FRANK AND EVA by Donna George Storey
First published in Sudden Sex, edited by Alison Tyler (Cleis Press, 2013)
I. Frank
I made Sean take care of registration at the inn, even though I’d booked the room. While he exchanged pleasantries with the pretty receptionist, I stood back and pretended to study the rack of brochures advertising limousine tours of the wine country, rinky-dink local museums, and a geyser that was no longer so faithful after the last big earthquake. As we stepped out of the foyer, I caught the young woman studying me curiously. Obviously she hadn’t yet realized that some guests prefer not to be seen.
Sean and I carried our own overnight bags back to our cottage suite, hurrying along the path through the perennial garden as if to avoid prying eyes. We closed the door behind us and exchanged a smile. The sitting room was just like the photograph online—marble fireplace, luxury sofa, furnishings that suggested both elegance and self-indulgence.
My husband headed to the bedroom.
“This has potential,” he said, nodding toward the four poster bed.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I teased. “Why don’t you go get a glass of wine or something? I need to freshen up.”
He smiled. “I noticed a place that has tastings on the town square. I’ll take my time.”
As soon as he was gone, I promptly ran myself a bath in the champagne slipper tub. My lover, who would only come to visit me here at this inn, insisted that I be “clean” for him, which meant my armpits, legs, vulva had to be freshly shaved. If I was sloppy, he’d drag me back into the bathroom and do the job right himself.
Carefully bathed and perfumed with moisturizer, I wrapped myself in the inn’s terry robe and curled up on the sofa to wait for him. Already my lower parts were feeling tingly, and my breasts ached for his touch. I ran a finger idly over my satin-smooth labia, checking for any strays. Without thinking, one finger dipped into the cleft and brushed my distended clit. I flicked it tentatively, then with more purpose.
The knock on the cottage door made me jump.
I rushed to the door.
“Eva, my dear, how good to see you after all this time,” he said in his usual proper tone. It was Frank.
“Yes, it’s been too long,” I said, instinctively bowing my head.
He took my chin in his hand and gazed sternly into my eyes. “Is that why you’re so impatient? Look at what you’re wearing. Does a lady greet her guest this way?”
“I missed you so much, I thought we…” I faltered.
“Hasn’t your husband been keeping the home furrow plowed?”
I swallowed. “It’s never like it is with you, Frank.”
His dark eyes softened. “Since you’re in such a hurry, go get the bed ready. I’ll join you in a few moments.”
My pulse racing, I pulled back the quilt and sheets and spread out the large towel I’d brought from the bathroom. I perched myself at the edge of the bed feeling very much on edge myself. Who knew what Frank would do tonight? I was suddenly aware of the warm slickness between my legs.
Frank could make me wet before he even touched me.
Just then he sauntered into the bedroom, an impressive erection already tenting his robe. I blushed and looked away.
He sat on the bed beside me. “You have something naughty to tell me, don’t you, Eva? I know that expression on your face.”
My cheeks flamed brighter.
“Are you going to confess or will I need to resort to firmer means?”
I felt another gush of arousal ooze down my thighs. “While I waited for you, I ….”
“Out with it.”
“I touch… touched myself.”
“Indeed? Do you think of me and masturbate when you’re at home, too?”
I nodded reluctantly.
Frank clicked his tongue. “Your poor bastard of a husband has no idea how depraved you are. You know you need to be disciplined for this?”
I nodded again, my heart now thumping against my ribs.
Calmly, deliberately, Frank arranged my body diagonally across the bed and tied my wrists to the bed poster with the belts of our robes.
“Now that your greedy fingers are safe from wandering into a dirty place, I’ll teach you what it means to be patient.”
Straddling me, Frank yanked my loose robe apart and began to kiss my breasts ever so softly for what seemed like an hour until I was squirming and moaning and juicing all over. Gradually he increased the stimulation, twisting my stiff pink nipples between his fingers, nipping them gently.
“Please, touch me. Down there,” I begged.
“Patience, my dear. You’re going to learn patience tonight.”
