Bedtime Stories Read online

  I leaned back against her, her breasts flattening against my back as Yildiz spread gook across the top of my pussy.

  "This may be harder," Yildiz said, setting down the thin brass spatula she used for spreading the warm paste. Harder? I almost croaked. The other two procedures hadn't exactly been fun. "Here." She took my hands, placing one on each side of the cooling paste. "Pull the skin tight."

  I pulled for all I was worth and held my breath for luck. A rip, a flash of pain, and my fingers relaxed as Yildiz eased the throbbing with her hands. I exhaled; the worst had to be over. I closed my eyes and exhaled as Leyla and Yildiz soothed my discomfort with knowing hands.

  Leyla's hands were on my breasts. Her gentle touch on my hard nipples had me wanting more. I blinked a minute. Was I nuts? Wanting a woman, even if she was a good friend, caressing my breasts? I gave up. Why not? Leyla was my friend, and a woman I hardly knew had her hands and fingers all over my pussy.

  Yildiz plumped up the pillow I'd flattened with my shifting around before her hands spread my legs wider, smoothing my now bare pussy as if admiring her handiwork—or was it my body? I looked down, amazed at the sight of naked pink skin where I'd worn curls since puberty, mesmerized at the sight of golden brown fingers stroking my flushed skin.

  Leyla eased back on the bed until I was almost lying flat, my head in her lap, my hips tilted above my head. Talk about exposed! But I was getting accustomed to soft female fingers on private parts. I even welcomed Yildiz's gentle stroking.

  Her hands moved away and I braced, ready for the soft touch of her warm concoction and the sudden rip of pain. "Oh, dear." Yildiz tutted her tongue and I heard the pan clink down on the stove. "It's too cold. Let me warm it at little. You don't want it sticking to your skin."

  She was right about that! Not that I minded lying there, my cheek against the soft fabric of Leyla's skirt, her hands on my shoulders, fingertips skimming my breasts. I felt groggy, inhaling the warm air redolent with roses and women. Was this what it and been like in the harems? Heady scents, heated rooms, and women preparing their bodies for sex?

  "Steady now." Leyla's hands closed over the tops of my breasts and held me as I felt the warmth of Yildiz's concoction between my thighs and waited for the tug. Was I getting used to it, or was this part of me less sensitive? I still welcomed Yildiz's touch as her hand pressed away the ache, her fingers close to my slit and her breath warm on my thigh. The other side she took care of with equal efficiency, her fingers lingering. I realized I was getting wet. Had to be all the skin contact or... I no longer cared.

  They had me on my belly now, lying diagonally across the bed, my head in Leyla's lap. I could smell her through her skirt. Or was that me? Or both of us? Was I getting turned on despite the pain and awkwardness? Was she? And what of it? I didn't do sex with women—or hadn't. I hadn't had my pussy denuded before, either.

  I had that and plenty more to think about—but Leyla was placing my hands in position to spread my butt cheeks. Talk about embarrassing! "Is this necessary?" I asked. "Pussy" didn't include this part of me, in my opinion. Seemed it was vital though, I held myself open. Waiting. I knew what to expect by now. Why was I getting my knickers in a twist? Especially since I wasn't wearing any. Wearing anything for that matter. I was naked, prone and holding my bottom open for Yildiz to slather me up. Which she did with confidence and efficiency.

  This time it hurt more than before. Why? Embarrassment? Shame at having another woman see my most private place? I'll never know what sent the hot tears running and soaking Leyla's skirt. I sobbed and sniffed. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

  Leyla wiped away my tears with the pad of her finger. "I understand," she said, and kissed me.

  What was so special about that? We were friends. She'd kissed me scores of times. But not like this. A gentle brush of her lips and I felt whole, renewed—and horny as hell. My pussy still hummed, my ass throbbed, my breasts ached, and my cunt was wet and wanting. Leyla smiled as she lifted her mouth from mine. I smiled back.

