Hi! My name is Lyric and I’m a professional, full-time commission based erotica author. Below is the first part of an erotic novella I’d like to share.
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I.
It’s funny, the way something can be so much like you envisioned it and yet so entirely different at the same time. Mykonos was like that, or at least, it would be like that–eventually.
At the present moment, we were still there, laid out on our beach chairs with the golden sand beneath us and a clear expanse of blue sky stretched to eternity above us. The ocean rippled softly before us, a soft, beautiful green, interrupted here and there by the shapes of massive ships coasting across a distant horizon.
Charles and I had been meaning to get to Mykonos for years for holiday, and it was everything we’d hoped. I could see him and Jason, Amalia’s husband, getting drinks for us at the beachside bar. Charles’s skin was sun-kissed tan, and his short, red swimshorts looked good on his muscled legs, hugged the tight confines of his hips. I couldn’t help smiling at the sight of him, still.
“Do you think he has a big cock?” Amalia interrupted my peaceful reverie. My best friend, Amalia: ever the mischievous one. She was stretched out on her own beach chair next to mine, her body long and lithe, dark hair bobbing in its ponytail. The mint-green bikini she’d chosen for the day barely fit over her massive, fake tits, that almost spilled out over the taut fabric. Amalia had pulled down her sunglasses and was looking pointedly across the beach at an Arabic man with deep brown skin and a coarse, black beard. “He carries himself like he has a big cock.”
“How can you know that?” I asked, but I couldn’t help laughing. All I could tell was that the man looked like he had money. He was wearing a rolex on the beach, which was a hell of a statement. It seemed like too much good fortune that he’d also have a big cock. “I don’t know. I bet it’s average,” I settled on.
“Boring,” Amalia said and rolled her eyes, but she was teasing me, grinning at me. “Oh, shit, he’s coming over here. Act natural.”
“Natural? You were just talking about his dick,” I hissed, and it was impossible not to laugh at the absurdity of it. Amalia was struggling just as hard, pressing her lips tight together, laughing despite it. We were terrible, the two of us, like teen friends that had never grown up.
“Shh,” Amalia whispered, even though she was just as guilty for laughing.
The Arabic man approached close enough that we laughed all the harder for it. It was impossible not to. But I could see, now, that he was trailed by a few friends, four other Arabic men who reeked of money, dark hair and dark eyes and easy smiles that came from not having to worry about money, ever.
“I love seeing white women laugh,” the one at the front, with the potentially nice cock–according to Amalia–said, flashing white teeth when he smiled. “Truly, it must be one of Allah’s gifts to us all. That must make you two a blessing. Beautiful. Just beautiful.”
I could already see Charles and Jason had noticed this little visit. The two of them were rushing their orders at the bar, whispering to one another, trying to get over to us as quickly as they could. Charmers.
I was fairly confident that Amalia and I could handle ourselves well enough.
“You could do us a favor and tell our husbands that,” I said, all tease. It earned me a swat on the arm from Amalia, who always pouted at me for spoiling her flirting, but we both grinned at one another.
“Lucky men,” the man at the front said, eyebrows raised. He must have caught me glancing over at the bar, because he cast a look over his shoulder back at our husbands, nodding his head. Charles and Jason were treading sand but they were within earshot already, drinks in hand. “My companions and I saw you from across the beach and I just had to come tell you how beautiful you both are.”
“Thank you,” Amalia rushed to say first, this time, taking off her sunglasses and placing the arm of one against one of her plush, pink lips in a seductive posture. “A girl never gets tired of hearing that.”
I couldn’t help rolling my eyes, but she wasn’t wrong. It didn’t get old.
“We were actually hoping to make you a proposition. Do you see that yacht, all the way out there?” the man asked, gesturing with a wide motion, thick palm extended out to a boat on the distant horizon. It must have been very large to look so big even from afar. “That’s our shop, it’ll be coming back into port late this evening and we’re going to take a little cruise around the coast here. Just for a few days, you see. We’d love to have company of your… caliber,” he said, carefully.
“Dear?” Charles asked as he approached, smiling but in that uneasy way he had. He took a seat on the edge of my beach chair and handed me my old fashioned, all amber sweetness in the soft light of midday. “Is everything all right?”
I put a hand on his back, softly, feeling how warm his skin was.
“I was just offering your wife–your wives,” the man said, gesturing then to Jason as well. When he spoke now, it was directly to the men. “An opportunity to join us on our yacht. I’m afraid we don’t have room for the two of you, but if you’d allow your wives to come with us, we’d be happy to pay you handsomely for the privilege.”
