In Shanna Germain’s sizzling “Cherry Bottom,” Cate wants anal sex in a bad, bad way, but her long-time lover is nervous about the idea, afraid he might hurt her. They sign up for Miss Suzanne's anal sex class as a last resort...but can Miss Suzanne help Andrew over his fear and give Cate the sexual experience she truly desires?
Miss Suzanne and her heels again, right at our table. "Can I help, Andrew?" she asked. He must have said yes, because then her cool fingers were at my ass cheeks again, spreading them for him. My asshole puckered up against the cold. My tightening nipples crinkled the paper sheet beneath me.
Andrew's fingers left my body, came back oiled and warm.
"It's like playing pool," Miss Suzanne said, her thin fingers still in place. "It's all about speed and angles."
Andrew's finger was back against me, pressing, pressing. I fought the desire to lean back onto the tip of his finger, to force him inside me once and for all. But part of our class promise had been to let our partner do all the work, go at his own pace, let him do only what he was ready for.
He increased the pressure, opening my asshole, careful to use the flat of his fingertip. "Go," Miss Suzanne whispered, and then Andrew pushed his way inside me. Just a little, just the tip so I could barely feel it, but oh Jesus, there he was.
"More," Miss Suzanne said. Andrew pushed his finger farther into my asshole. Farther, until I was sure he had to be at the first joint. Having him in there like that made my pussy ache with that special emptiness that I loved. Andrew entered me to the knuckle. I imagined what he looked like behind me—starting to sweat beneath his glasses out of fear and excitement, his finger disappearing into my asshole.
"All the way in," Miss Suzanne said. And then he pushed and his finger was inside me, tearing through me with that certain pain that is mostly pleasure. I bit down on the pillow, but most of the moan came out anyway.
"See?" Miss Suzanne said. "She likes it. You're doing a great job."
"Jesus," Andrew whispered. "Oh fuck." Awe and arousal deepened his voice to a husky whisper. Hearing that voice—no fear in there—almost made me come.
Miss Suzanne raised her voice. "Okay, class, is everyone in? Foxes all in the holes?" I'm sure the class laughed, but I couldn't even concentrate to hear all the answers. All I could feel was Andrew's finger in my ass, the way he held it there, so still, the way it filled me and at the same time made me ache for something more, something bigger.
Caroline turned to Drew and smiled. “I know we’d been talking about a…” she paused to give the words extra significance “…peach tart with whipped cream.” She winked at the audience, admitting they were in on the joke. “But it looks like we need to be flexible.” She hoped the word would call to mind her yoga poses. “Do you have any ideas about the best way to handle raspberries?”
“Delicately. Very delicately. More often than not, I like to nibble them plain.” He slurred a bit, so nibble sounded almost like nipple, but not so much so that it would get him in trouble with Lee. “But I bet we could do something with them to give the peaches a lovely rosy color.”
Then he gave her a searing smile. Her nipples felt as red and plump and tender as the berries heaped in a basket on their counter. She didn’t dare to glance down, but she suspected they were popping out through the fabric of her dress, clearly visible to anyone in the studio and probably to the TV audience.
What she wouldn’t give to have Drew’s sensuous mouth closed around one of those ripe peaks now, suckling at her, drawing out her arousal until she was dizzied and begging for more.
Breathe. Remember to breathe—and to make sure Drew, too, was distracted. “Maybe use some of them for a glaze,” she said breathily. “Nothing makes a peach look prettier than a little moist sheen. And for a topping, how about a nice, warm crème anglaise?” She let the words sink in, watched Drew’s eyes widen and darken.
She’d take his “crème anglaise” in her “peach” any day and she could tell he was thinking something similar.
The whir of a food processor brought her back to reality. The Jarvises were already at work, grinding nuts from the sound of it. (A linzertorte variation with fresh fruit? She should have been paying more attention to them, dammit!)
“Flavor it with rosewater,” Drew added. His voice sounded a little shaky. “Sounds good.”
“You start on the peaches and raspberries, Drew. I’ll get to work stirring up the crème. It takes a little time for it to…thicken.”
As she passed him, heading to the refrigerator for cream and eggs, she cupped his ass briefly under the cover of the counter, just long enough to feel it was as firm and delicious as she’d suspected.
His sigh wasn’t loud enough for the microphones to pick up, but she heard it.
He got her back, though, as he started to split the peaches. “This peach is absolutely perfect,” he sighed. “So juicy and succulent, with just the slightest hint of fuzz. I wish I could eat it right now!”
Even if she hadn’t been sensitized already, that remark, in that tone of voice, would have zinged directly between her legs and gotten her speculating. As it was, she almost spilled heavy cream onto the floor, lost in a vision of Drew’s tongue deftly playing over her slick lower lips and swirling in on the throbbing spot where she needed it most.
Is your appetite whetted yet? If so, then think about this veritable feast of authors: Alana Noel Voth, Alison Tyler, Nikki Magennis, Jeremy Edwards, Gwen Masters, Kristina Lloyd, Rachel Kramer Bussel, Donna George Story, Sage Vivant, Ashley Lister, Thomas Roche, and M. Christian—all in one anthology! (And I hope I didn't forget anybody!) Plus a host of other fabulous erotica writers who haven’t (yet) crossed our Lust Bites path.