  Without a word, Leyla rolled me on my back and stretched out beside me, a hand on my breast, her lips in my hair. This was nutty, crazy, and absolutely wonderful. As Leyla's lips met mine, I sighed and opened my mouth. Her fingers strummed my nipples, rippling arousal right though me. I quit thinking, abandoned myself over to sensation, and kissed her back. I forgot there was another woman in the room, until I felt Yildiz's fingers, spreading sweet oil on my pussy and between my thighs. It seemed only natural that those same fingers entered me, stretching and filling me as I groaned and raised my hips to bring her deeper. A mouth closed on one breast, fingers on another, and my entire body began the slow spiral climb. Between Leyla's teasing and Yildiz's touch, I was sighing and whimpering.

  What was I doing? Feeling wonderful! Climbing! Wanting! Yildiz bent between my legs. The soft damp touch of her tongue on my wet clit wrung a moan from me. I shuddered. My jaw wobbled. My stomach quivered. My knees shook. Yildiz touched me again, a soft, impudent dart of her tongue. I felt it through to my core. I groaned louder, my whole body arching off the bed. That soft tongue stabbed me once more. That was all I needed. I took off, yelling in the quiet room, leaping over the moon, soaring into the heavens, and landing a boneless mass in the middle of the big bed.

  Panting, gasping with satisfaction, I opened my eyes and met Yildiz's grin. "Incredible!" I managed to gasp out.

  "Worth it?" Leyla asked in my ear.

  Was she kidding! "Ahmet said you knew what to do."

  They both laughed, high, lighthearted peals of female joy. "My brother," Leyla said with a slow, secretive smile, "doesn't know as much as he thinks he does."

  She was right, but so was Ahmet. These women did know what to do.

  The Bondage Bed

  The bed fascinated Marie the first time she saw it in Auntie Fluff's pastel pink boudoir. Auntie Fluff was as old as God but her bed was a heavenly creation of pink satin, lace hangings, and a brass headboard with rails and chains and more knobs and finials than four-year-old Marie knew how to count.

  "It's an Italian bed," Auntie Fluff once said, flattered at Marie's blatant fascination. "Mr. Lapointe had it shipped over as a wedding present for me."

  Just the thought of that bed on a boat floating across the Atlantic sparked Marie's imagination. She wanted to lie under those snowy white sheets and float over the waves while she rubbed her face against the smooth satin covers and felt the bumpy lace between her fingers.

  The foot of the bed was as wide as the back of a sofa and covered with pink satin. Once, when no one looking, seven-year-old Marie sneaked in and sat astride the satin padding pretending she rode a magic bed.

  Marie was in her sophomore year of college when Auntie Fluff died. Her jewelry was meticulously divided between her great nieces. Her impressive stock portfolio and house were sold, the proceeds split between her many surviving nieces and nephews. Marie's married cousins laid claim to the silverware, crystal and china.

  No one wanted the bed. Except Marie.

  "That old thing!"

  "A bit big for a dorm room isn't it?"

  "You can't be serious!"

  She was. Completely. Her summer earnings paid the rental for a storage lock up when her mother refused to have the bed in the house.

  Marie often thought about the bed while lying naked with Mike or Josh or Alan. She no longer believed the bed magic but sensed it held secrets and memories she wanted to make her own. She longed to be taken to the heights on satin, surrounded by lace and polished brass.

  Once gainfully employed, Marie spent a good chunk of plastic money, restoring and reupholstering it, and installed it in her apartment.

  Auntie Fluff's bed got attention, raised eyebrows, smiles and slow whistles, to say nothing of some enthusiastic lovemaking. But as time went by, Marie wondered if her expectations and dreams were as unrealistic and implausible as her childhood conviction that her bed was enchanted.

  Then she met Luke, handsome and
bedworthy with dark eyes that hinted of knowledge and a mouth that smiled promises. He asked her out for a drink the first day they met. They talked for hours, over wine, nachos and coffee. Marie was ready to be conquered but Luke seduced slowly, over long conversations, walks by the river, Friday evening gallery hops, and phone calls that lasted into the night. He would not be hurried, seeming to want to possess her mind before he took her body. She had to content herself with wild kisses and heated touches. Sometimes Marie played the seductress, willing him into her bed and her body. Other times she wondered who was tempting whom as he slowly lured her into secret places in his mind.

  Until the night he stayed.

  "Good Lord!" Luke stopped, pulling Marie against him as he stared into her bedroom. "You never told me."

  "Told you what?" Warm hands cupped her breasts, sending a slow tremor snaking down between her legs. He was hard and she felt randy. What else need be said?

