Image by the fabulous Stuart F Taylor
Erotica from Clara Dunn is always an exceptional treat, and this story absolutely annihilated me. She’s written some incredible atmospheric, sensual, ethereal smut here before – I’m a big fan of ‘the laundromat‘ in particular but ‘you’re doing great, girl‘ and ‘birthday sex to Harry’s House‘ are also both fucking amazing. If you like her work, follow her on X at @author_dunn, and enjoy the sublime filth she’s contributed to this week’s guest blog!
‘Do you want him to really see you come?’
She doesn’t notice the body at the door. She wouldn’t, not with her eyes screwed shut and her cheek pressed tight to his chest.
He curls one hand and ghosts his knuckles down her cheek. He puts a fairy whisper kiss on her temple. He lifts his head and meets the intent gaze of the man at the door, just for one long moment.
She howls, eyelashes fluttering, and twists between his legs. She anchors her legs closed around her fingers and bares her teeth against his bicep.
He puts that so-sweet whispering kiss on her again. He pulls a thumb down the tight column of her throat.
‘Girl. Girl, open your eyes for me.’
She just mewls again, still idly working her fingers.
‘Come on,’ he says, and the words are lush like velvet.
Her eyes open slowly, flutter weakly, then really open. She presses her cheek into his curled hand, against the pressure of his thumb, still skating up and down her neck. She tips her chin up, wriggles against him until he bends his head to take a careful kiss.
She’s looking at him when he looks past her. She turns her head then. She sees the man leaning easily on the doorjamb. She bites into her lip, looking back at the man she’s lying with.
‘How long has he…?’ she asks, pink rushing her chest and her cheeks.
‘A minute, maybe five.’
They both look at him. He gives them a pink smile of his own.
She presses herself harder into her escort’s hands, reaches up and holds his hand there under her chin. He stretches his thumb, lets it drag across her wet, bitten bottom lip. He nuzzles her, nose teasing through her tangled hair. He speaks softly, half-kissing her ear, and says, ‘Do you want him to really see you come?’
She sighs then, and giggles at the rush of his breath. ‘Yes,’ she laughs. ‘Yes.’
He hooks his thumb into her mouth then, urges it onto her tongue, and grunts softly when she hollows her cheeks around it to suck and bite.
‘Open your legs for him.’
And she does. She lets her thighs split, presses her heels into the mattress and stretches out her legs. But it’s awkward and uncouth, the straight, limp, position she’s in.
Still, both men are charmed.
‘Wider,’ her man says softly. ‘Like this.’
He curls his hands around her thighs, high, so high on them. High enough that his thumbs stroke through the gleaming curls of trimmed pubic hair. He tugs her thighs yet further apart, quick and forceful, and drags his nails over her doughy skin until she shudders and twists and urges her nose against his, trying to find the next kiss.
‘Knees up.’
She pulls her knees in a little. There’s a fierce, hot, minute-long rush then, at the sight of her splayed legs, at his hands moulding her, strong enough to bruise. She’s panting then, tipping her chin up again, and her eyes are wet when he looks into them.
‘Yeah?’ he whispers.
‘I – I -’ She’s not sure what she’s trying to say. She looks over her legs, over the already wet, twisted red sheets, then finally looks at the man at the door, really looks. He’s younger than the man holding her, rugged with some stubble and tattooed all down one arm. He’s in a gossamer thin white shirt, left open to hint at a lazy, stout chest, and he’s in slouching black, ripped jeans. She can’t tell the colour of his eyes from here, but she can feel the dark focus in them. Shuddering, she finally says, ‘I think – just – just – please tell me I look good.’
He buries his head in her neck and lets his groan rumble through her soft, fragrant skin. He growls, ‘Oh, girl, you know you do.’
The other man skims a hand under his shirt, across his chest, then curls his palm around his neck. She watches his thumb kneading beneath this chin. She holds his gaze.
