Erotic Stories by Alicia Night Orchid

Sybian Lovers

by

Alicia Night Orchid

Copyright 2006 Alicia Night Orchid All Rights Reserved 

Patrick placed his order on an autumn afternoon while his wife, Diane, was away shopping. He built the first fire of the season, a stake in the ground against the cooler weather that was just around the bend, pulled on his warm sweats and sat down in front of his computer. Brown and gold leaves skittered across the ground, chased by a chill December wind.

He felt his loins stir when he typed the letters—www.sybian.com.

He’d first seen one of these things in a porno movie years before. In the movie, a full breasted woman with dishwater blonde hair giggled nervously when her lover showed it to her. The man kissed and caressed her, cajoled her into trying it. After a while, she relented. She lubricated the attached dildo, lowered herself onto it and straddled a machine that most closely resembled a saddle. In a matter of minutes, the expression on her face went from curiosity to surprise, to delight and rapture. She bucked and screamed for a good five minutes before slipping off the apparatus and rolling onto the carpet, spent and apparently sated.

If she’d faked that orgasm, she’d deserved an Oscar.

He hit Submit to pay for the deluxe model with all the attachments. The description sounded too good to be true. Vibrations created clitoral stimulation. A back and forth motion of the insert stimulated the G spot. There was even an attachment for double insertion.

He paid for express delivery, not that he was sure his wife Diane was ready for this sort of thing. They’d been married for seven years and had both been sexual novices when they first got together. Although they’d grown more adventurous over time, even enjoying a variety of toys, vibrators and dildos, the Sybian was different. Mounting a Sybian was like mounting another lover.

By the time the order was complete, he was erect and throbbing.

* * *

Diane wheeled into the parking lot and took a moment to check herself in the mirror—hair, make-up, lipstick. She gave herself a smile. Okay, she wasn’t the teenager she’d once been, but she looked pretty good for a full grown married woman. Great, her husband Patrick was always telling her. Well, whatever. What was important was that she liked herself better as a woman than as a girl. Unlike those teenage years when she’d felt as uncertain about the meaning of life as she did about the meaning of her budding breasts, she was confident of her place in the world as a woman.

She’d been feeling saucier than usual and had dressed in a leather skirt that didn’t reach quite to her knees, a matching leather vest, and a creamy crew neck sweater. As she swung out of the car, her legs opened and the skirt crept higher than the white thigh-high stockings she’d chosen. Before she could push the skirt down, she caught a man, her age or older, staring at her as he stashed packages in his trunk. His eyebrows rose as he took her in—knees, thighs, a lash of white panty. Their eyes met briefly and they exchanged glances. No mistaking that he’d liked what he’d seen and, to tell the truth, she wasn’t exactly embarrassed. She liked it that men still liked to look, but the only man she really wanted to be with was her husband, Patrick.

She gave the man a flirty smile and headed inside.

* * *

The Sybian arrived on Thursday. Patrick had been anticipating its delivery all week, even slipping away from the office from time to time to assure that he discovered it before Diane. His heart leapt when he pulled in the drive and saw the plain brown box sitting on the doorstep. He swept it up, tucked it under his arm and took it inside. Sitting on the sofa, where he and Diane had made love a few days before, he unpacked it.

It was heavier than he had imagined, weighing about 20 pounds. It was black in color, with a plastic housing and a Naugahyde cover. Finger handles on the sides placed the woman rider in control. A little over a foot wide and not quite as long, he estimated it to be about 8-10 inches high. The written specifications indicated that it had a 1/29 HP motor for rotation and a 1/17 HP motor for vibration. It was possible to run each over a wide range of speeds.

He opened the plastic bag containing the attachments he had ordered. One was a somewhat larger than average, penis-shaped dildo. There other consisted of two smaller penis replicas for double insertion. He couldn’t resist the opportunity to plug the damn thing in. Once switched on, the saddle vibrated with a low hum. The dildo he’d attached both vibrated and rotated. He adjusted the switch, revving it up. The saddle thrummed like a Harley. The dildo bobbed and weaved.

