How You Watch

“Do you want to watch us fuck?”


I nodded my head, but the truth is I wasn’t sure. I like watching sometimes, and I like being there, but I have to be in the right frame of mind to really enjoy it.


“I want to try something different,” she said, taking him by the hand and leading us both to the bedroom. “I’ve never had anyone watch like this.”


My curiosity was definitely piqued, and I sat on the foot of the bed while they undressed each other. Their kissing grew more ferocious as he pulled off her top, and she was biting his neck by the time his cock was hard and in her hand. She knelt for just a few minutes, and while it was perfectly nice to see, it wasn’t anything especially new.


“Get on you back,” she said, pushing him on the bed a few seconds later. He lay down and she straddled him, facing me. She waved me closer with one finger as she sat down, and I leaned in closely as she rubbed the head of his cock against her lips. I had forgotten they were fluid bonded, and as I lay down on my stomach I suddenly realized this was indeed not normally how I watch.


They were inches from me, and I stared with wide eye as she pushed down around him. She leaned back, and the mechanics of their fucking took up my whole frame of vision. They both moaned when he was all the way inside her, and I could see everything. The ridge that ran up the outside of his cock was glistening, and the lips of her cunt opened and closed around him as they moved. On occasion she’d sit up just enough for him to pop out and then slowly she’d lower herself back down around him.


Within minutes my nostrils were filled with their sex, and my hands were on her thighs. She looked down as well, and I couldn’t tell if she was still amazed by her own body or if it was my burning eyes on them that did the trick.  


“Do you want to taste me?” she asked, her voice thick and slow.


“Yes,” I said, leaning in even closer.


With one hand she pulled him from her and without pause she rubbing him against my lips. I didn’t wait for a bigger invitation before opening my mouth around him and tasting both of them. I gripped the base of his cock as she fucked him once again, and we began an irregular pattern of me taking him into my mouth or sucking her clit while they fucked. Their moans grew louder and faster, but it was almost as if they weren’t there. All that mattered to me was one soaking wet cunt and one ridiculously hard cock.


When she came the whole building heard. She grabbed my hair, pushed down around him, and clenched her thighs and cunt. She swore and she cried, and at the very last minute she pulled my mouth to her clit. I could feel her trembling, him twitching, and suddenly his balls were tightening, and I swear I could watch the come move up the length of his cock until his cries were mixed in with hers.


Each time I touched them at all their skin twitched and their muscles tightened. And when she sat up once more I leaned in and tasted both of their come. First, I licked up the length of his cock as he clenched the sheets in his hands and cried out. Then I opened her swollen cunt with my tongue and taste them there. I licked and sucked, pausing only to stare at their bodies, amazed at how delightfully messy they were.


They were red, purple, and vermillion. Their flesh was engorged with blood, wet with their own fluids, and trembling with the spasms of their coming. All of my senses were filled, and each one said “more” to my nearly useless brain.


“Well, that was different,” he said, as she rolled off him. They kissed for a long while before looking back at me with sheepish grins.


“Thanks for letting me watch,” I said.


“If that’s how you watch, we might have to do it again.”


-GNY

Fresh Cut Grass (or Watching you Fuck)

We lay on our own beds in the small hotel room promising we wouldn’t touch each other.

It was so hot out that we wore almost nothing, and the urge to move or get dressed had long since left us. She had a light sheet covering her body; her tanned skin was visible through the thin cotton. I longed for the breeze that occasionally rustled the curtains through the open window.

“Who are you thinking about?” she asked.

“The blonde waitress. The lifeguard. The girl at the front desk. I don’t know. I think I want all of them. How about you?”

“The boy with the lawnmower and no shirt. He’s going to fuck me until I cry.”

I was hard in an instant and my bathing suit did little to cover it. I thought it might even matter until I heard a soft moan escape her lips as she slid a hand between her thighs. I undid the drawstring, my palm pressing against my erection at the same time.

“I want to bend her over the desk and fuck her while everyone watches,” I whispered.

“I want to fuck him on this bed,” she moaned, pushing the sheet off her naked body. “Just like this.” She arched her back and her fingers were a blur. My shorts were gone a second later and my cock was so hard I could feel every inch of skin stretched to its limits. When I looked at her again she was staring at me and neither of us said a word. I used both hands as I watched.