Finally, finally, he speaks. He speaks slowly and evenly, like her man does, like he knows the way you can command with small, careful words. He just says, ‘So, show me.’
Her man lays into her neck and she trembles under his bruising kiss. She buckles there between his legs, in his hands, and presses her sweet face into his shoulder.
She sets her hands between her legs again. She spanks her cunt – a weak, idle spank – and they all chuckle at the soft, wet impact.
Her cunt glistens in the dim light. The dirty cum on her skin, on the sheets, is the only smell in the room.
She’s so slick it’s almost hard to find her clit and keep pressure on it. She curls her hand over her cunt, fingertips dipping absently inside, and kneads the fat heel of her hand down over her clit. She keeps this up for long minutes. She presses herself up into her palm, into her man’s painful grasp. She whimpers and draws her hand back. Her fingers make frenzied, sweeping circles round her clit. She starts to buckle. She urges two fingers as deep into her cunt as she can get them, still swiping desperately at her clit, and starts to work the curled fingers inside her sweet little body. She twists again, presses her cheek to his bare chest, to the salt-and-pepper hair across his nipple. She tenses and twitches. She whimpers and swears and cries. She comes.
‘Oh my god.’ She’s still panting. She looks out, dizzy, not quite focused. ‘Shit,’ she laughs.
Her man gathers her back against his chest and kisses her hair. She presses a hand to the soaked sheets under her cunt, then brings it up to her mouth and nose. She sniffs it and licks it. She’s almost oblivious to how drunk the men seem at the sight of that, to the low groan that bubbles in the spectator’s throat. Her man takes her fingers then and kisses them too, takes them into his mouth and sucks them clean.
‘Come here.’ She glances back. She wasn’t expecting him to say that, to give the other man direction.
The other man waits a moment, studying them both, then he comes. He sets one knee on the foot of the mattress and drops down gracefully, comes forward in a low, slinking movement, like a hungry jungle cat.
She lifts one foot and presses it gently into his shoulder, stops him before he gets too close. He’s on his hands and knees in the wet patch, with his chin turned up to look at her. He thinks she has no idea how fiercely beautiful she is when she’s howling through that cum rush, how much restraint he needed to conjure to stay still, not to pounce long minutes ago.
She thinks her man wanted him to taste her. But she has a different idea. She holds their young spectator’s wide, giddy eyes, and she says, ‘Put your face to the sheets and breathe in.’
And he does. He presses his nose square in the middle of the puddle and takes a long, deep breath. She presses her foot harder on his shoulder, presses him down and giggles softly when he grunts and wriggles. Her man tugs her leg back down and the other man comes up for air, looking flushed and unsteady. ‘Fuck,’ he sighs. ‘Again.’
She wriggles then, wrestles forward to get out of his hands and gets up on her knees. She sets her hands between her legs again. But she’s quieter, tame, because she needs more. Panting, she looks back at her man, into his dreaming blue eyes, and she rasps, ‘Need a cock. Need a toy.’
He tips easily over the edge of the mattress and comes up with her thick purple dildo. He settles close behind her, wraps his arms around her and holds the dildo just below her breasts.
‘You need this?’
She nods desperately, craning her neck to try and snatch a kiss.
‘Please.’
He presses the dildo across her skin, rests his chin on her shoulder to watch it drag on her milky skin, to watch it push across her tight, hard nipples. She’s breathless. Her fingers go on working uselessly at her cunt.
‘I’ll suck it,’ she gasps. ‘Let me – let me suck it.’
He hums. He kisses her ear. Then he takes it away. ‘No,’ he says gently. ‘No, let him suck it.’
He extends the dildo towards the other man. Their fingers tangle on its base; neither of them cares. The younger man keeps his eyes on her flushed face as he closes his mouth around the curved head of the dildo. He takes it in just a couple of inches, hollowing his cheeks. He flicks his tongue against it too, even though they can’t see it, even though it won’t twitch and tumble on his tongue like another cock might. He sucks hard and long, feeling warmer by the second. He sucks hard and long even as the other man presses the cock forward, presses it deeper into his mouth. He takes the length of it in stride, takes it almost all the way. Drool slips out one corner of his mouth as he licks and sucks, and he laughs abashedly, and grins and laughs again when she laughs softly with him.
