Overview

"If you’re looking for an erotic read which errs on the dark side of BDSM, fetishism and multiple partners, then this is the book for you." - Erotica For All Reviews

A kinky collection of erotic stories exploring sexy propositions from Xcite Books, winners of ETO's Best Erotic Book Brand and Jade's Best Erotic Fiction Publisher 2010, 2011 and 2012.

 

How We Are Together by David Hawthorne

He’s 43, she’s ...

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Indecent Proposals

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Overview

"If you’re looking for an erotic read which errs on the dark side of BDSM, fetishism and multiple partners, then this is the book for you." - Erotica For All Reviews

A kinky collection of erotic stories exploring sexy propositions from Xcite Books, winners of ETO's Best Erotic Book Brand and Jade's Best Erotic Fiction Publisher 2010, 2011 and 2012.

 

How We Are Together by David Hawthorne

He’s 43, she’s 22 – she says she loves him because he’s mature and does things to her younger men don’t do. He loves her for herself. She wants to make up a threesome with her friend; he isn’t so keen. He’s happy with her. She asks him how he can resist making love with two young women. So eventually he relents and gives the girls a night that neither of them will ever forget.

Hard Bodies by Alcamia Payne

Pinkie gets more than she bargains for when she visits her sculptor friend, Blare’s, latest creation. That life-size naked model in his gallery looks uncannily like her, and its polymer partner is the image of him. She has secretly lusted after Blare for a very long time, but she’s happy to make do with a life size model of him – especially as the realism is perfect in every detail. But when Blare catches her getting up close and personal with the statue, it seems as though she’s about to get two Blares for the price of one.

Hustling Myself by L A Fields

Being Chase’s rent boy is more profitable than waiting tables, but Brian still finds it humiliating to sell himself to someone who so obviously loathes him. At least Chase’s, sidekick, Kyle, is of a gentler disposition and servicing the two of them together makes it bearable. When Brian can no longer look at himself in the mirror he calls the arrangement to an end. Later, he is approached by Kyle again and he relents, as long as Chase is no longer involved. None of them knows that murder is only a few blocks away.

All You Can Eat by Josie Jordan

For most of their relationship Gary has tried to persuade Dawn to try wife-swapping. She’s reluctant, but when they are spending the night at an airport hotel he brings the subject up again. The couple he has in mind are so beautiful that Dawn finds herself agreeing and while Gary takes Claudia to his room, Dawn goes up to bed with Adam. Adam proves to be an amazing and caring lover – very different from Gary - and Dawn finds herself wondering what it would be like to make the swap permanent…

Foot Soldier by Lynn Lake

Teresa wants her husband, Bill, back from the war before he ‘loses it’ altogether. Bill’s had a difficult war. But the only way to get him home is to persuade his General that he needs to come home. When a polite request is refused, Teresa knows she’ll have to find the General’s weakness – and this isn’t as difficult as she fears. She soon has the man wrapped around her little finger, or should that be toe?

In The Back Seat by Esmeralda Greene

Jake’s gorgeous sister in law, Barb, has always flirted with him outrageously, but he is happily married to Ann and immune to her charms. Then Barb ropes them in to help her move house and she privately offers Jake a very naughty ‘payment in kind’. He has no intention of accepting her offer, but on the journey between Barb’s house and the storage facility, he is forced to reconsider.

The Den of Beatrix by Giselle Renarde

Tom and Perdy are content in their marriage until Perdy becomes obsessed with Beatrix, the check out girl at the drug-store. Beatrix is a lesbian and Perdy thinks that she might be one too, so Tom suggests she ask Beatrix if the two of them can spend the night together – Tom will watch, but not participate. Beatrix agrees but the evening does not turn out quite as Perdy and Tom have planned.

3D Porn by Ray Cluley

Fiona belongs to Hadley, his flatmate, and he has no intention of seducing her – none whatsoever. But when Hadley falls asleep on the job one night – quite literally as it happens, Fiona is left unsatisfied. And…well…what else can a gentleman do, when he is approached by a damsel in distress, but try to put the situation right for her?

