Oral Sexy Surprises: Sexy Surprises, #34

By Giselle Renarde

Experience the sensual allure of "Oral Sexy Surprises," a captivating collection of six short stories that delve into the intimate and passionate world of oral pleasure. These spicy tales explore the power and intimacy of oral encounters in all their forms.

 

Join our characters as they navigate the complexities of desire and connection, each story offering a unique exploration of the sensual and erotic aspects of oral fixation. Whether it's the thrill of anticipation or the ecstasy of fulfillment, these stories promise to ignite your imagination.

 

Prepare to be swept away by the raw intensity and intimacy of "Oral Sexy Surprises." Grab a copy, sink your teeth into these seductive stories, and indulge in an array of sensual delights.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Giselle Renarde
• Release date: Feb 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224240357

Giselle Renarde

Giselle Renarde is a queer Canadian, avid volunteer, and contributor to more than 100 short story anthologies, including Best Women's Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Bondage Erotica, and Best Lesbian Romance. Ms Renarde has written dozens of juicy books, including Anonymous, Ondine, and Nanny State. Her book The Red Satin Collection won Best Transgender Romance in the 2012 Rainbow Awards. Giselle lives across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head.

Book preview

Oral

Sexy Surprises

6 Erotic Stories

Giselle Renarde

I Sucked a Married Man's Cock

Iremember the first time I sucked cock. That boy made me wait for it.

Or, more accurately, that man did.

He was fifty years old at the time. I was nineteen.

It happened in a car. His car. Front seat. Who was he? A married man. I think the fact that he had a wife turned me on more than anything else about him—even more than his intellect or his subtle wit or his aging marathon runner’s thighs.

At nineteen, I still lived with my parents. He, of course, lived with his wife. Our respective limitations drove us to meet in the car. The parking lot of choice was that of the botanical gardens, where the shade of overhead trees and the scent of flowers on the breeze made the whole affair seem a little less sordid.

We made out in his car at least twice a week. He touched me, sucked my tits, fucked me with his fingers, but that’s where he drew the line.  Maybe that seems strange.  Maybe you’d expect an older man to take everything he could get.  It’s not like I didn’t offer. 

He was the one holding us back.  He was afraid of getting caught, for starters.  We were in a public place.  But I believe guilt was the greater consideration.  He’d never cheated on his wife before.  Whether or not he’d had the opportunity I couldn’t say.  All I know is that I offered my body to him and for months he took much less than I wanted to give. 

He kissed me.  He was good at that.  Those kisses got me so wet that I used to slide my thong aside and grab his hand and make him touch me down there.  At first he wouldn’t even do that.  He’d pull away.  But I’d grab his hand again and push his fingers between my legs and beg him to feel how wet he’d made me. 

I was so juicy for him.  I wanted to be fucked, but he wouldn’t go through with it.  Not in the car.  Not when a dog-walker or photographer or school group could walk by and spot us going at it. 

Can you imagine if we were arrested for indecent exposure and he had to call his wife to bail him out?  She’d probably think I was a whore.  That’s what I wanted to be.  I wore lace lingerie and took what he gave me, but I always wanted more. 

I’d never been fucked.  I’d never done anything he hadn’t done to me.  I thought about sex all the time, couldn’t concentrate on anything else.  Why wouldn’t he fuck me?  Why wouldn’t he let me touch him, even?  Being rebuked was driving me crazy, but not getting off together was making me even crazier.

One day, totally out of the blue, he took my hand and placed it on his crotch.

I remember that specifically, because I’d never touched a cock before, not even through a layer of denim.  He rarely wore jeans.  It must have been a Friday, but there was nothing casual about our encounter.  I loved that man fiercely.  Still, I was skittish.  I hate to admit it, but that’s the truth of the matter.

Many years previous to that day, I’d watched scrambled porn on TV and I remember thinking to myself, Look at those things!  They must be fake! Penises aren’t as big as sausages, are they?  I held some misguided belief that most cocks were the size of a hot dog.

I couldn’t imagine a sausage fitting inside me.

By the time I’d urged my married man to let me suck his cock in the car, I just about knew what to expect. I wanted to be a seductress, but my fingers wouldn’t cooperate. I skimmed over his bulge with the very tips of my nails, and then my palm, but I couldn’t bring myself to unbutton his