Too Hot to Handle Read online

  ‘I can’t wait,’ I whispered, kissing him hard on the mouth. ‘I’ve got to fuck you now.’

  Adam grabbed my hand and led me towards the first apartment door. He unlocked it quickly and we slipped into an enormous, open-plan room with marble floors and wide, low, black leather sofas. Windows ran around most of the room, giving a panoramic view of the city.

  ‘What if there’s someone in?’ I gasped.

  ‘There won’t be,’ he replied, pulling me down on to one of the sofas. ‘I told you, the owner’s away.’

  I lay on my back, on the soft, cold leather, as Adam worked his way down from my mouth, past my nipples to my cunt. By now I didn’t care how many people walked in on us. He kissed and licked his way there, pushing up my skirt to reveal my lacy suspenders and panties. Eager to taste me, he pulled my soaking thong aside and plunged his tongue into my pussy, burying his face between my legs, letting my juices slide all over him. I was so wet that I felt the dampness running down my thighs and on to the sofa, soaking my asshole ready for that thick cock. I wanted him in both my cunt and my ass – a cock that big was too good to miss.

  As his nose touched my clit I let out a soft moan, and he knew what I needed. I didn’t even need to say a word. He licked my clit fast and hard, sucking my juices.

  ‘Don’t come yet,’ he whispered, ‘I want to fuck you first.’

  ‘Fuck me now,’ I gasped. ‘Fuck me now or it’ll be too late.’

  Adam slid down his trousers, kissing me hard on the mouth. I could taste myself on his lips and I loved it. Suddenly that huge cock was inside me up to the balls, filling me totally, the base rubbing my clit as he slammed deep into me. Adam drove into me again and again, but it wasn’t enough. I pushed him off me and rolled over.

  ‘This is where I want you,’ I demanded, lifting my ass slightly. ‘But first I’m going to have you in my mouth.’

  Adam lay back on the sofa and I took his whole cock between my lips, flicking my tongue over the bulging head, swallowing drops of pre-cum fluid, massaging his balls with my hand. He arched his back and I knew he was so close to coming in my mouth.

  ‘Now!’ I whispered, rolling over and raising my ass in the air.

  Adam plunged into me, gently at first, filling me with the most beautiful cock I’d ever had. Taking his weight on his left arm, he slid his right hand underneath me and parted my pussy lips with his fingers, probing and searching until he found my clit. Then he moved his middle finger in those fast, circular movements, just like he’d made when we shook hands, the perfect amount of pressure, our moans growing louder and louder, my juices pouring from my cunt to make my clit even wetter. Suddenly his rhythm sped up even more and I knew he was past the point of no return. I couldn’t hold back any longer. My whole body began to shake with pleasure as my climax began and waves of intense warmth rushed right through me. Adam pushed his cock in hard and held it still as he came, a huge throb passing through it as he shot his hot spunk into me.

  Totally satisfied, we lay spoon-like on our sides, gazing out at the panoramic view as his erection subsided. ‘I think I’ll check out the bathroom,’ I said, standing up, picking up my handbag and pulling down my skirt, which was still round my waist. ‘I can’t possibly buy this flat without seeing more of it.’

  ‘Just through there,’ he said, grinning and pointing towards a door on the far left.

  The marble bathroom was total luxury, though I couldn’t find any girlie products, so I had to make do with expensive men’s ones. I hoped Adam and I could see each other again. When I emerged, freshly made-up, Adam had poured us both a glass of wine.

  ‘Drinks on the terrace?’ he asked, sliding open a huge glass patio door. The sun was setting over the city skyline and I had to admit it was a totally beautiful sight.

  ‘I’d love to, Adam, but I can’t relax. I’m really worried the owner is going to come back.’

  ‘He has,’ said Adam. ‘It’s my flat. Not for sale, I’m afraid. But you’re welcome to stay and check out the bedroom, if you like.’

  I was speechless. ‘But how can you afford this? You’re an . . . an . . .’

  ‘Estate agent?’

  I blushed scarlet. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I can’t even afford to buy one myself. I just wanted to . . . get to know you.’

