The Mammoth Book of Erotica presents The Best of Lucy Taylor Read Online Free PDF Page A

“Myriam.”
    She undulated her lush body along the edge of the stage in rapt silence – no catcalls, no whistles, nobody rising to thrust a bill under the thong. Silence – tense, awestruck, respectful – reigned.
    She selected an overweight man from the third tier. Haltingly, as though the sex-steamy air must hurt his lungs, he lumbered onto the stage. Began to remove his clothes with trembling fingers.
    Nicholas watched, at once fascinated and repulsed. The guy was no sex-show stud, that was obvious. With agonizing self-consciousness, he undressed, then stood naked, hands flopping nervously over a pendulous abdomen. To Nicholas, he looked pathetic and ridiculous. The woman ran her hands along his chest, arms, crotch. He didn’t move: nor did his dick, which peaked softly, shyly from beneath the mound of belly. The only rigid thing about him was his spine, the vertebrae of which seemed to have been fused by pure panic.
    Without further preliminaries, Myriam lay down on the mattress, legs spread, back arched. The fat man knelt ponderously over her, his body language and facial expression suggesting he was placing his dick onto a guillotine. Even at this distance, Nicholas could see his hands were trembling, his dick so soft it might have been squeezed out of a toothpaste tube.
    Nicholas squirmed, finding the guy’s public humiliation almost too painful to watch.
    Myriam played with the man’s penis for a few minutes, using her hands and mouth: but, if anything, the exercise seemed less about an attempt at copulation than a graphic demonstration of his utter inability to get an erection.
    Finally, the two reversed positions, with Myriam guiding her partner down onto the mattress while she squatted above him. Slowly, with almost balletic grace, she removed the thong and lowered herself so that her parted lips touched the crown of his penis where it rested slack against his enormous belly. The oiled muscles of her thighs and abdomen flexed powerfully. Six, twelve times in eye-blink fast succession. Then, again. The fat man gave a little cry. Slowly, like a snake being charmed, his dick began to rise. From what Nicholas could see, it looked like the muscles of Myriam’s pussy were tugging at it, lifting it erect, then sucking it inside her.
    The fat man started to buck and moan. Soaked with sweat, he puffed and grunted. Tears rolled down his cheeks as his cock disappeared inside. She settled herself on his hips, shut her eyes, and rested motionless. The man beneath her began to shake and sob. Finally, Myriam eased herself up and released his cock. It popped back against his belly, majestically erect.
    The hush of the room erupted into cheers. Some of the masturbating men rushed to the stage and surrounded Myriam, anointed her with their semen. One came on her face, another spurted onto her breasts; thickly clotted strings of it were in her hair and glistening on her thighs.
    Amazed, but also disappointed, Nicholas turned to the scrawny, blemished-faced man next to him. “So
that’s
all she does, she cures impotence?” he said.
    The man glared at him. “That’s what you think the guy’s problem was, a limp dick? He had stomach cancer. That’s what she was pulling out of him, the cancer.”
    Afterward, Nicholas waited until Myriam emerged from a bathroom off the hall. Nothing glamorous now – she wore a baggy white shirt over black tights. Blonde hair clipped back from her round face. Her only make-up a smudge of mascara and a dab of fuschia lipstick.
    Nicholas blocked her way. “A man named Sonny Valdez claims you cured him of cancer.”
    “Oh, does he?” Her cool green gaze washed over him. The scent of her, gardenia with undertones of musk, filled his head.
    “I have AIDS,” Nicholas said. “Can you help me?”
    “If you want it badly enough.”
    “How much money?”
    “How much is your life worth to you?”
    “Two cents on a good day. Cut the crap, lady, how much do you want?”
    “Nothing,” said