I know my eyebrows must have shot up in surprise. I glanced over Charles’s shoulder to Amalia–she was smiling like a cat with a mouse. The minx. It had to be a joke, though.
“You’re very sweet,” I said, laughing quietly to myself. “You must get all the women.”
“Most of them,” the man confessed, smiling, clearly pleased with himself. “The offer still stands. We’d show you every comfort. Although, I admit, what we have in mind isn’t quite sweet.” The smile grew, then.
“That’s all very funny,” Charles said, a mixture of confusion, amusement, and unease in his tone. “But if you don’t mind, we’re just enjoying our vacation here.”
And that seemed to put an end to it. Amalia, to my side, pouted, but sipped on her appletini quietly and said nothing about it.
“Imagine that,” I said, when the men had left. “Wanting to pay us to grace them with our presence. And our tits, I’m sure,” I said with a little laugh, glancing down at my own tits pressed close together by my black bikini top. I had to admit, the offer made me feel good. Someone had seen my long legs, my flat stomach, and decided they wanted that… Even if the offer might not have been legit.
The four of us laughed about it, what a joke it must have been. We went back to our drinks, and our quiet company, and I’m sure Amalia kept thinking about those men and their offer–because I did. Something about it brought a unique kind of excitement fluttering in a low part of my stomach, and sipping my old fashioned did nothing to help.
#
Later that night, Charles and I were in bed. The sheets were tangled around our bodies, his breathing was growing heavy. I worked my mouth down the short shaft of his cock, taking it all the way into my mouth and lapping at the underside with my tongue so I could feel the swollen head pressed against the roof of my mouth. I could taste his precum on my tongue, salty slick.
“Fuck, Alda,” Charles groaned, his voice gone gravely around the edges, the way I liked it.
I worked his cock, pumping my mouth up and down and flicking my tongue across the underside of the head, coaxing him to the edge until I felt his breathing hitch and his body go tight. I moaned softly as he felt him cum in my mouth, spurting ropes of hot, sticky cum that I swallowed down. Charles was shaking by the time I finished and released him, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
I kissed my way up his body, softly, all the way from his stomach to his chest.
“Do you think those Arabic men would have liked that?” I teased him, unable to keep the giggle from my voice. I couldn’t stop thinking about their offer. I’d have to be an idiot to not know what they must have wanted.
“Is that what’s got you so worked up?” Charles asked, but he was laughing, his brown hair messy and eyes bright with want. “You know it was a joke. No one is that brazen.”
“Of course not,” I said, pouting. “But it was a nice compliment.”
And then the hotel phone rang. Charles grumbled something as he sat up, hating to be disturbed from his peaceful reverie. I sat up in bed, honey brown hair spilling down my shoulders, wearing just my black, lace panties so my tits were exposed, pink nipples hard in the cold hotel room. I watched Charles cross the room and pick up the phone.
“Hello?” he asked, and then seemed to just listen for a long while. Once or twice, he nodded. He looked back across his shoulder to me once or twice. He checked his watch. “Can I call you back?” he finally asked. Nodded again. He took a pad from the hotel desk and scrawled a number across it.
I slid off the bed and went to him, sliding my arm around his waist, playing my fingers across his hips. Waiting.
“It was that man from the beach,” he said, looking down at me, eyes confused, curious. “He offered $500,000 for you and Amalia. Each. To go on his yacht for three nights. Starting tonight.”
“What did you tell him?” I asked, too quickly. The money would be nice, but I couldn’t deny the raw kind of excitement that fluttered in my stomach as I watched his face.
“I asked him to call back.”
#
“We’re doing this, right?” Amalia asked.
Charles and I had knocked on the adjoining door and it had turned out Jason had gotten the same call. The four of us gathered in our hotel room, sitting around a cramped, circular table. I had my hand on the table and Amalia had reached out and taken my hand, squeezing it. For strength or out of excitement, I didn’t know.
“You really want to?” Jason asked, and it was completely unclear if he was bothered or turned on by the prospect, but he was watching his wife with curious eyes.
“It is a lot of money,” I said, ignoring the bigger point: it was exciting. I didn’t know what those men intended to do to us, and it could be dangerous, but to be wanted that badly… I could feel myself go flush, warmth rushing to my cheeks. I could still taste Charles’s cum in my mouth, and my pussy was soaking wet for so many other reasons. “Do you think we could get more?”