The breeze was gone. The sheets were gone. And then she turned to me, her legs falling off the bed and her thighs opening. I stared in awe, my hands stopping without thinking. And then I was standing and walking towards her even as she closed her eyes and pushed three fingers inside her cunt.

I was close enough to hear every sound that escaped her lips. I jerked myself off furiously as I watched her, and when she finally opened her eyes it was nearly over.

“I’m going to come,” she moaned.

“Me too,” I said, taking one step closer to her bed.

“Come on me,” she whispered, a hint of sudden shyness flickering across her gaze.

And then we were coming, our fantasies lost in our minds and mixed in with fresh cut grass and the smell of the ocean. She clenched around her fingers as I came on her breasts and stomach, and it was all I could do to keep standing.

When I finally collapsed it was back onto my own bed. She watched me as she rubbed my come into her skin, and I shook as my muscles gave way.

“I want to watch you get fucked,” I finally said.

“Oh, god,” she whispered. Her hand moving back between her legs and her eyes closing once more in the hot afternoon sun.

 Guy New York

(If you enjoy my writing, you might like my new novel, The Island on The Edge of Normal, now available on Kindle and in Print.)

The Ease of a Summer Afternoon

Sometimes we like to sit back and watch.

There are those languid lazy days when evening drifts in like an old friend rather than a noisy neighbor, and they’re meant to be caressed and kissed. On those nights we sit still, drinking slowly without any need for movement at all. Often we sink into couches and chairs, our legs draped over each other’s laps and our hands lightly touching bodies.

But there’s always a few people for whom time is moving differently and they get to be our entertainment. For them the night is flying by rather than creeping, and they need to move. They need to feel things bigger than comfort, and so they undress for us, tearing at each other’s clothes even as we sit still. They push and pull, and their touch is so very different from ours. They slap skin, bite shoulders, and they make noises that are beyond our grasp.

Sometimes while watching we grow hard or wet, and we let our hands drift about our bodies. As we watch them fuck for us we loosen clothes and undo buttons just enough. Our hands gently slip up and down cocks and easily open cunts. We lean back, our drinks often forgotten, and we let our bodies respond as they will.

When they come it’s with fire and lightning. They scream and yell, bursting forth from their own bodies, and tearing the night from it’s position. They shake and tremble as they crash their bodies together, and their coming is majestic.

When we come it’s with the ease of a summer afternoon. We clench our cunts around fingers and squeeze hard around the bases of cocks. We slowly let it out, our bodies bubbling more than exploding, and it lasts for ever. Our eyes close and our toes clench. Our mouths open just enough to sigh, and we come with every muscle, as if for the first time.

When the noise is done, we’re together again. The fast movers among us have slipped back into time, and they too slide to the floor, their bodies having released the urge to move. They reach out and touch us, and we meet them with fingertips and lips. We gently pull them to us, and slowly, ever so slowly, we let go.

(If you enjoy my writing, you might like my new novel, The Island on The Edge of Normal, now available on Kindle and in Print.)

Please Don’t Tell

I can’t fuck her with the cat watching.

It’s not that I’m worried the cat will tell anyone. She’s quiet and sleeps most of the time, but it’s disconcerting and sometimes even awkward. The cat reminds me of someone else. In fact, she reminds me of a number of people who don’t know that I’m having sex with the daughter of a man who doesn’t know I’m fucking his daughter.

I’ve tried to ignore her. One morning I crawled between legs for a wakeup of cunnilingus and coffee (I left that on the bedside table) but halfway through she was there; quiet as ever, she looked at me with an expression only she can make. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth wider, and for a moment it didn’t matter. I lost myself in both external and internal sex organs, but a soft meow brought me back.

“Don’t stop,” someone’s daughter told me. I stopped anyway.

“I can’t. She’s watching me,” I pleaded with a voice that didn’t sound anything like me. With one strong arm she pushed the cat onto the floor before pulling me back to her cunt with a growl. I tried my best, but the moment was gone. I was lapping rather than devouring and it resulted in a light rain rather than a hurricane.

“I’m going to give the cat away,” she whispered as I crawled up next to her. “It’s not worth it any more.”

