WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author's imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: Mark Walker
Photo Credit: Mayer George
Unleashed Copyright October 2009 Saskia Walker
eXcessica publishing
A Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved
Unleashed
By
Saskia Walker
Dedication
This collection is dedicated to the editors who have published my short erotic stories, and supported and encouraged me in so many ways: Alison Tyler, Kerri Sharp, Violet Blue, Lonnie Barbach, Rachel Kramer Bussel, Cecilia Tan, Alessia Brio, Carol Queen, Marilyn Jaye Lewis, Radclyffe, Stacia Seaman, Maxim Jakubowski, and Selena Kitt. Thank you all!
Table of Contents
The Importance of Good Networking
The Things That Go On At Siesta Time
The stories in this collection are sexual fantasies.
Please practice safe sex in real life.
Room With A View
Fiona took a gulp of her wine and put her glass down, pushing it across the rough, wooden table with a sigh. "Damn it. I am so horny." She glanced around the small village bar with a resigned expression. "And not a hint of action for miles."
I gave a wry smile. "Hiking through Brittany was meant to be good for our souls, but you're right, maybe we should have gone to Paris instead, especially if you're on a manhunt." I was teasing her. I knew Fiona couldn't go for long without a tumble. I had to admit all this fresh air and plodding was also making me crave exercise of a much more stimulating and intimate kind.
"I thought we might meet a fit and eager young farmhand who wanted a roll in the hay." She looked positively woebegone, her pretty mouth down-turned, her brown eyes sad.
I laughed. "You're just bored." I glanced over at the barman, or "grand-pere" as he was called by the handful of occupants. It was a very small village. "Grand-pere over there might be able to help you out."
"I'm not that desperate. Yet." She laughed, and then she glanced at the door behind me, her eyes rounding. I heard it creak open. Someone else had arrived. I watched her face for her reaction.
Her expression lit up. She leaned forward and put her elbows on the table, ruffling her fingers through her shoulder-length, curly blonde hair to restore life to it. "Oh, my prayers have been answered, a man has appeared."
I glanced around casually, brushing an imaginary piece of fluff off my shoulder. Given Fi's reaction, I was half expecting to see a bronzed god standing in the doorway. Not quite, but he was definitely worth a once-over, sexy in a sort of sleazy way-wide, cheesy grin, slicked-back hair and figure-hugging clothes. A pair of sunglasses hung from the neckline of his designer T-shirt. A stud, and most definitely a fellow tourist. I turned back. "He put a smile on your face."
"Mmm," she purred. "Now that's what I'm talking about." Just as she said it, her face fell. "Oh damn, he's got a woman with him, she's just come in behind him."
I couldn't stop myself from glancing back. The woman was scanning the bar and its occupants with a disapproving look. She was tall and glamorous-way too glamorous for this place-and looked as if she was afraid she might catch something if she sat down in here. She tucked her burgundy-dyed bob behind her ears and stepped forward on her slender heels, as if walking out onto a catwalk. An amused murmur went round the locals.
Fiona rolled her eyes. "She's gorgeous. I hate her."
"At least the locals didn't laugh at us," I commented, suddenly proud that we had been more easily accepted.
Everyone watched as the couple walked to the bar. There didn't seem to be any pressing need to turn away. Fiona sighed deeply. She was looking at the guy's tight derriere as he leaned over the bar to give his order. "I'd like to see that butt naked."
"You're making it worse on yourself," I murmured, imagining him naked too. His arsecheeks were taut, flexing inside the tight denim of his jeans. Beneath his T-shirt, the muscles of his back were subtly defined.
I turned back to Fiona when the couple picked up a carafe of wine and looked for somewhere to sit. Apart from the row of five stools at the bar-all full with locals-there were only three small tables in the place. They took the table just a few feet away from us. The woman glanced over but never acknowledged us. The guy grinned. Fiona grinned back. I smiled and nodded. The couple spoke to each other in French. Briefly. As soon as they got settled, he started kissing the woman's neck, his hands moving all over her.
"That lucky bitch, she's going to get shagged tonight," Fiona whispered under her breath.
"I agree, but that's not the worst part. Unless they're relatives of grand-pere and his brood, which I very much doubt since they got the same dour greeting we did, they must be staying at the gite with us." The farmhouse bed and breakfast had three guest rooms. Marie, the owner, had told us she was expecting another party. The hands-on couple had to be the other guests.