  ‘I know,’ he said, smiling. ‘It’s okay. My father is a director of the building firm. He bought it for me. Investment, really. And no, I don’t do this with every client! You’re my first. I don’t know what came over me.’

  I took the glass of wine and stepped out on to the terrace.

  ‘By the way,’ Adam added. ‘My father’s also looking for a new PA.’

  Adam slid his arm around my waist and we looked at the sun setting behind the city skyscrapers, silhouetting them against the sky. And I knew, just knew, that work and play were going to be a whole lot better from now on.

  FILTHY RICH

  There’s nothing quite like the rhythmic beat of salsa dance to put you in the mood for sex, as this woman and her boyfriend found out. But then another couple persuaded them to take their lust one step further – and took them into a millionaire’s paradise where they played out their foursome fantasies. For a week, I played back her confession each night, almost wearing out the tape as I enjoyed every single steamy detail, bringing a whole new meaning to the term ‘four-play’.

  I’VE ALWAYS LOVED to dance. Even when I was a kid, I’d put on music and really let myself go. There’s something so liberating about it. When you’re lost in music, really lost, you don’t think about your evil boss, that unpaid credit card bill or those shoes you’d just die for. All you feel is the rhythm, taking you over completely, surging through you like an unstoppable force, as your body follows the beat. That’s how it’s always been for me.

  As a kid I dreamed of working in a West End musical, singing and dancing every night, being with people who loved my passion as much as I did. Each time we went into town, I’d walk along the streets, staring in awe at the brightly lit theatres, with their colourful posters and sumptuous, inviting entrance halls, with their thick carpets and dark wooden staircases. And down the side streets, the understated stage doors, where the stars of the show came and went. One day, I told myself, I’ll be the one coming out of the stage door, still in my thick make-up and buzzing from the show.

  Did I follow my dream? Did I hell. My singing voice is pretty dreadful, to be honest, and I’m quite short and curvy – there is no diet in the world that would reduce me to Nicole Richie. Or even get me close. I did modern dance classes, and applied to a few dance schools, but at the auditions everyone was thin as a pole and wearing ballet shoes. So I decided to keep dance as a hobby, and that’s when I discovered salsa.

  If you’ve never been to a salsa class, it’s hard to imagine just how incredible, how totally exhilarated, it can make you feel. The music is Latino, fast and furious, with quick steps, fast turns and lots of dramatic hair-tossing. Well, that’s not compulsory, of course, but once the music takes you, it’s impossible to hold back. And best of all, you dance in couples. Very, very sexy.

  I’d read about salsa, so when I saw classes advertised near my home, I thought I’d give it a go. The teacher was a beautiful Cuban woman with long dark hair and beautiful coal-black eyes, who wore the most fabulous short lycra dress and strappy heeled shoes to dance in – I loved it so much that I went straight out and bought the entire outfit. My enthusiasm was totally infectious and within a month I’d persuaded three friends and my boyfriend Mike to come along and try it.

  Salsa came naturally to me, but to my surprise Mike picked it up very quickly too. He’s well built, not much taller than me, and fair-haired, so not the tall, slim, Latino look you’d expect in a salsa dancer. But, boy, could he move! After a few sessions we began to practise dancing together, and there was nothing I loved more than feeling Mike’s sweaty body pressed up against mine as he spun me round, wrapped up in the music just as much as I was.

  We quickly realised that salsa was a fabulous form of foreplay. When his arm slid around my waist and pulled me close at the start of a dance, a sexy shiver would sizzle right through me. Our bodies would be almost – but not quite – touching, which simply added to the thrill. The music would begin, that hypnotic, sensual rhythm that you just knew would be perfect to fuck to. I’d want to fuck him right then and there, and I’d know I couldn’t for at least a couple of hours when the class ended. It was the anticipation, the knowing that after the class, we’d dash home, hot and sweaty, and he’d be inside me the moment we were in the front door, which drove me wild. Some nights I felt so turned on that halfway through I’d have to slip out to the loos, my fingers eager to satisfy my bulging clit, lubricating it with my juices and my sweat. Other nights I’d make myself wait, delaying my orgasm until we were home, when I’d have Mike’s delicious cock inside me.