There’s a little pop when the older man pulls the dildo from his mouth.
He curls himself tighter around her, takes her hip in one hand and works her against his thick, straining cock. He lets the dildo tip in his other hand, lets the tip fall between her breasts and drag down her belly. He presses it through the damp curls of hair and rubs it over her aching, twitching clit. He urges it between her legs, hooks it around her cunt, gently thrusts it between her slick, fat folds. Then, then, when she’s started to whimper, when she’s started to move with his little thrusts, then he lets it slip easily into her cunt. She takes it in her hands then, sets it on the mattress and fucks urgently onto it, sinks low and gasps.
Her lips are a pink starlet O. Both men dearly want to kiss her. She lurches at the older man and kisses him first. It’s a careless kiss, full of tongue and nibbles and biting and stifled noise. It’s a kiss almost too full to watch. She’s dizzy when it breaks, loses her rhythm. She falls forward, curls a hand between her legs to ease the dildo out an inch or so, to slide it back in. The younger man takes her chin, takes her focus, and kisses her head, between her brows. She hums at that. He kisses her cheek. She hums at that. He takes her mouth slowly, carefully, as though she’s a fine thing, and keeps kissing her like that, even when she scratches at him, when she bites his lip, when she tries to take his tongue into her mouth and suck on it.
Her man tugs their guest closer yet, pulls him up the bed and tight to the two of them. He pats the younger man’s cheek, kisses her hair, then lays into her neck. She takes the younger man’s hands and guides them up to her sweet breasts. She quietly tells him how to touch her. And the noise that comes then, the cries that rip out of her, prove he’s a quick study. She buckles between them, hardly knowing where to put her hands, how to keep her balance. She rides desperately and awkwardly with clumsy bucks and dips of her hips. She bends forward, presses her head to the younger man’s shoulder and bares her teeth against his shirt collar. She takes fistfuls of his shirt, holds it so tight her nails test the fabric. She presses down and down, hardly feeling the older man’s hand under her body, holding the cock steady. She pants and mewls and rides and shudders. She cries, ‘I’mgonnacome. I’mgonnacome. I’mgonnacome.’ And the cry gives way to a shout and another swear and a groan and she slumps between them.
Her quavering breath would normally tickle, but the younger man can’t think about that. All he can think about is holding up this pretty girl, how red her cunt is around the cock, how sore she must be getting. How wonderfully insane this moment is.
Her man scoops her up, gathers her in his arms and holds her to his chest. He pushes away from their guest, settles them between the pillows and guides her hair out of her face, ties it up in a loose bundle. He kisses her with beatific, whispering gentleness.
‘Oh, darling. Oh, sweet girl. Was that much?’
There are clouds crashing in her blue eyes. She blinks up at him. She doesn’t move. She’s almost limp in his hands.
‘Yeah,’ she whispers.
‘Give me a colour.’ He rubs his thumb across her cheek, across the corner of her mouth, presses a little kiss by her ear. ‘Come on, girl. I’m here.’
‘Yellow,’ she stutters. And there’s a sick, brief, flash of apology in her expression that both men hate to see.
He rubs her shoulder, her arm, tightens the arm wrapped around her back.
The guest, watching on, starts to feel a red prickle at the sight. There isn’t space for another in this moment. It’s clear that they’re alone now. He slips out, unnoticed.
‘One more,’ he says. ‘Can you give me one more?’
‘I don’t – I don’t think I can ride.’ There’s haze in her eyes when he meets them. She says, ‘Slow, maybe. Slow. And be on me. Please. Come with me, please.’
‘Oh, yes, girl.’