I knew how to navigate Charles. If I acted like it was a foregone conclusion, and just a matter of detail…
When Charles looked at me, he was startled to laughter.
“You really want to do this? It’s not a test where you hate me after?” he asked.
“You think I’m that boring?” I teased him, knocking him with my elbow and rolling my eyes. “Come on, what do you think?”
“I think…” Charles started, rubbing his forehead, looking to Jason and then back to me. “We should ask for at least $700,000. But he said we have to call back soon. The yacht departs in an hour.”
A heady, nervous kind of excitement thrummed through me then, burning across my skin. For some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Amalia had said earlier, on the beach: he carries himself like he has a big cock–suddenly, I couldn’t help wondering if she was right. And if I’d find out.
“Ask for eight,” I blurted the words out, surprising myself. But I wanted to feel that wanted. Just a little more than seven-hundred thousand. When I looked up, everyone gathered around the table was staring at me and then, just as suddenly, we were all laughing.
It was really going to happen.
“This is insane,” Charles mumbled to himself. He said the same thing in repetition, time and time again, as he got up and went to the phone. As he pressed the numbers to call. As he connected and spoke with the man on the other end. Eventually, he hung up, and he was quiet for a long moment before looking up again. “This is absolutely insane. But you’d both better pack your bags.”
“What’s the point?” Jason asked, not without good humor. “I doubt they’re going to be asked to wear much.”
That night, while I was packing my bag, I could hear Jason fucking Amalia. Hard. The headboard banged against the wall and I could hear the way her breathing rose and hitched, the way she moaned. I bit my lip against the way my breath came faster, the way my pussy ached to be touched. I found myself leaning into the bed, rocking myself against the edge of the mattress, the pressure hard against my clit. It wasn’t enough to make me cum, but fuck… I wanted to.
I wasn’t sure what was going to happen those next three days, but for the first time in years, I was throwing caution to the wind and I couldn’t wait to find out.
II.
The yacht was docked just down the beach from our hotel. It was so late it had become early again–it had to be one in the morning, but neither Amalia nor I were tired at all. We held hands the entire way, and our grips were tight enough to make the bones in our hands ache. I kept looking at her, and she kept looking at me, and we’d exchange frantic, nervous grins like we were teenage girls about to sneak out to meet our boyfriends.
Only our boyfriends in this case were wealthy Arabic men who wanted to pay to fuck us while our husbands stayed home. It definitely wasn’t anything I’d ever imagined for myself, but now I couldn’t stop thinking about it…
“Welcome,” the man from the beach said as he walked down the dock to greet us. His black, coarse hair had been brushed back from his dark brown face, his bushy eyebrows framed his dark, joyful eyes. In stark contrast to our beach meeting, he was wearing a pressed, black suit with a crisp white shirt underneath. “I realize we didn’t introduce ourselves properly before. You may call me Mr. Black,” he offered, a clear pseudonym. He gestured to the four other men coming down the dock behind him, each of them with varying lengths of beard, well coiffed hair, pressed suits. “You’ll see behind me Mr. Yellow, Mr. Green, Mr. Blue, and Mr. White.”
“I assume you have real, legal names registered to a real, legal bank account?” Jason quipped, brows furrowed. He’d been excited about the entire thing, but nervous, too. Charles had his hand on the small of my back, one part possessive, one part supportive.
“Of course, Mr. Fratell. We stand at the ready to make the transfer of $800,000, as requested. Each. Once certain… assurances are seen to,” Mr. Black said, his hands folded in front of him, and I couldn’t stop staring. He had big hands, thick fingered. I started to wonder again if Amalia was right about his cock.
But of course, the word assurances was like a needle popping my ballon. It sounded too much like the entire thing falling apart. It worried me more than I’d like.
“Assurances?” I asked, finally, looking up at Mr. Black.
“Nothing serious,” he said magnanimously, waving a hand. “But we mean to have fun these three days, and we want to make sure that our prospective playmates are up to the task. Mr. Yellow and Mr. Green, here, behind me… I’d like for you to let them fuck your throats.”
The bluntness of the statement shocked us all, I think. I sputtered. Charles stared, openly. Amalia got down on her knees and started to tie her long, dark hair up in a ponytail. It was all a little bit of a game to Amalia, I think. Of course, I was excited, but a part of me felt like I was on the edge of a cliff, ready to tip over at any minute, and I didn’t know what was at the bottom of it.
I looked back to Charles, but I couldn’t read him, for once. Amalia looked up at me, eyes bright with excitement, her tongue brushing across her pink lips to wet them. For all of that, she wasn’t exactly pushing me one way or the other.