  There were about 20 of us in the class, some of them couples, and right from the start I noticed one woman in particular, Claire, made a real effort to be friendly. She was a little older than me – early 30s, I’d say – and much taller and thinner, with long, straight dark hair which she always wore tied up in a high ponytail. Her face was very pretty, with beautiful chiselled features that suggested she could have been a model. Maybe she was – I didn’t know anything about her, but she certainly had the face and the figure for it.

  Each week when Mike and I arrived, she’d make a point of walking over to say hi. Her husband Steve was more reserved, and slightly older than Claire, but very fit. We’re talking a younger George Clooney. Probably early 40s, with thick, dark hair, slightly greying around the temples which made him look quite distinguished. I’d never really fancied an older man before but there was definitely something about him.

  Claire and Steve were absolutely loaded, I knew that. When we left the class each week, they stepped into a top-of-the-range, brand new convertible Porsche parked right outside. But they didn’t have any airs and graces. They were also very good at salsa – far too good for our beginners’ group, but whenever our teacher recommended they join advanced or at least intermediate they would insist that they couldn’t make it to any other class.

  One night, Mike was ill and couldn’t make the class. ‘Where’s your boyfriend?’ asked Claire, as we waited for the teacher to start.

  ‘In bed, with a cold,’ I replied. ‘You know blokes. One sniffle and they insist it’s full-blown flu, demanding endless cups of tea and sympathy, while the rest of us would take a paracetamol and get on with it.’

  She smiled, and for the first time I noticed just how perfect her teeth were. Not just dead even, but a perfect creamy-white shade, not the bleached-white Jodie Marsh look that too many people had been trying lately.

  ‘Why don’t you dance with Steve tonight?’ she suggested. ‘We can share him. It’s nowhere near as much fun without a partner.’

  I hesitated. Surely it would spoil her night if she couldn’t practise? But she insisted it was cool. ‘You never know, Steve might be off one week,’ she said, grinning. ‘Then you can return the favour.’

  She waved to Steve to come over. ‘Jen’s on her own tonight,’ she told him. ‘I’ve said we can share you. Is that gonna be okay?’

  ‘That’s fine with me,’ he replied, smiling at me for the first time. ‘But I don’t think I’m as good a dancer as Mike. You’ll have to be gentle with me.’

  Steve took my hand and led me on to the floor. The moment his fingers closed around mine, I felt a tingle, the way you do when someone touches you for the very first time. Then he put his arm firmly around my waist, his fingers resting on the curve of my back, and we started to move.

  He felt so different to Mike, much more dominant, like the male dancer should. Mike sort of took the lead, but he was often quite hesitant. Steve was the complete opposite. He knew exactly where on the dancefloor he wanted to go, when he wanted to spin me round, what moves we should go into, and I loved it. The music echoed around in my head, just like it always did, and I abandoned myself to the rhythm, letting the beat pound through my body, moving sexily beside Steve, just as I did with Mike. Even though Steve was slightly older, his body was firm and fit, and as our bodies pressed close I couldn’t help imagining him spinning me round, throwing up my skirt and fucking me hard from behind. My clit throbbed, just a little, and my face flushed with both the exertion from the dance and the sexy buzz between my legs.

  Suddenly, a wave of guilt came over me. Salsa was sexy, everybody knew that, but it wasn’t fair to start fantasising over my married dance partner. And Steve and I were dancing very sexily – I wasn’t sure I’d be too keen seeing someone really go for it with Mike. I glanced over at Claire, hoping she wouldn’t be furious. She was watching us intently, with a huge smile on her face. Our eyes met, and she licked her lips. And in that instant, I knew it was turning her on.

  We kept on dancing, Steve’s body pressed into mine, and as my leg brushed against his crotch I felt the beginnings of an erection. Thinking he’d be embarrassed, I looked away, but Steve spun me round, looked straight into my eyes, and smiled. Then he licked his lips slowly, too.

