Coming Together
the erotic cocktail
volume 03
Coming Together: The Erotic Cocktail
volume 3
Alessia Brio, editor
Copyright © 2010 Alessia Brio
All digital rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.
Cover art © 2010 Alessia Brio
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
A Coming Together Production
Smashwords edition
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/comingtogether
License Notes
Piracy robs authors of the income they need to be able to continue to write books for readers to enjoy. This ebook is licensed for the personal enjoyment of ONE reader only. This ebook may not be re-sold or copied. To do so is not only unethical, it's illegal. This ebook may not be forwarded via email, posted on personal websites, uploaded to file sharing sites, or printed and distributed. To share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each intended recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for you, please notify the author immediately. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this—and every—author.
DEDICATION
this volume of Coming Together
is dedicated to
Laurel & Manu,
the gracious hosts
of the online erotic haven
Literotica.com®
and
all the guardians of free speech
Table of Contents
Foreword
Freedom of expression. Three little words that can be so easily underestimated in their value and importance. These three words can cover much of the beauty and joy that embraces what it means to be human. We think, therefore we can create. Creation can encompass a multitude of media, forms, and outlets.
One of the building stones of creation and expression is individuality. Individuality can be the glue that holds people together and the force that drives them apart. The Internet has become both a media and vehicle to allow more people to express their individuality publicly than has ever been possible. We are becoming a world of individuals bound by communication with others throughout the world. No longer does your group have to include the people down the street, across town, at school, work or your place of worship. Your global community can be as wide and varied as are the many forms of expression.
If you have individual humans, eventually, you have eroticism. It is simply part of the human animal. The desire to excite, attract and entice other humans to yourself. Being more or less devoid of the plumage and other physical attributes that the animal kingdom assigns to its many members, creative expression had long been used as the substitute in the desire to attract other humans. Throughout history this has been demonstrated in the various forms of expression of every culture and grouping.
Today, two of the more common expressions of eroticism are the written word and the artists drawing of the human form. There are many, many more forms, the variety being just as broad as the human mind can imagine. One of the advantages to the written word and the artists drawing is the factor of portability. It is no longer something that must be associated or attached to a given place. You can take a book or a drawing with you in whatever you do.
Because of the Internet, authors and artists have been able to meet and join together to offer varied views of eroticism. Because of the Internet, places like Literotica can grow and flourish. Their beauty is not in their uniformity, but in the amazingly diverse group of individuals that are able to share their creativity with an even larger public. The denizens of the Author's Hangout at Literotica® are from every occupation, socio-economic group, sexual preference, and religious background. Their commonality is the desire to explore and share their varied views on the nature of eroticism.
Coming Together is just such an undertaking, presenting erotic writings and drawings in a manner to offer something for a variety of palates. The contributors are as varied as the Internet. They have cooperated to show a small window into the world of eroticism. Hopefully, their work will stimulate your thoughts about the variety and beauty of the eroticism of the human animal.
~ Hugo Sam
Preface
Coming Together was conceived online in the Literotica.com® Author's Hangout. It is the result of many hours of collaboration between some very talented authors, poets, and illustrators who have (ahem) "come together" to produce a scintillating erotic cocktail.
In each volume of this serial, the reader may partake of a variety of intoxicating spirits: group sex, romance, both hetero- and homosexual romps, humor, incest, bondage, anal sex, dominance/submission, fantasy, and fetish. While each individual ingredient may not suit the tastes of every reader, the savory combination of flavors is sure to stir every imagination.
Proceeds from the sale of this volume of Coming Together will be donated to Electronic Frontier Foundation (www.eff.org) which is dedicated to protecting our online freedom of speech.
So, join us in a toast: to sex!
Bottoms up,
~ Alessia Brio
Editor
alessiabrio.com
Disclaimers
Coming Together is a compilation of erotic fiction, poetry, and illustrations. It is solely intended for persons of legal majority.
Please note that Coming Together contains works of fiction in which the characters may not practice safe sex. The authors, poets, and illustrators featured in this volume of Coming Together encourage all readers to act responsibly and to take appropriate precautions against both unwanted pregnancy and the transmission of disease.