  "That you sleep in a bed like this." His lips fluttered along the base of her neck easing up to her jaw. Insistent fingers unbuttoned her silk blouse before slipping inside to capture her soft breast. She shivered as his fingers tightened on her nipple. "You like this, don't you Marie?"

  She'd have answered if she could. She did manage a little groan as both his hands scooped inside her bra. This was nuts! She hadn't even got her shoes off and she was shaking. It had obviously been far too long since she'd.... He stopped kissing and her breast felt cold as he removed his hands. Marie blinked in shock. "No! Don't stop!" That sounded desperate. "Luke, I was enjoying that." Definitely better.

  "I know." Smug wasn't the word. And as for that grin... "I wanted you to." His eyes shone dark at the prospect. He looked across at Auntie Fluff's bed.

  "You like my bed?" Marie asked, hoping to get him in it. Soon.

  "My dear," Luke ran his hand over the newly reupholstered satin foot. "I like what you'll let me do on this bed." He moved to the head of the bead and ran his fingers down the brass rail. "I never dreamed you were offering me this."

  "Is the attraction me, or my bed?" Heck, had she'd never heard of a furniture fetish but who knew...

  "It's what we'll do on this bed."

  She stepped closer. "You approve?"

  "Approve!" He chuckled, slow, sexy, and from deep within his belly. "I am delighted. Why didn't you drop a hint?"

  "That I had an antique bed?"

  His eyes widened as he looked from the bed to Marie. He seemed to think a moment, then a slow smile turned up the corners of his beautiful mouth. "You don't know what this is, do you? To you it's just an antique." He paused as if considering his next move. "Come here."

  "I'm here." Marie rested the flat of her hands on his shirt front, feeling the heat of his skin through the navy silk.

  "I'm going to show you what your bed is intended for." Luke's lips came down on hers. Marie pressed against him as her mouth opened. Lips, tongues, and mouths met in a wild frenzy. Marie heard a moan she recognized as her own, then forgot everything but the taste of his mouth and his hand easing her blouse off her shoulders. Maybe it fell to the floor, perhaps it vaporized. All that mattered was the thrust of his tongue and his fingers, easing down her zipper and holding her steady as she kicked off her shoes and stepped out of her skirt.

  Her bra disappeared. On the floor? In the air? As if she cared with his fingers teasing her nipples and his arms around her. She was now on her back, sliding on the satin sheets. His mouth closed on her breast and she felt his kiss right down to her groin. A slow shudder accompanied the movement of his hand over her belly.

  "So hot. So ready," Luke whispered between her breasts.

  Why argue with the obvious? Marie ran her fingers through his dark hair and held him close. "Kiss me again."

  "Of course." He planted a slow kiss on her navel. It wasn't where she had in mind, but heck, would she complain? Not with wild desire heating up inside.

  His fingers played the warm flesh above her stockings. Marie spread her legs. Or rather they spread themselves. She sighed as he touched the inside of her thigh. Shivered as she felt his fingertips brush her pussy. She closed her eyes, letting her body melt into the sensation of his touch and whimpered in disappointment as his hand moved away.

  "Don't stop. I want more." She muttered.

  "You'll get a whole lot more. I promise. But first..." Against her inclination, he helped her to sit up. "Let me show you something."

  He reached over and pulled one of the brass chains toward her. "Look, bondage chains." A smile curved his mouth as he swung the end to and fro, watching her reaction.

  "You're kidding!" Shocked and excited, she watched his slow smile. "It isn't. This bed belonged to my great aunt!"

  "And no doubt she enjoyed herself in it."

  Marie though back to the long lost photo of Auntie Fluff and the tall, almost legendary Mr. Lapointe. Surely not!

  Luke went on. "These chains once held satin or velvet manacles. The rails are for attaching straps or scarves. And as for that beautifully restored padded foot, it's perfect for disciplining an unruly lover."

  Had she got herself a pervert? Marie shivered, trying to ignore the wetness gathering between her legs. "You're imagining things!"

  Luke shook his head. "No way! Unless I'm imagining your interest and arousal as well." His hand felt her mound through the lace of her panties. Smug wasn't the word for the look on his face as he moved his hand away. "You're wet." He licked his fingers. "And horny... for what I can give you."