“I’ll leave you,” I said with complete sincerity. She looked at me with a frown that implied a question. I didn’t waver or give in with a smile. When she got up to pee the cat jumped back into her space. She purred when I touched her chin, and I leaned in to kiss her forehead.

“Please don’t tell,” I whispered.

Guy New York

Trying to Come

“We can’t touch each other,” she said as she lifted her dress.

She was sitting in her chair looking up at me, and my moment of confusion was quickly replaced with a gluttonous misery. When the blue cotton was just barely covering her thighs I had to stop myself from bending down.

“I don’t know if I can handle it,” I said, trying to turn away.

“Of course you can. It’s simple. You can do anything you like as long as you don’t touch me. And so can I.”

With that, she slipped one hand beneath the white fabric covering her cunt, and for some reason I was the one who let out a gasp. I stared at her as her fingers moved, and her smile grew bigger with each second. I was getting hard in my jeans, but I didn’t have the nerve to move, let alone touch myself.

“I’m not thinking about you,” she said between moans. Her hand was barely moving at all, but I could hear her, and I could smell her. I wanted to touch her hair or her arm. I wanted to kiss her fingers or press myself against her knee. I wanted anything as long as I knew what to do.

She closed her eyes when she came, and I finally slipped one hand into a pocket to rub against my cock. I should be harder, I thought.

“So,” she said, pulling her dress down. “Dinner? Wine?”

“I couldn’t…”

She stood up and cut me off with a kiss to my cheek.

“It’s fine,” she said. “Besides, I don’t know what I would have done if you had come any closer. Let’s forget about it.”

Later on at the restaurant I tried to jerk off in the bathroom. I thought about her sighs and her legs. I imaged that she let me taste her and that she had begged me to fuck her. I was hard and excited, but a knock on the door ruined everything.

As I washed my hands, I shook my head in the mirror and tried to smile.

Guy New York

Fucking On The Floor

I woke up to them fucking on the floor.

My arm was hanging off the edge of the couch, and I could smell coffee from the other room. Someone had done more cleaning, and someone had opened a window to let in the late morning breeze. I rolled over onto my side and rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

She was facing me as he slowly thrust into her from behind. They almost looked like they were still sleeping; their bodies hardly moved at all. The groans that escaped their lips were quiet but sincere.

She reached one hand between her legs at the same time as me and when she lifted one thigh I could see everything. I wrapped my hand around my cock as she rubbed her clit, and the air started to move. The breeze picked up, her voice grew louder, and his fingers pressed harder into her skin.

“Let me see,” she mouthed. I pushed the blanket down around my feet and suddenly her eyes were on me. They were wide and blue, and I was just as focused on his cock sliding in and out of her as she was on the blur of my hand.

It was his moan that started it. He held himself deeply inside her as he grunted, and I swear I could see him coming. Two more slow thrusts and she was coming as well. Her fingers moved furiously and her legs clenched around him. She bit her lip and she squeezed a nipple tightly between her fingers. He pushed into her one last time and she began to shake and tremble, whispering his name over and over again.

They were both watching me, even as they began to catch their breaths. My hand never stopped, and my eyes were still taking in their bodies. He sat up behind her, and when he slipped out I could his cum mixed with hers in the brilliant pink folds of her cunt.

I arched my back and closed my hand tightly around the base of my cock. I looked into her eyes as she told me to come for them, and for a moment everything stopped. It was an endless second between the final pump of my fist and my own release. It was one perfect moment before I was coming and groaning as I covered my stomach and hand.

Minutes passed before my breathing slowed down and it wasn’t until someone called out that the coffee was ready that we began to laugh.

“Good morning,” he said as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“Yes it is,” she said with a grin.

I Wanted To Keep Her

“Are you guys fucking in there?”

Shit.  The stall was locked, and the hotel bathroom was far from anything, but someone found us anyway.  How do you answer that question? Just an honest yes? Say nothing at all? Ask for a towel?

“Um, yeah,” my friend replied in a quiet voice. I held her there against the wall, my cock still inside her and her legs wrapped around my body.  The pause was too long to be comfortable.

“Can I come in?” 

It was almost a whisper, and there was enough breath in it that I reached over and unlatched the door without thinking. We stared as she entered the stall, watching her lean against the black tile. She looked us up and down and her eyes were wide with excitement. When she lifted her skirt and slipped two fingers beneath the thin fabric covering her cunt I started  to move again. My partner bit my neck, but I could tell what she was watching.

