Talking tactile here ...... this flasher is dedicated to the yummy, bigger ladies and that most beautiful of moments, when your hands are filled to overflowing and you'd not trade an inch of the girl. Perky? To hell with perky!
"BraFUL" (a 100 word flasher)
by Julius
Copyright2002
Girl needs a bra! Needs to wear one I mean.
I mean she's a big girl and well, you know what I mean! Sometimes she doesn't, you know, doesn't wear one. Around the house that is. Nothing under the sweater. Nothing but the sweater. Then I reach round under her arms, under her sweater. She's wonderful to hold, doesn't need one then 'coz I can hold her. Heavy in my hands, soft, kinda squirmy. She likes that. Me too! Her nipples poking my palms, she makes little throaty noises. Moves her ass against me.
Then? ... Well, she has no panties!
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Thursday, November 27, 2008
"Maytag Man"
This is the first story I ever submitted to ERA. Seven years ago! I hope you enjoy this oldie.
"Maytag Man"
by Julius
Copyright 20 September 2001
I had the image in my mind. The Maytag man and his basset hound, there is a basset hound in those ad's, isn't there? You know the ad', the one with the bored repair-man? Bored because the machines never seem to falter, never need repair?
You'd loved the idea. You always love these ideas don't you? We loaded the washer with mostly towels so there'd be plenty of mass whirling around. You added the detergent, set the controls and the familiar hiss and splash of the water began. You scrambled up and sat there to wait. And we did have to wait, wait through the wash cycle for the first spin. I knew the wait would seem an eternity. An eternity to me. The whole concept had me definitely horny and you were radiating that magic something that seems to come off you in waves when the promise of loving steps onto our stage. Especially when the loving is a little different.
The spraying water inside the machine was the only sound for a while.
"I should have peed first." you announced, "the hiss of the water kind of gets to me!" I nodded to say that I agreed and you smiled one of your little smiles. You know that a need to pee turns us both on, cranks us up a little more. You squirmed your ass on the lid and announced, "Ummm, getting nice and warm, I think I like this chair."
The squirm got to me too. Knowing your panties were in with the towels was a plus. I'd seen you wiggle them down from under your skirt, down your thighs, step out of them and toss them in the machine. Little white cotton things. Now your ass was bare on the white enamel of the lid. Black skirt fanned out behind you. It covered you to just above your knees at the front.
My erection was now an insistent, aching presence in my pants. The wash cycle was taking forever. Now you had your eyes closed, a small smile on your face and I knew you were revelling in the warmth of the lid over the hot water and the slow vibrations. I knew because that's the smile you smile when we make love. And my need for you was climbing steadily.
I stepped up to you and you parted your legs to let me stand between your knees. I'd put a plank on some bricks to bring me up to the level of the washer's top. Your blouse buttons beckoned and I slowly undid them from the top down. I felt my excitement rise like a burn across my upper chest. Pale skin, white bra. The steady motion of the washer was producing a tremble in the flesh of your ample breasts. Breasts that threatened to spill out of the bra's cups. My hands were trembling too. The arousal that comes with closeness to you! I sensed your eyes on me and glanced up. Your lips were slightly parted, we both leaned forward at the same moment and kissed.
The sudden stop of the machine startled us both and the pump started to empty the wash water.
The rush of the water down into the waste pipe must have got to you. I felt you grip my hips with your knees and you moaned softly. Your top teeth were over your bottom lip. A sure sign that you need the little girls room. You smiled at me and said, "Oh dear!" You needed urgently to close your thighs and I was in the way. I watched your face reflect the fight going on below. Your frown eased, and I knew you'd won, for now.
The power of suggestion! Your need, the sound effects! Now I needed to go as well. But not quite as much as I needed to have you. Our mutual hunger was mounting.You hooked your heels behind my thighs and pulled me closer. Squirming and wiggling your walked your ass across the top of the washing machine towards me. I fumbled with button and zipper and fought my pants down over my hips, your thighs and calves hindering y efforts. Just as frantically I pushed my briefs down too. My erect cock sprang free. You reached for it with your left hand and squeezed me none too gently.
We waited, forever it seemed, for the spin cycle to start. "I gotta pee sooooon!" you told me, your voice almost a growl, "I'm so horny, this lid is so warm under my ass. Your voice, your words, your nearness were working their magic, my poor penis felt as hard and brittle as glass in your grip.
I looked down. Your skirt was hiked almost to your waist. Thighs, hips, your dark pussy fur, a glint of moisture too, deep between those thighs, sweet pinks and soft reds. You pulled insistently at my cock, drawing me to you. I came to you willingly and sighed as the head received your pussy's wet kiss. A loud click and the machine started as if on cue. I thrust through your small fist and slid into your soft tightness in one silky, gentle thrust. We both moaned our separate ecstacies together. How can you be so hot inside? Always that happy puzzling question. Ourarms went about each other and we clung together, me inside, you impaled.