He bowls her onto her back then, arms and legs spread wide over her. He’s still looking only at her face. He drops his cheek to hers, kisses her ear again. She takes his chin, his neck, in both her little hands and holds him there, holds him fast to her chest while she quivers. She urges herself up against him, wraps her legs around his waist, his split thighs, and rubs her wet wet cunt on the thick shape of his cock, still trapped inside his clothes.
‘So pretty,’ he groans. ‘Coming like that. Needy like this. Oh, girl, you’re killing me.’
She laughs and lets the laugh fall away into a moan. She takes a fistful of his hair and pushes his head down, guides his veteran mouth to her aching nipples. He licks and sucks on her sweet, small breasts for endless minutes.
Pride swells up in him then, at the tremulous noises she makes again, at the way she buckles beneath him, at how well she’s taking these huge hits of feeling, at how the others beyond them might adore all of her too.
She gets a hand between them, flattens it over his cock, and tries to squeeze. He throws a hand wide and fumbles, curls his hand around the dildo, and pulls back to ease it between them, to let it nudge between her legs. She works his belt and button and zipper and pushes his trousers and boxers down. She takes his ass in her so-small hands and grabs it hard, pulls his hips and the dildo and his cock harder against her split cunt.
‘Give it,’ she pants. ‘Give it.’
She takes the tip of the dildo in her hands and guides it over her sore, red cunt, eagerly presses it inside. She hisses, screwing up her eyes, and moans softly.
‘Colour?’
‘Fuck. Still yellow.’
He kisses her collarbone. He kisses her nipple. He eases the cock out, holds it over the sore, tight rim of her cunt.
‘You want this?’
‘Yes sir.’
He eases it deeper then with a slow, careful thrust. He rides with it, presses himself behind it, holds her neck with his other hand and grunts when she clutches at him and scratches his back. He can feel the heat of her, feel her cum sinking into his clothes. He’s twitching in his boxers. He’s feeling it now, the dizzying force of his need.
He snatches up her hands, pins them over her head. He looks right into her, way into her tell-all eyes, and grins when she nods and whimpers, and kisses her when her head lolls happily.
They rub and rock, slow and unsteady and determined. He shakes on her, urges her deeper into the mattress, begs her to squeeze him tighter and tighter. He grinds his cock against his hand. He’s desperate for pressure, friction, release. He almost forgets the cock buried in her, until she wriggles against it, until she struggles beneath him.
‘Together,’ she whines. ‘Come with me.’
There’s a delicate agony in her voice, a quiver that he knows from long afternoons. She’s nearly spent now. She’s almost fucked-out. She needs tenderness now. She needs the kindest touches he can give.
‘I’ll try, girl.’
He presses himself tighter and tighter to her chest, still keeping up the slow, mean strokes of the dildo. He can feel that his own cock is thick and dripping. He flattens himself out, presses himself as flush to her as he can get, and groans and rumbles into her breasts.
He needs to nudge her into another ripping orgasm, to kiss every blemish he can find. He needs to hold her together.
He bites at her arms, brands his mouth onto her bicep. Her hands curl, her nails press hard into her palms. She shudders again. She’s never fucked herself slow like this. She doesn’t know where it ends, what it takes to come from this.
‘Stop thinking,’ he grunts. ‘I know you can take it. Just feel it.’
She lies back. Her legs go a little slack around him. She pants and quivers. It’s lazy now, the way she meets his close, measured thrusts.
She’s not on the ground anymore. There’s an eddy all through her body, a pulse burning up, something tugging and tugging her out and out and out.
Her eyes are glassy through the final thrusts, through the last drive. She cuts through the last howling pushes of her noise and stutters, ‘Let go. Let go.’
He drops everything, but she doesn’t mean for him to disappear. She only meant to have her hands free. She reaches for him and rises up against him, sits up and wraps herself around him like climbing ivy and holds him dear while it all washes through her, as the rush drips out of her. He takes the tear sliding down her cheek onto his thumb and brushes it away. He stays still and quiet and contents himself with the blanket of her fervid body.
