Best Women's Erotica 2011 by Violet Blue Page B

torn open.”
    Adele stared across the room with a combination of apprehension, disbelief and exhilaration. “Would anybody like another drink?” she asked before Sissy could respond.
    Nobody but Sissy could be distracted from the tension building on the couch, and she simply shook her head. And then, as Elliot squirmed in his chair, Sissy reached for her bag and
brought out a tube of cotton candy-pink lipstick. Her first coat had been all but lost to her cosmopolitan glass. She embellished her soft pink lips with a generous coat of light, waxy lipstick and then smacked them together.
    The whole room seemed to be smiling with unspoken knowledge. “My lipstick,” Adele said. “It’s in my bedroom.” Without another word, she bolted up the stairs and grasped a tube of bright red lipstick. She watched herself in the mirror as she put it on. Why had she taken it to heart when Sissy called her old? She wasn’t that at all. Adele looked as vibrant as she had in college. Though she’d never been what one might call “pretty,” she was certainly a striking woman. And Elliot still found her attractive, if his anniversary gift was any indication.
    By the time Adele returned to the parlor, the husbands had moved to the sofa. All three sat side by side—there were Roger’s blond curls, Pat’s chestnut brown hair and Elliot’s salt and pepper on the end. She stared at the backs of their heads before gazing up at Sissy sitting in the chair Adele had abandoned, and Hue perched on its arm. They looked at Adele as if to ask permission. That was her impression, at least until she circled the sofa to find her husband’s belt unbuckled and fly unzipped. His familiar cock sat limp outside the pin-striped gabardine slacks she’d picked out for him. Adele bought all her husband’s clothes. Had Sissy selected Roger’s deep blue dress pants? And had Hue purchased Pat’s impeccably creased black trousers? They were all so well dressed and all owing to the women behind the men. Without their wives, the boys would flounder in all things. The women held the power.
    Try as she might, Adele couldn’t keep herself from peeking at the half-hard cock poking out of Roger’s fly. Sissy was right—it was big. Not frighteningly huge, but certainly a good size. On the slim side, in fact, but long and curving to the right as though
it were reaching for his hand. It leapt like an excited dog’s tail as it waited for action.
    Pat’s dick rested still against his thigh, quietly drooling precome onto the black fabric of his trousers. Pat had a fat cock. It was hard to tell just by looking, but his girth seemed to surpass Roger’s or even Elliot’s, for that matter. Elliot had a very middle-of-the-road cock. Adele had always thought so. It wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small. It was neither fat nor thin. She knew what to expect of it, and it delivered each time. To see it set like the third place recipient against their friends’ winning cocks, she almost felt sorry for her husband, though she didn’t know why. It really was a very pleasant dick.
    “Well?” Hue said. “Are we going to sit here staring at our husbands’ pricks all night, or are we going to get down and dirty?”
    The business world had rendered Hue shameless, but Adele felt a blush coming on. Sissy simply sat staring. At what? Her eyes were glazed over, likely in delayed response to the evening’s many cosmopolitans. “How do we decide,” Sissy said in a small voice, “who starts where?”
    “We should all start with our own husbands, shouldn’t we?” Adele said, not knowing where to look. She tried to stare at her manicure, but her eyes kept wandering back to the line of growing penises on the couch.
    The husbands sat still as strip club patrons—not that Adele had ever set foot inside a strip club…but she’d heard things. They seemed to avoid looking at each other’s laps, or accidentally touching thighs. A childhood memory flashed before Adele’s eyes, of