This was incredible!! The load was uneven and the whole machine, with you aboard, shook and vibrated. And you? You shook and vibrated with my eager cock inside you.
We both left the moving to the machine. We'd agreed about this. As if we would have any control once our passions took hold! As if we'd be still and let the machine do all the moving. But it was easy for me to be still! I was so aroused that I stood as if frozen. I didn't dare move or I'd lose it right then and there. I just closed my eyes and hung on, it was unbelievable! As the water came out of the fabric the spinning got faster and the movement more violent and suddenly you were cumming and yelling uncontrollably, digging your fingers into my back until you were really hurting me. I felt you vagina spasm repeatedly as your orgasm tore through you. Incredibly my climax didn't happen then. I opened my eyes and looked down into your cleavage ,your breasts were quivering in your bra and your chest heaved as you fought for breath and still the drier spun, and spun and spun and spun and suddenly you were sobbing that you were going to cum again. And the spinning drum became more unbalanced. The effect was of your thrusting against my cock and suddenly I was losing it too.
I dropped my hands and gripped your ass and began to move against you. Only one thing mattered now to both of us, getting ourselves to the edge and going over it. And the machine was a third partner in all this .Suddenly we came as one, so quickly, so urgently. I spent myself in you "Now! and now! and now! and now!" and you rippled and spasmed as you milked me in crazy, helpless response. And we were suddenly done and clunging to each other. But the machine wasn't done, it kept lurching and lunging and it kept us moving, me into you and you around me.
That sweet agony deep inside as my cock strove to give you more of what it no longer had. That awesome sensation that is my body begging me to stop, and God bless Maytag engineers; with a sudden click the machine began to run down. The motion eased and we clung together sobbing our relief and laughing our crazy joy.
"Oh but that was incredible!" your words and my thought.
We slowly got our breath back, heartbeats eased their frantic hammering. Suddenly you made a mewing noise in your throat and sobbed, "Oh my heavens, but I've gotto pee!" Your knees clamped against my thighs painfully. Your hand suddenly grabbed for your groin as nature demanded that you pay heed.
"Surely not before the rinse and spin cycles are done!" I said softly.
Your response was unprintable but your hobbling walk, as you headed bathroomwards was, to me, sweet and cute and utterly delightful.
Behind me the rinsing and spinning of your panties had just begun.
"Maytag Man"
by Julius
Copyright 20 September 2001
I had the image in my mind. The Maytag man and his basset hound, there is a basset hound in those ad's, isn't there? You know the ad', the one with the bored repair-man? Bored because the machines never seem to falter, never need repair?
You'd loved the idea. You always love these ideas don't you? We loaded the washer with mostly towels so there'd be plenty of mass whirling around. You added the detergent, set the controls and the familiar hiss and splash of the water began. You scrambled up and sat there to wait. And we did have to wait, wait through the wash cycle for the first spin. I knew the wait would seem an eternity. An eternity to me. The whole concept had me definitely horny and you were radiating that magic something that seems to come off you in waves when the promise of loving steps onto our stage. Especially when the loving is a little different.
The spraying water inside the machine was the only sound for a while.
"I should have peed first." you announced, "the hiss of the water kind of gets to me!" I nodded to say that I agreed and you smiled one of your little smiles. You know that a need to pee turns us both on, cranks us up a little more. You squirmed your ass on the lid and announced, "Ummm, getting nice and warm, I think I like this chair."
The squirm got to me too. Knowing your panties were in with the towels was a plus. I'd seen you wiggle them down from under your skirt, down your thighs, step out of them and toss them in the machine. Little white cotton things. Now your ass was bare on the white enamel of the lid. Black skirt fanned out behind you. It covered you to just above your knees at the front.
My erection was now an insistent, aching presence in my pants. The wash cycle was taking forever. Now you had your eyes closed, a small smile on your face and I knew you were revelling in the warmth of the lid over the hot water and the slow vibrations. I knew because that's the smile you smile when we make love. And my need for you was climbing steadily.
I stepped up to you and you parted your legs to let me stand between your knees. I'd put a plank on some bricks to bring me up to the level of the washer's top. Your blouse buttons beckoned and I slowly undid them from the top down. I felt my excitement rise like a burn across my upper chest. Pale skin, white bra. The steady motion of the washer was producing a tremble in the flesh of your ample breasts. Breasts that threatened to spill out of the bra's cups. My hands were trembling too. The arousal that comes with closeness to you! I sensed your eyes on me and glanced up. Your lips were slightly parted, we both leaned forward at the same moment and kissed.