"Oh great, I get to look at that over breakfast too." She nodded over at them. The stud had his hand under the woman's short skirt and was stroking her thigh. The woman sipped her wine, her face expressionless. "What an ice queen," Fiona added, chuckling into her drink.
What a waste, I thought, and waved at grand-pere for another carafe of wine.
The guest rooms were located in a teetering barn, converted to provide sparse but pretty accommodation. We made it back to our attic room, up a rickety staircase that had us breathless and giggling by the time we reached the top. We were high on oxygen, wine and sexual need.
The two hard, narrow beds looked much more inviting than they did before we'd had the wine. Fiona threw herself onto the nearest one, unzipping her jeans and fighting them and her boots off as she did so. "Oh, if he were single and here right now?"
"What would you do with him?"
"First, I'd make him lick my breasts, every inch." She grabbed her breasts through her T-shirt, massaging them deeply.
I kicked my walking boots off, shucking my T-shirt over my head.
Fiona was still lost in her fantasy. "Then I'd make him go down." She thrust her hand inside her undies. A raised knuckle poking up through the soft fabric indicated that she'd headed straight for her clit.
"This isn't helping." I laughed.
"You're right," she replied, tugging her hand free. She pulled her T-shirt and undies off, clambering under the sheets with a deep sigh.
We were just getting settled down and I was about to turn off the light when we heard a door shut, footsteps, and the creaking of the staircase. Voices sounded in the room below. Then it started-loud, ecstatic moaning-the sounds of a woman in extreme pleasure.
Fiona half sat and stared across at me, her expression incredulous. "Bloody hell, the ice queen had to be a moaner, didn't she?"
I shook my head. "It's adding insult to injury."
Fiona shut her eyes, pressing her head back into her pillow.
"Oh oui! Vite, vite," the voice from below shouted.
"That lucky bitch," Fiona groaned, her hand moving under her sheet, reaching between her restless thighs.
She began rubbing and heat spread through my body, part embarrassment and part red-hot arousal. "Jesus, Fi. If you have to masturbate can't you at least turn the light out first?" What with the sound effects from below, and her obvious actions, I was fast growing wet. I squeezed my thighs together. My clit felt as if it was wired to a jagged electric current, my inner flesh aching for contact. I reached for the cord and clicked off the light. I dropped back on my pillows, wishing away the lust that had taken hold of me. As I did, I became aware of a shaft of eerie light, spanning from floor to ceiling. "What the hell is that?" I sat bolt upright, clutching the sheet to my chest, thoroughly spooked.
Fi was already out of bed and tiptoeing across the floor, her naked body strangely lit by the shaft of light. "It must be a hole in the floorboards." She knelt down, blocking out the light as she moved over it. "Oh my god," she hissed, drawing back. The light beamed upward again. "Get over here. It's a knot in the wood that's fallen out. We're right over their bed and he's giving her one hell of a pussy licking."
That did it. My hormones were already in overdrive and now they were spilling over. As I stood up, moisture ran onto my inner thighs. I clamped them shut, wriggling them together, nearly falling over as I did so. She'd all but blocked out the light, hovering over it, but I made it over to the spot and dropped to my knees beside her. She pulled back and pointed at it, one hand covering her mouth as if she was afraid she might laugh.
I peered through the hole, gasping with amazement when I caught sight of them. The ice queen was on her back, naked, her breasts jutting outward as she lay spread-eagled on the bed. Her dark nipples and red bob looked strange and vivid against her pale flesh and the white sheets. The stud was working away in between her legs, his head bobbing and his back flexing. His bare buttocks were clenching and unclenching.
"What's happening?" Fiona pushed me aside. "Oh my god. He's humping the edge of the bed."
"Shush, they'll hear you."
"What, with that din going on?"
"Encore," the ice queen bellowed, panting loudly.
Fi sat back on her haunches, one hand over her mouth, giggling. The light from the upward beam lit her face. Her eyes were full of mischief. "It looks like he's about to come all over the end of the bed."
I angled in for another glimpse. She was right. He was giving the bed some serious hip thrusts with his lower body, while seeing to the woman with his hands and mouth.
Fiona was busy moving around to my right-hand side. "Look."
I glanced up. She'd pulled back the rug at the foot of her bed and revealed another shaft of light.
"You stay there," she said. "I can't see much of her, but I've got more of him over here."
