Coming Together: Al Fresco

By Alessia Brio

The latest in Alessia Brio's charity anthology series, Coming Together: Al Fresco features stories in which the action takes place without a bed... or a bedroom. All proceeds benefit Conservation International. GREEN is the new black!
See www.eroticanthology.com/alfresco.htm for details.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Coming Together
• Release date: Aug 17, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476243061

Alessia Brio

Take one part Appalachian redneck, one part aging wet dream, and one part filthy-minded wordsmith. Mix well and serve with chocolate-covered cherries. There you have the one and only Alessia Brio. Alessia writes all colors and flavors of erotica, from heterosexual to menage to same sex, and from twisted to humorous to deeply touching. (Sometimes, usually by accident, it even qualifies as romance.) Her work has earned her critical acclaim in the form of a few EPIC eBook Awards for Best Erotica, a couple Next Generation Indie Book Awards, and a Romantic Times Top Pick in addition to a plethora of glowing online reviews.Not all of Alessia's publications are allowed here on Smashwords due to censorship. Readers interested in the full catalog are encouraged to visit her label's website at www.PurpleProsaic.com

Book preview

Coming Together: Al Fresco

Alessia Brio

editor

Coming Together: Al Fresco

Alessia Brio, editor

Copyright © 2012 Coming Together

All digital rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

Cover art © 2012 Alessia Brio

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

A Coming Together Production

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License Notes

Piracy robs authors of the income they need to be able to continue to write books for readers to enjoy. This ebook is licensed for the personal enjoyment of ONE reader only. This ebook may not be re-sold or copied. To do so is not only unethical, it's illegal. This ebook may not be forwarded via email, posted on personal websites, uploaded to file sharing sites, or printed and distributed. To share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each intended recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for you, please notify the author immediately. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this—and every—author.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Making Rain © Angela Caperton

The Roof © Selena Kitt

Ask for It © Jude Mason

Blonde on a Harley © Teresa Noelle Roberts

Foreign Parts © Rachelle Le-Monnier

Hailey's Comet © Jae Knight

Paradise Valley © Michelle Houston

Sparrow Takes Flight © Giselle Renarde

Silver Bells & Cockleshells © Shanna Germain

A Midnight Ménage á Trois © Heather Lin

Adam & Eve on a Raft © Robert Buckley

Mahalo © Allison Wonderland

Wet as Spring © Robin Elizabeth

Wildlife © Randy Foster

Afternoon of a Faun © Helen E.H. Madden

Natural Tease © Arya Rewan

For Want of a Woodpecker © Ripley Patton

Anal Alley © Sommer Marsden

Happy Endings © Jenna Byrnes

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes © Rita Winchester

The Journey Home © Jasmine Black

Rites of Consummation © Nicole Gestalt

Hidden in Fog © Teresa Noelle Roberts

Reclining Buddha © Lisabet Sarai

Untouched Perfection © Moondancer Drake

Outside, in the Rain © Andrea Dale

Slow Burn © Sophie Mouette

Pantheism 101: Sexual Synæsthesia © Alessia Brio

About Coming Together

Making Rain

© Angela Caperton

Low clouds lay in the western sky, like black-fringed lashes above the glazed red eye of the setting sun. Someone else's rain, maybe Seminole's or Shawnee's.

Jeremy Dale, Scientific Rainmaker, knelt in the dust-dry field and tried to remember how to pray. Next to him, his enormous gun aimed uselessly upward, its salty shot spent noisily into merciless, clear skies.

He cursed fate's whim. This was the first time the gun had failed to make rain, just when he needed it most, all those Kansas dollars spent, Texas awash with floodwaters, and Oklahoma dying in its worst drought since last month, a favorite saying among the crusty old men who hired him.

The folk of Hope Falls abandoned Jeremy hours before, departed to town in their Fords, lines of molten dust in the stillness of summer nightfall. He ached with failure and dread.