He suckled my breasts some more, laughing softly at my growing distress.
Finally I realized what I had to do. “Frank?”
“Yes, my dear.”
“I’m sorry for being rude. I promise I’ll wear a respectable dress next time. Pearls. I’ll greet you like a proper lady.”
“Yes, I want to see you in your Sunday best, Eva,” he agreed, appeased at last. “Now that you’ve learned your lesson, we can proceed. Spread your legs.” He trailed his fingers over my shaved slit, and I shuddered. “Very nice and clean today, Eva. Not like the last time when you were lazy. Do you still want me to touch you there?”
I groaned assent.
It was then he planted a slap on my tender flesh. I stiffened from the shock, but the sting was immediately followed by a wave of hot pleasure. He spanked my vulva again. This time I sighed and opened my legs wider.
“You are a wicked girl,” he announced coolly. “You’ve deprived your lover of the pleasure of arousing you. There’s only one way to control your lust. I want you to get a composition book and record all the times you masturbate while thinking of me. Describe every thought and deed in filthy, explicit detail. When we meet again, you’ll stand before me naked and read the entries aloud while I decide how to punish you.”
My pussy clenched so hard I whimpered and arched up against my bonds. “I prom…promise,” I stuttered.
“Do you want me to fuck you now? Be honest. Isn’t that why you came to the door with your tits practically falling out of that slutty bathrobe?”
“Yes, oh, yes.”
Suddenly impatient himself, Frank threw off his robe, knelt between my legs and pushed himself into me in a single stroke. Tweaking my nipple just so, began thrusting into me, with exquisite care, so I could rub my bald lips against his wiry bush.
“Tell me what a dirty girl you are,” he hissed.
Panting and sweating, I babbled out the truth of my darkest desires. “I love sex. I love cocks ramming up inside me. I love getting tied up and spanked on my pussy. I love shaving myself so I can be perfectly bare all over just for you.”
Frank answered each confession with a deep grunt of pleasure. He was losing it now and so was I. The prim Victorian bed squeaked beneath us. I jerked my hips up and up, desperate in my need, the knot of pleasure in my belly growing hotter and bigger until it exploded, bursting from my throat in a wail of release. Abandoning all propriety now, Frank bellowed rudely as he came into me: fuck oh fuck Eva fuck.
Afterwards we lay in each other’s arms, marveling again that each time brought something wonderful and new.
“That masturbation log is a pretty perverted idea,” I said, snuggling close. “We’d better come back soon or I’ll be reading my twisted fantasies to you all night.”
“Did I go too far? Be frank now.” Sean grinned.
I felt another sweet twinge between my legs. “No, honey, that’s your job.”
II. Eva
I have about an hour to kill before I can go back to Eva. Walking this town from end to end would take all of ten minutes. I pause at the wine tasting room, but there are too many tourists inside. Besides I’ll have to make the usual inane chit-chat with one of the hospitality staff.
“Is this your first visit to the Wine Country?” she’ll say, chipper as a Girl Scout.
“Actually, my wife and I come up from San Francisco a few times a year, but not for the wine. We like to play our kinky dom-sub sex game in your local country inn. Would you care to join us tonight?”
I smile as I continue on down the street. If only it were that easy. Of course, bringing back another woman might be pushing Eva a little too far. This time.
I pass a quaint tavern—everything is quaint here—and peek inside. Dim lighting, a few customers perched at the bar. Perfect. I take a table in a shadowy corner and order a glass of Frank Family Cabernet. You can’t get that by the glass in the city.
The wine is delicious, but I plan to nurse it for the rest of the hour. Any more than a glass, and I’ll lose my edge. Eva reassures me she’s not keeping score, but I want each time to be better. On our last visit, I ordered her to shave her pussy for me, but she shied away from the trickiest spots. I made the most of that, believe me. I hauled her back into the bathroom and forced her to lie on the bathmat, legs spread wide, while I did the job right. She was quivering like nervous filly, so I stroked and soothed her, taking her rosy lips gently between my fingers, pulling the razor across the tender skin oh-so-delicately. Her juice flowed like a river the whole time, and when I kissed her there, my face was literally bathed in her warm nectar. I almost came in my pants right there on the tiled floor.