That suited me fine. I liked watching her expression changing while he did the business. Besides, the way Fi was so practical and matter-of-fact about playing peeping tom made me want to laugh aloud. I felt so naughty. Combined with the heady flow of lust in my veins, it was doing dangerous things to me. Furtively, I pushed my hand over my mons and fingered my swollen clit. Downstairs, the ice queen was rapidly melting. Her mouth was open, her body shuddering visibly as she shifted and arched. A great juddering moan left her lips, outdoing all her previous exhortations for pitch and reverberation. The stud moved, standing, murmuring encouragement to her in a low voice. For the first time I got a glimpse of his cock, and what an eyeful it was.
"Bloody hell," Fi whispered across the floor.
"I know," I hissed back, watching as he stroked it with a sure and adoring fist.
The ice queen sat up and smiled at him. It was the first time I'd seen her smile. She rolled closer to the edge of the bed and onto her hands and knees, her bottom wiggling in the air as she lowered her head to his groin. On her lower back, she had a tribal tattoo, a dark shape etched beneath her pale skin. When she started to mouth his cock, his head dropped back and his eyes shut, his slicked-back hair finally falling free of his skull to drop to one side.
The ice queen seemed able to make a lot of noise at all times-even with her mouth full. She concentrated her actions on his cock head, tonguing it and taking it into her mouth as if that was all that would fit. Mind you, it was very large.
"Oh come on. I'd give you a much better blow job than that, big boy," Fiona said, laughing to herself. "Suck it in, ice queen."
"No, if she did that we'd get to see less of it."
"True. Hey, ice queen, don't suck it in, we wanna see it."
"Fiona!" She was drunk. So was I, but she was verging on blowing our cover.
"Oops." She put her hand over her mouth again, leaning back from her peephole and resting on her knees to quell her laughter. The beam of light showed her ample breasts bouncing as she moved. The triangle of dark blonde hair in her groin was just visible in the fall of light. Her body was outlined with darkness, her pubic hair glistening. Everywhere I looked I saw flesh and sexually alert people. And I was no exception. My nether regions were trembling with need, my hips swiveling of their own accord, ready and primed for action. Fi's hand shot to her pussy, rubbing fast as she ducked back down to look again.
What had started out as a red-hot, full-on sex show had now developed into a double-trouble, split-screen project. Overwhelmed with stimulation, I glanced from the shadowy image of Fiona masturbating and back to the scene below. My hand was now buried between my thighs, one finger shoved inside and the heel of my hand over my clit, crushing it. I was going to come at any moment.
Downstairs, the stud was wanking his shaft while the woman sucked on the head of his cock. He'd reached one hand lower, presumably to hold his balls. How I wished I could see that too. The ice queen pulled back suddenly and knelt up, walking on her knees right up against him, whispering, gesturing at his cock then squeezing her breasts in her hands. The stud wanked faster as he looked at her tits, his cock-end dark with blood and glistening wet, his moving hand aiming it right at her.
I trembled, my climax building and rolling from my center. My sex clenched, spasmed, and flooded. Hot waves of pleasure shot through my entire groin. I wavered, slid, thought I'd slip flat out and right across the floor. The hand pivoting me on the floor was damp and I fumbled for steadiness. I blinked, attempted to ground myself, and refocused on the view below, not wanting to miss the sight of him coming.
Seconds later, he let rip and shot his load, thick white ribbons of semen covering the space between them. The hand between my thighs was drenched. Just a couple of feet away, I could hear Fi sighing with pleasure.
"Jesus, that was hot," I managed to whisper to her a moment later, suddenly self-conscious about what we'd done. I'd lost it, the intensity of the moment compelling me to watch, to enjoy and to come.
Fiona had stood up and was staggering back to her bed, feeling her way. She gave a breathy laugh. "Yeah, and if they're staying another night, I suggest we do too. You've got to admit, it's the best fun we've had so far on this bloody trip."
I shook my head: she was so right. "You know, Fi, that's the best idea I've heard all week!"
Watching Lois Perform
"Trust me, Lois." Jack's arm shot out, blocking the doorway to her office. "I know what you need." His shirt sleeve was rolled up, revealing a strong forearm dusted with black hair, his fist sure and large against the door frame.
Halted in her steps, Lois took a deep breath. Her glance moved to meet his. "Trust me, Jack, you don't." Steeling herself, she pushed his arm aside, ignoring his knowing look, ignoring those dark eyes filled with suggestion and the tangible wall of testosterone he exuded.