Something touched his shoulder and he jumped. He turned and half rose, his feet kicking up clouds. Beauty filled his vision.

An Indian princess, he thought nonsensically.

Spirit in the wasteland, I greet you.

The red sunset turned her cheeks copper, ran like blood in the black veil of her hair. She wore a robe of white hide open in front. Her breasts were bare, small and dark-nippled, the triangle of black mystery inviting. His mouth turned dry as the fields.

She moved onto him, her hands like fever running into his open shirt, pulling him to her, insistent. Her breasts pressed against his chest as he caught her in his arms, lips locked on hers, tongues tangling in a flood of liquid fire. Her fingernails raked the tight muscles of his back, and any fear vanished, all doubt consumed by the heat of her body, the pulse of blood under her skin, and the vivid electricity of her touch turned his cock to iron.

The spirit is more handsome than I hoped. Sweet sacrifice.

Jeremy let her push him back into the warm caress of the baked land. The first drop of rain struck his forehead like a brand. She laughed and pulled at his belt, joyous. He would have denied her nothing, least of all what she wanted. He helped her remove his trousers.

When she saw his cock, she shivered, and the rain began to fall faster, big drops, making little rings in the red haze, then frosting the dust with darkness. Jeremy's shirt clung to him, one quickening drop at a time, and the rain thumped the woman's hide robe like the fevered beat of a drum. She took him in her hand, and knelt over him, her robe spread like wings, the storm now beating a quickening rhythm.

She whispered words over his cock and took him into her hot mouth, suckling, flickering, her teeth restrained, her tongue a miracle.

Jeremy Dale remembered how to pray.

I pray to the sky, his mind whirled, because it is vaster than my knowing.

She washed the head with lips, teeth, and tongue, and then swung her hips over him, the hot leather of her robe sticky with rain.

The drums beat faster as she held him against the silken black V of her cunt, kissing his cock now with those wet, shrouded lips. She pinned him beneath her weight, light as the sky above the drinking land.

I pray to the earth, he whispered to her, his fingers kneading her hips. Because it sustains me.

He prays in strange words, she mused, but he knows. He is the one.

She rose and settled, just as the sun slipped beneath the rim of the earth, the sky weeping torrents, the drums numberless, deafening, and as he sheathed himself in her perfect heat, his cock nesting in the molten folds, she cast the robe aside. The rain beat hard, soaking him and turning the dust into thin, slippery mud.

To the hilt he slid into her, his cock deep in a rippling wave of flesh. She pulled him in, held him, possessed him.

He thrust up hard.

Oh, she cried, as he filled her. Like a bolt, like a shaft of fire all the way up to her throat, the thrill of him washed her, flooded her.

The spirit is magical, she sighed as he moved inside her womb and in her heart.

I pray to desire, he groaned as he thrust. I pray to love, because love makes the rain.

She screamed to the heavens.

Jeremy floated, awash on the slippery mud, the rain in his eyes blinding him, her hands hot on his chest, as she arched back and gripped him hard between her thighs, grinding, crazed, the sweet vise constricting as she came. Her head fell back, and she sang like the wind. The fevered pressure of her knees in his ribs dazed him, the pounding rain drowning him, and he came with her, the long pulsing spurts of it taking his breath as he spent himself with the rolling crush of the earth, into the sky.

The hardness of him deep inside her, the hot rush of his release, distant thunder, ecstasy cast like crystals against the sky.

He became the rain.

She became the rain.

Jeremy exhaled a panicked breath and woke alone in sticky heat. The drone of fresh-hatched mosquitoes buzzed in his head. He stretched out in the stiffening mud, the earth alive beneath him.

Thank you, he whispered. He breathed the sweet air of the morning, the scent of life and felt the pulse of the earth.

She opened her eyes and looked around at the sweaty, envious faces of the old women in the lodge. She shivered and smiled with her memory and listened to the torrential downpour. Who was he, where he was?

I love you, she murmured to the rain.

