Faster than Light

Faster than Light
Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

Gossip spreads faster
Than light dares to travel
Words whispered sound
Out louder than bells
The blush of exposure
Never quite fades

“You don’t believe me?” Rick asked.

“Well, no. I guess not,” said Brian.

“You think I’m going to lie about something like that?”

“Of course you would. Depends what’s at stake, but if you had some scheme in mind, you’d say just about anything, Rick.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

“Rick, I’ve known you, what? twenty years? You’d sell your Mom to get some skirt. Remember when Judy was coming down for the weekend and you told Liz that you were going in for surgery . . .”

“All right, all right.” Rick’s grin confessed to the charge. “But I’m not shitting you this time. I saw Tommy boffing Cheryl.”

“Cheryl Sanders?”

“One and only.”

“You’re a liar. What’s the angle?”

“Look. Hey, Steph. Come over here.”

“Rick, Brian. What’s up?”

“Rick says . . .”

“Wait,” Rick interrupted. “Let me remove all doubt.”

“About what?” asked Stephanie.

“How long have you known Cheryl?”

“I don’t know. Six years?”

“Do you think she’d cheat on Jerry?”

“Never. Not in a million years. You going after married women now, Rick?”

“Nope. Not Cheryl, anyway. Jerry’s a friend of mine.”

“Didn’t stop you when Angie . . . .”

“All right,” interrupted Rick. “I just have one question. Does Cheryl have a birthmark on her tit, right there?”

Steph slapped Rick’s jutting finger away from her breast. “Well,” she said.

“A lopsided heart?”

“Yeah. How did you . . . Rick, did you . . . ?” Stephanie’s brow tensed angrily.

“No,” Rick said emphatically. “I went back to the house to get my other pair of sunglasses.”

“Time to trade the early morning pair for the mid-morning ones?” asked Brian with a smirk.

“Mark sat on the one’s I was wearing while I was swimming, funny boy. Do you want to hear this or not?”

“Shut up, Brian,” said Stephanie, as she sat down in the warm sand.

“Thank you,” said Rick. “I went back to the house and just as I reached for the back door, I thought I heard Cheryl say, ‘Fuck me, stud.'”

“Oooh,” said Stephanie, leaning forward.

“I stopped dead in my tracks. There was some rustling and a faint moan. Then I thought, I just saw Jerry go with Steve and Allison up to the boardwalk. So then I’m thinking that I must have been wrong, it couldn’t be Cheryl.”

“But it was,” said Steph, anticipating.

“I slowly got down on my hands and knees. I started to crawl toward the window. Then Cheryl shouts, ‘What a hot cock!’ She was really excited about it.”

“I can’t believe it,” said Stephanie. “Cheryl? I’ve never heard her say anything dirty.”

“I couldn’t believe it either. I thought one of the guys had brought some bimbo back to the house. So I crept closer and peeked in the window.”

“That is so twisted,” said Brian with a smile.

“I wish I had my camera. Now, that would have been twisted. Anyway, I peek into the back bedroom and there’s Tommy sitting on the bed with his trunks at his ankles and Cheryl’s kneeling in front of him, sucking his dick.”

“Wow,” murmured Stephanie. “I wouldn’t have guessed she’d do anything like that. She always blushes and runs off when we talk about fucking.”

“Well, Cheryl may not talk the talk, but I don’t think it was the first time she’d sucked dick. Very enthusiastic performance. Beautiful titties, too. Bigger than I’d noticed before, and big dark nips. And a birthmark.”

“That’s Cheryl,” Stephanie confirmed, nodding.

“So then,” Rick said in a low voice, “she pulls down the bottom of her swimsuit and wiggles her white butt while she’s going down hard on Tommy’s dick. I thought I’d blow a load, just watching”

“Rick,” said Brian, blushing. “I don’t think we need to know all the details.”

“Shut up,” said Stephanie. “Is he big?”

“Not bad,” said Rick. “I mean, it was pretty long but slender. I’m no judge of meat, but Cheryl seemed to like it.”

“Mmm,” said Stephanie, licking her lips. “I wonder if . . .” Manicured nails scratched a gnawing itch under her bikini.

“Well, you’d better get a piece before Jerry finds out,” said Rick. “Can you say ‘justifiable homicide?'”

“You can’t tell Jerry,” said Stephanie, suddenly serious.

“Not me,” said Rick. “But I’ve never seen a secret like this one kept quiet long.”

“You guys tell Jerry and I’ll mess you up,” warned Stephanie.

“Capisch. So Cheryl’s going to town and I’m thinking Tommy’s going to blow but then Cheryl climbs on top of his rod and jams it into her pussy. She was so wet I could smell it.”


“She starts riding like she was galloping to freedom. Tits bouncing, Tommy’s groaning, Cheryl’s just spewing obscenities; “Fuck, suck, bitch, cock, fuck, dick,” and then she squeals so loud I thought the whole gang was going to come running up from the beach to save her.”

“What’s up?” asked Liz, sitting down between Stephanie and Rick.

“Rick caught Cheryl fucking Tommy.”

“No way,” said Liz, her eyes lit up.

“Sure as shit,” said Rick.

“Does Jerry know?” asked Liz.

“Not yet,” said Brian.

“Not ever,” said Stephanie, the menace returning to her voice.

“What about Terri?” asked Liz. “Aren’t she and Tommy a thing?”

“Naw. She dumped him a while back.”

“Good for her.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Someone told me that she was . . .” Brian’s voice trailed off.

“What?” asked Stephanie.

“She was seeing someone else.”

“Where’s Jerry?”

“He wanted some fries.”

“Here comes Cheryl.”

“You guys just shut up. Okay? Let me talk to her.”

“I want to know,” said Rick.

“In your dreams,” said Stephanie.

“You’ll tell me everything, Steph, or I’m talking to Jerry.”

“Okay. Now just shut up.” Stephanie growled at the gang in the sand and then turned to the figure descending from the sparse hill of sand dune. “Hey, Cheryl. Have you seen Tommy? I need to talk to him.”

“Um, no,” said Cheryl, blushing.

Liz and Rick fell over in an explosion of laughter. Brian got up and shading his eyes, looked toward the distant boardwalk.

“I need some fries,” he said, shaking his head and taking hold of his prone friend’s shoulder. “C’mon Rick, let’s get something to eat.

“Sure,” said Rick, wiping his eyes with a sand coated hand. “But you don’t call me a liar anymore.”

“Shit,” said Brian. “That’s the least of your worries. Let’s go.”

About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in books, erotica, fiction, literature, literotica, personal, short stories, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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