My Greatest Fantasy

Copyright © Nicole Austin, 2010
All Rights Reserved
Note: Nicole Austin’s books are intended for those readers 18 years old or older.


Chapter One

This whole wild ride started while I was indulging my newest guilty pleasure—voyeurism. Quite the naughty habit, I know. Undertaken in secret, most often shrouded by darkness, with the dangerous potential for being discovered… Hell yeah! What a decadent thrill.

Picture a late night at the office, everyone else had gone home. Hunger pains hit and with a handful of change, I headed off to the lunchroom with visions of candy bars filling my head. Odd sounds reached me before I turned the corner to find a coworker, pants down around his ankles, bare ass flexing beneath the glare of florescent lights. He stood between the legs of a woman lying on the table where I’d eaten my lunch. With her skirt bunched up around her waist, I had a clear view as his cock, glistening with her juices, slammed into her pussy.

Shocked and embarrassed, not wanting to be discovered watching, my head screamed to turn and walk away. However, my body had a mind of its own and remained rooted to the spot. Like a sponge, I soaked in every nuance of their illicit encounter, not even realizing what my busy fingers had gotten up to beneath my skirt and drenched panties until an intense orgasm crashed over me.

I don’t know who they were, never caught them in the act again, yet the desires formed that night changed me. I became ever vigilant in the quest for more opportunities to observe. Which brings me to my neighbors.

I’m confident enough to confess my sins. In the six weeks since the sexy trio moved in next door, they’d captured more than my passing interest. What living, breathing, red-blooded woman wouldn’t take notice of three gorgeous hunks who shared a penchant for nude sunbathing? Damn straight my hormones stood up and paid attention.

Absorbing details is a big part of my nature—an essential career skill. Not that I’d observed any naked tanning going on, damn it. A grueling caseload meant I was seldom home during daylight hours. But since the guys had moved in, I’d been hearing someone having sex on the deck behind their house at night. Husky moans and shouts that got me hotter than a three-alarm fire.

God, how I ached just from listening to them fuck. The last time I’d had sex had become way too distant a memory since putting my career first had developed into a habit.

I didn’t skip out on work, leaving a high-profile case sitting on my desk, just to get a glimpse of my noisy nocturnal neighbors in the light of day though. No way. I’d put too much work into reaching my career goals and done a lot of climbing up the ladder to reach the position of First Assistant District Attorney to become a slacker on a whim.

Because of my rowdy neighbors, insomnia had become my constant companion. If I was to succeed on this case, I needed a nap. The lack of rest and my too vivid imagination were taking a hefty toll on my concentration. My work was suffering. Thinking about my neighbors’ nighttime activities instead of being alert and focused had me making rookie mistakes, which did not go unnoticed. Tongues were wagging. Sensing I’d lost my edge, others jockeyed for position. The rat bastards. They smelled weakness and were lining up to feast on the rotten carcass. But if my coworkers thought I’d simply lie down and die, the bloodthirsty idiots had better think again.

Still, I know my limits. Some downtime and a refreshing nap would do wonders. At least, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

With a nod, I pressed closer to the stucco wall, wedging myself in along the iron railing of the bedroom balcony.

The early spring day had brought perfect weather to the Tampa Bay area. I enjoyed the crisp and dry breeze caressing my bare skin. Any respite from the normal humidity, regardless how brief, felt wonderful.

With a deep breath of the salty air, my tension eased. Miles of clear blue sky kissing tropical green waters replenished my weary soul. Being outside at two o’clock in the afternoon on a workday stripped down to my lacy underwear had nothing to do with trying to catch the hot young guys next door in the act of nude sunbathing.

Lord knows I’d tried to get a look at what brought on the nightly serenade of moans, grunts and slapping flesh emanating from their deck. I never caught sight of pale butt cheeks in the moonlight, so they had to be out sunning themselves, naked, during the day. Solid deductive reasoning, right?