Neighbours by Renatto Garcia

The arrival of the Joyces in the neighbourhood causes waves. Tall and beautiful, they exude sexuality and they seem to want to rub everyone’s noses in it. They are for ever making love in semi-public places, and they aren’t in the least remorseful when they are caught. But it isn’t until their neighbours, the Beckworths, are drawn into their lewd games that things really start to heat up. The question is, can they stoop to the Joyces’ level of depravity?

His German Night by D C Kohn

When Freddie first sees busty, blonde, Angelika, by the hotel pool in a skimpy bikini he cannot take his eyes off her. She notices his gaze and challenges him to a card game, based on chance. If he wins she will tell him the number of her room. It is only the first of the games they play that night, but none of the others has anything to do with cards.

The Twin’s Initiation by Eva Hore

It is every man’s fantasy, a secret sex-cult, over which he presides. And every new member must go through an elaborate initiation ceremony. The twins are very willing participants – indeed they are the first women he has ever known to shift the balance of power to themselves – but then they are unaware of his identity. But for how long will he be able to stay anonymous?

Three by D C Kohn

Angie is the one that got away – although he fancied her for months she never wanted to be more than friends – and eventually she left the area. But when he has to go to her home town for a conference she offers to put him up for a few nights. His hopes are not all that high until she mentions her live-in partner, Chris. However, all is not as it seems and he quickly discovers that nights at Angie’s are going to be a lot more exciting than he ever dared imagine.

The Match by Kaysee Reneee Robichaud

Tough girl Joanne meets her match in the Bounty Bar when she encounter a fellow shooting enthusiast Hal Terr. She challenges him to a shoot off in Crosshairs Alley and as the tension rises so does their sexual attraction. Soon she pumping his other pistol and he gives her all barrels before shooting his load.

Nirvanaville by Troy Seate

Nirvanaville is a blissful place of naked, happy free love and the beautiful, blond new arrivals Cyndi and Jack Mulroney are at first welcome additions to this Garden of Eden. But soon there is trouble in paradise ...

Leopardess Wife by Debra Gray De Noux and O’Neil De Noux

Felicity and Larry are trying to think of new ways to spice up their love life, when they are invited to a cat party where guests must wear a sexy feline costume. Felicity, feeling anonymous behind her leopardess costume, does an impromptu striptease on the bar. She is watched by an admiring Larry and several video cameras, and she discovers she has an exhibitionist streak she never knew she possessed. Soon she is having wild sex with every tom-cat in the place.

 

You Get What You Pay For by J. Smith

Her husband has always fantasised about her being a slutty prostitute and getting paid for sex, so one night they role-play the fantasy. She dresses like a tart and he picks her up on a street corner. Then he decides he’d like her to play the part for real. She agrees to pick up a stranger in a bar and let him pay her for sex, but this is a tale with a twist. 

Leave it to her, Beaver by Landon Dixon

Charlie stays with a friend’s quaintly old-fashioned parents in California, and on his last night he cleans out their garage to show appreciation for the free bed and board. Afterwards, his friend’s mother offers to give him a massage to relieve his aching muscles. And to Charlie’s amazement her approach to massage is far from quaint and old fashioned. She relieves a lot more than his aching arm muscles!

Appraising Tara by Poppy Drew

Tara has spent weeks fantasising about her strictly disciplinarian boss, Martin, giving her a good spanking. Then they go away to a conference together where she is to act as his PA. Little does she know that Martin has correctly interpreted that faraway look in her eyes and the next time she hears him say, ‘Do you need a good spanking, young lady?’ it’s for real.

Flexible by Sommer Marsden

Ellen is annoyed when her exercise bike breaks, she doesn’t like gyms, but husband, Rick persuades her to go and she meets his friend, Graham, who takes her breath away. When Rick suggests they invite Graham and Chandra for an evening of love-making and dinner, Ellen willingly accepts. She finds the beautiful Chandra just as sexy as Graham and the two couples have one of the most exciting evenings of their lives.

Politically Incorrect by Kate Dominic

No man likes to discover he can’t satisfy his wife. But this husband decides to do something about it. When Marcy tells him her very special fantasy he decides to do something about it. With the help of two willing friends, he arranges for her fantasy to become reality. After a night that exceeds their wildest expectations, this couple know that reality will never be the same again.

