Best Women's Erotica(38)

The king’s ass squeezes in time with his thrusts. His mask barely moves as he fucks her; he is a strong, taut machine of pelvic action. Only a trickle of sweat dividing his pecs hints at his efforts.

The two other slave girls abandon their positions and bend over before him. He fucks them all, one after another, holding their hips and driving into them like a rocket, making them squeal and bounce for real. This isn’t acting. The girls are coming, coming in wet, gasping little throbs from the glory of that huge royal cock fucking them into oblivion.

The crew is barely breathing. King Slut at last pulls out and strokes his cock until he comes all over his own godlike chest. The slave girls eagerly lick it off his muscles like hungry kittens.

“Cut,” says the director.




On a rainy Thursday afternoon, Cecilia goes downtown to the sushi restaurant where Adam is a server. It’s almost three and she’s hoping the hour, the lull between lunch and dinner, will mean the restaurant is empty and she can have Adam’s attention to herself. But it’s packed. She can only get a seat at the sushi bar, not a table in his section, and she feels like a stalker as she stares at the menu.

“Holy shit, it’s you.”

Adam looks so pleased. She puts down the menu and tries to smile. “Sorry about leaving so early the other night. Shea was my ride…”

“I told you I would have given you a ride.”

“I know. You did say that.” She’s starting to feel flustered. “Are you my server?”

“No, but hang on. I’ll be back.”

In fact, they barely get a chance to speak until she’s done eating. She writes her phone number on a napkin but before she can give it to him, he’s at her side holding out a receipt with his own number. “Maybe we can get a drink this weekend,” he says.

Too easy, she thinks as she heads home. But, of course, the awkward part is still ahead of her. She keeps replaying the predictability of their make-out session on the patio last weekend; you put your hand here, I put my mouth there, as choreographed as a dance routine. That isn’t what she wants. Adam looks so perfect for what she does want, that she’s half afraid to test him. If he says no, or worse, if they try this and fail, it could debilitate her King Slut movie permanently. She thinks about the men who’ve bragged to her about being able to last for an hour, about her ex who kept bringing home porn for her featuring actors with the biggest cocks in the business. She’d never been able to explain to any of them the weirdness of her orgasm theater. But she wants Adam enough to try.





Scene III

“Okay, people, let’s get it together,” the director says. “This is the scene where King Slut and Ankhesenamen get together. It’s a chariot race, and they’re touching each other for the first time. So let’s bring that to the scene, okay? Everyone in position.”

It’s a difficult scene to shoot. The king is taking out his best horse to impress his future wife, Princess Ankhesenamen. The princess is very young and quite shy, clutching her white dress to her thighs as they fly across the plains. Her dark doe eyes are wide with excitement and fear, the blue faience beads in her hair clicking wildly as the king drives the chariot faster. He is a glory to behold, attuned with his horse to the point of communion  . But today the princess’s hands clutching his sides distract him. Her soft pelvis rattles against him, making his cock rigid.

He leans against the wood, trying desperately to satisfy himself this way. But he wants her. He makes the horse change direction, forcing Princess Ankhesenamen to slide her arms around his waist and hold him tight. Her breasts against his back drive him crazy. Abandoning royal decorum, he takes her small hand and wraps it around his cock.

Shocked at first, the princess begins to tentatively play with his shaft. The king holds his breath. Her touch is too delicate. He puts his hand over hers and shows her how to do it, how to squeeze him, stroke him.

The race is a distant roar. He brings the chariot to a stop, turns around and pushes her against the wood. He pulls off her dress so fast the princess is naked before she can stop him. A faint protest of fear escapes her but when he orders her to spread her legs, she obeys. The king runs his hand between her thighs, playing with her cunt until she bites her lip. He smiles and slips one finger deep into her heat. She is soaking. But he doesn’t fuck her. Instead he slowly rubs the inside of her cunt, tickling her clit with his other hand until she moans and desperately rides against his fingers.

“Cut.”





“So,” says Adam. “Here we are.”

He’s sitting stiffly on her couch, looking nervous. He looks incredible, actually, in a black T-shirt that suits his coloring, and she likes that he’s taken pains to look good for her. But the way she asked him to come over instead of going out for drinks seems to have knocked him off his game.