Hardcore: Group Sex & Menage Collection
THE BEST GROUP SEX! A collection of previously published erotic short stories and novel excerpts that focus on group sex, multiple partners, and sex parties. Stories range from cuckold couples exploring men and woman to cultish witch ceremonies to dreamlike scenarios filled with taboo uninhibitedness and the surreal. This collection includes group sex stories from this site:
Office Roulette: Previously published in My Cuckold Wife #6: Office Roulette [MF/FFF/MMMF]
The Ballroom of Commedia-dellarte: Previously published in The Erotic Tales of Bucephalus [FFFF]
Three’s Company: Previously published in Vicky Valentine’s Erotic Adventures: Dalisay’s Wish [MFF]
Boxing Lesson: Previously published in My Cuckold Wife #4: Boxing Lesson [MMF]
The Coven: Previously published in Lipstick Lesbian Tales #2: The Coven [FFFF]
Room 361: Olympia (Part One: Arab Strap): Previously published in The Erotic Tales of Bucephalus [MF]
Room 361: Olympia (Part Two: Her Consorts): Previously published in The Erotic Tales of Bucephalus [MF/MMF]
The Seventh Sister: Previously published in Vicky Valentine’s Erotic Adventures Volume 6 [MFF]
The Wight: Previously Published in Paranormal Erotica: The Wight [MMF/MF]
The Librarian: Previously published in My Cuckold Wife #5: The Librarian [MMMF]
Print Length: 134 pages
Type: Previously Published Bundled Stories (For Men & Women)
Price: $7.99 ebook / $12.99 print
Table of Contents
Hardcore: Group Sex & Menage Collection (Excerpt)
OFFICE ROULETTE | Previously published in “My Cuckold Wife #6: Office Roulette” [MF/FFF/MMMF]
The Husband:
During the past ten years of our marriage, Mary and I have pursued an unorthodox sex life. During this period, we’ve explored many of our desires, but my wife’s wish to cuck me in public stayed our most important fantasy.
My wife works for an important firm focusing on bankruptcy law called William Malbec & Associates. The Seattle location’s third floor contains many offices for lawyers and paralegals. Now and then, I visit her when she works late. During these late-night cram sessions, we often discuss ways to explore our fantasies. Despite this, my wife keeps legal work separate from sex play because she needs a job.
Last Tuesday evening, however, I challenged her to a new and daring game. After a few hours working on a brief, she pushed her chair back and pulled the circlet from her long hair. Auburn mane flowed as she shook them out; her wavy locks mirrored the colors and swirls of her oaken desk.
I studied my wife’s face. Mary’s impeccably applied makeup turned me on, as always. Her eyebrows remained plucked and trim. Her eyes held a faraway glower with pupils often drifting up, leaving a sliver of white underneath. My wife’s luscious carmine lip-gloss made her mouth appear to spread across her face. Her beautiful head lilted to the right, lost in some mysterious contemplation.
My eyes scanned her succulent body. Her work outfit comprised a stylish ensemble. A white blouse with a black undergarment contained her pendulous breasts. A pressed ebony skirt bound her luscious hips. Black hose led to garters. A prized set of oversized pearls hung loosely, doubled around her slender neck.
I offered her a slice of cold pizza, but she refused it. Instead, she slumped into her desk chair, exhausted and in need of decompression. She brought her glossy red heels atop the desk as she leaned back.
“God, Jim. I’m so tired. I need a vacation,” she grumbled as she removed the pencil’s tip from her lip-glossed mouth. “I always have so much work.”
I stared at the lipstick smear on the pencil as I said, “You need a massage. That might help.”
I walked over to her and kneaded her shoulders as I added, “Maybe we should go to Vegas again.”
She sighed.
“It’s pretty rough staying late, isn’t it?” I asked as my fingers dug into her shoulder muscles.
“Yeah, but it comes with the territory.”
I stopped massaging her. My nose pressed into her hair as I confessed, “I’ve been thinking about something. I have an idea.”
“What?”
I continued kneading her shoulders. “Something daring,” I said.
Her smile beamed from the mirror opposite her desk. I pressed harder. “Something iniquitous,” I added.
Her eyes closed in a sultry way as I admitted, “Something taboo.”
