Naughty Tales for Naughty Girls

Andi Ellis

Description

Naughty Tales for Naughty Girls is a collection of quick and dirty stories, offering everything from the sparkling thrill of youthful discovery to the more raw, very adult exploration of sexual boundaries and experience. From the dark backseat of a drive-in theater, to a spontaneous threesome at a business convention, to a covert liaison in a busy office, the plots reveal women shedding their inhibitions, giving in and taking control. There's a naughty girl in all of us. These tales will help bring her out.

Sujets

• Romance
• BD Erotique
• Romance érotique
• Erotica
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 29 octobre 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 1
• EAN13: 9781456635787
• Langue: English

Extrait

A C OLLECTION OF QUICK AND DIRTY STORIES
Naughty Tales for Naughty Girls
By Andi Ellis
Table of Contents
Title Page
Double Feature
Local Talent
Turn It On
Setting The Record Straight
Crooked Tie
The Storm

Copyright © 2020 Andi Ellis
Double Feature
I swear, sometimes I feel like I’m more a man than a woman.
It’s not because I’m attracted to girls. It’s because I think like a man. I know I do. If they could get away with it, men would fuck as many women as they could. I’m sure it’s just genetics, that whole “spreading the seeds” thing. Me, I don’t know what it is. I have no desire to be a big baby-maker, so it’s not proliferation of the species or my genes that’s driving it.
I just love being turned on. I love being excited and I love being exciting. As soon as I have an orgasm, I want another one. And I love seeing someone cum as a result of all my hard work.
Probably the most pivotal moment in my sexual awakening came just after my eighteenth birthday. I was on a double date with my girlfriend Mandy. Near the end of the summer season, the local drive-in was having a final double feature, so we piled into a car and went. Since it was Mandy’s boyfriend Brad’s car, my date and I got relegated to the backseat.
I distinctly remember getting very bored very quickly. I couldn’t see past my friends, my date was a stupid ape, and the first movie was some agonizing cartoon, geared more toward families with young kids than teens like us. Plus, my Dad was a hard ass and I still had a curfew; I guess we came early to make the best of it. We did a quick circuit, strolled around the lot to see if we knew anyone but none of our friends had arrived yet. Before long we were back in the car, sharing a couple of warm hard lemonades and smoking a bit.
I don’t quite recall who kissed whom first. Mandy always got a bit horny when she drank so it was probably her. And I remember her crawling over to Brad’s side of the front, kissing him deeply, getting all warmed up. Meanwhile my date Jimmy was a fool. We worked in adjacent shops at the mall and had flirted a lot leading up to tonight, but it was our first time actually out. Since setting the date I’d gotten to know him better and realized he was a bit of a dim bulb. Cute enough, and nicely built, but holy he was dense. Making out was a nice reprieve from the lame conversation, even though he was all thumbs and a terrible kisser. He made up for it with enthusiasm, and he earned points for making it all about me.
He awkwardly groped me under shirt, kneaded my tits a bit and got me kind of worked up, though his wristwatch kept getting snagged on the underwire of my bra. His lack of skill was actually kind of desperate. It was like he didn’t know where anything was. I was about to curse my luck and politely excuse myself to go to the restroom when I opened my eyes and saw Mandy disappear. That tramp! She was going down on Brad.
It was actually kind of hot, being that close to them. I could hear Brad’s zipper sliding down, hear her wet mouth. But that wasn’t the exciting part. The thing that changed my whole night was catching the sparkle of Brad’s eyes in the half-light. That horny dog was watching Jimmy and me while Mandy sucked him off. Jim was completely unaware. He just kept pawing and kissing my neck.
The more I stared, the more I could discern Brad’s face in the dark. I could see his mouth hanging open, see the little flinches in his face when Mandy hit certain nerves. But he didn’t stop looking at me. He had this urgent look of dumb desire. Fuck, it was turning me on.
Immediately I reached down to help Jim out, unbuttoned my blouse and yanked up my bra to reveal my chest. Jimmy was suddenly like a kid in a candy store, started sucking my nipples. He couldn’t kiss, but boy could he suck. And all the while, there was Brad, watching us. It was suddenly like firecrackers were going off in my pants. I couldn’t fight the urge to writhe, and I gripped Jim’s hair, guiding his head as gently as I could. My other hand took him by the wrist and got his fingers on my belt. We undid it together and slid my jeans down just enough for Jim’s mouth to find my pussy. God, I was so wet but Jimmy wasn’t quite up to task. I didn’t know what to do to get me across the finish line. But then, I saw it: Brad’s arm was draped over the top of the front seat, and his hand was dangling down in the dark.
