?”

  “Yes,” I whimpered. My cunt throbbed like someone had kicked me, and needles of pain speared through my clit.

  “You’ve got a beautiful clit,” she whispered, jiggling the clamp with one finger. “Look how big you are now.”

  I bent my head and tried to see, but the tears clouded my vision. My clit pulsed between the jaws to the beat of my heart, and I felt something else, something even more powerful than the pain. “I need to come.”

  She flipped the clamp back and forth. The pressure surged in my clit and my cunt opened and closed like a fist.

  “Oh, fuck, that’s so fucking good.”

  She gripped the clamp and twisted.

  “I want to come so bad.”

  “And I want you harder. Harder than you’ve ever been for anybody.” She pulled my nipple ring and jacked my clit with the clamp. The teeth dug into the hood and pulled it back and forth over the head with every tug—pleasure, pain, pleasure, pain, pleasure, pain. “Now you might be hard enough to shoot a nice load for me.”

  “I don’t think I can,” I moaned. The clit torture wasn’t hitting me right to get me off. “I really need to come.”

  “Watch me do you, baby.”

  I tightened my stomach and bowed forward, shaking sweat from my face so it wouldn’t run into my eyes. My clit was stretched out, impossibly swollen, the head bulging beyond the clamp. Seeing her fingers, slick with my come, tugging the clamp was too much. “Oh, God, you don’t know how bad I need to come. I think my clit’s gonna burst.”

  “Now it might,” she said, and pulled off the clamp.

  Blood rushed in, my clit doubled in size. The nerves in the head short-circuited from the sudden stimulation. Pain and pleasure blasted up my spine in equal measure. I thrashed and tried to get loose. I h
ad to hold it, rub it, do something, anything, to stop the agony.

  “What’s the matter,” she whispered, fingering my nipple rings rapidly again.

  “I gotta come,” I howled. There were more people around us now, most just staring, a couple jerking off. I didn’t care about them. I didn’t care about anything except coming.

  “Let me help you.” She fingered the head and, oh, God, it hurt. It was so good and it hurt and I wanted to come so much and it hurt and I couldn’t and I was fucking dying.

  “Oh, Jesus, don’t touch it!” I moaned. “It’s too hard now. It hurts. Oh, Jesus. Fuck.” I was blubbering, tossing my head around.

  She seized my face again and forced me to look into her eyes. “Shut up and breathe.” She kissed me, so gently I felt like she was rocking me in her arms. “I’m gonna make you come, baby, so sweet.”

  She kept kissing me, her tongue delving deeper and deeper until I was sucking it again. Then I felt her fingers glide over my clit and my body jerked. She rubbed it and it felt so good and I moaned. She backed out of my mouth and straddled my leg, her wet cunt hot enough to burn my skin. She whimpered and I realized how long she’d been holding back.

  Some guy close to us groaned, and I could hear the frenzied slap of his hand on his cock, and she growled, “Shoot on the floor, cocksucker, not on her,” and he did.

  “Get ready, baby.” Then she lowered her head and took my nipple in her mouth, chewing on my nipple and tonguing the ring while she switched her grip on my clit and started to jack me. With so much stimulation happening everywhere at once—her cunt, her fingers, her mouth—the pain in my tortured clit didn’t prevent the orgasm from building this time. My clit couldn’t get any harder, but it started to throb inside, and the pressure spread into my belly, and I knew nothing was going to stop me.

  “I’m gonna come,” I cried, and my cunt started to spasm.

  She shoved her fingers into me and raised her head to stare at my face. “Give it to me.” Her palm thudded against my unyielding clit as she fucked me, and I unloaded into her hand and over her arm, crying and yelling Oh fucking God it’s so good…

  She didn’t quit until there wasn’t a drop left in me and I was twisting to get away from her fingers, my clit so fucked out I wasn’t sure I’d ever need to come again. She reached behind me and released my hands and I fell to my knees, trying to drag air into my lungs. She didn’t care if I could breathe or not. She grabbed my head and tilted my face up and jammed her clit into my mouth.

  “Now suck me off,” she ordered through gritted teeth, her clit like rock and already jumping. She bucked her hips and pumped her clit in and out of the circle of my lips, jerking herself off in my mouth.

  She was starting to come, so I sucked her just hard enough to keep her clit in my mouth. I wanted it to last for her.

  “Here it comes, baby,” she gasped, her fingers trembling in my hair. “Get ready to swallow. Sweet baby, you’re making me come.”

  I clutched her ass and yanked her hard against my face, sucking her clit in to the root and clamping my teeth around it. She cried out and ejaculated on my face and I felt her legs go. I wrapped my arms tightly around her thighs to hold her up because I knew she would hate to go down in front of everybody. When she stopped coming I licked up the juice that clung to her cunt and tongued her clit until she murmured a protest and pulled away.

  Somehow I got my legs under me and heaved myself to my feet, hauling my pants up with me. My clit was still so tender I couldn’t zip them. The dark-haired girl backed me into the pole again and leaned her arms on either side of my head so she could lick her come off my face. Her whole body trembled, and I risked putting my arms around her.

  “That was sweet, baby,” she whispered so no one else could hear.