And what I wouldn’t give to see that after too many nights alone in bed listening to them fuck. My active mind had no trouble filling in the blanks, supplying wicked visions of glorious toned and tanned male flesh as I listened to the sounds of passion. My body ached, longing to join them, but until now, I’d remained safely tucked away in my house to avoid humiliation. They wouldn’t want an older woman. Not a tired, stressed-out one who’d spent her life following intellectual pursuits.

What a marvelous fantasy though. Peeping Jane and the three studs.

“Fuck me harder.”

The masculine groan sent a shaft of white-hot desire straight from my scalp to my toes, which curled against the hard tile. They were outside, the three sex gods, and they weren’t saving the fun and games for the cover of darkness. And if I could just squeeze my ass an inch farther into the damn corner and lean out over the edge a little more, I’d get to do more than listen. Almost there.

Rough stucco scraped against a swollen nipple and bolts of pleasure-pain zinged through my abdomen to pulse along my erect clit. The sounds they made alone were enough to get me wet and ready. The idea of actually watching them fuck drove me to desperation. Hence the high-elevation contortionists act, all in an attempt to witness their activities.

“That’s it. Fuck me good.”

Yes, please. Fuck him good and let me see, damn it!

Not wanting to be overanxious, I forced my gaze to glide over the coast and allowed anticipation to build before settling my attention on the wooden deck below with a sharp inhalation.

Holy shit! The view was much different than my fantasies.

Slapping a trembling hand over my mouth to prevent any further exclamations of joy from escaping, I stared in awe. Wouldn’t do to call attention to myself. Not when they were finally revealed in all their glory. If they heard me and moved the fun indoors it would be a crying damn shame.

There were no women joining the guys for sex, at least not right then. Nope, just lots of naked male flesh. My starved eyes feasted on the three hot men who’d abandoned themselves to a wild afternoon of fucking.

Praise the Lord and pass the gravy. The Hallelujah Chorus echoed in my head as I looked down on them. What a heathen. I’m going to Hell on the express train. There’s a first-class ticket for the front row with my name engraved on it in bold red letters just waiting for me to show up. Considering that line of reasoning, I figured that I might as well have fun and enjoy the trip.

My imagination had not come close to doing justice to their hedonistic display, which took my breath away. Blood pounded through my veins. My body temperature rose and a surge of cream dampened my panties. I brought my hands to my breasts, rubbed my palms over my tightly puckered nipples. Within seconds, I was on fire, burning up with sexual energy. The heat hit me so hard that sweat trickled down my spine. My clit swelled, throbbed, begged for stimulation. Not one to deny my own pleasure, after shifting my butt up against the railing, I slid a hand over my flat tummy and beneath the elastic edge of my panties.

Fuck, the guys got me so hot! In mere seconds they took me from tingles of arousal to volcanic meltdown.

The blond’s body glistened with sweat. Golden skin rippled with the flex and play of powerful muscles along more than six feet of gorgeous, primal, dominant male in rut. His firm ass cheeks constricted in the most delightful way as he drilled into the body caged beneath him. And I’d been right. There wasn’t one tan line to be seen on his perfect bod.

The choir in my head launched into a full-out Baptist revival, clapping and shouting praise for the bountiful feast laid out at my feet. A-amen, aw-men…thank the gods for men!

What would I have to do to get some of that?

My pussy clenched and I thrust two fingers into the soaking wet channel, riding them hard. With the heel of my hand pressed against my clit, I watched the scene unfold. God, how I longed to join them.

Brief disappointment surged through me when the blond pulled away from his partner, but I was relieved to discover they were only changing positions, not stopping. He moved to the side of the lounge chair and his lover turned over. Riveted, I couldn’t look away. The new arrangement allowed me to see everything.

Shocked and titillated, I fucked my hand harder. My gaze skated over the black-haired man moving onto his back, knees pulled up to his chest and spread wide to display one hell of a nice ass, cock and balls.