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781907761331
  • Publisher: Xcite Books
  • Publication date: 11/2/2010
  • Series: Xcite Best-Selling Collections , #4
  • Sold by: Barnes & Noble
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 208
  • Sales rank: 129,737
  • File size: 278 KB

Meet the Author

Giselle Renarde is an award-winning author of erotica and LGBT fiction. This queer Canadian writer has contributed short stories to more than 100 anthologies and authored dozens of books, including Anonymous, Nanny State, and the Wedding Heat series.

Her transgender lesbian romance The Red Satin Collection took top prize in the 2012 Rainbow Awards, in the category of Best Transgender Romance/Erotic Romance. Giselle's single-author anthology of transgender fiction and poetry, My Mistress' Thighs, received an honourable mention in the same category the previous year. Her work also appears in Tristan Taormino's Lambda Award-winning anthology Take Me There: Trans and Genderqueer Erotica.

Ms Renarde loves a geeky girl and lives across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head. When she's not writing, she's usually up to something good... or up to no good.

Find her at:

Her website: donutsdesires.blogspot.com

About her: about.me/gisellerenarde

Her Twitter: twitter.com/GiselleRenarde

Chloe Richmond lives in the south of England where she works in a call centre. Previously she worked for a televised adult phone-in channel that was very different (she wore less) but almost as repetitive as where she works now. She has recently sold her first short story (‘Watch and Learn’) and hopes one day to be a full-time writer. She is twenty seven years old.

 

You can learn a little bit more at her blog: chloerichmondblog.wordpress.com/

Sommer Marsden has been called "one of the top storytellers in the erotica genre” (Violet Blue), “Unapologetic” (Alison Tyler), “the whirling dervish of erotica” (Craig J. Sorensen), and "Erotica royalty" (Lucy Felthouse). Her erotic novels include Restless Spirit, Boys Next Door, Big Bad, Learning to Drown, Wanderlust and the Zombie Exterminator series.

Sommer currently writes erotica and erotic romance for Xcite Books, eXcessica, Ellora's Cave, Pretty Things Press, Resplendence Publishing and Mischief Books. The wine-swigging, dachshund-owning, wannabe runner author writes work that runs the gamut from bondage to zombies to humor.

Sommer's short works can be found in well over one hundred (and counting) erotic anthologies. Her short stories have also been included numerous adult and romance magazines--both in print and online.

Find Sommer at:

Her website: sommermarsden.blogspot.com
Her Facebook: facebook.com/sommermarsden
Her Twitter: twitter.com/sommer_marsden
Her Pinterest: pinterest.com/sommermarsden/
Her Goodreads: goodreads.com/author/show/2742697.Sommer_Marsden

Eva Hore’s work is seen in magazines such as Hustler, Forum, Desire, Australian Penthouse, Leg Sex, XL Magazine, Naughty Neighbors, For Women, Playgirl, Erotic T, Three Pillows and Swank Magazine. Eva has anthologies with Xcite Books in the UK, Delicate Friction, Best Lesbian Fiction 2005, Skin Deep 2, Mammoth Book of Erotic Fantasies, The Collective, Best Women’s Erotica 2006, The Perfect Valentine, After Midnight, Just Watch Me with Cleis Press, The Sexiest Soles, Misbehaviour. Gay Quickies, Mammoth Book of Erotic Confessions, Reality or Fantasy with Dark Roast Press, The Long Weekend and Other Stories with No Boundaries Press, The Best of Eva Hore with JMS Books and The Big Book of Bizarro.

Born in New Orleans, O’Neil De Noux is a prolific American writer of novels and short stories. Much of De Noux’s writing is character-driven crime fiction, although he has written in many disciplines including historical fiction, children’s fiction, mainstream fiction, science-fiction, suspense, fantasy, horror, western, literary, religious, romance, humor and erotica.

L.A. Fields is the author of The Disorder Series and My Dear Watson, a queer Sherlock Holmes pastiche. Her short fiction has appeared in anthologies of horror, erotica, and academia.