As he watched and listened to the Sybian, he imagined Diane straddling it, her mouth open, her breasts bouncing, her hips thrusting. Damn, just the thought made him hard. He’d read that the name Sybian derived from Sybaris, an ancient Greek city in southern Italy, once famous as a center of luxurious living. A Sybarite was a person who enjoyed luxurious things. He wanted Diane to enjoy the luxury of this Sybian’s ride.

Patrick carried the packing materials out to the garbage and stashed the Sybian in the back of his closet behind his slacks and shirts, where Diane would never think to look. This was a Holiday gift he’d make in person when the time was right.

* * *

On the way home from the mall, Diane stopped to pick up Patrick's laundry. Back at the house, she pushed inside his closet to hang his clean shirts. She couldn't resist pressing the fabric of a favorite blue chambray work shirt to her face. She loved his musky, manly aroma. Sometimes, after they’d made love, she would bury her face in his armpit or his pubic hair, inhaling his maleness. God, nothing beat a good, hard fuck from Patrick.

It was when she’d returned the shirt to its place among the others that she glimpsed the box. She knelt and could see the UPS sticker on the side. The delivery date was just the day before. What the..? Was Patrick keeping secrets from her?

She tugged at the box and opened the flaps. What in the world? Whatever this thing was, it was big and black and leathery. It had handles on the side and an electric cord. She looked closer. A plastic bag held several…Oh my God! She withdrew the bag from the box and held it into the light for inspection. Inside the bag, she could see a large, life-like dildo and a smaller dildo,constructed no doubt—and she swallowed hard at this—for anal penetration.

She opened the bag and withdrew the smaller dildo. It was about six inches long, probably four inches in circumference. It felt just like a real penis, rigid but pliable. Damn! But instead of having balls, this cock appeared to attach to something. Holy shit! Of course. She could see now, these dildos were attachments for the big, black thing in the box.

She tried to remove it from the box, but it was too heavy for her. She dug out the cord and snaked it across the closet. She plugged the cord into a socket. Nothing. She returned to the box, hovered over it, and thrust a hand inside. Yes, there. Sure enough a switch. She flipped it on. Oh my God, the thing began to hum. She moved her hand around some more and found a dial. Holy fucking shit! It felt like the whole goddamned house was shaking.

By the time she turned the machine off and returned the cord to the box, she was flushed and panting. When she returned the attachments to the box, she noticed something she’d missed earlier It was a video tape entitled, “How to Use Your Sybian.” Sybian? Sybian? So, that’s what this thing was called.

She was intrigued and would have given anything to watch the video. Except, she’d heard the unmistakable sound of Patrick’s car pulling into the drive. She hurried to restore everything to its place, not wanting him to think she’d been snooping.

It was when she stood to leave that she noticed the Christmas card in the envelope marked Diane. On the front, a simple Season’s Greeting, the inside blank. Patrick always wrote her a personal message. It was then that she realized he was planning to surprise her with the Sybian for Christmas.

***

Patrick was a wreck all day. He’d had back to back appointments and a errands to run—he’d picked up a bouquet of flowers for the dinner table and bought a sexy pair of black underwear for himself. Diane would like it that he’d taken the time to tantalize her with that last little detail.

But what really had his nerves on edge was his excitement about the evening ahead. How would she react to the surprise of the Sybian? Would she find it stimulating, or would she think it a little weird? The thought of her riding to ecstasy atop the humming, driving machine kept him in a state of arousal all day.

When he finally appeared at the door with his bouquet, it was all he could do to keep from taking Diane into his arms and making love to her right there. She looked incredible in that backless, tight-fitting black dress and stockings. And, the fragrances of food cooking in the kitchen nearly overwhelmed his senses.