  Maybe. But she wasn't desperate. Was she? Heavens she needed him, wanted his touch again. "What are you planning on giving me?"

  His eyes darkened. "Pleasure," he whispered. "If you'll let me."

  How could she refuse? Not when his mouth played her nipples until she moaned and begged for more.

  "Soon," he promised as he paused to remove her stockings. His fingers barely touched her skin as he rolled down the fine mesh nylon. He kissed the inside of her bare ankle and she felt his lips right up to her groin.

  "What are you doing to me?" Marie gasped, her chest heaving and her body getting wetter by the second.

  "Just getting you ready," Luke replied, easing her other stocking off. She waited for the same sweet kiss on her ankle but this time he lifted her leg and kissed behind the knee. It almost had her in orbit.

  "We really should use this old bed as it's intended," Luke said, holding her wrist. "Agreed?"

  "What?" Luke had her stocking half round her wrist. "You're not trying me up!"

  "I won't." He paused in what he was doing. "Just one stocking round one wrist. That's the only knot I'll tie. Promise." He kissed the soft skin above the knotted hose. "Now lie down."

  She was nuts, or horny beyond reason but settled back on the pillow as Luke brushed the hair from her forehead, stroked the curve of her cheek down to her jaw and trailed his fingers down her neck to her shoulder. His mouth closed over her nipple and nipped. She jumped and realized he had her arm over her head.

  "Easy," Luke whispered, holding her arm steady. "I've threaded your stocking through the rails. Here's the other end. Hold it." Marie's right hand closed over the end of the stocking. She pulled and felt the pressure on her left arm. She relaxed and her other arm went slack. "See. Only one knot. Hold onto the other end. Let go when you want to be free. You're in control."

  Was she? Did it matter? Not when his hands cupped her breast, jiggling and squeezing them as if testing their weight. She was hot and desperate and he hadn't even got her panties off. Would she last? Yes… she'd last forever if she could feel the slow tease of his fingers between her breasts and his warm kisses on her belly... and lower.

  "I want you inside," she muttered.

  "Soon, Marie, soon. You're not yet ready." Luke eased up the mattress towards her. "Close your eyes." His hand brushed over her forehead and his thumb and a finger lowered her lids shut. "Good. You'll feel more if you can't see."

  She had to be crazy! Lying here in the dark, grasping the end
of her stocking for all she was worth waiting for his next touch.... on her toes. He was kissing them, one by one with slow deliberate precision. Talk about toe curling! She'd have giggled but he changed from kissing to sucking and she couldn't think too well with his mouth clamped on her big toe.

  Something soft and smooth trailed up the inside of her leg then down the other, carefully skirting where she wanted it most. "What's that?"

  "Keep your eyes closed and I'll do it again."

  She screwed her lids shut. This was wonderful but... she felt a soft fluttering across her breast and belly, like the movement of bird's' wings or the softest summer breeze.

  "Like that?" he asked. God yes! She nodded, her throat too tight to speak. "Good. You like the sensations in the dark don't you?"

  Why try to deny it? His hands eased her panties down. She was naked and at her last glimpse he'd been completely clothed. She saw the image clear in her mind's eye. She was nude and lewdly spread and he was dressed. The image was as arousing as heck and Marie grew wetter by the second.

  "Yow!" Her shoulders came off the bed as he pinched her arm. "That hurt!"

  "Just a little." He kissed where his nails had nipped and soothed the pinpoint of pain. "Better?" She nodded in the darkness and then jerked again as he now pinched her thigh. He continued pacing his pinches to her yelps and then caressing the hurt away with his lips and tongue. Her free hand tightened on the stocking as she braced herself for the next nip... and felt his hand on her mound, cupping gently until her hips arched. She whimpered as he parted her labia and held the soft folds open as he... did nothing. Was he still there? Yes, she could feel his fingers holding her open but nothing else... no kiss, no touch. She was twisting up inside with need. She jerked her hips, hoping he'd take the hint.

  "Patience!" he half-growled.

  "I want you inside. I need you, Luke." She was halfway to begging and didn't care.

  "I know you do, my love. You're wet and glistening and I've never seen a cunt as red and horny as yours."