The position might be submissive and vulnerable, but not for a minute did I believe the man himself was in any way passive. He projected the commanding aura of an alpha male willing to bend for the sake of mutual pleasure. Neither the bright sunlight nor the frantic sex penetrated his dark and authoritative persona, though. In my estimation, he was one cool customer.

And holy hot manlove, who would’ve guessed they were gay? Not me. There went my visions of being fucked by the three studs in one big jumble of writhing bodies, damn it. The view almost made up for the loss of that particular fantasy though.

The only hair on either man existed on their heads and faces—otherwise they were waxed or shaved bare. Much braver than me. That shit hurt. While I appreciated their sacrifice, the feeling of crisp chest hair sliding between my fingers was something I enjoyed.

Once the black-haired guy got into position, the blond didn’t delay. He leaned over his friend in a one-armed push-up and proceeded to fuck him. Hard. The small pucker of the other guy’s anus stretched around the thick invader and both moaned, vocalizing their bliss.

Raw hunger was evident in the firm grip of large hands, the rough clash of lips and powerful thrusts of hard bodies. A clash of titans. Yet something deeper passed between them. Below the surface existed a secure foundation of…friendship? Love? I wasn’t sure but sensed the strength of their connection.

And damn, they were killing me. I wanted to know how it felt to have my ass stretched, to experience the friction of a big cock shafting in and out of the tight passage. I needed to experience the wicked delight expressed on their faces.

The man on top pistoned his hips at a rapid pace. Damp skin slapped and I imagined it was my ass being reamed, fucked raw by the primal sex god. Pinching an aching nipple, I matched their rhythm with the fingers fucking my pussy. Not in my wildest moments would I have thought watching two men fuck would be such a major turn-on. Shed a whole new light on the male desire for woman-on-woman porn and exposed me to a wealth of fresh new fantasy material.

Shaking with the need to orgasm, I fought to hold back, wanting to time my release with theirs. Then a flash of movement on a portion of the deck closer to my perch caught my eye.

There, off by himself, lounged the third man. Enraptured by the pair, I’d forgotten all about, and almost entirely missed him. That would have been one hell of a crime.

My elevated vantage point almost directly over his shoulders granted me an unobstructed view from the top of his head and along the perfect length of his body. Unlike the other two, a smattering of dark brown hair spread across his chest, narrowed to a thin trail down the ridges of his abdomen, and formed a lush nest surrounding the base of the beautiful cock being stroked in his fist. He didn’t join in the fun, but clearly got off on the erotic spectacle.

The other two fucked away, their masculine moans wrapping around me, but I only had eyes for the solo player. I longed to slide my fingers through thick mahogany waves of hair. To rake my nails along the corded sinew of his broad chest and tease those taut nipples.

And that cock…oh my. The things I wanted to do with his long shaft and heavy balls.

Large fingers gripped tight, his stroke sure and firm. The engorged, plum-shaped crown looked almost bruised it was so filled with blood. His other hand fondled his balls, rolling the globes in his palm before tugging the entire sac downward.

Shit, he handled himself in a rough, almost abusive manner, yet his moans sounded as if they were sparked from pleasure, not pain.

“Fuck me harder, you bastard,” one of the men bellowed.

“Would you shut the fuck up,” solo player grumbled. “Miss Priss will hear you.”

Miss Priss? Who the hell were they talking about?

“Relax, workaholic lawyer girl’s never home during the day.”

Me? They were talking about me. The words took me by surprise, like a bucket of cold water poured over my head, and killed the orgasm that had been dangling just out of reach.

Sure I worked a lot and maintained proper decorum for my job, but I didn’t consider myself to be prissy. Far from it. I’m one of the most liberated women I know, damn it. No, they couldn’t be talking about me. I do admit to a flair for drama, though, after years of working in courtrooms.

“She’s hiding a hot bod under those frumpy suits.”

Frumpy? I wanted to scream, “I am not a frumpy priss”, at the top of my lungs, but refrained from doing so. After all, I didn’t want to reveal myself or have the entertainment stop before reaching its explosive finale.