***

At one time in her life, Diane had considered becoming a chef. She loved the smells of cooking, the joy of putting it all together on a plate and seeing the delight on a diner’s face. There was a sensuousness to it that reminded her of lovemaking.

She and Patrick always spent Christmas Eve alone, their gift to each other, There would be plenty of time on Christmas for extended family. Throughout the day, while she anticipated Patrick’s arrival, she prepped her vegetables and made her sauces. She planned every delicate morsel and its presentation, selected the wines, the serving dishes. But these were tasks she relished, losing herself in the dance of it.

All day she worked, chopping, dicing, mincing. Her knife and spirit sang. Baker’s chocolate bubbled. Eggs, cream and sugar dallied under her spoon. Her thoughts were on her husband, his tight buttocks, his chest, his strong arms. And, then there was the Sybian he’d purchased for her that he didn’t know she’d discovered.

Later on, in the shower, her mind ran wild with random images—she saw herself astride the Sybian, heard its powerful hum. By the time she completed her shower and dried off, her whole body rippled with anticipation. Don’t get ahead of yourself, she said aloud. But as she dressed in the red string thong, flesh-colored thigh-highs, and that little black dress she kept for such occasions, she couldn’t help but think of Patrick and the night that lay ahead.

By the time the door bell rang and he arrived with a box of her favorite chocolates and a bouquet of flowers—this one for the table, he explained, she was ready for the night of her life. This was going to be a Christmas Eve neither her nor her husband would soon forget.

* * *

They began with a canapé, a pan-seared scallop floating on a sea of cilantro oil, topped with a swirl of chipotle whipped cream.

Diane was thinking that Patrick looked especially good tonight. His skin glowed in the candlelight. He smiled at her presentation and his eyes fluttered as the combination of sweet, salty, spicy flavors flooded his senses. Diane watched his tongue roll as he savored the scallop.

“Oh my God,” he said. “This is incredible.”

She winked at him. “There’s more where that comes from, Hon.”

He refilled their champagne glasses, causing hers to bubble over. “Remind you of anything?” he teased.

“Patrick, she chided him. He’d always been a randy lover and seemed especially primed for this evening. But, then, so was she.

For her second course, Diane offered prawns on a bed of fire-roasted tomato risotto. The shrimp were sweet and tender, the risotto creamy and rich. Green peas dotted the dish’s surface, varying both the appearance and texture. A balsamic vinegar reduction flavored criss-crossed the plate like a Jackson Pollack painting.

“Before we go any further,” she said, “I have an idea. At the beginning of each course, let’s share a reason why we love each other.”

Patrick smiled and nodded. “I think that’s a great idea. I just have one thing to add to it.”

“What’s that?”

“At the end of each course, we each remove an article of clothing.”

Diane could feel her eyes twinkle with delight. “You naughty man,” she said.

“You start,” he told her.

“Well, I love you for being such an attentive spouse,” she said. “The flowers, little gifts and cards throughout the year. You always make me feel special.” Not to mention, the Sybian, she thought, but didn’t say it.

Patrick reached across the table to place his hand on hers. “I want to make you feel special,” he said.

“You do.”

He opened a buttery California Chardonnay and poured them each a glass. He took a bite of food. “These peas are amazing. Crunchy on the outside, like velvet on the inside. And the shrimp is perfect. That’s one of my reasons for loving you,” he said. “I love you for your cooking. Not just your talent, but the fact that you put your love into every dish. Eating a meal you’ve prepared is like being worshipped.”

He mopped up the balsamic-chocolate reduction from his plate with a piece of bread and reached across the table to feed it to her.

”Mmmm,” she breathed. “I want you to feel worshipped.”

He raised his eyebrows. “So what’s it going to be? What article of clothing are you going to remove?”

“Oh, no,” she said, “you go first.”