But this time? Well, I hinted that I wanted her to shave for me again, but I can never predict how she’ll respond to my “orders.” She might be intentionally sloppy, and then I’ll have to be “disappointed,” maybe bend her over the sink for a spanking, get that round bottom all pink and squirming, before I give her another hands-on grooming lesson. Or she might be scrupulously careful, not a hair in sight, and I’ll have to come up with another pretext to tie her up to that four poster bed.
Suddenly I flash on an idea. What if I “make” Eva write down all her dirtiest fantasies as an assignment? An instant treasury of scripts for future games. I can hear her voice tremble as she reads—then you bend me over your desk and lube my asshole with the ointment you keep tucked in the drawer for special “lessons”…. I love fucking Eva in every hole, but nothing turns me on more than slipping deep inside her sweet, dirty mind.
The first time we came up here, we were just an ordinary couple getting away for the weekend. Until, as we sat by the fire with a bottle of good wine, Eva told me about the man inside her head. How he whispered depraved things that made her blush—and masturbate. He took videos of her playing with herself and showed it to his friends while she had to sit and listen to their rude comments. He put her to work as his special assistant, whose duties involved catering to the needs of wealthy clients. Sometimes he’d make her fellate them during meetings, their cocks protruding from their pin-stripe trousers. Sometimes he’d bend her over his big mahogany desk and invite a dozen of them to fuck her ass until the stimulation of all those cocks made her come without a single flick of her clit. This dude was one serious pervert.
I found myself getting jealous. And very hard. I wanted to be that man in her head.
Now I am.
The hour is up. I saunter back to our cottage suite, my back straight, my expression uncompromising. Right out of law school, I clerked for a judge named Francis Purcell, the pickiest bastard you could imagine. If only old Frank knew how far his influence reached into his young protege’s private life.
Eva meets me at the door in the hotel bathrobe, bright-eyed and gorgeous. I swear I can smell her pussy, like fresh baked bread. I know that shaving for me arouses her, but something else is afoot. A secret. Almost as if she’s had a lover while I was gone.
My cock twitches.
I send her off to bed and go change into a robe myself. When I join her, Eva’s sitting on the edge of the bed studying the carpet and looking guilty as hell.
“You have something naughty to tell me, don’t you, Eva? I know that expression on your face.”
She stutters, but finally admits that she masturbated while she waited for me. My cock gets harder. I can just picture her in the bath, her cunt all dewy, that slim finger jiggling away in the folds.
I ask her if she fantasizes about me when she masturbates at home, behind the back of her poor unwitting husband.
She bites her lip and nods.
“You know you need to be disciplined for this?”
She catches her breath.
I smile. She’s handed me the perfect reason to tie her up—to keep those wandering fingers from doing more mischief. It’s always easier to push the limits when she “deserves” it. Still I pay close attention to her response as I bind her wrists to the bed post with the belts of our robes. This was new for us. So far, so good. Her eyes have that dreamy, helpless look, and her nipples are as hard as pebbles under her robe.
She moans when I began to tease her breasts with my lips and fingers. Those beautiful nipples are my best allies. All I have to do is suck and tweak them for a few moments, and she’s whimpering for my cock inside.
Tonight I refuse to get near her pussy for a full twenty minutes.
Since we started playing our game, I’ve learned something about myself, too. I love “breaking” her, using her own arousal against her to reduce her to pure animal desire. I love it when she sweats and pants and begs me to fuck her. There are no sweeter words a man can hear.
Finally I relent, because I’m not sure I can hold out much longer myself. I make her spread her legs so I can examine her. Her lips are as smooth as white chocolate, the inner flesh swollen and moist like strawberries. The vulnerability gives me another wicked idea. I gently slap her right on her clit. She shudders. I wait. Her eyes are squeezed tight, and a slight smile plays over her lips. I spank her vulva again. She spreads her legs wider. Bingo.
