“Making Whoopie” first appeared in Naughty Stories from A to Z, edited by Alison Tyler and published by Pretty Things Press, 2002; and in Lust: Bisexual Erotica by Marilyn Jaye Lewis, published by Alyson Books, 2004. “Making Whoopie” was a predecessor to the erotic romance novel, When Hearts Collide, published by Magic Carpet Books, 2003; then reprinted as Hollywood Nights: An Erotic Romance, published by Sizzler Editions eBooks, 2010.
Contains sexually explicit material. Readers are cautioned.
Evan’s oceanfront home in Maui was a spectacular monument to modernism. Constructed in jutting geometric angles and utilizing windows of a massive height, it created the illusion—at the back of the house, anyway—of a structure having no walls at all. Evan could lie alone in the evening, on the great expanse of his austerely appointed king-sized bed, contemplate the unobstructed panorama of sunset and crashing waves outside his bedroom window (eleven-foot sheets of sheer uninterrupted glass) and feel as if he were the only living soul in God’s universe.
The truth, however, was quite different. Evan couldn’t remember the last time he’d been completely alone. Not only was Cheng, Evan’s cook, in the kitchen directly underneath him preparing dinner, but Evan was currently one of the more famous movie stars in the English-speaking world. Beyond the tall privacy wall that guarded the street-side of his modern edifice of concrete and glass, there was a never-ending parade of people—most of them curious strangers with cameras. Strangers by the thousands, it sometimes seemed to Evan, even in the relative remoteness of Maui. And within the hour, Dorianne and all her luggage would be arriving from Honolulu, en route from Los Angeles. Evan might never be completely alone again.
This was it. This was the final hour. If everything proceeded as planned, Evan and Dorianne would legally be husband and wife before the night was over. It was going to be a small and private ceremony: the bride, the groom and the judge, with Cheng and the judge’s wife serving as witnesses. How they had managed to keep the news of the impending marriage out of the papers was still a mystery to Evan, but it was further proof that when he truly desired to keep a thing private, it could be accomplished.
At the age of forty, Evan Crane, who had been in the public eye since his mid-twenties, had quite an impressive list of things he had managed to keep private—most notably, a long string of homosexual liaisons.
Dorianne was well aware of most of them, and in fact, had even participated in a three-way with Evan and one of his male lovers once, back in Los Angeles. The result of the tryst had bordered on being disastrous, though. It had started out promising enough. Evan had been impressed, even a little taken aback, by Dorianne’s capacity for lust, her willingness to be accommodating with her mouth and to surrender her holes to the repeated poundings of both men. But ultimately, Dorianne had been left sleeping alone in the master bedroom, while Evan and Giovanni had slipped downstairs to fuck without her, like voracious animals, on the living room couch.
“You don’t have to deny it, Evan,” Dorianne had spat the following morning when Giovanni had left. “You think I couldn’t hear you? All that carrying on?”
“Why are you getting so angry?” Evan had shouted. “I warned you Giovanni was insatiable. You knew it was likely to get complicated. I don’t even understand why you agreed to do it in the first place.”
“Maybe it turned me on to try two men at once, Evan, did you ever consider that? That I might have my own fantasies? Or maybe I did it because I’m trying to understand you better—the things you want. Would that be so horrible, if I cared about you?”
It was at that moment that Evan first realized he might be in love with Dorianne, that she might be ‘the one.’ She was fiery and not afraid to speak her mind. She didn’t kowtow to Evan like everybody else did. He was turned on by her passion, by how she stood her ground, and most of all by how she seemed to genuinely care. Over the years, Evan had learned some hard lessons about how to keep his ego in check and resist the constant temptation to have sex with every woman who threw herself at him. (Or every man, for that matter.) As much as he might have used his fame to score pussy and ass whenever he’d wanted it, he was just as frequently used by the people he’d fucked. They objectified him and never seemed to care who he really was under all that fame as long as they could say they’d fucked him.
Dorianne was not a sycophant; Evan had recognized this from the start. Still, during the first year he’d dated her, there was always another lover hidden somewhere. Perhaps right in Los Angeles, or sometimes a continent away. He went through a whole pack of meaningless sex partners before coming to the obvious conclusion that he could better protect his self-interests by resisting temptation.
