James Dean, $1000 Bucks, and a Long Summer Night

James Dean, $1000 Bucks, and a Long Summer Night

This three-way story originally appeared in the collection Taboo. This is an excerpt of the review by Greta Christina:

"James Dean, One Thousand Bucks, and a Long Summer Night" by Emilie Paris starts out as a fairly standard (albeit unusually well-rendered) fantasy about a couple picking up a street hustler for a voyeuristic three-way. But as the story unfolds, the wife changes her mind about what she wants -- and takes charge of the scene, directing it into an area she and her husband hadn't anticipated or even agreed on.

The moment when the wife takes control and shifts the fantasy from the standard "man watching his wife fuck another man" to the rather less commonly-seen "newly dominant wife watching her straight husband get fucked by another man" is a moment that's both unnerving and fiercely exciting.

The story gets across the essence of what makes taboos hot -- not simply breaking society's rules and boundaries, but breaking your own, with the excitement of genuinely unfamiliar territory that might actually change your life while it's getting you off.


Excerpt:
For the first time of the evening, I got the gratification that I was onto something, because Arthur said, “But, you know, Charlie. Not without a condom—”

I could have laughed. Was that all he was worried about? The solution was inches away. I reached for the box of condoms in the top drawer of my nightstand and I handed one over to Dean. He put it on like a pro, of course. Then I motioned for Arthur, and my hired hand and I watched my husband undress, slowly, half-scared, kicking out of his shoes and slacks and casual shirt, then standing, unsure, at the foot of the bed.

“You know men, don’t you?” I asked the boy.

“Yeah—”

“So help him out.”

Dean reached for my husband and spread him on the mattress, and he started to rub Arthur’s shoulders and his back, making my man sigh and moan. And then he motioned for me to hand over the lube, and I did, getting closer, close enough to watch this paid-by-the-night prostitute grease up my husband’s asshole with a healthy supply of lube.

“Charlie—” Arthur moaned, and I knew what he was going to say somehow.

“No fucking way,” I told him. “I’m not leaving.” That was the deal. Arthur had bought me a present, and his only stipulation was that he got to watch. Well, the same fucking rules applied for me, as well. But Arthur didn’t want to play by those rules anymore.

By: by Emilie Paris
Photo: Riendo