Find her online at:

Blog: la-fields.livejournal.com

 

Lynn Lake’s fantasies could fill a book – and have (or, at least, parts of many, many books). Her imagination substitutes for a somewhat dreary existence in the middle of nowhere home to a particularly harsh climate. She’s a frustrated crime writer (few markets) and an unfulfilled SF author (no science background). Her erotic experiences, frankly, look better on paper, where she need not discriminate based on couplings, positionings, flogging devices, and/or binding materials. Rich, thick, wet ink spilling out of the golden nib of a finely-crafted fountain pen onto bright, white, textured paper is a form of ecstasy to her, free of STD’s.

She has a cat and an insatiable craving to express herself. 

Inspiration comes from everywhere, everything, and everybody she meets or sees or visualizes, but mostly from her mind (very often early in the morning when she first wakes up). She doesn’t wait for the wet muse to tingle her in the appropriate places, however; oftentimes she just sits and stares at a blank piece of paper (Hilroy, lined, in a wire-bound notebook) until an idea strikes her and she pen-strokes it, first into a brief outline, and then into a full story (which usually goes through a, minimum, three-draft process). She’s fairly well-read and quite good at mimicking other styles, which helps in the whole process, as does her natural shyness.

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Read an Excerpt

THE JOYCES LANDED IN East Rock, New Haven, during the third week of April when the temperatures were rising, flowers and leaves had turned bright and colourful, reborn, even as we’d slipped into the nook of our lives as comfortably as a worn-in sole. We were looking forward to our eighth marriage anniversary, a milestone past the proverbial seven-year itch.
The Joyces were young and they were incredibly attractive. He was tall and slender with a boxer’s build and a name to match – Ray.
Eleanor was bronzed and voluptuous – let’s not mince words, she was a damn juicy bird. They reminded me of graduate students, like the kind I taught in the city, except these two dressed better, they carried themselves more sensually, they revelled in their bodies with a savvy beyond their years.
Rumours abounded for weeks prior to their arrival, as tends to happen with all newcomers. The first time my wife, Becky, and I laid eyes on them, however, was at a neighbourhood function held in the clubhouse.
They resembled royalty walking through that room and everyone vied for their time and attention. They were rigged casually for the spring night air, but the ease with which they flowed together made it stylish. I’d never yet met a woman who exuded more raw femininity than this one. She strutted past and sprouted hard-ons in her wake, made pricks quiver with one salacious flick of her tongue. By God, she could make a son of a bitch cream his pants with that naughty smile. Her eyes packed more fire than most women’s cunts. I carted the missus off home that evening, didn’t say a word to the Joyces, and I fucked my wife – truly fucked her – after more than half a decade.
I first approached them on a hot and humid afternoon while mowing my back yard. Our homes were separated by a tall wooden fence, but that day I heard voices, hushed laughter, coming from the other side. I shut off the mower and sidled up close to the fence. I lifted myself up to peek over for a chat, and formal introductions.
Formal or not, we were introduced on that day, and in a big way. The two of them were spread out on a plastic lounge chair, their flesh resplendent in the glare of sunlight, tawny and unblemished without wrinkles or an inch of cellulite. His back rippled with muscles all the way down to his slim waist, the one she twined her long legs around and squeezed as the tremors racked her body. His face was buried in her pussy, tongue lashing out at her clit. She was stroking his hair, jet black with not a hint of grey; she bit down on her lips, jittering and raising her ass when he hit the spot.
She saw me first, through dark, parted eyes, and smiled. She smiled a long while before, lazily, she grasped her husband by the shoulder and shook him. He stopped finally from his suckling and peered up, her juices slathered upon his chin. I was shocked motionless. He never flinched. He sat straight up, his long cock snapping up against his belly as she fixed her bikini bottom back over her cunt, and he waved. With a grin that was ear-to-ear, he cast his fingers into a gun and pulled the trigger.