Patrick smiled. He was wearing a red cashmere sweater with a t-shirt underneath. In one swift motion, he stood and lifted both over his head. When he sat back down he was barechested.

“Oh my,” she said. The sight of her man, naked from the waist up took her breath away. She loved to nuzzle into his chest, rub her nipples against his.

“Your turn.” He leaned forward and whispered, his eyes glittering like moonlight on the water.

She’d already kicked off her heels, so teasing him by removing her shoes wasn’t an option. She lifted her skirt, stretched out a shapely leg and pushed down first one, then the other thigh-high stocking. She rolled each stocking into a tidy ball and tossed them at Patrick.

“Damn,” he said, the look on his face one of pure lust. She knew he liked her legs and she liked showing them off.

“Ready for the next course?”

“Baby, I’m definitely ready.”

The main course was a pecan-encrusted beef tenderloin served on a bed of wild mushrooms. When she placed the plate in front of Patrick, Diane purposely brushed his shoulder with her breasts. Patrick lifted his lips to hers and gave her a wine flavored kiss. It was a kiss she could have drowned in. The two delicate beef medallions and the mushrooms were surrounded by a deep burgundy sauce that was like biting into a dark chocolate cherry truffle.

Patrick waved a hand over his plate, inhaling the fragrance of the mushrooms.

“Oysters, porcini, chanterelles. It’s sex on plate.”

And, so it was. The musty, earthy scent of the mushrooms was beyond erotic. No sooner did the juices release in Diane’s mouth than she felt them in her panties.

“I’ll go first this time,” she told him. “I love you for your sense of humor.” It was true—they’d always been able to enjoy a good laugh together. As time went on, their shared history caused them to become more attuned to each other. Sometimes all it took was a look from him to send her into a fit of laughter.

Patrick nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “I love that we share that, too. But, here’s what else I love about you. I love how you always find the sunny side in things, how your glass is always half full, and you are able to see the best in people.”

“Well, I try.”

“You’re better at it than I am.”

They lingered over their plates in the candlelight with a glass of French Bordeaux. They gazed into each other’s eyes, warmed by the candlelight, the red roses, the food, and the wine. Their fingers entwined, played, danced on the table. They leaned forward and kissed again, tongues swirling. Diane felt her nipples harden, felt those butterflies coursing down and her belly and over her thighs.

He gave her a wicked grin, “It’s your turn to take off some clothes.”

She smiled. “I thought maybe you’d forgotten about that.”

“No way.

“Well, I think I can handle it.” She stood, reached behind for the zipper and allowed the little black dress to fall at her feet. She was naked except for a red thong.

Patrick emitted a low whistle. “Oh, Diane.”

She picked up the dress with a toe and flicked it into the corner. “Your turn.”

She watched as he rose, unloosened his belt, unzipped his fly and stepped out of his trousers. She gasped. He was wearing a black thong of his own. The outline of his hard cock was undeniable. “You’re staring,” he said, teasing.

She ran a tongue over her lips. “Yes I am.”

She sidled up next to him, brushed her hard nipples against his, pressed her crotch against his. He moaned into her ear.

She forced herself to take a step back. “Ready?”

“God, yes,” he said, but instead of letting her go he pulled her close again and lowered his mouth to a taut nipple. It sent a spark between her legs.

“I meant dessert,” she said.

“I know,” he smiled, releasing her.

Dessert was a chocolate raspberry soufflé. Strawberries dipped in milk chocolate garnished the plate. Some much fucking chocolate. Diane sat the dessert in front of Patrick, kissed him deeply again. The need in his eyes made her want to devour him, made her want to melt chocolate down her belly and have him drink as it dripped from her cunt.

Patrick pulled her around and situated her on his knee. He kissed her hard enough to bruise her lips. He cupped a breast and fondled, rolled a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then finished with a pinch. Diane’s pussy sang. She took a chocolate strawberry into her mouth, bit it in half, kissed Patrick ,and used her tongue to slip the morsel into his mouth. They traded it back and forth for what seemed like hours while Patrick continued to play with her nipples.