  I kissed her and she let me, and as I played my tongue inside her hot mouth, I realized that I had been wrong about what I had been looking for. What she had given me was sweeter than sweet.

  JOHN A. BURKS, JR.

  CONTROL

  HIS LIFE WAS ABOUT CONTROL, power…domination. It didn’t matter if it was at home, with the perfect wife and the perfect kids who worshiped him, or at work, dictating to the board of directors of a Fortune 500 company. It didn’t matter where Benjamin Friar was, control was the only issue that mattered. It was what separated man from the animals. Power was absolute.

  Not that having his secretary bent over the mahogany desk, panties around her ankles, his cock in her ass, was much different than the animals.

  “You like that, you dirty little bitch?” he asked, already knowing the answer. There was a reason he’d hired the voluptuous blonde and it wasn’t her typing skills.

  “Yes, Mr. Friar,” she replied, gasping for breath, “more please.”

  Helen didn’t really like anal sex. He knew that, but making her say it…that was control, just as having her face shoved against his day planner, mascara and sweat leaving a black stain across his Thursday ten o’clock, was control.

  Benjamin thrust harder, savoring the sound of the flesh of his thighs against the fatty part of her ass. “I know you do. All my little whores like it in the ass.”

  The secretary shifted, grabbing at his cock with her cheeks. “Yes, Mr. Friar, fuck me harder.”

  He savored the discomfort on her face and relished the thought of her walking funny the rest of the day. He pumped harder, quicker, nearing climax, as the phone on his desk rang.

  “Fuck,” he spat in disgust, pulling out and reaching for the phone. The moment had been lost, his control broken by the chirping of plastic and electronics.

  “Mr. Friar?”

  “Yeah, maybe later, sweets,” he told her, smacking her on the ass.

  “You sure? I still have a few minutes before my break is over.”

  He waved her away, picking up the phone. “Later.”

  “Have you really lived?” the voice on the other end of the phone, dark and rich and most definitely female, asked him.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “It was a simple question, Mr. Friar.”

  He started to hang up, but the woman’s voice was intriguing. “I’d like to think I have.”

  “You tasted flesh of every continent on this small world, Mr. Friar, sampled every delight you’ve ever desired. You’re CEO of one of the largest telecom companies in the world, having made your first million at the ripe old age of twenty-one.” The woman paused, and Benjamin imagined her taking a deep drag on a cigarette and blowing smoke into a darkened room. “You’ve done and seen more than most men twice you age, but have you really lived?”

  He squirmed uncomfortably in his leather chair. The person on the other end of the line knew more about him than he’d like. “Who is this?”

  “You still haven’t answered the question, Mr. Friar. Are you fulfilled? Can you die today and be a happy man?”

  “Yes,” Benjamin replied without hesitation. He was at the top of the world. What else could there be? He was master of all he saw.

  “That’s too bad. I thank you for your time.”

  “Wait,” he demanded, hesitating. “What’s this about?”

  “This is about fantasy, Mr. Friar, and fulfillment. Possibly fulfillment of fantasies you don’t yet know you have.”

  “That’s silly. How could you fulfill a fantasy I don’t have?”

  Again the woman paused and his imagination ran wild. “Is it not equally silly to write off something you have no clue of?”

  It was Benjamin’s turn to pause. “Okay, say I bite. What does this cost me?”

  “Always to the point, right, Mr. Friar?”

  “Yes, to the point. How much?”

  “That’s entirely up to you. Payment is not due until the end of the service. You pay what you feel it was worth.”

  “You’re kidding, right? What if I’m not happy? Hell, I could just say I wasn’t happy.”

  “There’s only one way to find out, Mr. Friar.”

  Her voice captivated him an
d it didn’t take long for him to agree. She gave him a time and a location, said good-bye wistfully, and his mind raced, yet there was concern. He wasn’t in control here. Far from it.

  But something about that tantalized him, and he could think of nothing else as he slipped away from the office early.

  The blue-collar bar stank of cheap liquor and cigarette smoke. It wasn’t the sort of place he’d normally be caught in, but this was different. He understood this could be a strange sort of setup. His wife knew of his habits, of course. How could she not know of the trips to the Costa Rican whorehouses, the calls in the middle of the night, the lipstick on the underwear? Benjamin supposed she might finally be fed up, anxious to exert her own control over the situation, but having the imagination to do something this elaborate, just to prove his philandering ways, was beyond her.

  And besides, who did she know with a voice like that?

  “Mr. Friar?”

  The man behind him was a walking wall covered in the graffiti of one too many trips to jail. His face was impassive and hard.

  “That’s me.”

  “Come with me, sir.”

  The big man turned toward the back door, and Benjamin hesitated. What if this was some bizarre kidnapping scheme? He shook his head, dismissing the thought. It could be a thousand things other than what the crimson-voiced woman on the phone had said it was. He had no control.

  And that scared the living shit out of him.

  The bar’s back door opened into a small alleyway, moonlight making dancing shadows of the piles of garbage and empty beer cases.

  “Say, if this is a fucking blow job behind a bar…sorry, I’m not interested.”

  Benjamin didn’t see the fist as it slammed into his face, driving him backward. He tried to struggle, but the vice grips locked around his arms and a black bag was forced over his head.