For resources and frank discussion about safe sex practices, we refer the reader to the Coalition for Positive Sexuality at www.positive.org.
Someone
© Alessia Brio
Somewhere, someone
longs to touch you
rrrright ... there
Somewhere, someone
imagines the scent
of your arousal
Somewhere, someone
tastes your skin
in their dreams
Somewhere, someone
wants to fall
into your eyes
Somewhere, someone
hears the soft sighs
of your passion
Somewhere, someone
aches to take you
beyond bliss
Somewhere, someone
gets off
thinking of you
Everyone has a someone.
I am yours
Encore
© Dave Edgar
A sharp rattle overhead woke her. It felt airy and it was utterly dark. Karen oriented herself; she was in a tent, camping on the Passadumkeag. She'd left Eric in town to go on a canoe trip with close friends: Gene and Justine Dill and the newlyweds, Justin and Sarah. "It must be the middle of the night," she thought groggily.
The rattle repeated itself and settled to a steady roll of rain on the nylon tent fly. Rain! But she had the tent to herself, this trip; all her gear was in the tent with her; it would stay dry. Except for one thing.
"Oh, no, the laundry!" The party had washed their things in the bottom of Gene's canoe, and rinsed in the stream. It had gotten almost dry on the line. Karen got her gumption up and shed her sleeping bag.
"Flashlight!" Naked but for her panties, she felt around for it.
It was suddenly cool in the tent. The rain brought a downrush of cold air with it, which felt delicious. "Two a.m.," she mumbled. The flashlight showed her the pile of slick yellow. "I'll just throw on the poncho and my sandals, it's starting to get serious," she said to herself.
She heard Gene's tent zipper go just as she was reaching for hers. She doused the light and came through the opening carefully.
"Karen?" Gene's soft inquiry was followed by a beam from his light, but she felt sure she was covered all right.
"Hi," she whispered.
"I'm just getting the laundry," he told her.
"Me, too." The two of them moved along the ropes unpinning and gathering clothes and towels, meeting in the middle. "I'll take these in with me," Karen proposed. "There's lots of room still."
"Oh, good. Take mine, too?"
She agreed and he loaded her with all of it. "Thanks."
His helpful beam of light guided her to her tent, but the poncho was caught in the armload of towels and clothes. Gene watched her trim hips appreciatively as she worked everything through the zippered tent doorway and crawled through. The little white panties hardly concealed anything. The image of her body stayed in his mind's eye after he'd shut the beam off.
"Justine's sleeping," he said to himself.
Now, just what did that have to do with anything? Was he considering joining Karen in that tent? Another zipper noise came to his ears.
It was Justin, his wife's twin, poking his head and shoulders out of the blue nylon shell. "The laundry?" he inquired.
"We got it; Karen has all of it in her tent." Gene accepted Justin's thanks and circled the campsite to make sure everything was sheltered. Justin settled in again. He could hear the two newlyweds turn over and speak for a little while, then silence. Karen was still arranging things, he heard the rustling. It recalled the vision of her panties and sturdy legs. She would have taken the poncho off, now, he imagined. The rain drummed on his slicker's hood; his head was in a noisy, isolated space and he debated with himself under his breath as he walked.
Karen was a hot number. He'd dated her for a few months at Bowdoin before she'd transferred; they'd hit it off very nicely indeed. Gene had never met any woman with the sheer enthusiasm for sex that Karen had. The memories had remained fresh in his mind for all these years; he fantasized about them still.
"Karen loved to fuck!" he said to himself. Justine was smart, organized, and practical; she was also a real beauty, by conventional standards much more so than Karen. His wife was a good complement to his improvisational and intuitive nature. But she lacked the verve and spice; Karen had been an innovative and fervent lover. "She just doesn't compare," he summed up, again aloud. He walked to the water's edge.