Diane turned to face him, straddling Patrick’s knee like she was riding a horse. Both of their faces were smeared with chocolate. She dipped a forefinger into the raspberry sauce of the chocolate soufflé and dabbed at both of her upturned nipples. Patrick’s hard cock throbbed against her thigh. He licked the first helping of sauce clean, then plunged his fingers deep into the still steaming soufflé and smeared her its with the gooey chocolate. The heat, the mess, the eager lips lapping at it, the shear craziness of it, caused her to grind against his knee. She could feel her wetness seeping through the thong’s thin fabric, could feel the slickness of it on his thigh.

“Here’s the other thing I love about you,” Patrick whispered.

“Tell me, Baby.”

“I love the way you make love to me.”

“I love that too. You get me so hot.”

“Is this course over?”

“Enough to take something else off,” she told him.

Patrick nudged her off his knee, reached underneath and slipped out of the black thong. His cock, shiny with a thin veneer of pre-cum, glistened in the dim light. “Your turn.”

The sight of Patrick’s hard cock made her want it more than anything. She wanted it in her mouth, between her breasts, hard and wet on her belly, flat against her clit, thrusting inside her cunt. She wanted it—cock, dick, love pole, staff of life—she wanted it.

Her eyes never leaving his, she wriggled free of her thong. She waved it under Patrick’s nose. He took it from her and inhaled deeply. “Oh, Baby” he said and held the thong to the light. The cloth in the crotch was dark with her juices.

She bit her lip, gave him a demure look. “See what you do to me?”

“Give me a taste of that.” It was almost a growl.

She reached between her legs, dipped a finger inside and brought it out, coated with a thick ooze. As she sunk to her knees, she allowed him to lick the nectar from her finger. Holding him firmly in one hand, she placed a chocolate heart over the creamy head of his cock and began to lick and nibble with abandon. Patrick’s hips thrust as she worked. She loved the texture of him against her lips and tongue, loved feeling his cock move and grow inside her mouth.

By the time she’d devoured the chocolate heart, she knew that Patrick was close to coming. As much as she loved it when he came in her mouth, musky and salty, creamy and sticky, she wanted to save it.  

She moved away, reached for his hand and led him toward the bedroom. “You have a surprise for me, don’t you?”

* * *

Patrick followed her. He couldn’t take his eyes off her sweet ass as she led him down the hall.

“Before you give me your surprise, I have a surprise for you,” she teased.

He was breathless. “What is it?”

She spread a towel on the bed and propped up some pillows.

Sit,” she ordered.

He’d been apprehensive all day about how he was going to introduce her to the Sybian. He was a little relieved that she was taking charge.

“I know how much you enjoy watching me play with myself,” she said.

He swallowed hard. “Yes…yes I like that.”

“I want to do that for you, Baby.”

* * *

Diane knew her husband well enough to know that he’d be apprehensive about introducing her to the Sybian. It was a departure from anything they’d done before. Oh, they’d played some with toys, but toys had not been a major part of their lovemaking. And the Sybian felt like a big step beyond even the toys. She’d decided to make it easier for him to show her the Sybian by telling him she wanted to masturbate for him.

She placed another towel on the bed, propped up more pillows and settled in front of him. She opened her legs, the soles of her feet touching. She spread her pussy lips, dipped a finger inside and brought it to her lips. She watched his eyes open wider. She opened her pussy wide, showing it to him, the pink, the wetness. “Can you see what you do to me, Baby?

“Damn…” he managed. His cock was throbbing now, bobbing and weaving of its own accord.

She cut him off. “I really want to come hard for you Patrick. What do you want me to use? My fingers, my hairbrush, a toy?”