His heart swelled as he stood. He took up the useless gun and spoke to the endless expanse of sky, grateful for the rain, praying.

I love you.

* * * *

The Roof

© Selena Kitt

I want to escape the smell of garbage and grease.

After tossing the bag into the dumpster, I wipe my hands on my uniform and pull off my red and yellow visor, letting my hair escape from its ponytail.

The ascent to the roof is like breathing again. The muscles in my legs protest as I climb to the top. It is a cool paradise up here compared to the stagnant summer haze on the ground. It's so quiet—I can actually hear traffic lights click as they turn from green, to yellow, to red, with no cars left to heed them at quarter to three in the morning.

Josh's cigarette winks at me from the corner. I reach my arms to the sky and twirl, making myself dizzy before sinking to the asphalt roof top. He laughs, but doesn't come to me. Not yet.

I lay there unbuttoning my uniform. There is no getting away from the fetid smell of fries and hamburgers without taking off my clothes. Only when I am free, laying there in my bra and panties, the sharp bite of gravel pressing into my back—then, Josh comes over and stretches out beside me, hands behind his head.

Beautiful.

Me or the sky?

Yes.

I am smiling as he rolls onto me, already nearly nude. He presses his lower body against me, moving slightly, and I watch his eyes grow hungry. He wants what I want—we are both greedy to get lost in it.

As he kisses me, his mouth rough, I slide a small, warm hand inside his underwear. A soft sound escapes his throat as he trails his mouth over my neck.

Sara, he whispers as my hand moves faster. I gasp when he lets his full weight press into me, lean and hard against my softness. His hand trails down and finds me, and I sigh, rocking with it, on a cloud far away in the darkness.

When he pulls my panties aside and nudges against me, I open to him. He moves forward, into me, and my hands go to his hips.

We begin.

Our sweat mingles, serving to cool us even in the humid night air. I can taste it, salty and exciting, when I kiss his neck, urging him on. The delicious friction builds up and up. We are cool water and rain, together—every part of us liquid at the center. We are trickles expanding into streams, flowing toward rivers. Then, we become the ocean, every wave carrying the sweet potential to carry us toward shore.

I am floating beyond my own borders, bleeding past the boundaries of my flesh, swirling into a sweet vortex of calm and chaos where only he can take me. I have been here before, in his arms, on this roof, but I am not really here at all. I am stardust—a bright, gentle hum under the brilliant light and heat of him.

Up and up, I feel my climax coming and work toward it. It's like my escape to the roof, a climb toward the stars. His breathing is shallow and harsh as I move beneath him, gasping, grasping, my nails digging into the skin of his back. Our bodies merge, and we are just slippery flesh slapping together in the quiet night, a wet, sticky coupling on the roof—and yet, we are more than that in every breath, one more miracle, not apart or separate from each other or anything in that moment.

His motion becomes fluid, and he opens his eyes, looking at me. I feel like I can look up through him and see the stars.

I cry out and my muscles tighten and begin to contract as I shiver beneath him. My breath sucks in, and I clutch him, feeling him let go, the force shuddering through him in waves. It is the moment I long for and dread, every time I make this climb toward heaven. I am lost in the blissful pulse, the rhythmic heartbeat of it all, but it is only for a moment. It ebbs as quickly as it has come, and now I can only feel our hearts beating together in our sticky chests, slightly off-rhythm and off-center now.

He loses his breath for a moment, falling forward onto me, still trembling and burying his face into the side of my neck. I stroke his hair, damp with sweat and redolent with grease.

There is no escaping it, even up here.

* * * *

Ask For It

© Jude Mason

Uh, Jess, I can't find your suitcase. I must have left it behind, Roy said in a soft voice. He knew he'd messed up big time when his wife of three years turned and faced him. She was lovely, long dark hair parted in the middle cascading over her shoulders, the tips curling around the plump roundness of each breast. Her abundant curves never failed to arouse him and he couldn't think of a better place to be than between her legs, his face buried in her muff.