The sudden stop of the machine startled us both and the pump started to empty the wash water.
The rush of the water down into the waste pipe must have got to you. I felt you grip my hips with your knees and you moaned softly. Your top teeth were over your bottom lip. A sure sign that you need the little girls room. You smiled at me and said, "Oh dear!" You needed urgently to close your thighs and I was in the way. I watched your face reflect the fight going on below. Your frown eased, and I knew you'd won, for now.
The power of suggestion! Your need, the sound effects! Now I needed to go as well. But not quite as much as I needed to have you. Our mutual hunger was mounting.You hooked your heels behind my thighs and pulled me closer. Squirming and wiggling your walked your ass across the top of the washing machine towards me. I fumbled with button and zipper and fought my pants down over my hips, your thighs and calves hindering y efforts. Just as frantically I pushed my briefs down too. My erect cock sprang free. You reached for it with your left hand and squeezed me none too gently.
We waited, forever it seemed, for the spin cycle to start. "I gotta pee sooooon!" you told me, your voice almost a growl, "I'm so horny, this lid is so warm under my ass. Your voice, your words, your nearness were working their magic, my poor penis felt as hard and brittle as glass in your grip.
I looked down. Your skirt was hiked almost to your waist. Thighs, hips, your dark pussy fur, a glint of moisture too, deep between those thighs, sweet pinks and soft reds. You pulled insistently at my cock, drawing me to you. I came to you willingly and sighed as the head received your pussy's wet kiss. A loud click and the machine started as if on cue. I thrust through your small fist and slid into your soft tightness in one silky, gentle thrust. We both moaned our separate ecstacies together. How can you be so hot inside? Always that happy puzzling question. Ourarms went about each other and we clung together, me inside, you impaled.
This was incredible!! The load was uneven and the whole machine, with you aboard, shook and vibrated. And you? You shook and vibrated with my eager cock inside you.
We both left the moving to the machine. We'd agreed about this. As if we would have any control once our passions took hold! As if we'd be still and let the machine do all the moving. But it was easy for me to be still! I was so aroused that I stood as if frozen. I didn't dare move or I'd lose it right then and there. I just closed my eyes and hung on, it was unbelievable! As the water came out of the fabric the spinning got faster and the movement more violent and suddenly you were cumming and yelling uncontrollably, digging your fingers into my back until you were really hurting me. I felt you vagina spasm repeatedly as your orgasm tore through you. Incredibly my climax didn't happen then. I opened my eyes and looked down into your cleavage ,your breasts were quivering in your bra and your chest heaved as you fought for breath and still the drier spun, and spun and spun and spun and suddenly you were sobbing that you were going to cum again. And the spinning drum became more unbalanced. The effect was of your thrusting against my cock and suddenly I was losing it too.
I dropped my hands and gripped your ass and began to move against you. Only one thing mattered now to both of us, getting ourselves to the edge and going over it. And the machine was a third partner in all this .Suddenly we came as one, so quickly, so urgently. I spent myself in you "Now! and now! and now! and now!" and you rippled and spasmed as you milked me in crazy, helpless response. And we were suddenly done and clunging to each other. But the machine wasn't done, it kept lurching and lunging and it kept us moving, me into you and you around me.
That sweet agony deep inside as my cock strove to give you more of what it no longer had. That awesome sensation that is my body begging me to stop, and God bless Maytag engineers; with a sudden click the machine began to run down. The motion eased and we clung together sobbing our relief and laughing our crazy joy.
"Oh but that was incredible!" your words and my thought.
We slowly got our breath back, heartbeats eased their frantic hammering. Suddenly you made a mewing noise in your throat and sobbed, "Oh my heavens, but I've gotto pee!" Your knees clamped against my thighs painfully. Your hand suddenly grabbed for your groin as nature demanded that you pay heed.
"Surely not before the rinse and spin cycles are done!" I said softly.
Your response was unprintable but your hobbling walk, as you headed bathroomwards was, to me, sweet and cute and utterly delightful.
Behind me the rinsing and spinning of your panties had just begun.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
"Alphabetically Yours" Angela
I originally intended to write a whole series from A to Z, but, as so often happens, other ideas surfaced and only "A", "C", "D", "E", "G" plus "Adam Rekindled" were written. But, each story stands alone and I hope you enjoy them.
"Alphabetically Yours" Angela
by Julius
Copyright 2005
One or the other woke Barry, his piss-proud cock or the door-bell. He reached behind him, across the bed, no Gwen. He needed a pee. The bell sounded again.
Naked, he struggled out of bed, fumbled his robe off its hook and headed down the passage. The bathroom door was closed, Gwen must be where he needed to be.