Until recently, even Cheng’s position as cook had been filled by a much younger man, James, a man who’s talents hadn’t confined him to the kitchen. Evan stared out at the vivid sunset and thought about James. What a little slice of heaven he’d been in the beginning, before he’d gotten envious of Dorianne, before he’d gotten contentious and belligerent, acting more like a spurned lover than as an employee, then Evan had been forced to let him go. Evan felt his cock twitching beneath his linen trousers at the mere thought of James, though. Not that James had been a better lover than Dorianne, but he had been incredibly convenient. James had never seemed to aspire to anything higher in life than to suck or be fucked. Evan could summon James day or night and be obliged with a blowjob on the spot. James seemed happy to be on his knees—on the kitchen tiles, on the bathroom marble, or out on the concrete lanai in the moonlight, as the furious waves crashed against the black lava rocks beneath them. James had an eager mouth and he swallowed without flinching. His devotion to servitude made him irresistible in any position. It hadn’t been unusual for Evan to disturb James in the middle of the night, to wake him from a sound sleep, and James would never complain. He’d obligingly turn over and pull down the blankets. He was always naked under those blankets, Evan remembered; always ready. And he didn’t require any of that delaying foreplay as long as Evan was sufficiently lubed.
Evan’s hardening cock began to ache with the visceral memory of how effortless and uncomplicated it had been to fuck James. James would part his legs, raise his rump slightly and let Evan mount him. His asshole always seemed responsive, too; relaxed—ready for Evan’s substantial tool as it ploughed into him. James never protested. He’d lay quietly on his stomach and whimper a little, but give Evan complete access to that tight, hot passageway until Evan’s cock had had its fill of fucking it.
He glanced at the bedside clock now; trying to gauge if he had enough time to jerk-off before Dorianne arrived from Honolulu. Evan loved thinking about fucking James’ ass and jerking-off. It wasn’t that Dorianne didn’t turn him on, or that she refused to take it up the ass, in fact when she was in the right mood, Dorianne could get just as filthy and take it just as hard as any man Evan had ever fucked. But getting her in the right mood for anal sex was sometimes a chore, she was a little intimidated by it. Evan was almost too endowed; his equipment, he knew, was huge. It was part of why he’d lasted so long in Hollywood.
Assuming she arrived on time, Evan figured he had just over forty-five minutes to get where he wanted to go. That was plenty of time. He pulled open the nightstand drawer for a squirt of his favorite lube and the one, lone filmy stocking Dorianne had left behind last time caught his eye. She was definitely worth her weight in gold, that woman. She had such a nasty imagination.
Evan retrieved the stocking from the drawer and studied it, remembering how she had tormented him, using the stocking to tie his hands behind him then bending him over the bamboo trunk at the foot of the bed. She’d alternated licking his balls that night with an incredibly well paced rimjob. She had driven his cock crazy by practically ignoring it. Every once in awhile she’d suck the swollen head of his shaft into her mouth, or swipe a dribble of pre-cum from his piss slit with the tip of her tongue, but other than that she’d focused on the rimming. Her delicate hands keeping the taught globes of his ass spread wide so that his puckered hole was at the mercy of her mouth.
Evan knew there’d been no real reason to tie him up for a thing like that, it was something he’d have submitted to willingly, but he liked that she’d pretended he hadn’t had any options.
He released his hard cock from inside his trousers, slathered it with the lube and realized James was no longer on his mind. He was wondering instead what it was going to be like to be married. He knew that it was normal for the flame of passion to fade from most marriages, but he couldn’t picture it happening between him and Dorianne. Only the night before he’d been half-crazy with lust for her, calling her at her hotel on Waikiki, waking her, insisting they get off together over the phone. Even though she’d been groggy with sleep, he’d known the words that would get to her, trigger her hormones to flow through her like a river of fire, flooding her gorgeous pussy until she was wide awake and touching herself.
“Remember what it was like,” his voice had caressed her through the phone wires, “that first time I took you up to my room, back when I had that house in the hills, remember that, Dorianne? What a filthy little girl you were. You really surprised me that night. Remember what I made you do?”
“Yes,” Dorianne’s breathy voice had come back at him in the darkness. “I remember.”
“Tell me what you remember.”
“You made me pull up my dress and pull down my panties.”
“And what else?”
“You made me get down on my knees.”
“And then what did I make you do?”
“Unzip your trousers with my teeth and lick your cock.”
Evan loved to hear the word ‘cock’ coming out of Dorianne’s mouth. She had a way of making the whole notion of a cock seem scary to her, scarier than he knew it could possibly be, but it made her mouth sound vulnerable just the same. “That’s right, “ he’d said. “You did such dirty things with my cock that night, didn’t you?”
“Why did you do it, Dorianne? Why were you such a nasty little girl?”