The next day I returned home from work and my wife informed me she’d invited them over for dinner. Anger was my initial response; then feigned inconvenience when her inspecting gaze caught me. My wife had a good heart; she was a sheltered woman, her intentions always innocent, her impressions of people positive to a fault. She’d no concept of aberrant sexual behaviour. She’d little awareness of the type of person it took to shatter social conventions, to drive all preconceptions of acceptable behaviour down into the ground. I didn’t have the will to tell her about our neighbours’ exhibition, no way to explain the glint in both their eyes at the knowledge that I‘d seen them.
She fixed a dish that consisted of chicken breasts stuffed with goat’s cheese and sun-dried tomatoes, caramelised shallots and basil. The table was done up masterfully, our best plates and silverware. To top it off, a bottle of Sancerre Sauvignon Blanc from my wine cellar. They arrived perfectly on time, impeccably dressed, and Ray even brought along a bottle of his own, also a Sauvignon from the Alto-Adige region of Italy.
‘I trust you won’t mind,’ he said, ‘but your kind wife may have dropped a hint as to the menu.’
Eleanor greeted me with a kiss on the cheek, and her right hand firmly pressed on my stomach inches from my waist. Her touch was electric; it fired up images of the day before, of her squirming ass, restless bundles of flesh scalded by blazing embers, and the glimmering hair bristles on her pussy.
We sat down for dinner and before long their charm flowed as easy as the wine. Ray and I talked business, psychology and sports, all topics on which he seemed remarkably well versed. He was a writer, as was Eleanor – they’d met two years earlier at a weekend seminar in New York. When Becky asked for a list of their titles, it was Eleanor that responded:
‘Rebecca, sweetie, I’m certain we’ve not yet scribed anything you might have read.’
On that subject, nothing more was mentioned. They had plenty, however, to talk about. They’d travelled extensively as it were, all throughout Europe, South America, and even Africa. Their tales were galvanising; something about those stories was primordially stirring and licentious. Soon, I had forgotten all about the incident in their backyard.
Before departing they invited my wife and I to a barbecue at their house the following Sunday. No sooner did I shut the door behind them, than I scooped my wife up and ripped her clothes and mine, and on the stairway I ravaged her body with kisses, and her pussy I pounded with brutish thrusts.
When Sunday rolled around, my wife took far too long to get ready, longer than usual. I paced outside the bathroom, repeatedly glancing at my watch, clapping my hands impatiently. Ultimately, she had enough of me and told me to go on ahead.
I walked across the yard to their home. The front door was ajar and I wandered inside. The living room was decorated with a minimalist grace and a touch of allure I can only describe as sensuous. The glass door leading to the deck at the far end was slid open, spilling a gentle breeze in with the pour of sunlight. I walked past the kitchen and through to the patio. The sun blinded me, and then when my eyes adjusted I saw them.
She was bent over a sturdy wooden table, her heavy teats spewed into the salad bowl, and she was swearing up a storm through gritted teeth. He was still wearing his apron, but his pants were bundled around his pulsating knees. Sweat rolled down the side of his face and neck as he plunged his thick cock into her like a piston rod from behind. I’ve no earthly idea how long I stood there before he saw me, and stretched his lips into a shit-eating grin.
I scurried back inside despite his greeting. I paced quickly in the living room, for once in my life unsure of what to do. I was livid, and I wasn’t exactly sure why. I wanted nothing more than to give them a piece of my mind, tell them off, curse them back to whatever libertine wormhole they’d crawled out of. But reason won out. I’d just decided to tread back to my house when I looked up and found my wife standing in the open doorway, fixed up so beautifully she drew the air from my lungs.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, immediately sensing something was up.
I started towards her. Suddenly, her own expression changed and I stopped in my tracks. I swept my head around. Ray had eased in, once more completely dressed. Eleanor emerged soon after, the paradigm of composure and dignity, not a hair out of place.
I was stuck. We stayed for lunch, and my wife felt completely at ease. She ate their feast ravenously. She complimented the salad, especially, and with every bite she took, I grew feverish imagining her teeth nibbling on Eleanor’s stiff nipples, the pounds of succulent flesh. I had to hand it to them, they were smooth as hell the way they lured her into their world. They had her eating out of the palm of their hands. But I wasn’t convinced; I was far from being fooled.