As the bell rang a third time he opened the front door. It was Gwen!
"What ...?" he said, utterly confused. "What're you doing out here?"
"Hi, I'm Angela, I'm from 'Grope-a-Versary', your wife called us."
At this point Gwen/Angela began to sing "Happy Birthday ...," while slowly opening her coat. She wore a pair of three inch heels and pubic curls.
"Jesus Gwen ...," was all he could manage.
"I'm Angela sir," she stuck out her hand and Barry raised his own to shake it, but her hand was gone, gone inside his robe. Unerringly it found and grabbed his now detumescent cock
Barry groaned as she squeezed him. Through gritted teeth he said, "Come inside for heaven's sake."
"Sorry sir, my contract forbids that. I'm required to wear my birthday suit, wish a happy birthday and give a nice surprise, no more, no less."
His cock was thickening. He closed his eyes and murmured, "Well Gwen, I'm surprised."
"I'm Angela," she repeated patiently.
Her hand left his cock and he opened his eyes. She'd produced a small bottle from her coat pocket and was dribbling fluid into her palm. When her hand went back to his cock - bliss! The skin-on-skin grip was perfect now. He found himself thrusting into her small fist.
A distant voice disturbed him and he looked to his right, "Gwen! Someone's coming!"
"Not you, not just yet, surely?" her voice was filled with laughter.
"No! The old guy down the road, with his dog."
"Well, just pretend I'm a Jehovah's witness or something."
She never paused with her firm, slow pumping and really, he didn't want her to stop.
The dog started pulling eagerly at its leash and Barry looked the other way along the street. Another dog, with a woman walking it.
Natural caution warred with what his wife was doing to his cock. It felt so good. She gave prefect hand jobs did Gwen. The tight grip, the long slow stroke, that twist she gave the head. Jesus he wanted to touch her, to hold her but he needed his hands to steady himself.
Barry's body was in overload as his ass thrust to mee ther strokes. His legs trembled uncontrollably. Yet all the while, he strove to stand as if talking politely to a visitor, not easy.
The dog walkers were nearer now, both dogs tugging at leashes, wanting to meet and greet. They met, right opposite Barry and Gwen. The ritual tail wagging and sniffing began. The woman glanced at Barry and their eyes met, she shouted a breezy, "Good morning."
The man made to answer her, saw where she was looking and turned to Barry. He too called a friendly greeting. Barry smiled and nodded in return. Gwen looked at Barry and laughed. Her coat was open, she was bare from throat to crotch; breasts, belly button and bush.
Christ! Poor Barry, two elderly neighbours were watching, while his wife jerked him off on his own doorstep.
She never paused, never stilled her hand. She just kept up the wicked squeezing, the slick-fingered fucking of his erection.
They must know? They must see her movements? Surely, his face mirrored his arousal?
The dogs tangled their leashes and Gwen's hand kept its steady pull and twist and slide. He was breathing hard now, his left hand, white-knuckled on the doorknob, hisright clutching the door frame. Her hand slowed and he sighed as she cupped his balls.
The dog people moved on, their pets parted company. Gwen's hand slid behind his balls, pressing, caressing. He swallowed hard and moaned, "God, Gwen."
"Here's the postman," she announced.
Barry looked. Sure enough, the man was making his way towards them, bag on shoulder.
"Better get on with your delivery then," she told him and her hand moved back up to grab his cock. She began to pump him vigorously, her grip tight. He could actually hear the slick, wet sounds of her hand.
One last appeal, "Gwen, let's go inside and finish this ... please."
"I'm - Angela, - this - is - " her grip slid up and down his cock in time with each word, "your - birthday - and - your - surprise."
The postman was next door but one now. Barry's body was beginning to shake and he knew, with awful certainty, that his climax was on its way.
Gwen's breathing was clearly audible as she worked at his cock. Barry's legs were quaking as he fought towards release.
The postman passed along the sidewalk, completely ignoring them.
Barry sobbed and his body went rigid. Gwen stroked him one last time, his cock pulsed and she whispered, "Yes baby."
He came over her belly, spurt after desperate spurt while she squeezed and milked. He needed to crouch, to thrust, to shout his relief.
His softening cock drooled onto his foot and, half turning, he rested his back against the wall, on the verge of blackout.
"Must be someone's birthday," a voice said.
His eyes flew open. A hand, holding coloured envelopes, was in front of him. He numbly took the cards and the postman was gone. He looked down, his robe was closed. Gwen's coat was open, trickles of his come adorned her stomach and thighs.
She pulled her coat closed, "Happy Birthday sir."
"Er, thanks ... er ... ,"
"Angela," she told him, "Angela."