It would be up to me. Everyone was watching me.
I’d worn an elegant, black cocktail dress that dipped low down to my navel to just show the barest hint of my slight cleavage, to better show off my slender, pale legs. It was a beautiful dress, and somehow felt silly now in that moment… I got down on my knees, aware the entire time that even though it was late, we were out on a public beach, and most assuredly the deck hands and staff members on the yacht were watching us.
“Good girls,” Mr. Black said. Even though he himself didn’t seem to be taking part, he seemed to be the face of the group, and it was only when he stepped aside that Mr. Yellow and Mr. Green stepped forward, working the zippers of their trousers open. “We want you to be our white whores, we want you to be good for us. Give us everything you have.”
I pulled the honey brown hair back from my face, but before I could tie it up, Mr. Green took control, raking his fingers back through my hair and grabbing hold. He’d undone the zipper of his trousers and taken out his cock: it was huge, thick and brown, the head swollen, shining slick with precum. Fuck, but he had a nice cock…
Before I could appreciate it fully, or maybe to help me appreciate it more fully, Mr. Green forcefully guided me forward. The head of his cock pressed up against my lips and I opened my mouth for him. The taste of him was salty sweet, filling my mouth as he slid past my lips and I worked my tongue along the underside of his cock. Mr. Green groaned in appreciation, knotting his fingers more tightly in my hair, forcing his cock deeper into my mouth until the head of him nudged against my throat.
I gagged, I put my hand on his hip but didn’t force him out. “Good,” Mr. Green hissed the word through a moan, pumping his cock between my plush lips. I could feel the spit getting thick in my mouth, dribbling down the underside of his cock as he fucked my face. Spit hung in thick ropes between us, the dock filled with the wet schlurp sound of him forcing himself deeper into my mouth until he was fucking my throat.
Each thrust made my eyes tear until I could feel tears running down my face. It was all I could do to keep my mouth open, to swallow him deeper, to play my tongue along the sensitive underside and make him moan more deeply.
The spit dribbled down the length of his cock and I could feel it splatter across my exposed chest, dripping down my cleavage, getting on my dress. From my peripheral, I could see Amalia taking Mr. Yellow’s cock like a professional. He had his hand on the back of her neck and his cock was buried in her pretty mouth, her plush pink lips wrapped around the base of him. Spit dripped down off her chin in thick ropes, falling onto the massive swell of her fake tits.
Did I look like that, too? Made a mess with spit and want, lips red and cheeks flushed, gasping for breath around the thick cock in my mouth… Fuck, it turned me on, I’d never felt myself so wet, the way it was dripping down my thighs, the way my whole body was shaking.
Mr. Yellow lost himself in Amalia. I was still watching when he fucked himself all the way down her throat, when his body locked up and I could see the base of him pulsing as he came down her throat.
I looked back up at Mr. Green and caught his eyes just in time to feel the first pulses of his orgasm. His cock was in my mouth when I felt the first hot, ropey spray of cum coat my tongue and just that was almost enough to make me orgasm as well. The way I felt his desire, the way I felt him want me…
Before he finished, he pulled out while I was still moaning and took his cock in his hand, stroking it hard, splashing my face with cum. Sticky ropes of cum splattered across my cheeks, got in my open mouth, dribbled down my chin and down my chest. Mr. Green came so much I felt covered in it, my body sticky and shining wet with his want.
By the time he finished, I was sat back, gasping for breath, and I knew my eyes were bright with wanting. Fuck, I wanted one of them to fuck me right then and there. I wanted one of them to push me up against the side of the yacht and take me so hard I couldn’t think straight.
“The money has been transferred to your respective accounts,” Mr. Black said, and there was a smile in his voice, cool and calm as he approached us. He stroked my hair, softly, careful not to smear the cum from my face as I looked up at him. I was a mess of spit and cum, I knew, and my mouth must be so red from its use and abuse, but he looked at me like I was beautiful. “White sluts really take brown cock better than anyone else across the world, don’t they, Mr. Green?” Mr. Black asked, laughing.
“Mnf,” Mr. Green grunted, nodding, shoving his cock back into his trousers. “We need to get them on the ship. Soon. I want another turn,” he said, grinning.
“You have our thanks, sirs,” Mr. Black said by way of parting to our husbands. “We’ll dock here again in three days and your wives will be yours again.”
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/10de93v/my_best_friend_and_i_convince_our_husbands_to