“Sounds interesting. Can I take my heels off?” Her eyes snapped open.
I smiled. “Yep. Definitely.”
The Wife:
A mischievous glint materialized in my husband’s eyes. Jim’s fingers stopped digging into my shoulders. He reached into his jacket pocket and rummaged around. Before long, he produced an object and held it to the desk lamp. A marble cube with numbers instead of dots whirled in his fingers—an odd gambler’s die.
He leaned forward and whispered into my ear, “If you love me, what would you do for me?”
I replied slowly, “You know I’d do anything.”
“Would you?”
“Yes.”
“Anything?”
I laughed. “Yes, of course.”
He bowed and muttered, “We’ll see about that.”
He placed the die on my desk and added, “If you’ll do anything for me, then let’s play a little game.”
I probed. “What kind of game? It’s late. I still have more work.”
“You know me. I play serious games,” he answered. “But I’m not the one gambling tonight, dear.”
“Who then?”
He smiled. “You.”
I probed further. “What do you mean?”
“Your co-workers often stay late, don’t they?”
“Yes, of course. It’s a law office. Everyone stays late. Why?”
“The firm has six offices, correct? Each an entrance to a different lawyer’s workplace. Four males and two females.”
“Yep, but I don’t follow.” I tapped my pencil on the desk with impatience. His eyes lingered on the tip.
“We’ll designate the offices on the left numbers one to three,” he explained.
My head tilted as I considered his words.
“Offices four, five, and six on the right.”
I smirked as his intentions dawned on me.
“Roll the die. Whatever number lands, go to that room, and knock on the door. If someone answers, try to seduce them. A few rolls and see what happens. If you’re lucky, a fantasy might come true.”
Flow appeared in my panties as I considered his words.
“I’ll lose my job,” I murmured more to myself than to him.
He shrugged and said, “Yeah, that’s possible.” He slid the die around the desk with his finger. “Jobs come and go. Isn’t one glorious night of possibility worth a single job?”
He made his point.
Still, I pondered the idea. On one hand, the tedium of this firm had made me uncaring. Jobs remained scarce. I deliberated more, but daring won.
“Okay, gimme it.” I lunged for the cube.
Jim held it out of reach. I frowned. Then he laughed and handed it to me like a trophy. I accepted it, raised the object to the light, and studied it. How could something that simple hold so much power? Without warning, I tossed it to the desk. The cube tumbled several times over the blotter until it landed on number two: Michael Cecily’s office.
Most nights, Mike didn’t stay late, so I sighed with a mixture of relief and disappointment. Perhaps he returned home. Perhaps not. I looked at my husband. He jerked his head toward the hall and door number two. A deep breath escaped my pursed lips as I acknowledged the outcome.
I stood.
As I sauntered to the door, mixed feelings overcame me. I wanted the man in there. I needed him in there. I exited my office with a glance back at Jim. He nodded his head in encouragement. A few footsteps later, I arrived at Mike’s door and listened for movement inside. Silence greeted me. I glanced back. My husband’s head peeked out of my office. He nodded again. I rapped on the door and waited for someone to answer, but nobody came. Discontent washed over me as I looked again at my husband.
He shrugged.
I walked back to my office and said, “Apparently, Lady Luck didn’t hear me.”
He chuckled and said, “I don’t know. Maybe everyone went home.”
An ill-behaved smile spread across my lips as I said, “Unlikely.”
I snatched the die again and said, “Roll again.”
My husband said, “Yep, so throw again.”
I considered the odds of someone working late as my vagina dampened more. I rolled the die again and then a three appeared. James Norton’s office. Most days, James left work earlier than the other lawyers. Another rush of disappointment gripped me, but I marched down the hall. I reach the third door and I listened for movement. Silence. I rapped on the wood as I glanced at the door plaque, which read “James Norton Esquire” in flowery script. No answer. I waited a few seconds more, grabbed the doorknob, and entered.
To Be Continued…
Read More
If you’re interested in a new-noir erotic bundle filled with more group sex, please head over to our Longreads page and check out Vicky Valentine’s Erotic Adventures: Volumes 1 – 4 (Collection + Bonus Prequel) or see The Erotic Tales of Bucephalus.