"Alphabetically Yours" Angela
by Julius
Copyright 2005
One or the other woke Barry, his piss-proud cock or the door-bell. He reached behind him, across the bed, no Gwen. He needed a pee. The bell sounded again.
Naked, he struggled out of bed, fumbled his robe off its hook and headed down the passage. The bathroom door was closed, Gwen must be where he needed to be.
As the bell rang a third time he opened the front door. It was Gwen!
"What ...?" he said, utterly confused. "What're you doing out here?"
"Hi, I'm Angela, I'm from 'Grope-a-Versary', your wife called us."
At this point Gwen/Angela began to sing "Happy Birthday ...," while slowly opening her coat. She wore a pair of three inch heels and pubic curls.
"Jesus Gwen ...," was all he could manage.
"I'm Angela sir," she stuck out her hand and Barry raised his own to shake it, but her hand was gone, gone inside his robe. Unerringly it found and grabbed his now detumescent cock
Barry groaned as she squeezed him. Through gritted teeth he said, "Come inside for heaven's sake."
"Sorry sir, my contract forbids that. I'm required to wear my birthday suit, wish a happy birthday and give a nice surprise, no more, no less."
His cock was thickening. He closed his eyes and murmured, "Well Gwen, I'm surprised."
"I'm Angela," she repeated patiently.
Her hand left his cock and he opened his eyes. She'd produced a small bottle from her coat pocket and was dribbling fluid into her palm. When her hand went back to his cock - bliss! The skin-on-skin grip was perfect now. He found himself thrusting into her small fist.
A distant voice disturbed him and he looked to his right, "Gwen! Someone's coming!"
"Not you, not just yet, surely?" her voice was filled with laughter.
"No! The old guy down the road, with his dog."
"Well, just pretend I'm a Jehovah's witness or something."
She never paused with her firm, slow pumping and really, he didn't want her to stop.
The dog started pulling eagerly at its leash and Barry looked the other way along the street. Another dog, with a woman walking it.
Natural caution warred with what his wife was doing to his cock. It felt so good. She gave prefect hand jobs did Gwen. The tight grip, the long slow stroke, that twist she gave the head. Jesus he wanted to touch her, to hold her but he needed his hands to steady himself.
Barry's body was in overload as his ass thrust to mee ther strokes. His legs trembled uncontrollably. Yet all the while, he strove to stand as if talking politely to a visitor, not easy.
The dog walkers were nearer now, both dogs tugging at leashes, wanting to meet and greet. They met, right opposite Barry and Gwen. The ritual tail wagging and sniffing began. The woman glanced at Barry and their eyes met, she shouted a breezy, "Good morning."
The man made to answer her, saw where she was looking and turned to Barry. He too called a friendly greeting. Barry smiled and nodded in return. Gwen looked at Barry and laughed. Her coat was open, she was bare from throat to crotch; breasts, belly button and bush.
Christ! Poor Barry, two elderly neighbours were watching, while his wife jerked him off on his own doorstep.
She never paused, never stilled her hand. She just kept up the wicked squeezing, the slick-fingered fucking of his erection.
They must know? They must see her movements? Surely, his face mirrored his arousal?
The dogs tangled their leashes and Gwen's hand kept its steady pull and twist and slide. He was breathing hard now, his left hand, white-knuckled on the doorknob, hisright clutching the door frame. Her hand slowed and he sighed as she cupped his balls.
The dog people moved on, their pets parted company. Gwen's hand slid behind his balls, pressing, caressing. He swallowed hard and moaned, "God, Gwen."
"Here's the postman," she announced.
Barry looked. Sure enough, the man was making his way towards them, bag on shoulder.
"Better get on with your delivery then," she told him and her hand moved back up to grab his cock. She began to pump him vigorously, her grip tight. He could actually hear the slick, wet sounds of her hand.
One last appeal, "Gwen, let's go inside and finish this ... please."
"I'm - Angela, - this - is - " her grip slid up and down his cock in time with each word, "your - birthday - and - your - surprise."
The postman was next door but one now. Barry's body was beginning to shake and he knew, with awful certainty, that his climax was on its way.
Gwen's breathing was clearly audible as she worked at his cock. Barry's legs were quaking as he fought towards release.
The postman passed along the sidewalk, completely ignoring them.
Barry sobbed and his body went rigid. Gwen stroked him one last time, his cock pulsed and she whispered, "Yes baby."
He came over her belly, spurt after desperate spurt while she squeezed and milked. He needed to crouch, to thrust, to shout his relief.
His softening cock drooled onto his foot and, half turning, he rested his back against the wall, on the verge of blackout.
"Must be someone's birthday," a voice said.