  For the first time it crossed my mind that they might be swingers. I’d never tried anything like it, and until a few minutes earlier, I’d never thought I would. Not because I had anything against it, but because I couldn’t imagine the circumstances ever happening, or meeting two people I found fuckable enough. But the idea of a night with Steve and Claire was making me hornier by the second.

  Claire and I took it in turns to dance with Steve, and I found myself watching them closely, turned on by the sight of them and the thought of what we could do to each other. She caught my eye a few times, and she knew what was in my mind. Claire and I exchanged a few knowing smiles.

  At the end of the night we strolled outside and stopped by the Porsche.

  ‘Maybe you’d like to come back to our place,’ blurted out Claire suddenly. ‘We’ve got a jacuzzi, a pool – it’s a great place for a party.’

  I knew exactly what she meant. She was making a pass. Even though we’d been flirting with our eyes all night, it was still quite a shock when she said it. And what about Mike? Maybe they weren’t swingers at all. Maybe they just wanted to have a threesome?

  My clit was still swollen and I guessed hers was too. All I wanted to do was get in that car and fuck both of them. I’d slept with a woman once before, at college, and I could still remember the delicious taste of her cunt. The thought of going down on Claire while Steve fucked me from behind was almost impossible to turn down.

  But I thought of Mike. He’d once – in a very drunken moment – confessed that a foursome was his ultimate fantasy. I couldn’t leave him out. Even though I couldn’t be sure that he’d say yes, I replied: ‘Sure, I’d love to. How about next week? After class? I could bring Mike . . .’

  My voice tailed away, as blind panic took over. What if I’d misread all the signals? What if they were just being friendly? But Claire moved closer, to whisper in my ear. As she did so, she ran her fingers sideways over my skirt, brushing across my bump of pubic hair. ‘Next week,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t wait.’

  The week passed in a blur. But how to put Mike in the picture? If I told him about what went on the night he’d missed the class, he might think I’d been secretly fucking Claire and Steve for weeks – it was difficult to explain how it just so happened that they’d suggested it. In reality there’d been a build-up, a gradual increase in the sexual tension that meant by the time Claire suggested it, my panties were already soaked at the thought. In the end I decided to mention it during sex.

  We were in bed masturbating each other gently, when I whispered: ‘Did you mean what you said about a foursome?’

  Mike’s finger pressed on my clit even harder and in my hand, his cock stiffened even more at the thought. ‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘But I’d never do anything unless you wanted to.’

  ‘I do want to,’ I went on. ‘You know that couple at salsa? Claire and Steve? She’s told me they’re swingers.’

  ‘Claire?’ he replied, so excited that a spurt of pre-cum leaked from his swollen dick. ‘The tall one? With the long hair?’

  ‘Yes,’ I whispered, my grip tightening round his cock, rubbing it faster and faster between my fingers, circling and twisting the purple tip just how he liked it. ‘They’ve invited us back. This Friday, if you want to.’

  His spunk flew out of his cock, and hit me straight in the face. I ran my finger through it and licked it off, the salty taste triggering my own orgasm.

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes, then,’ I said afterwards.

  We didn’t mention it again. I think both of us were too embarrassed, and unsure if it was going to happen for real. Even on the way to the salsa class, neither of us said anything, though I’d brought myself off several times during the week at the thought.

  The Porsche was already outside. Part of me had worried they’d back out, they wouldn’t be here and I’d be left worked up and frustrated. But Claire bounded over as usual, all smiles, though this time she gave us both a peck on the cheek. That night Steve was far less reserved, coming straight over to say hello.

  ‘Coming back later?’ whispered Claire, her eyes shining. ‘Both of you?’

  I nodded. And for the next two hours Mike and I danced ourselves crazy, almost beside ourselves with arousal, at the thought of what we were going to do. Steve and Claire did the same. I noticed them watching us, their eyes drinking us in, just as we were doing back. My clit throbbed harder than ever, tempting me to masturbate myself quickly, but I knew my orgasm would be so much better if I could just hold on.

  At the end of the night, smiling secretly to each other, we went out to our cars.

  ‘Why don’t you follow us?’ Claire suggested, as Steve slid into the driver’s seat.