A Case of Mistaken Identity Read online

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  Forbidden Publications

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  Copyright ©2006 by Collette Thomas

  First published in 2006, 2006

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  HOT SEX WITH A STRANGER: A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY

  A Forbidden Publications production, NOVEMBER 2006

  Forbidden Publications

  PO Box 153

  East Prairie, MO 63845

  www.forbiddenpublications.com

  HOT SEX WITH A STRANGER: A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY

  Copyright © 2006 COLLETTE THOMAS

  Cover Art by DJ ALLING © 2006

  Edited by RENE WALDEN-WILSON—No copyright assigned.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, please contact the publisher via regular mail.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  ISBN: Not Assigned

  Warning

  This e-book contains explicit scenes and adult language. It is intended for mature audiences only.

  Hot Sex with a Stranger:

  A Case of Mistaken Identity

  By

  Collette Thomas

  CHAPTER ONE

  Myrna heard voices, whispers that trailed into soft laughter. Images formed inside her already tortured mind reminding her that no one like Art Wagner existed in her own life—not even close.

  Myrna had hoped that Adrienne would not have invited Art in tonight seeing that it was a work night. Yet by the sound of their toned down voices Myrna could only imagine what they were doing on the other side of her bedroom door.

  Tucked beneath her sheets, all she could do was fantasize about what lovers do on hot sultry nights.

  Erotic images played in her mind of Adrienne and Art sprawled out on that sea-green sofa that she and Adrienne picked out only weeks before.

  Myrna worked at the local library as the assistant librarian. Adrienne waited tables at Dollie's café located in the center of town. Lifelong friends since school days, after graduation they had separated for a time, then met up again last fall when they decided to share an apartment.

  Hands laced behind her head, Myrna stared up at the ceiling tiles and wondered if it had been such a good idea hooking up with this childhood friend despite the fact they had shared history and could easily rattled off Who's Who from their high school yearbook. Actually they went farther back than high school to junior high when both wore ugly braces and pretended to be super models in the latest teen magazines.

  But after living with Adrienne for almost two months now, Myrna had to accept the fact that although they got along fairly well, they enjoyed slightly different lifestyles. Thankfully their schedules prevented them from getting into each other's way.

  They had rented the first floor apartment, which sat on a relatively quiet street. But recently that changed, with Adrienne hooking up with that Wagner guy during a late night shift at the café. He now paid regular visits on that damn black chrome Harley of his.

  Yeah, Adrienne lived a different life, one that made Myrna question how they had ever became roommates. But with Myrna working days and Adrienne working nights they spent little time together, and the rent always got paid at the end of the month. So as far as they were both concerned it was working out fine.

  That is, until Art Wagner came into the fold.

  Myrna, knowing she was not getting much sleep tonight, welcomed the gentle summer breeze flowing in through an open side window. However, the flow of warm air did nothing to alleviate her restlessness or the humidity that left her panties damp in places.

  With her left foot she pushed away the bed sheet and glanced over at the alarm clock, squinting to make out the time. Two thirty a.m. They'd been going at it for almost an hour.

  Not one for confrontation, still, Myrna felt compelled to march out there and tell them to cool things down. Remind them that normal people worked normal hours and to take whatever they were doing some place else.

  Yeah, right, she thought, do that and come off as Adrienne Bennett's sexually repressed roommate—the roommate with no personal life of her own. Despite the fact that truth lay in those words, Myrna didn't need anyone throwing it back later.

  She left the bed and padded over to the door, cracking it opened. Their sensual whispers produced a quick rise of curiosity. Not one to eavesdrop on conversations, nonetheless the restrained voices kept Myrna's ear pressed firmly against the wood.

  Adrienne's throaty laugh blended with Art Wagner's deep gruff voice.

  Art had rode in earlier that night on that godforsaken Harley, gunning its engine ensuring that every nosy neighbor on the street knew he was making his appearance. He'd come unannounced, looking for as he put it ‘some action.’ The two left shortly after despite that it was a work night. Adrienne, good at acting on impulse, probably figured Dollie's could do without her services for one night. Art could not. These reckless whims often led into risqué situations that Myrna only dared to fantasize about.

  Myrna guessed the two had probably visited a number of bars, out-of-town locales, and enjoyed the camaraderie couples enjoyed. Adrienne, unlike Myrna, always followed her heart.

  "Don't worry about Myrna. She's a heavy sleeper,” she heard Adrienne murmur. “Probably doesn't even know we're back."

  Myrna sucked in her breath, holding it a moment before exhaling. In the dim light of a nearby lamp she noticed a leather jacket and faded worn jeans that lay haphazardly over the back of one cushioned chair. It seemed, she mused, that Art had not only removed his shirt, but the rest of his clothes as well. His boots and socks were scattered across the carpeting. She spotted no underwear and guessed he probably wore none.

  Myrna also knew this latest “beau” of Adrienne's worked construction, displayed by the bronze, athletic, well-muscled body.