She headed for her desk, her stiletto heels clicking on the floor. The skin on her back prickled with awareness, awareness brought about by his presence. He'd done it again. He'd made her curious, responsive. Lois didn't take any nonsense from the men she worked with, but Jack Fulton had unsettled her. Counting to five, she put her laptop down on the desk and turned to face him, ready to challenge his comment. The door was ajar, the space empty. He was gone.
She shook her head. "Typical." Grabbing her bag and coat, she left the building.
The pavement outside was growing crowded with commuters; the Friday evening London rush hour was under way. She stepped into the crush, leaving the office behind, hurrying to the tube station and descending the escalator at a pace. The display board told her it was four minutes until her train was due. She strode up and down the platform, her body wired. She was always like this after delivering a successful presentation. It had gone well, and she'd easily dealt with the put-downs issued by the men who defied her female power. She thrived on her success, but now she longed to throw off her city suit and heels.
The crowd thickened on the platform behind her, noisy and restless. Wind funneled down the tunnel, a distant train rumbled. She glanced across the tracks. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw Jack standing opposite her, still as a predator about to pounce. A barely perceptible smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Even across the rail tracks she could see the intense look in his eyes.
She swallowed. What was it about Jack Fulton? The way he looked at her did powerful things to her, sexual things. They'd worked together for just a few months, but he was one of the few men who didn't challenge her. Instead he sat back with a secret smile, watching as she defended herself at board meetings, where she proved over and again that she had earned her right to be in this male dominated world. But it was more than that. His dark sexuality was evident in the way he carried himself and the way he scrutinized her. He made her self-aware in the extreme, her underwear soon growing damp when his gaze followed her with that knowing look in his eyes. The knowing look he had on right now.
He inclined his head in greeting. She nodded back and then glanced away, fidgeting with the strap of her shoulder bag. One minute until her train would arrive. His earlier comment echoed through her mind. I know what you need. Her curiosity was growing. Her instant denial had been because of the controversy at the meeting, where she'd been giving the research stats for a proposal to change the power source in the company's major manufacturing plant. Men were always telling her they knew better than her, even though it was her field of expertise. As soon as she'd rebuffed Jack's comment about knowing what she needed, she'd realized he meant something other than work. Something more intimate. She wanted to know more. And he'd gone.
Glancing back, she saw that his train was approaching. He never took his eyes off her. She craned her neck when her view was obscured by the moving carriages. The shift of the crowd into the train made it impossible to pick him out. Then it was gone. The platform was empty. She stared at the place where he had stood until her train pulled in. She moved to the far side of the carriage, where she could stand out her journey, and turned on her heel-just in time to see Jack close in behind her.
"Your place it is then." His eyes glittered with anticipation, with certainty.
Her heart thudded in her chest. Her lips parted, but this time no retort emerged. Between her thighs, a pulse throbbed with need. She closed her mouth, snatching at the overhead handhold for support.
His smile was triumphant.
* * * *
Later, in her flat, he threw her by rejecting a comfortable, relaxed seat on the sofa. Instead he pulled out a dining chair, indicating that she do the same and sit facing him.
He'd teased her all the way home, innuendo in his every word, keeping her wired. And now, despite the fact they were in her home, he took charge immediately. Not in an aggressive way, but with a relaxed sense of surety that was disarming. She put her wineglass down on the table and took her seat, noting how exposed the set up made her feel.
He lounged back over his chair, one leg folded, his ankle resting on the opposite knee, his hand loosely on the juncture. His looks were rugged but suave. He was dangerously attractive.
She tried to look as relaxed as he was, but she was far from it.
"I enjoyed watching you deal with that moron Laybourne at today's meeting."
She gave a breathy laugh, releasing some of the tension he had aroused in her. "He's just an arrogant little prick with very little real knowledge."
"You're so right." He gave a deep and genuine laugh. "He's jealous of your abilities though, and he's lusting after your body. The two vying motivations confuse him. Lust for a competitor can screw with a guy's mind." He looked at her with deliberation.
Her heart raced. "It can?"
"If he lets it." His gaze moved over her body, slowly.
"And are you jealous of my skills?" She crossed her legs, crushing the pounding pulse in her clit.
"No, I admire them immensely. I'm not threatened by you."
For a moment silence hung heavy in the atmosphere.
He raised one eyebrow. "I notice you didn't ask if I lusted after you."
"I don't think you came here with the sole purpose of analyzing today's meeting."
He tipped his glass at her. "Indeed. And you did let me come home with you."
She couldn't deny it. "So I did."
Silent acknowledgement raced between them. They were going to fuck.
He took a sip of his wine, eyeing her as she crossed and uncrossed her legs.