You forgot my bag? Jess stared, her beautiful blue eyes wide and an annoyed expression on her face. She'd just flipped his case open and it lay across their king-sized bed, his clothing untouched.

Roy stood, shame-faced, just inside the bedroom door and hoped he hadn't ruined their weekend. Sweetie, I'm sorry. He didn't raise his eyes to look at her—he didn't dare. I was sure I picked them both up when we were leaving. He glanced up and for an instant met her gaze, but quickly lowered his.

You were sure, were you? She leaned against one of the six-foot wooden posts set at each corner of their bed and crossed her arms under her chest.

Yes, he said, then after another quick glance, replied, No, obviously not. I'm really sorry, Jess. I could—

You can do what I tell you. She interrupted; catching him by complete surprise. You only think you're sorry. By the time I'm done with you, I'm sure you'll know it deep down.

Huh? He looked up, confused—but only for a moment. His shock turned to excitement, lust. It'd been so long since they'd had time for each other. With both of them working crazy hours, they often saw each other for breakfast and not again until the following day. He waited expectantly for her to go on.

Go and lock up the SUV, she instructed. Leaning over the bed, she tucked Roy's clothes into the cavity of the suitcase and closed it. Take this with you. She snapped the catches closed.

His eyes went to the suitcase, and then up to meet hers. Her tone of voice told him all he needed to know. His heart raced, desire clutched at him and he had to take a deep calming breath before he replied, Yes, ma'am. He hurried to the bed and reached for the bag. It turned out she hadn't finished, and stopped him with a light slap to his hand.

Naked.

Naked! What the hell? He looked up at her and his eyes grew wide. But—

"Never mind, but, Jess said sternly. I don't have any clean clothing because of you, so why should you?"

But, you'll at least have those. He tried to reason with her. She wouldn't do it, she couldn't.

Yes, I will. And, I'll have the bathing suit I left the last time we were here and the bathrobe for when you'll be hand-washing my undies. I believe I'll even have a pair of shorts and a blouse in the top drawer of the dresser.

He strained to come up with a reason why he couldn't go outside nude. His mouth opened then closed, but nothing brilliant came to mind. He looked through the large picture window at the lake. Their small, rustic cabin was private. Chances were, there'd be no one around for miles, he hoped. Yes, ma'am.

He felt her eyes on him, watching him shed his shirt, jeans and boots. He folded his clothes neatly and laid them on top of the suitcase. When he got down to just his gray boxers and white sports socks, he stopped. Smiling at her, he whispered, huskily, You were just waiting for me to screw up, weren't you?

She grinned back at him. Yes, of course I did. We both need some play time and what better time than now?

Thank you. He ran a hand over the front of his boxers, gently massaging and pulling at his cock.

Strip, she said in that stern, sexy voice, the smile never leaving her face.

Yes, ma'am. Eagerly, he peeled out of the last of his clothing, straightening up. He faced her with an enormous smile and an erection waving before him. He reached for the suitcase, intending to put his clothing inside, but again she tapped the back of his hand, stopping him.

Leave those. Just take the case. She nodded towards the door.

He breathed a sigh of relief. He'd at least have something available if needed. Sliding the small pile of clothes off the case, he grabbed the handle and hoisted it off the bed. His free hand drifted towards his groin and Jess snapped, Don't touch.

Smiling, Roy dropped his hand to his side. Yes, ma'am. His cock pulsed and he ached to grip the shaft, but he controlled that urge. It belonged to her, for a time at least. Squaring his shoulders, determined not to cringe or in any way show his nervousness, he marched through the bedroom door, across the main room towards the door leading outside. All the way there, he felt the air moving around him, like a soft wind touching and caressing his skin more intimately than he'd experienced for much too long. His cock slapped his side; his balls brushed the inside of each thigh. Even the hair at the base seemed less concealing. His nipples perked up into tiny points.