The next day when I arrived from work, Eleanor was sitting on her front stoop.
‘Hey, stranger,’ she called out to me. ‘You got a moment to spare?’
‘For what?’
She raised an eyebrow, stretching her back straight and swelling her breasts high on her chest. Her legs were bare in a pair of khaki shorts, and they were smooth and silky. She curled her mouth up in a lewd grimace. ‘So we can fuck each other’s brains out, of course.’
I nearly choked on my own tongue.
‘I want to talk,’ she said, laughing. ‘I think it’s overdue. Don‘t you?’
She went inside and, despite myself, I followed.
We sat in the living room about a yard apart. The bitch was dressed provocatively, or maybe it was my mind playing tricks, but I felt myself growing excited just staring at her. Thinking about how her eyes had screwed up when Ray ate her cunt. The way her breasts had pressed against the lettuce and cucumbers. The way her body had met every driving thrust of her husband’s cock.
‘I know you were bothered by what you saw,’ she said. ‘Ray believes I’m just being dramatic. But I know different.’
‘Can you blame me? What if I’d walked in with my wife? What if she’d seen that shit?’
She pondered a moment, chewing on her bottom lip, sultry as a summer afternoon.
‘You’re right,’ she said, nodding. ‘It was thoughtless of us. I suppose an apology is in order.’
I stood from my seat in a flurry. She watched me, amused, and her stare was so fucking lustful. Her legs were crossed, revealing more luscious thigh than I was ready to handle. And she was leaned back on the couch, her breasts pushed up, distending her white, silk-laced blouse.
‘I don’t need an apology.’
I started out. But I got to the threshold and my feet wouldn’t carry me further.
‘Hmm,’ she said, softly. ‘That’s fitting.’
I glanced back at her. She swung her right leg in a wide sweep and raised herself up.
‘You are still a man, after all.’
She began unbuttoning the front of her blouse, and even before I reached her, ceasing her hands, our eyes met. Hers were fire, flames engulfing the deep pools of blue. They burned with desire, insatiable, a wildfire. And mine – I can only imagine the raging inside.
With one swift move, I ripped the blouse and her breasts spilled into my hands. I shoved her down on the couch and tore her shorts and plied her underwear off so hard she yelped. Then I sank my tongue into her quim, spreading the juicy lips of her sex with my teeth, licking at the sweet nectar between her legs, drawing it out of her trembling, writhing body.
She pushed my face from her, then. Her chest rose and fell wildly and her eyes were ablaze with something savage. I knew what she wanted. I scrambled to my feet and yanked my trousers down around my knees.
I was inside her before reason interfered. And I was ramming it to her core. She moaned, loud enough to rouse the dead. Her hips bucked underneath me, grinding against my pelvis, seeking my thrusts even before I made them. Her cunt was equipped; it had a talent of its own, grabbed at my pecker, sucked it in, bit on the end when I reached her womb. It was a mauling, a primitive dance more like a beating, and it wasn’t meant to last, only to quench an appetite. I came with a torrent, shooting jet after jet of viscous white jism. When I tried pulling out she kept me fast. My cock still throbbed even though I was completely drained, and she shuddered at that last jerk, trembled uncontrollably. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she exhaled with a crack in her voice.
The orgasm passed, and she released her grip on me. I scrambled to my feet, then, tugged my pants up, and as I did, I focused my eyes on the belt buckle. When I did finally look at her, she gazed back at me dreamily. She soothed her furrow with both hands, and she smacked her lips.
‘That was delicious, baby. Hope we can do this again some time,’ she said, breathy as a mouse, ‘… neighbour.’
I turned and rushed out, slamming the door behind me. The air outside seemed crisper, the night fresher than it had in weeks. I skipped the ten feet to my driveway, on top of the world. My wife’s sedan was parked in the driveway. I smiled at that thought.
I made it to my front steps when a cold dread hit me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. Ray’s black Benz parked across the street. There was nobody inside. Something within me broke, and my feet propelled me forward, over the two bottom steps directly to the door. I threw it open and ran in, up the stairs and down the narrow corridor to my bedroom.