It’s then I spring my assignment on her—writing down all her fantasies, in a notebook, just for me. I add in an oral recitation in the nude for good measure. I know from the way she arches up and gasps that she likes the idea very much.
Now I can’t wait a second longer. I kneel between her legs and slide inside her to the hilt. There’s another reason I love these weekends. Her cunt is somehow silkier, hotter, tighter. She pushes up, grinding her shaved slit against me. I realize there’s just one thing missing: I want to be inside her head, too.
“Tell me what a dirty girl you are,” I choke out, knowing this will drive us both over the edge.
And so she tells me how she loves to get fucked and bound and spanked and forced to admit she likes it all. With each new confession, my cock throbs, and her walls grip me like shrink-wrap. I know she’s going to come soon by her ragged breath, the way her left thigh jerks, the low moan rising in her throat. I hold out until she screams, and then finally I let go.
Old Judge Frank Purcell probably never had this much fun in his life.
Afterwards Eva laughs and kisses me and thanks me for being such a perfect master. I’ve done well this time.
But, to be frank, I know for us the best is yet to come.
About Donna George Storey
My adults-only tales have appeared in nearly two hundred publications including Penthouse, Mammoth Book of Erotica Presents the Best of Donna George Storey, Best Women’s Erotica, and Best American Erotica. I’m the proud author of Amorous Woman, a erotic novel about an American woman’s love affair with Japan, which is based on my own experiences living in Kyoto and Yokohama. I am currently researching a historical novel set in 1912 and am learning many fascinating things about sex in America one hundred years ago. In fact, the allure of city entertainments such as dance halls, movie theaters, and amusements parks like Coney Island brought about the first sexual revolution of the twentieth century, so that by the 1920s, a mutually satisfying sex life was encouraged for married couples—with dispensation for the explorations of the merely engaged. Gays and lesbians discovered their own vibrant communities in cities such as New York and San Francisco, and even midwestern farm wives shared recipes for homemade contraceptives with their friends. Our ancestors were having more fun than we realize!
I also blog monthly on writing, erotica and sexuality at the Erotica Readers and Writers Association and am finishing a series there on the experiences of men and women, rich and poor, in the red-light districts of American cities in the early 1900s.
I hope you enjoy my stories and encourage everyone to explore their imaginations through reading and writing their own erotica. The process of writing erotica well requires us to think, slow down, pay attention, appreciate sensual experience, and embrace the extraordinary in our ordinary lives. Many will tell you that erotica is “trash” simply because erotica writers are fearless about expressing the complexity and pleasure in sexuality. Those of us who enjoy a good, sexy story know better—and we’re having a lot more fun.
Learn more at DonnaGeorgeStorey.com.
Facebook: facebook.com/DGSauthor
Twitter: @DonnaGStorey
Books by Donna George Storey
Amorous Woman — An Erotic Novel
Buckle your seat belt for an erotic trip to Japan! Amorous Woman is the story of an American woman’s love affair with Japan and her intimate relationships with the many men and women she meets along the way. This modern reimagining of Ihara Saikaku’s bawdy 17th-century novel of the pleasure quarters, The Life of an Amorous Woman, offers a graphic, erotic tale that challenges everything you think you know about Japan. (See the YouTube book trailer here).
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Mammoth Books Presents Picture Perfect: The Best of Donna George Storey — An Erotic Short Story Collection
Six of my favorite stories, all of which appeared in the Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica series edited by Maxim Jakubowski, are collected here for your reading pleasure. A simple blindfold brings spice to a young couple’s sex life in “Blinded.” In “Picture Perfect,” a wife’s first attempt at intimate shaving inspires her husband to take an amateur porn video. “Just Words” explores the creativity of phone sex and “Being Bobby” explores the power of cross-dressing. “To Dance at the Fair” is one of my favorite stories, both an homage to the famous burlesque dancer, Sally Rand, and the exploration of a fantasy come to life.
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