Don't hurry, Jess called from behind him.

Glancing back, he nodded and smiled, weakly he was sure. He felt like a kid leaving home in a snit, and then chuckled, thinking of a nude boy running away. Opening the door, he walked slowly out.

The sun hit him, surrounded him like a warm kiss. The SUV stood under the trees in the shade, just where he'd left it an hour ago. Thirty feet of ground, sparsely covered by grass, or weeds, separated him from his vehicle. Nothing to it, he thought, and took a dozen steps before his foot came down on a rock. He yelped and jumped to the side. Landing, he favored that foot, but continued his short journey.

Is she watching? Laughing? Smiling? Or is she as horny as I am? Reaching the SUV, he pulled open the back door on the driver's side and tossed his bag inside. He spotted another bag, hers, when the corner of a throw slid aside.

Damn! He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced when he stepped on another rock. His cock throbbed; his balls churned and rose higher in their sac. The temptation to cup them and give them a squeeze was almost overpowering. She'd never know, he told himself. And yet, he forced his hands to remain at his sides and turned back to the cabin.

Jess stood at the door, her eyes fixed on him. Did you touch yourself?

No, he answered and was glad he hadn't. Thought about it though, ma'am.

Chuckling, she nodded. Yeah, that's what I figured. Don't come back inside. I want you to go and find two trees that are about a foot more than your arms width away from each other. Yell when you've found them.

Two trees, you're kidding? What in hell was she thinking?

Uh, no, I'm not kidding, and your attitude is beginning to piss me off.

Roy knew he could have called her bluff. He'd found her suitcase and from where it lay hidden in the backseat, he knew she must have concealed it herself. But, his lust soared as it hadn't in weeks. He wanted her, his mistress, to control him.

Without saying another word, Roy headed for the nearest trees, looking for two that would meet his wife's requirements. He moved towards a long patch of welcoming grass and was soon gazing at a number of decent sized Alders that he thought might be the right distance apart.

Hey, nice ass, Jess called.

He looked her way and gasped. She'd changed into an outfit he adored—something she must have left behind on a previous trip. Leather straps and little else, accentuated her curves. The halter top with its shelf bra thrust her boobs dangerously towards him, the nipples bare, their rosy peaks crinkled with excitement. Slender leather straps crisscrossed her ribcage and belly, disappearing into the V of her sex, scarcely covering her at all. She'd slipped into a pair of sandals and held a flogger in one hand. She tapped it against her leg, and he groaned at the memory of how it felt against his ass. He also noticed several more straps dangling from her side, and wondered what she had planned.

Thank you, ma'am. I'm glad you like my ass. He quickly positioned himself between two trees, facing her, and reached out his hands. He touched both trees and quickly moved on. The area smelled of forest and fresh air, and he inhaled deeply, enjoying his freedom immensely. The bark of the next tree was rough, scraping his finger tips, yet soothing too in some strange, earthy way.

Too white though. It needs some color.

He turned and gazed at her. She was approaching, her hips swaying seductively from side to side, her breasts jostling, the nipples making his mouth water.

I'm sure you'll see to the color of my ass. He turned that part of his anatomy towards her and wiggled it. Am I going to have to misbehave or was the luggage thing enough?

Haven't decided yet, but too many questions might do it.

Roy's cock pulsed and he bit back another groan. She really knew how to get him going, and from the wicked smile on her face, she was enjoying herself, too.

He stood between the next two trees and stretched his arms wide. This time, he wasn't quite able to touch either one. Leaves and other debris beneath his feet made standing there a breeze.

Hold that pose. Jess was less than five feet away and smiling. Spread your feet.

Quickly easing his feet apart, he watched her pull the extra strands of leather that she'd looped over her waist strap. His cock throbbed and stood proudly between his thighs. His balls hung loose, the summer heat a gentle caress.

Hold this, don't drop it. She thrust the flogger's handle into his mouth and waited while he bit down on it. "You'll be sorry