His eyes flew open. A hand, holding coloured envelopes, was in front of him. He numbly took the cards and the postman was gone. He looked down, his robe was closed. Gwen's coat was open, trickles of his come adorned her stomach and thighs.
She pulled her coat closed, "Happy Birthday sir."
"Er, thanks ... er ... ,"
"Angela," she told him, "Angela."
"Alphabetically Yours" Adam Rekindled
Hello dear reader.
I must now beg your indulgence! I missed this one during the transfer of the stories from the Yahoo file. This episode in the "Alphabetically Yours'' saga belongs AFTER the story entitled "Eve". So, could you be patient not read it until then?
*****************************************************
Well, Gwen was Eve in the previous "alphabet saga." She and Barry had got to where naughty folk always get: "spent."
I couldn't bring myself to quite end it for them there ................. so, here's how it went next:
"Alphabetically Yours" Adam Rekindled
by Julius
Copyright 2005
Post coitus can be a difficult time for a guy. Post coitus sounds good, whether it's correct or not. All those trace chemicals in the brain out of balance. For a while, that rare male condition exists; he's actually NOT horny. And not merely 'not horny' but somehow non-horny. The above mentioned "a while" becomes longer with age. Boastful teens may claim it's measured in seconds. 'Older' men will tell you, a little resignedly, that it's measured in days. The relighting of the fires will occur naturally or outside forces may impinge upon the libido in Newtonian fashion:
Adam a.k.a. Barry stood naked. He was still breathing deeply. His equipment drooped, small and wrinkled. Given free choice, he'd have stretched out in the sun and have drifted away on blissful memory.
But Eve a.k.a. Gwen had other plans. This soon became evident to the recently spent Barry.
The oil on Gwen glistened in the sun. It brought highlights to curves. Hip bones and belly, calves and shoulders, she shone. Like a statue of a goddess he thought. As usual, his eyes were drawn to her breasts.
They seemed to glow. Tight skinned and heavy, they were lovely. Prominent nipples seemed to beg for attention.
Gwen took those nipples between thumbs and forefingers and pulled, pulled towards him. Breast-flesh formed points. He glimpsed her lower lip being nipped by upper teeth, betraying just how hard she was pinching and pulling at herself.
His cock stirred. Gwen had pulled her nipples like this before, as a sort of tease, but never this hard. She took a step towards him and pulled sideways, pulling her breasts away from each other. He raised his eyes to her face and she formed a kiss with her lips. When he looked down again she'd brought her nipples together and was rubbing them, one against the other.
Whether or not she was hurting herself he didn't know. The sight of the stretching skin and apparently abused flesh was turning him on. His cock was thickening, lifting. The tormented nipples were just inches away.
Her next little exhibition went beyond sexy. She moved her hands in circles, pulling those nipples round and round. Her pulled-into-points breasts followed of course. She did it slowly, her eyes on his, waiting, watching. Every time his eyes flicked up to look at hers, she seemed to be asking silently, "Well?"
When Gwen released her nipples they were long and fat, looking the way they did when he sucked them. His penis was longer and fatter too and he was suddenly very aware of it.
"Hmm, coming along very nicely," she said looking down at his cock. She reached for the bottle on the picnic table and squirted oil into her palm. He gasped as she grabbed his new erection and pulled him towards her.
She parked her bare ass on the end of the seat and guided his cock between her breasts.
"Perhaps a little tit-fucking will strengthen your resolve," Gwen told him.
Just minutes before Barry had wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and doze the doze of the just, the just-fucked. Now? Now his revived cock was between her breasts and Adam was seriously considering a second frolic with the wayward Eve.
Oh but it felt good. She was squeezing her breasts hard together. He gazed down at the lovely orbs, somewhere in all that beautiful tit-flesh was buried his happily thrusting cock. It felt so good. This situation usually had him at orgasm's brink in no time at all. Their recent session had left him satisfied, now he felt he could play like this forever. Just fuck her tits, fuck and fuck and fuck her tits.
Seemingly Gwen had other ideas, she pushed him gently away and stood up. Her hand wrapped round his cock again, squeezing. Barry moaned.
"Lay on the table and let me enjoy you ..., please."
Barry did as she asked and lay on his back. The wood was almost hot under him, the sun was warm on his skin. He closed his eyes and murmured, "Help yourself."
He was very aware of his erection. This Garden of Eden of Eve's was a beautiful place he thought.
He felt the table move, heard it squeak as she climbed on to join him. Eyes slitted against the bright sunshine, he looked up at her.
She knelt astride him, her big-nippled, heavy breasts above him. Her nakedness, the trees, the warm sunshine, the movement of the breeze over his skin made beautiful magic; Eden indeed.