“Fuck her harder,” came the quiet moan from behind me. 

My nails pressed into her ass when I pulled her to me, and she wrapped her arms around me. I lifted her up and dropped her back down onto my cock without pause, and I could hear soft moans from behind us. She whispered her direction over and over again, and I obeyed with more enthusiasm than skill. 

Her moans grew louder as my thrusts grew quicker, and I could feel my body losing control. I wanted to turn and look, and I wanted to kneel at her perfect feet. I wanted to come and I wanted to watch. I wanted everything all at once.

“I’m coming,” slipped from two mouths at the same time, and the air in the room was sucked out in seconds. I struggled to stand as we fucked, but when I finally opened my eyes minutes later we were alone again. The door was closed but unlocked, and my date was limp in my arms.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off her cunt.”

“I couldn’t take my ears off her moans.”

“I wanted to keep her.”

I lifted her up and stood her in front of me as we adjusted our clothes and hair. I opened my mouth to say something smart, but closed it before I let out a sound. We walked out into the dark bathroom and washed our hands in silence.

It took me minutes to see the lipstick writing on the mirror.  It was almost too delicate to be real, but there were ten numbers in a row followed by two words: thank you.

Guy New York

Something of My Own

Whenever we fuck we have to film it so her husband can watch us later.

The first few times I obsessed over the camera angle, the lighting, and the pacing of the show.  I wanted to spend time editing, and I wanted it to be art. After a while I realized that I misunderstood.  He didn’t want art.  He wanted life and he wanted it with all the bumps, jostles, and noises that came with it.

It was only after I let the camera be, that he joined us.  He wasn’t in the room, and, in fact, I rarely spoke to him, but more and more our sex revolved around him. The first time he was there I almost missed it. She was lying beneath me and I was rubbing my cock against her lips when she looked up at me and whispered.

“I can’t believe how much bigger you are,” she said.  And then she began to beg.

I fucked her and kissed her, and I listened to her scream, but a part of me wondered if she was screaming for me or for him. I bit her lip and left marks on her breasts, but somewhere in the back of my mind I was unsure of everything.

He came and went for months, and there were nights when I forgot about him altogether.  We made love or we fucked, and it was about us.  It was what we wanted to do, and if she was thinking of him she was silent.

And then, one night he was back.  She was kneeling on the bed and I was fucking her from behind. She pushed against me, and I thrust into her with reckless abandon.  I held her tightly, and I opened her wide as we fucked on their messy bed.

“Do you want my ass?” she asked me in a small voice that came from nowhere.

I could have sworn she was looking at the camera when she said it, and when she handed me the lube from her bedside table there was mischief in her eye.  I pressed one finger and then two inside her, and she pushed back, moaning with the new sensation. 

She was quiet when I positioned myself against her, and her hands gripped the pillow beneath her head.  I could hear her breathing as I pressed into her and she screamed when I finally entered. I let her wait and relax before I moved at all, and it took us a long time before I was fully inside her. 

She was tight and strong around me and it was harder to hold back than I can say.  I wanted to fuck her hard and I wanted to fuck her fast.  I wanted to hear her cry out, and I wanted pain mixed with my pleasure.  It wasn’t until she began to move that I let myself go, and it was just then that I understood.

“Oh God,” she groaned into the camera.  “You’ve always begged for this and now I understand.”

I tried not to listen as I fucked her ass, but in seconds it was perfectly clear.

“Fuck me,” she screamed.  “Fuck my virgin ass.”

I’m almost embarrassed to say that I came.  The clarity was almost too much for me, but I wanted it. I needed it after all those months, and I grunted and moaned as I called her names I won’t repeat.

“Your ass is so fucking tight,” I cried, and that time it was my turn to look into the camera. I shook as I came, but I never stopped moving and I never grew soft. I fucked her harder than ever before because somewhere inside my desire was all of my envy and all of my fear.

I had shared her every night for so many months, and it was only then that I had something of my own.  

Guy New York

Painting

She kept her paint in a hat box.  
 
It was her grandmother’s, but somewhere along the line the hats has disappeared and only the boxes remained.  She removed each tube every time she painted, and she set the box down under her easel with her left foot gently resting on the lid.  She painted in a bathrobe, and she drank red wine.