“Because,” she’d whispered, “I’m your slut, Evan, you know that. I’m a slave to your cock. I’ll do whatever you ask me to do as long as I know I can have that big cock of yours in one of my tight holes.”
“Oh yeah? Do I get to choose which tight hole I put it in?”
“Even your asshole, Dorianne? You’re going to take me up your tight ass?”
“All the way up?”
“Yes. Even if makes me sweat.”
“If what makes you sweat?”
“Feeling myself stretched open back there—your cock is huge.”
They had gone on like that for nearly an hour. Evan hadn’t been able to stand the idea of hanging up, of being alone without her in his bed, even for the final night. But eventually she’d insisted that she had to get some sleep, even though he hadn’t come yet. “I’m going to be a blushing bride tomorrow, Evan, remember? I’m forty-three years old. I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
Evan liked the idea that she was older than he was. It satisfied his occasional fantasy of having an older woman take charge of him. “Okay, Dorianne,” he’d conceded, preparing to hang up the phone at last, “I’ll let you go this time. But after tomorrow, I’m never letting you go again.” When they’d each hung up, he’d been alone in the darkness, his fist around his aching cock. Much like he was now—thinking of Dorianne naked, her long legs parted, revealing the closely-clipped black hairs that set-off the fiery pink flesh of her engorged pussy when she was fully aroused, breathing hard and waiting for him to mount her.
Evan loved the sight of her like that. He knew from experience that she would cry out and clutch at his hair, his back, his ass, when he finally laid down on her, penetrated her and gave it to her hard.
He liked to hear her passionate cries in his ear. Sometimes it sounded as if she were in pain.
His fist slid languorously over the slippery head of his cock as he thought about Dorianne and those cries she made. In his mind, he replayed the night he and Giovanni had both gone at her—it was one of his favorite memories. She’d gotten especially worked up when she was on all fours getting it at both ends at once. Giovanni had had a firm grip on her ass as he’d pounded his uncut meat into Dorianne’s vagina. Evan’s eyes couldn’t get enough of watching it. He’d been on his knees in front of her, his erection filling her mouth as she grunted from the force of Giovanni’s rhythm. Evan had dug his fingers into Dorianne’s hair, grabbing it in fistfuls while he’d fucked her mouth hard. He’d known they were getting rough with her, but she seemed to be wildly into it.
Evan worked his cock more vigorously now, tugging it faster, in time to the visions replaying in his head. He loved to think of Dorianne as a slut, as his own perfect slut, taking whatever he could dole out. He couldn’t wait to be with her again, he hadn’t slept with her in nearly a week. Tonight he was going to devour her; he was that ravenous for her sex.
They would be married then, he realized. Somewhere in the back of his brain the thought agitated him—what about the men, he wondered? Was she really going to be okay with his occasional men? She had thought it over. She had said she would deal with it somehow. Bisexuality didn’t just disappear because a person uttered some marriage vows. They both knew it.
Evan decided to worry about it later. For now, he wanted to continue watching Dorianne get good and fucked in his head. He knew, for the most part, that she had loved it that night with Giovanni—she had loved being filled up, utilized, put through it for hours. Evan thought about her being on the airplane, flying first class; everything about Dorianne was first class. He figured no one would ever guess—not the flight attendants, the other passengers, or the driver who was waiting for her at the gate. None of them would ever suspect that she was a woman who would prefer to be naked and on all fours, getting it hard at both ends from two men at once.
Mrs. Dorianne Crane.
Evan turned it over in his mind and thought the name suited her perfectly. He wondered if she was going to keep her own name—he’d never bothered to ask. He’d try to remember to ask her later. He was concentrating now on having her to himself, having her naked and underneath him; his swollen cock pushing into her vagina and feeling it open for him. He was so tired of fucking his own hand. He wanted to feel his chest pressed down against her soft breasts, her legs wrapped around him tight, her hands grabbing onto his ass and holding him down, grinding against him, like she couldn’t get enough of his hard cock in her hole…
He was very close to coming; he could feel the pressure in his balls when he heard her downstairs. Damn, she was either early or he’d miscalculated.
He swung out of bed, hurried into the bathroom to wash his hands, wipe off his cock and zip it neatly into his trousers. It was probably better this way, he thought. Tonight his orgasm would explode into her and she would be in his arms.
Evan headed down the stairs and could see Dorianne in the kitchen, talking animatedly with Cheng. She was smiling; she was beautiful. She’s definitely first class, he told himself again. Evan hoped it would last a lifetime. He was going to give it his best shot.
c- 2002 Marilyn Jaye Lewis