I sensed it before I heard it, and heard it before I saw it, but I saw it and couldn’t believe my eyes. He was bent over Becky on all fours, and lunging his prick into her to the hilt. She was screaming with wild abandon. I watched for only a moment, not long enough for them to notice, but it felt like a lifetime. Time stopped. Pulled back just a mite, like the pulling of a rubber band – and then snapped.
I’d never moved so fast. I grabbed him by the back of the neck and fired my arm back. The force threw him clean off my wife and off the bed. Becky coiled up, immediately, heaving the sheets around her body. Hiding herself from me. I would’ve laughed, could’ve died laughing, if I wasn’t so enraged.
I tried to speak, to curse her, to damn her – but no words came out.
Instead, I turned back to Ray. He was already on his feet. He didn’t bother grabbing his clothing. Simply walked out of the bedroom. I ran after him, and fuck – I would have thrown him down the steps if he hadn’t suddenly turned to me, glaring at me evenly.
‘This was a misunderstanding,’ he said. ‘On my part.’
I balled my fists, ready to strike.
‘You fuck mine,’ he said, slowly. ‘I fuck yours. Isn’t that how this goes down?’
I was shocked stupid. He slowly descended the steps, penis jutting out like a baton, and exited my home, leaving me speechless at the top of the stairs.
In a daze, I ambled back into my room and sat on the edge of the bed. Becky was perched on her end, still clutching the sheets tightly to her breasts. We didn’t speak. I knew that he’d told her. If not, then I knew she could smell Eleanor on me.
It’s difficult to verbalise what I felt; a mixture of anger and remorse, guilt, disgust and relief, betrayal and excitement beyond anything I‘d ever known. I wheeled around and snatched the sheets from my wife. I wrested them away from her. And took her in. Naked as I’d seen her a hundred times and still, I was more turned on than I’d ever been. It wasn’t until that moment that I realised how stagnant our lives had become, before the Joyces, how routine every aspect of our existence had turned out.
I couldn’t help myself. I thrust her back on the bed, yanking open my trousers and seizing my hard cock in my hand. She yielded to my touch, rough as it was. Her legs parted all on their own, wide and welcoming. I filled her with all that she wanted.
After it was done, we stared at one another, our breaths mingling, our bodies still united.
‘Divorce?’ she asked, finally.
I shook my head.
‘Do we move?’ I said.
‘No.’
All at once, it made sense to me. We’d both been searching, longing for an escape from the tedium of everyday. The spools of nature had turned evenly, and we’d succumbed without resistance. It clicked for me. How comfortable she’d seemed in their presence. How far she’d gone to impress them. How easily I’d fallen into the other woman’s arms.
‘We never had a chance, did we?’ I said.
She snaked her arms around my neck.
‘Only a man would have thought to fight it.’
‘Perhaps we should go over and apologise.’
‘Perhaps I should wear my black dress.’
‘The one that’s easy to take off?’ I smiled, warming to fate. ‘That sounds like a capital idea.’
I kissed my wife.
Her lips tasted of the man that had come into our bed.
And mine, they tasted of his wife.

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Sort by: Showing 1 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted September 9, 2012

    I Also Recommend:

    Pixie_Murree

    I have just finished reading this book and I have to say I really enjoyed it.

    It contains 20 short stories centring around illicit and spur of the moment sex.

    I love short stories as you can pick them up and read a few then put it down until next time. You never have to read back a few pages to get yourself up to speed on what's happening.

    I though most of the stories were very well written and super hot! They cater for everyone's taste as there is some Fetish, BDSM, Voyeurism, Gay and Lesbian etc...

    My favourite storey was All you can eat - I could really relate to the main character and I had to smile at the little twist at the end.

    I must admit there were two stories I didn't enjoy so much -

    One was Hustling myself, it revolves around a young gay relationship and has a murder theme. I just didn't relate to this at all.

    The other was Foot Solider, I just didn't get it at all! But again I just don't think I could relate to it so didn't find it sexy in the least.

    Overall I loved this book, as I do most of the Xcite range. Each storey left me going to bed with new ideas to dream about. I would totally recommend it to everyone

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
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