“Well…”

She was enjoying this, raising herself to a fever pitch by letting her voice and her words drive him crazy. She crawled over to him, brushed her breasts against his mouth and chin as she whispered in his ear. “I can’t get enough,” she murmured

“In the closet,” Patrick said.

He started to offer an explanation, but she wasn’t interested in long-winded explanations. She sat on the edge of the bed. “Take it out, set it up,” she directed him

“It’s called a Sybian….”

She crawled across the carpet, joined him on the floor. While he removed the machine from the box and placed it on the floor, she looked through the attachments. “I want this big cock,” she told him. “I want to ride it like I ride your big dick.”

She could see his hands tremble as he attached the large, human-like, dildo to the Sybian.

“You adjust the stroking here,” he showed her. “You can control the vibration here.”

He plugged it in, but didn’t start it yet. She was beyond lust, her whole being focused on fucking that machine, fucking it until it satisfied her or she broke it. She squatted above the dildo, opened her pussy lips with one hand, positioned the dildo at her opening with the other. Then she lowered herself. The dildo was longer, thicker than Patrick. It stretched her, filled her in ways she’d never experienced. Her clit rested on the saddle, her thighs clinched the Sybian’s body.

“Here,” Patrick said. He placed her right hand on the thrusting control, her left on the vibrating control. She switched on the vibrations first. Although she started with a low thrum, she couldn’t believe how the machine wracked her entire body. She could feel her ass jiggling, could see the vibrations coursing up through her belly and breasts. She couldn’t believe the sensation on her clit.

“Oh Patrick,” she moaned.

He sat before her, stroking his cock slowly. He looked like he’d entered a special zone where there was only want and more want. “Do it, Baby. That’s it, do it for me.”

She reached forward and turned the thrusting switch. She’d already been humping against the dildo inadvertently, but now it began to move within her. It was slightly curved and seemed to know how to find all the right spots.

Patrick moved around behind her. He positioned his slippery cock in the crack of her ass. He stroked between her cheeks, bumping against but not pushing into her asshole. He reached around and cupped her breasts, kissed her neck and licked at her ears. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he told her.

She lifted and fell, lifted and fell. She squirmed. The sensations were so intense. She'd never experienced anything like it. Patrick increased the vibration and that’s when it began, her first orgasm on the Sybian. She screamed, leaned forward ,and placed her hands on the floor for balance. There was no time to recover. No sooner had the first orgasm subsided than the second one hit. Over and over until she lost count.

Only when she was completely spent did she reach for the Off switch. Her cunt made a sucking as she dismounted.

She rolled off the Sybian and onto the carpet. Patrick was lying just a few feet away, his eyes closed, a hand resting on his belly.

“What do you want, Baby? How do you want to cum?”

“On your tongue,” he whispered.

* * *

She straddled his thigh with her sticky pussy and took his cock deep into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around it. Her hand gripped him firmly and stroked. She pumped him as she dived lower, licking between his asshole and balls. Taking one testicle into her mouth and rolling it around, then the other.

She smeared her face with his pre-cum. It glistened on her lips, her cheeks. “I love the way you taste,” she whispered. “I love the way your cock feels in my mouth. I masturbate all the time when you’re not here and think about you shooting in me, on me.”

He groaned and jerked. She pumped him harder now, used a slippery finger to press against his asshole. He looked down, her brown eyes shown on him, her mouth was open wide, her tongue out, as she jacked him off. “Come on Baby, give me your hot load,” she purred.

And he did. He watched it shoot out, white against her pink tongue, watched her pump and squeeze every drop from him, watched her allow a trickle down her chin and form a long string onto her breasts. He watched her take his cock head in her mouth and suck hard, getting it all, then watched as she spit it back out on his cock and rubbed it over face.

When he’d gone limp, she snuggled up and placed her cum-wet lips against his ear.

You sweet, sweet man,” he heard her say.

“You sweet, sweet woman,” he whispered.

If you liked this story, check out my new e-book, "Tight Women in Hard Places."