Yes, Ma’am teaser: Stephen Elliott’s “It’s Cold Outside”

You can hear Stephen Elliott read TONIGHT from his anthology Sex for America: Politically Inspired Erotica at my reading series In The Flesh at 8 pm, Happy Ending Lounge, 302 Broome Street, NYC. 21+ and it’s FREE and I have free porn DVDs to give away, plenty of free food, including chips, candy, and mini cupcakes, and…a free copy of Sex for America to one lucky attendee! (You can also purchase books from Mobile Libris tonight.)

Stephen Elliott's Sex for America: Politically Inspired Erotica

Here’s a teaser from his story “It’s Cold Outside” in Yes, Ma’am: Erotic Stories of Male Submission. And guess what? Books have arrived at my publisher’s office, so should be in stories next week. That means you only have a few days to pre-order and save 5% on Amazon, or you can also order directly (free shipping!) from Cleis Press. Yay! if you haven’t gotten a Yes, Ma’am postcard yet and want one (and are in the U.S.), email me your mailing address to yesantho at gmail.com and I’ll send it out – while supplies last.

“You were so good,” she told me. I wanted to smile but the sock was still in my mouth and my jaw hurt and I was dizzy with dehydration. “We’re almost done, okay?”

I nodded my head.

“I’m going to take this gag off you, but I don’t want you to say anything yet. Can you handle that?” I nodded again and she peeled the duct tape off and I didn’t scream and then she pulled the sock out of my mouth and held my head and gave me water from a glass. It was the kind of glass that comes in sets of twelve at Target. Everything seemed so ordinary. After I drank the whole glass I started to cry again. I cried a lot and she didn’t make any move to comfort me but she didn’t try to get me to stop either. I thought she would gag me again or slap me but she didn’t.

When I stopped crying she undid the line connecting my ankles to my wrists. She slowly pulled my legs straight and rolled me from my side onto my back. She pulled the pins out, then washed me with peroxide, water, and a sponge. She paid a lot of attention between my legs, holding the sponge against the tip of my penis, pressing on my balls.

“I’d like you to eat me out. Could you do that?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, though I wasn’t sure she wanted a verbal answer.

“Ask me.”

“Can I eat you out, please?” I said, and she lifted her skirt and sat on my face. I was enveloped in her, her pubic hair brushing my lips, ass pressing on my cheeks. I pushed my tongue as far into her as it would go. She tasted sour and thick. I tried to do a good job because I didn’t want her to get off of me. I went down on her for a long time and she ran her nails gently across my wounds.

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