The last time I posed for her was exactly like the first time.  I undressed when she told me too, sat on the chair the way she asked, and froze when she told me to get hard. The room was warm, and the chair was comfortable, but despite my sometimes view of her body beneath the robe it still felt like an impossible task.  

She sat and waited without so much as a fidget.  She smiled and sipped her wine and let me go from nervous to trying.  It took more than twenty minutes and I had to do things I don’t normally let people watch me do.  

Her painting took very little time. She started with my knees and sketched around my body until she had outlined me up to my chest.  The details followed, with the most attention paid to my cock.  On occasion she got up from her stool and approached me with her robe pulled tightly closed.  She leaned in until I could feel her breath on me, and just when I thought she might take me into her mouth she measured me with her brush instead and quickly returned to her seat.  

I held on tightly to keep myself hard.  I squeezed with my left hand and every once in a while ran the palm of my right over the head of my cock.  She doesn’t mind the movement as long as the results are the same.  In fact, she never says a word while she paints, even if my moaning distracts her.

When I saw her slow down I knew what was next.  When I saw her take her foot off the top of the box I tensed all the muscles in my body, and when she finally put down her brush I closed my eyes. I counted in my head until her voice broke the silence.

“Come now,” she said, and I did.


Guy New York

Wiggling, Straining, and Struggling

It was a party we shouldn’t have been at considering that we worked together. Nevertheless we sat and talked as we shared a drink, and despite the small amount of debauchery going on around us, it was quiet. I sucked in my stomach, passed her the drink and thought loudly to myself: we can totally do this.

It wasn’t until they fell down next to us in the corner that I began to worry.They clawed at each other’s clothes as they kissed necks and pulled on lips with their teeth. They were as frantic as two people can be, and despite our best efforts we were completely focused on them.

“Do you guys mind if we fuck here?” one of the girls asked. I shook my head and mumbled something about not being bothered in the slightest.

By the time their shirts were off, our drink was gone, and both our hands were on the glass. I didn’t notice I was touching her fingers until she switched hands and put the drink on the coffee table behind us. I turned to watch, and somehow she was warm against my back with a hand on my shoulder.

In front of us were four breasts, four hands, and twenty incredibly busy fingers. They pulled straps down, undid hooks, opened buttons, belts, and zippers, and I heard a sigh from Issa behind me when hands disappeared into panties and mouths were muffled between breasts. I had to look down to realize we were holding hands as we watched.

One of the girls pushed the other up onto the couch as she tore the cotton off her hips and I suddenly has someone’s head on my lap. She was screaming in seconds, and her hands were on my legs trying to find something to hold on to.

Issa’s hand moved away from mine as her arm snaked around my body to comb the hair of the girl on my lap with her fingers. We both watched as she arched her hips up against the mouth between her legs and she twisted violently on the couch. We watched as she wiggled, strained, and struggled, and we watched as her breathing quickened to the point of losing it.

I could feel warmth against my ear from Issa’s breath, but it was still about them. It was still about the girl coming between my legs as her partner practiced her hard earned secrets without pause. When she stopped shaking she slid down the couch back onto the floor and their lips touched and never parted. We were as important as the furniture, and they were lost in their own worlds.

I turned to the woman behind me and tried to look normal. I’m pretty sure I failed.

“Let’s go,” I whispered.

She smiled and I kissed her. Two minutes later we walked down the steps to the street as we tried to pretend we were going somewhere else.

Guy New York

The Next Time

"I promise the next time I have sex you’ll be looking into my eyes."

But she was far away. I was as likely to get out there as she was to come here and we both knew it.  We both knew it would be months, and we both knew neither one of us would wait. Waiting for hours was one thing, but weeks?  It wasn’t our fetish.

Two days later I opened my inbox to discover she was telling the truth.  At fist the video was confusing.  She walked around the room and picked clothes up off the floor.  She did her hair in the mirror and smiled at the camera once or twice.  It wasn’t until he walked in and she kissed him that I began to understand.  

They moved quickly, and within minutes she was on her knees in front of him all I could see was her hair bobbing up down with the motion of her head.  When he pushed her onto the bed I could watch him go down on her, and I could hear her moaning louder than I expected.  