Besides, they didn’t know about my sexy undergarments. No one did. A fetish for sexy lingerie is yet another of my vices. In my line of work, maintaining a professional image is essential and requires wearing boring business suits, which I detest. The soft brush of fine silk and lace beneath my courtroom clothes indulges my innate sensuality. The small reminder of my femininity while busting balls before a powerful judge was also heady as all get-out. Arguing a case and feeling my garters draw tight against my thighs was a perverse thrill.

“Need to…invite her over…for a drink,” one man panted.

“You want to fuck her.” The hard tone held accusation and recrimination. Still, the words rekindled some of my arousal.

“Hell, yeah. All three of us. One in her cunt, one in that tight ass, and one stretching those red lips.”

Oh hell yeah. Bring on the ménage, baby!

I was all for it. I did wonder why they would want to fuck a woman together if they were gay, but the vivid pictures racing through my head made me weak with lust. My knees shook as I imagined how amazing it would be to have the three of them at the same time.

After a quick peek at the two men fucking, my gaze returned to the one jacking his cock. The talk of a ménage had fired him up, bringing on his climax. His hips bucked and long white ropes of cum splattered over his washboard abdomen. He continued to pump himself through the pleasure, milking every last drop of cum from his balls.

Fighting back the strong urge to race down there and lick the white trail from his skin, I panted and crawled inside the bedroom, cursing my shortsightedness. Should’ve grabbed the camcorder on my way out. Now that would have made for some great footage.

They wouldn’t catch me off-guard again. Next time, if there was a next time, I’d get them recorded in hi-def. Not that I didn’t trust my memory. Images of the sexy studs would motivate late night sessions with my new vibrator for a long time to come—pun intended.

I’d burned out the motor in its predecessor just from listening to the guys. Now that I had visuals to go along with the aural stimulus, I made a mental note to pick up a spare vibe, along with a supply of extra batteries. Something told me I was going to need a serious cache.

Somehow I dragged myself to the shower on rubbery legs that didn’t want to cooperate. Once under the pounding spray, the scene from the deck played through my mind on a continual loop. A fresh wave of lust blasted me. With the help of a pulsating waterproof wonder, I brought myself off. Twice. It took the harsh edge off my immediate needs, but made me want more. A lot more.

Exhausted, I took a long nap, not waking until the mouthwatering aroma of grilled meat started a grumbling in my empty stomach. Someone was having a barbeque.

Had to have been at least four years since I’d been to a casual beach gathering. I stretched, rolled to my side and stared out at the setting sun, imagining lying on a blanket next to a bonfire with the three hunks from next door. Cradled between one man’s legs, my back to his chest, another massaging my feet, which rested on his lap. The third man swooping in from my side to share a lazy, intimate kiss, our tongues twining together, tasting the bitter flavor of hops lingering in his mouth from the beer he’d been drinking.

Mmm…my vibrator was going to get one hell of a workout.

A loud rapping rudely interrupted the peaceful daydream. Sounded like the unwanted visitor was at my back door. How odd. Who would be looking for me at home when I’d normally be at work until well after dark? And why the back door?

Pulling on a short silk robe, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the cheval mirror and froze.

Isabella Blackburn, go and make yourself presentable for civilized company.

The familiar chastisement rang through my mind and almost had me looking around for my mother. Would I never escape her contempt, even in my own thoughts?

Mother expected me to endure the same fate she had, a marriage into the “right” family of proper social standing. Not for love but to further wealth. A mating of two powerful families. I had no intention of toeing the line and marrying the boring son of some business mogul friend of Daddy’s. As if I’d ever sell out. Hell no!

With a derisive snort, I finger combed my light brown hair, pleased by the rumpled temptress in the mirror. Intelligent green eyes gazed out from under thick, dark lashes. Nobody would guess I spent most of my time behind a desk. My naturally lean yet curvy body gave the appearance of someone who worked out on a regular basis.