  He had rock hard biceps and broad shoulders that could carry anything requiring lifting. Myrna had no trouble picturing these two ‘together.’ Adrienne's lithe alabaster body provided a sharp contrast to Art's sun-baked skin. Even in the dim lighting, the difference in skin tones allowed Myrna to easily separate the entanglement of limbs.

  "Hey, if that little lady should wake up, why not ask her to join us? I got nothing against a threesome.” His laugh was more like a growl. “And knowing you and your taste for kinky, I doubt you do either. We could try a few of those things you've been suggesting because there's nothing better to a guy like me than seeing two women getting it on. Hell, I'm getting a hard-on just thinking about you and her together. How about next time I come over I bring my camera? There's nothing like getting it all on tape."

  Myrna could only guess what could happen if that tape ever got out into the public's eye and suddenly saw the headlines, “Local librarian caught in sex ring."

  Adrienne giggled
. “You mean a ménage a trois?"

  "Yeah, whatever ... I got enough loving inside for both of you, and from the looks of your friend I'd say she could use my special loving.” He let out another low chuckle, then slowly and deliberately lowered his taut lean body to Adrienne's who quickly discarded her short red leather skirt and sheer black lacy see-through blouse. She wore no bra beneath—her full breasts exposed, rosy nipples invited his touch.

  "Now don't go picking on Myrna,” Adrienne laughingly retorted, reaching up and drawing Art closer to her. “We're friends, but we're not into a lot of the same things.” Adrienne's giggles caused Myrna to wince. At the same time she noticed how Adrienne started stroking Art's body in the most intimate way. Suddenly, Myrna imagined herself touching Art. Myrna who always played it safe, it seemed her mind could suddenly place no restrictions on the imagination, as she pictured herself stroking Art's manhood—cock as Adrienne called it—in long firm strokes. She felt a sudden exhilaration at the thought of actually going out there and joining them.

  "You're not telling me your roommate's a virgin are you? Considering you're both the same age, that's just strange.

  "Don't misunderstand, Myrna's has had her share of ‘boyfriends,'” Adrienne went on in Myrna's defense. “But she's somewhat old-fashion. Not into kinky stuff."

  "Old fashion, huh? Maybe you and I could teach her a few things. Get out that twisted sex book of yours. Tell her to read it. Tell her to try some of those positions. Your friend needs to experiment. Because from what I'm guessing that gal hasn't been getting her share of loving.” He suddenly let out another muffled laugh.

  Embarrassed, Myrna felt her cheeks grow hot and knew, despite the cruel laughter at her expense, Art's assessment of her sexual proclivity wasn't far off base. She refrained from stomping out there and telling Mr. know-it-all-Wagner she wasn't a virgin—not by a long shot and hadn't been for a while. Yet knowing her love life was as dry as the desert sand, it was true. Not only had she not been fucked lately, she hadn't been fucked in a long time.

  Her choice of male companions was somewhat limited. There just didn't seem to be anyone anymore in the single's world worth pursuing or who interested her in that way.

  Sure the married ones hit on her as they checked out books from the library, but Myrna still had her standards, refusing to involve herself physically with another woman's man, unlike a certain indiscriminate roommate, determined to capture every hungry male's eye.

  Myrna knew she should shut the door and give them privacy; instead she remained fixed to the spot.

  She wanted to close the door, yet something inside stopped her. Her curiosity rose like a cobra ready to strike preventing her from pulling her attention away from the naked writhing forms.

  Instead, she watched as they performed that wondrous primitive rhythm. Wagner's bronze skin eclipsed her friend's delicate figure.

  Myrna had read enough provocative paperback romances to allow her to envision clearly what was happening between these two.

  Eyes open wide, her hand pressed at the hollow of her throat, she watched Art gather and cup Adrienne's full rounded breasts. She heard his low growl emanate as he released the luscious globes and watched as he moved one hand down over the curves of Adrienne's hips. With the other, he teased each taut nipple with his fingers, blowing gently over them, licking them until they turned into a pair of perfect rosebuds.

  Myrna sensed a kinesthetic awareness taking hold as her own nipples tightened against the light cotton fabric of her nightie. She felt a slow burn start deep inside, moving up between her thighs, into her belly, and realized although Art was making love to Adrienne, he might as well be making love to her.

  Adrienne reached out deliberately taking Art's cock into her small delicate hands and in slow swift rhythmic movements that told Myrna her friend knew exactly what she was doing, coached his cock to full erection.

  "Yeah, Babe, you know what I like,” he murmured, his voice husky with want. “Don't stop ... that's the way I want it done ... slow steady.... “The urgency in Art's voice told Myrna that Adrienne was in control. The idea of doing that to a man made her suddenly heady and breathless.

  Myrna eyes widened at the wanton way in which Adrienne stroked Art's cock as if it were the most natural thing for any woman to do. And maybe it was she thought somewhat bemusedly, and wondered could she ever feel this same sense of power with a man? Could she ever do to a man what Adrienne was doing, so effortlessly, without fear of imputation?