It wasn’t until she stopped him and changed position that I began to wonder if he knew.  He was about to push inside her when she paused.  She moved him behind her and crawled towards the foot of the bed nearer to the camera.  He followed right behind until I could hardly see past her blue eyes. She smiled and winked at me.  

"Fuck me," she whispered, and despite my blocked view it was clear that he listened well.  She never once closed her eyes and she never turned away.  She moaned and he grunted, and every once in a while I watched her suck his fingers between her soft lips before they slipped back between her thighs.  

She came almost slowly, her body moving in waves as her orgasm moved through her.  He kissed her neck and she looked up at me with a sheepish grin. My hand moved quickly as I watched them, and I tried to remember every time she had come with me.  Did she always make that sound?

"Fuck, that was good," she said.

Guy New York

Up One Thigh and Down the Other

She tasted like coconut sunscreen and salt water. 

I kissed up one thigh, down the other, and then focused on the places in between.  I wanted to drown and devour all at the same time, but I let her voice direct me instead.  When I kissed her there she moaned quietly, and when I pulled gently with my teeth she grabbed my hair.  When I buried my tongue inside her and rubbed her clit with my thumb she screamed and lifted her hips off the towel.

When I finally kissed her mouth and slid roughly inside her, she opened her eyes wide and gasped.  She looked around us as I kissed her neck, but all I could hear was the sound of waves and the ocean wind.  She tugged on my hair, pushed up on my shoulders, and turned my head to one side.

“Oh,” I said to the small crowd gathered around us.

“Should I stop?” I asked quietly in her ear.

“I’ll fucking kill you,” she said, pulling me deeper inside her and biting my lip with full force.  

Guy New York

©2011 The Dirty Gentleman (#121)

A Terrible Thought

"I had an orgasm on the subway," she said. 

I nodded, and pretended that I had something perfect to say that didn’t need to be said. I poured her a glass of wine, and sat down next to her on the couch.  I could wait.  There was no way she wouldn’t finish.

"Where is the wine from?" she asked.

She was playing hard to get, but I could handle it.  I knew it was a game, and I knew the only way to win was to stay strong.

"So, tell me about the subway."  

"The wine?"

"Argentina."  Fuck, not only was I losing, but I was losing badly.

"There’s really not that much to say.  I was sitting across from a man with blue eyes, and it just happened."

"Just like that?"

"He looked at me, and I kept looking away, until finally I just didn’t.  I stared at him, and I thought he would look away, but he didn’t either.  He stared at me, and I stared back until I could feel it."

"Feel what?"

"You know, that feeling. That tingling that run ups my leg, circles around my belly, and then heads right back to my cunt.  I crossed my legs, and squeezed my thighs, and then I got a terrible thought.  This thought wouldn’t go away and there was nothing I could do about it."

"What thought was that?"

"What if I let him know I’m coming? I mean, would it really be that bad?  What if I came, staring into his eyes, and I made just enough of an expression that he would know? 

"It was the thought that actually did it.  I clenched my thighs, and kept watching, and as the shiver moved up my body, I closed my eyes and bit my lip at just the right moment.  It was only for a second, but it was long enough."

"What did he do?"

"He stood up and walked off at the next stop. Just like that. He watched, and he smiled, and at the next stop he was gone."

Guy New York

Happy Valentine’s Day Darling

Her dress wasn’t red until I poured my wine on it.

“My husband is going to kill me.”

“No, your husband is going to watch.”

He was far less reluctant than we expected. He held her dress once I slid it off her body and then stood motionless. I didn’t bother with the pretty things he had bought her: the things she wore for him. My zipper slid down as easily as the silk between her legs. She was wet before I touched her.

He hung up the dress-the stain glaring and red-as he knelt next to her on the floor by the bed. Without a word he watched as I rubbed the head of my cock against her before sliding inside her without ceremony. Her eyes were open and wide, and her voice sounded without volition.

“Holy shit, I’m coming,” she said. “So fucking quickly. You’ve never made me…”

He couldn’t turn away as she finished her sentence, and later I watched him kiss her as she slowly rubbed my cum into her skin.

Guy New York

(ed note: This is from a twitter competition by @sonicerotica at www.sonicerotica.com. Follow me on twitter here: @Quickiesnewyork)