Mother would have a stroke if she saw me looking so seductive. Perfect! If only one of the sex studs waited at the door, my day of rebellion would be a fabulous success.

I charged down the stairs, excited and anticipating a wonderful surprise, but when I reached the bottom no one stood outside the sliding glass door.

“Aw, damn!”

I looked out over nothing but blue skies, palm trees and powdery sand, feeling like the only inhabitant of a deserted island paradise. Perched on the tip of Sunset Beach, my house is part of a tropical oasis. Six miles of private residential shoreline—unmarred by the detritus of sunburned tourists and all the assorted crap they drag along on outings. The relaxed setting fostered a sense of serenity and isolation. Much better than wasting time and money sitting on a therapist’s couch, in my opinion.

The chiming of the doorbell had me twirling around and racing to the front of the house. I tightened the belt on my robe and opened the door to a virtual whirlwind.

“Hello, sexy.” The blond Adonis from next door strode past me, made a brief survey of my home, then flopped down on the couch and planted his bare, sandy feet on the coffee table as if he owned the place.

Irreverent ass!

I liked him right away. Such a refreshing change from the proper society men mother always pushed on me.

“Wow, I knew you’d look amazing out of those horrible suits. Gotta tell ya, that robe really does it for me, baby.”

Glancing down my body, feeling a bit anxious, I smoothed out imaginary wrinkles in the jade-green silk. The short garment just reached my upper thighs, revealing long and lean legs. In my humble opinion, they’re my best feature. Walking around in torturous high heels every day had the benefit of keeping my calves nicely toned.

“Maximillion, Rhys and I are having a cook out. I’m Brayden, by the way. We noticed your car in the drive and decided to invite you over. All very casual,” he said, then made a slow perusal from the top of my head to my pink-painted toenails and back again. His dark chocolate-colored eyes were heated with obvious desire and he wore an appreciative grin. “Come as you are.”

“In my robe?” I asked, finding the suggestion to be delightfully wicked.

He dismissed my concern with a negligent flip of his hand. “Covers more than a swimsuit.”

I conceded the point with a nod but, recalling my lack of panties, started to fidget.

“If you’re more comfortable changing, fine. Make it quick though. Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes.”

Not wasting a second, I raced for the stairs, calling back over my shoulder, “Okay. I’ll be over in a minute.” The next-to-the-top step creaked beneath my foot, reminding me I had yet to call someone to fix the loose board. In my excitement, I pushed the thought away.

Once in my room, I yanked open a dresser drawer, pawing through my swimwear, examining and discarding the various choices. The sexier suits wouldn’t do since they were gay and it was a social invitation to meet my neighbors.

Then again, maybe not. Maybe they weren’t gay after all. The possibility of being wrong had never held such appeal. After all, there had been all that naughty talk about the three of them fucking me. Well, I presumed they’d been talking about me since I wasn’t aware of any other attorneys living nearby.

Brayden sure didn’t act gay. And the brunet hadn’t joined in the fun, so he could be straight. Of course guessing would get me nowhere so I gave up and returned to the issue of what to wear.

Putting on a prim one-piece after Brayden’s comment about my business suits held zero appeal. In those few moments with him, I’d felt sexy and feminine. I decided to dress accordingly in a thin scrap of yellow that complemented my naturally dark skintone.

The suit wasn’t a true bikini or one piece. A miniscule strip of material rose from the bottom, connected with the halter-style top by three mother-of-pearl rings. Hmm…and I was developing a definite fondness for things that came in threes.

A fast glide of my fingers over my legs confirmed they remained stubble-free since my morning shave. With a sheer sarong in a matching color tied over my hips, I slid my feet into a strappy pair of wedged sandals. After a stop in the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine, I headed out the back door, giddy with delight to start what was certain to be an interesting night. The thought of spending time with the three hunks made my pulse soar and my body hum.

Too bad playing hooky from work hadn’t occurred to me sooner. With such yummy enticement, doing so had the potential to become a favorite indulgence.