Brad saw me looking at it. I saw him see me. The spark of that moment reverberates in my mind to this day. Because with one hand I held Jim’s face against my grinding pussy, and with my other hand, I reached through the half-light and wrapped my fingers around Brad’s. That’s all it took. I knew I was in trouble. Brad too. Both us were staring intently at each other, fingers intertwined, not able to break our gaze, until we both gave in and started cumming. It was like a million volts of electricity surging through my body. Hearing Mandy’s mouth fill up with Brad’s cum. The wet, sloppy sound of her struggling to swallow his load. And the steady moan of Jim as I ground against his face. It was insane how hot it was.
Funny thing is, Brad and I never hooked up. We didn’t even talk or mention this night. He kept going out with Mandy and eventually they broke up when he went away to college. But I carried that night with me ever since. I loved being the object of desire. I loved being lusted after. I loved being watched. I love those uninhibited moments when we flirt with our dirty selves.
For me, that night started it all.
Local Talent
S ome people have an absolutely uncanny sixth sense about things. Sitting there in the low light of the hotel lounge, amid the clamor and buzz of conference-goers, a galaxy of sparkling glass fixtures and candlelight, you found yourself restraining a smile. You stared at your Tom Collins, spun the ice with a straw, and listened to your friend as she prattled, pried, and encouraged.
“Seriously, Amanda,” she asked matter-of-factly, “when is the last time you got laid?”
You stifled a laugh, raised your eyes to meet hers, though quickly averted your gaze back to your tumbler. “Laid, huh?”
Lori reached over and placed her hand on your wrist. You looked at her well-painted fingernails, the gleam of her bracelet, the smooth pale skin of her forearm. You managed a grin, and looked up at her face. You were caught by her expression. She had a devilish smile, bright red lips revealing straight white teeth. Her green eyes flashed mischievously. “No, when’s the last time you got properly fucked?”
You half-choked with surprise, swiped the dribble of drink that had sneaked down over your chin. A volley of nervous laughter escaped your throat. “You’re funny,” you said dismissively.
She sat back, plucked up her glass and took a defiant sip from her wine. “Am I?”
“Yes,” you said assertively, though you knew you didn’t sound that convincing.
You looked intently at your friend. Lori was a beautiful girl. Well, not in the classic sense. But she had an admirable confidence. And it came across in her posture, in her clothing, in her makeup. Her blouses, her skirts, were always fashionable and well-cut. Mostly modest, but with hints of danger. Just enough cleavage, just enough leg. Although she was fond of wearing her hair up to show off her slender neck, you knew she had gorgeously long auburn curls that she would usually let loose on the weekend. You often wondered how an executive assistant could always dress so well, be so together, because her clothes weren’t just stylish, they had good labels attached. You chalked it up to her being family-free, with less commitment, more disposable income. Who knew? But she made you feel quite plain in comparison.
“So Dave’s a regular stallion, is he? He gets the job done?”
You laughed again, perhaps too much. “Depends on what job you’re talking about.”
“Doesn’t that just say it all?” She set her glass down, leaned in. “I can tell, you know. I see it in you.”
“You see what?” you asked, casting a glance from side to side as though people in the lounge could hear your conversation, knowing full well they couldn’t since the two of you were tucked in the far corner of the loud room.
“Your tension,” she said. “You’ve been walking around work for weeks like there’s a knot between your legs.” She pursed her lips, made a tight pucker. “You’re drying up.”
“Ha,” you laughed disbelievingly. “I am, am I?”
Lori’s face relaxed into a smile. She straightened her collar, ran her fingertips down the buttons of her blouse to where the first one was fastened. You watched her hand there, the way her fingers rested just under the deep shadow of her cleavage and she played with the button. “I think you don’t remember the last time he made you wet.”
You held your breath a moment, felt a pang inside you that ricocheted about. It was true, of course. You just didn’t think anyone could see it in you. And the truth jabbed between your ribs like a blade. To say you and your husband were in a dry spell was like saying the ocean was a little damp.
“So?” Lori pursued. “What are we talking about? How long has it been?”
You swallowed, taken off guard by the way your chest clenched, at how you felt so suddenly transparent. Your heart was like a closet stuffed full and everything would tumble out if the door was opened even a crack. Yet there it was: the opportunity to let it out, to shuck off the weight. You felt your insides tighten, like you were girding yourself. But at the same time you knew with resolve that it was time to open the closet door.
You met Lori’s gaze with your own. “Two years,” you confided. “At least.”
The air went out of Lori’s lungs like she’d been punctured. “What?”
“Yup,” you sighed and felt yourself straighten, your shoulders suddenly lighter. “Two years.”
“Since he’s rocked your world?”
“Since anything,” you admitted, and immediately finished your drink. “Forget rocking my world.”
Lori sat mouth agape. She looked