Clouds, low and complete, covered the sky. There was just enough light from that sky to make out the pale splashes of the rain on the dark stream, flickers of lighter gray all over the surface like the television when the station goes off the air. He stood and watched their pattern but he was seeing images of Karen from the past-- Karen stroking him with mink gloves, sucking him in the men's room at Thistles, bent over the hood of the old Volvo to be sodomized.
"God," he murmured. Anal sex had always been hot and intense with Karen. He pulled his hands inside the poncho and rearranged his pajamas a little to accommodate his expanding organ. The light rain rattled on the poncho hood and the world was dark.
"Ah, Karen," he muttered. It was cool and isolated by the streamside. By midday they had stopped hearing any kind of motor; the trip had taken them through many miles of beaver flowage, forest, and heath. The party was cut off from the world at large; the rain and darkness cut Gene off from the rest of the party. Gently and then more firmly he stroked himself, calling forth memories of Karen before either of them had married other people.
"Oh, fuck! Take it up the ass, baby. Yes." His hands moved with greater urgency. "Right into that beautiful fuckin' ass." He reared back and closed his eyes; the rain caught him on the chin; he recalled vividly her upturned hips and her lascivious smile the time he'd slid his cock into her in the resource room at the Fogler Library.
"Who's getting it up the ass, Gene?" The whisper was startlingly close by his ear. He leapt like a stag seeing the wolf.
"Karen!" he hissed, for it was she, not an arm's length away, just behind his shoulder.
"Me?" Karen was quite amused. Men were such carnal creatures, so simple-- and so easy. There was a reason she'd left her husband behind, the asshole. She hadn't consciously imagined striking up an affair with Gene, but he'd been silhouetted against the stream. When she had come sneaking up, she had heard clearly the rapid rhythmic slipping of his knuckles on the cloth; unmistakably she knew what he was doing. She remembered her college days every bit as well as he did.
"What the hell! You scared the shit out of me!"
"I thought you said I was taking cock up the butt?" Karen snaked a hand inside and took a grip on Gene's hard cock. "Wow," she murmured. It was huge and hard. She'd forgotten how fine a cock Gene had.
"And I thought you had gone back in the tent!" he whispered, accusingly. Her cool hand felt incredibly good. Gene squirmed and blushed strongly, but no one could see the blush and he didn't turn enough to make her lose contact.
"I'm going up by the trench; wanna come?"
"Christ!" Gene was torn, but he knew the answer was no. It had to be no.
"Please, Gene. I want it. No strings, no trouble, I promise. It'll help me sleep. Come on up the hill and just fuck me."
"God, Karen."
She squeezed him gently and jacked the skin three strokes, then released him. "Your call. But I meant it." She turned away and moved across the silent pine needles. Gene said nothing. The rain's noise closed in once more around his head, leaving him more alone than ever.
Karen slipped through between her tent and Justin and Sarah's and then climbed the hillside toward the latrine. She wondered if he'd come, if he'd follow her. She was beginning, now, to feel guilty about having made the offer.
"I never should have grabbed it," she thought. "That was so unfair." But what if he didn't? She'd be so ashamed to face him if he didn't. She kicked an inoffensive pine cone off the trail.
"Oh, fuck! What a slut I am!" she lamented aloud.
"Me, too."
"Gene! Thank goodness!" His arms slid in through the sides of the poncho; his warm hands slid over her belly from behind her. One cupped a breast, and the other—!
"Oh, Gene!" she breathed. "Now you have to!"
His fingers pushed in and out of her hot cunt. Her juices flowed, her nipple rose under his thumb, her head leant back on his collarbone. As she held his invading hand hard against her mound their wedding rings clacked together. Delicious sensations spread along the line from the breast to her hardening clit.
"I want to eat it," he said.
"Yes!" She lifted up the slick yellow front by lifting her arms. Under he went, avid to taste her. "Oh, yes." There was a metallic click. He had shifted his hand to grab the panties, and then another pull could be felt. "What--?"
"Hold right still!" Another pull and she was naked.
"My God! You cut them off!" His mouth was on her now; his tongue had barely touched her when her come took her breath away.
She made a noise which he recognized at once. "Gotcha," he said.