Another slice of heaven was to follow. She raised herself, gently took his erection and held it vertical. She sank slowly until his cock head was nuzzling at her pussy.
"Ready?"
He nodded. Slowly, very, very slowly his Gwen who was Eve let herself slide down him. She was gloriously hot inside. He closed his eyes and focused on his cock as it crept up into her welcoming tunnel, slowly, slowly, slowly.
When her ass finally settled on his thighs, she sighed.
Barry who was Adam lay quiet, his cock marinating. They seemed content to be still a while. Gwen's pussy clenched from time to time; with or without any effort from its mistress Barry wondered. He slid his hands down onto her ass and made slow writhing and thrusting movements under her. Both seemed to be waiting, savouring.
Gwen slid her ass down his thighs a little. Down a little more until his cock resisted her movement. He knew she loved this position. He imagined her clit against the upper side of his cock and his cock head against her pussy's back wall. He had no idea how it felt for her, but for him ...? She never failed to get him off like this.
She began lifting and lowering her ass, fucking him and fucking herself. There was an animal cast to her features when she did this. He watched her face, her closed eyes, the swing of her breasts and felt the movements of her ass in his hands.
Usually she controlled them both in this position, making him come just before she did. But today? ...Today was very different. Today Barry had already come, he could last forever. He wondered if Gwen knew - he was sure she did.
Right then, Barry sensed he was her toy, her plaything. He didn't care, let that beautiful pussy pump up and down on his cock all day.
Gwen's orgasm, when it came, was a beautiful, almost gentle thing. She was just grinding away, her buttocks slick on his thighs when it happened. Barry felt itaround his cock, a hot grasping as her pussy walls rippled and caressed his cock. Her mouth opened and body went rigid, her eyes stared, unseeing, at him.
She stilled then, on the outside. Inside, her body still milked at his hardness.
"Oh God," she murmured. She reached out a hand andstroked his face. "That was so beautiful."
Her body shone with sweat. The sun had climbed, the promised hot day was upon them.
She leaned forward and rested her hands on either side of his head. She bent her elbows and her breasts were on either side of his face, an Eden within Eden. He turned his head, seeking a nipple and Gwen obliged. It was big in his mouth, ripe, firm. He nipped her, flicking with his tongue. Gwen lifted her ass off him, making his cock withdraw halfway from her heat.
He thrust upwards, to bury himself in her again, his ass coming off the table..
Then they fucked. Her nipple was gone from his mouth. He was breathing the scent of her sweat between her breasts.
Passive lover no longer, Barry began thrusting up under her. Gwen's hips were moving too, matching his. His hands gripped her buttocks, pulling her open. All gentleness gone, each began using the other.
Barry's climax was there, poised, coiled. He wondered if he was going to make it.
He was sobbing for breath, struggling, matching his thrusts with hers, trying, trying, trying. Her sweat dripped on him, salty on his lips. Her breasts swung, hot and moist against his face.
His fingers dug into her buttocks and he lunged up at her, feeling the climax letting go, as every muscle in him seemed to urge him towards and into her pussy.
Then it began. The whole of his body spasmed, clenched. Barry drove up into her, he was coming, oh God he was coming. How he struggled, straining,thrusting, trying to reach the edge! He fought for breath, fought for orgasm. He begged his body to let itself tear free. His legs stretched and tensed. His left calf threatened to cramp. Christ!
Barry barely noticed Gwen's sobbing. In the midst of his own struggles she began squirming. Her movements synchronised with his and she came again, loudly,violently. Their world was suddenly wetter as she writhed and ground on his cock.
Barry heard, felt Gwen's climax happening. It was the trigger he needed. He seemed to fuse with her. A driving thrust, down, down through his entire body, he was coming. He ground his teeth, tensed, held his breath, paralysed for the moment. The first exquisite, scalding gush and ... blackness.
"Hi Honey, welcome back."
His eyes fluttered open, "Dear God, I ..., where ...,how long?"
"A minute, no more," she kissed him, her lips unutterably soft, her body, sweat-slick on his.
She giggled, "You came and then ... , well, then you went. Amazing."
He grinned, "I thought that only happened to ladies."
I must now beg your indulgence! I missed this one during the transfer of the stories from the Yahoo file. This episode in the "Alphabetically Yours'' saga belongs AFTER the story entitled "Eve". So, could you be patient not read it until then?
*****************************************************
Well, Gwen was Eve in the previous "alphabet saga." She and Barry had got to where naughty folk always get: "spent."