"It's not easy for you, is it? Blonde, pretty, extraordinarily intelligent."
Something akin to relief hit her. "No, it isn't." She smiled, genuinely appreciating his words. He really had been observing her.
"What do you usually do, when you bring a man home for sex?" He said it as if he was discussing the weather, and glanced around the open-plan living area, as if the furniture could tell tales.
"Oh, fast, dirty sex, nothing prolonged in terms of involvement. I don't have time." She pushed her heavy hair back from her face, watching for his response. It was the truth. What would he think of her?
"That doesn't surprise me."
"Really?"
"Perhaps you should make time."
"Perhaps I should." Where was he going with this?
"How many times do you reach orgasm, when you have 'fast, dirty sex'?"
It felt as if the temperature had risen dramatically. "That's a rather intimate question."
"I mean to be intimate with you, Lois."
He wasn't kidding. His provocative questioning had her entire skin prickling. "Once, mostly," she replied eventually.
He nodded. "I'd like to see you come more than once. You deserve better than that."
If he'd wanted to grab her attention, he'd certainly found the way. Up until that moment she could have turned away, asked him to leave. Not now. Not anymore.
"There's a determination about you that fascinates me," he continued. "You stalk after everything. If we were living in a primitive world, you would be a powerful huntress."
She smiled at the image, loving it. "Very amusing, but what's your point?"
"My point is that even powerful women can learn by pacing themselves. " He ran one finger around the rim of his wineglass. "You might benefit from restraint."
Her sex clenched. The nape of her neck felt damp. "You're suggesting bondage?" She let her gaze wander over his body. Bulky with muscle, his expensive clothing barely concealed his obvious strength. Being under him would be quite something.
He shook his head. "No. I'm talking about a different kind of restraint altogether. Willpower. I enjoy seeing you battle with your energies, using and controlling your power in the workplace. Whether it's in the boardroom or elsewhere, your desires are only just harnessed. You're a powerful woman, but it's as if you're always on the edge of losing control. And that is such a turn on."
Breathing had become difficult. More than that, his words about willpower struck a note with her, as if she recognized herself in what he said. She never thought about it that way, but yes. He was right.
He smiled and it was filled with dangerous charm. "I'm enjoying watching you now; you're racked with sexual tension. I can almost touch it." He moved his hand, as if he was touching her through the atmosphere. "Your eyes are dilated, slightly glazed. Your body is restless, your movements self conscious, jumpy, your skin is flushed. Your nipples are hard."
She took a gulp of wine. The way he described her was sending her cunt into overdrive.
He loosened his tie. "You've been squirming on that seat for the last five minutes. I'd put money on your underwear being very, very damp."
Her skin raced with sensation, the thrill of his words touching her every inch of skin, inside and out. She wanted to fuck. Now. But he was making her sit there and listen, controlling her with his intimate, knowing words.
His glance dropped to her cleavage. She realized her fingers were toying with the button there. She clutched it tight, stilling her hand, and bit her lip.
"Be careful, you'll draw blood."
He didn't miss a thing.
"How wet are you, Lois?"
She squirmed on her chair, desperate for contact, her eyes closing as she replied. "Wet, very wet." She stifled a whimper.
Silence hung heavy between them again while she looked at him for his response. He was still as a bird of prey, his chin resting on one hand. A large bulge showed in his expensive Armani pants. She wanted it badly, wanted it inside her where her body was begging to be filled.
He lifted one finger, gesturing at her crotch. "Open your legs, show me."
Swearing under her breath, she followed his instruction, wriggling her short skirt up and over her hips, her eyes never leaving his. As she opened her legs, pivoting out on her stacked heels, his eyes darkened.
"Oh yes, you are wet." His lips remained apart as he stared at her. She sensed his breathing had grown quicker. "Touch yourself, through your panties."
She rested her hand over her pussy and groaned aloud. Her clit leapt, her hips wriggling into her hand for more.
"Enough." He smiled. "Stand and take your underwear off."
Her heart thudded so hard she thought she might crack. She took a deep breath and stood up, rested her thumbs in the lacy waist band and paused.
With one finger, he gestured downwards.
She rolled them over her hipbones, growling quietly when she found herself exposed under his gaze. Dropping the panties to the floor, she stepped out of them. Her skirt was wedged around her waist, her pussy exposed. She rested her hands on her hips in an attempt to feel less awkward.
"How delicious. I can see your clit poking out. It's very swollen, isn't it?"