  "Ahhh, that's it, that's it,” Art repeated, his voice husky, the urgency so apparent, making Myrna wonder if she could attempt this with a man, thinking back to her last few disappointing dates. The local bank executive, who brought her home just in time to see the late news, then was seen hours later that same night by Myrna's friends carousing about town with a local woman he met at Dollie's Café. A woman who could probably give Adrienne some pretty fair competition in blowjobs.

  Myrna pressed her hand to her mouth stifling any sound that might escape and give her away. She'd become a voyeur. Yet realizing this, she did not have the power to pull away or shut the door. Instead she watched as Adrienne manipulated Art's cock, and again, wondered ... could she? Would she dare?

  This certainly was not the Adrienne who taught Myrna how to throw a curve ball when they played on the high school softball team.

  This certainly was not the Adrienne who baked gingerbread cookies for the holidays. Only last Christmas they put together a gingerbread house, and donated it to a local women's shelter.

  Some irrational fear curled inside Myrna forcing the realization that although at times she suspected this side of Adrienne, she now had to accept the fact Adrienne allowed men these certain liberties.

  She stared as Adrienne put her palms on Art's muscled thighs, then brought her lips to the tip of his cock. Art sighed, entangling his fingertips into her roommate's hair; while inch-by-inch his cock disappeared into Adrienne's mouth.

  Myrna stared as Adrienne's fingertips ran along the silky skin of his balls, sliding her fingertips behind.

  "Ahhh, don't stop!” Art begged.

  Adrienne sucked and swallowed, taunting him with her tongue.

  Myrna could only stare, as questions queued up inside her mind. What did it feel like? How did it taste? It looked as if Adrienne was truly enjoying what she was doing to this man who was obviously in the throes of sheer ecstasy.

  A fucking blowjob, Myrna's mind cried. Her roommate was good at giving fucking blowjobs. Who knew? Could they ever again share the task of making a gingerbread house?

  Sudden envy filled Myrna at the sight of Art in such rapture as Adrienne fiercely worked her mouth along the length of him. Myrna couldn't help feel these two people had truly become one—putting sex in motion with Adrienne in control.

  When was the last time Myrna controlled any situation? The thought set off a spark of anger somewhere inside. Moments later, Art gently pushed Adrienne down to the soft carpet and spread her thighs apart. A gasp escaped Adrienne's lips, then she cried out, “Fuck me! Fuck me hard!"

  Myrna let out a sharp gasp, not remembering if Adrienne had ever said that word that loud in her presence. Hearing it now under these circumstances ignited a strange wondrous heat that Myrna knew was not going to dissipate soon. She could almost smell her roommate's sweet wet cunt. She focused on Art's manhood, hard and erect, demonstrating to the world it was indeed ready to do its work.

  He lowered himself and Myrna watched the tight lean butt of perfection while her roommate disappeared from view. She watched the gorgeous undulating butt. She watched as he entered Adrienne's pussy, and watched as heated flesh undulated against heated flesh. She watched as Art hungrily sought out Adrienne's lustful wantonness, caring nothing about consequences except to fully satisfy his need.

  Did it get any simpler? No love involved here. No emotions that confused their ultimate goal. Nothing to erroneously elevate this act to anything more than what it was—the sheer pursuit of se
xual pleasure and gratification.

  It left Myrna disoriented and wondering if she could ever play out a similar role. Or would propriety and moral conscience deny her the pleasure? Although she suddenly felt she might survive the guilt inherent in such acts, and learn to live with any regret later if she ever traveled this road.

  Myrna knew from the erotic adventures depicted in those novels Adrienne kept in her room that she could not picture herself performing any of these depraved acts. Never.

  Not Myrna Dunbar, safe never sorry Myrna Dunbar.

  Nonetheless, blood pounded inside her head and made her realize she could not deny that she enjoyed watching these two explore, brazenly acting out every part of whatever fantasy they had chosen to play.

  Muscles rippled beneath Art's firm taut skin as he straddled Adrienne, stretching his limbered torso across her naked form as he now took control.

  The sight of Adrienne's submission caused Myrna's pussy to become wet and wanting as she imagined him doing the same to her.

  Myrna watched as Adrienne's hips rose slightly and she clutched his massive shoulders before wrapping her thighs around his slender hips, then took him fully again and again, meeting each thrust with as much determination. She cried out his name, no longer caring whether Myrna heard them.

  Myrna's gripped her nightie, yanking it over her head, and stood in her panties. Reaching down into her panties, she touched her pussy and slowly rubbed against the rising ache.

  Myrna stroked her clit. No sooner had she started, than she was enjoying the waves of intense spasms she knew could end in the most welcomed intoxicating release of pleasure.

  Closing her eyes, she suddenly sensed she was being watched.

  Opening them, she focused back to the lovers and realized Art must have spotted the partially opened door. He spotted her, and was now signaling her by his crooked wicked grin while filling Adrienne with his hot juices.

  A man who was no more than a stranger had caught Myrna pleasuring herself—witnessed a most private act! Could she ever look Art Wagner directly in the eye again?