I couldn't bring myself to quite end it for them there ................. so, here's how it went next:
"Alphabetically Yours" Adam Rekindled
by Julius
Copyright 2005
Post coitus can be a difficult time for a guy. Post coitus sounds good, whether it's correct or not. All those trace chemicals in the brain out of balance. For a while, that rare male condition exists; he's actually NOT horny. And not merely 'not horny' but somehow non-horny. The above mentioned "a while" becomes longer with age. Boastful teens may claim it's measured in seconds. 'Older' men will tell you, a little resignedly, that it's measured in days. The relighting of the fires will occur naturally or outside forces may impinge upon the libido in Newtonian fashion:
Adam a.k.a. Barry stood naked. He was still breathing deeply. His equipment drooped, small and wrinkled. Given free choice, he'd have stretched out in the sun and have drifted away on blissful memory.
But Eve a.k.a. Gwen had other plans. This soon became evident to the recently spent Barry.
The oil on Gwen glistened in the sun. It brought highlights to curves. Hip bones and belly, calves and shoulders, she shone. Like a statue of a goddess he thought. As usual, his eyes were drawn to her breasts.
They seemed to glow. Tight skinned and heavy, they were lovely. Prominent nipples seemed to beg for attention.
Gwen took those nipples between thumbs and forefingers and pulled, pulled towards him. Breast-flesh formed points. He glimpsed her lower lip being nipped by upper teeth, betraying just how hard she was pinching and pulling at herself.
His cock stirred. Gwen had pulled her nipples like this before, as a sort of tease, but never this hard. She took a step towards him and pulled sideways, pulling her breasts away from each other. He raised his eyes to her face and she formed a kiss with her lips. When he looked down again she'd brought her nipples together and was rubbing them, one against the other.
Whether or not she was hurting herself he didn't know. The sight of the stretching skin and apparently abused flesh was turning him on. His cock was thickening, lifting. The tormented nipples were just inches away.
Her next little exhibition went beyond sexy. She moved her hands in circles, pulling those nipples round and round. Her pulled-into-points breasts followed of course. She did it slowly, her eyes on his, waiting, watching. Every time his eyes flicked up to look at hers, she seemed to be asking silently, "Well?"
When Gwen released her nipples they were long and fat, looking the way they did when he sucked them. His penis was longer and fatter too and he was suddenly very aware of it.
"Hmm, coming along very nicely," she said looking down at his cock. She reached for the bottle on the picnic table and squirted oil into her palm. He gasped as she grabbed his new erection and pulled him towards her.
She parked her bare ass on the end of the seat and guided his cock between her breasts.
"Perhaps a little tit-fucking will strengthen your resolve," Gwen told him.
Just minutes before Barry had wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and doze the doze of the just, the just-fucked. Now? Now his revived cock was between her breasts and Adam was seriously considering a second frolic with the wayward Eve.
Oh but it felt good. She was squeezing her breasts hard together. He gazed down at the lovely orbs, somewhere in all that beautiful tit-flesh was buried his happily thrusting cock. It felt so good. This situation usually had him at orgasm's brink in no time at all. Their recent session had left him satisfied, now he felt he could play like this forever. Just fuck her tits, fuck and fuck and fuck her tits.
Seemingly Gwen had other ideas, she pushed him gently away and stood up. Her hand wrapped round his cock again, squeezing. Barry moaned.
"Lay on the table and let me enjoy you ..., please."
Barry did as she asked and lay on his back. The wood was almost hot under him, the sun was warm on his skin. He closed his eyes and murmured, "Help yourself."
He was very aware of his erection. This Garden of Eden of Eve's was a beautiful place he thought.
He felt the table move, heard it squeak as she climbed on to join him. Eyes slitted against the bright sunshine, he looked up at her.
She knelt astride him, her big-nippled, heavy breasts above him. Her nakedness, the trees, the warm sunshine, the movement of the breeze over his skin made beautiful magic; Eden indeed.
Another slice of heaven was to follow. She raised herself, gently took his erection and held it vertical. She sank slowly until his cock head was nuzzling at her pussy.
"Ready?"
He nodded. Slowly, very, very slowly his Gwen who was Eve let herself slide down him. She was gloriously hot inside. He closed his eyes and focused on his cock as it crept up into her welcoming tunnel, slowly, slowly, slowly.
When her ass finally settled on his thighs, she sighed.
Barry who was Adam lay quiet, his cock marinating. They seemed content to be still a while. Gwen's pussy clenched from time to time; with or without any effort from its mistress Barry wondered. He slid his hands down onto her ass and made slow writhing and thrusting movements under her. Both seemed to be waiting, savouring.
Gwen slid her ass down his thighs a little. Down a little more until his cock resisted her movement. He knew she loved this position. He imagined her clit against the upper side of his cock and his cock head against her pussy's back wall. He had no idea how it felt for her, but for him ...? She never failed to get him off like this.
She began lifting and lowering her ass, fucking him and fucking herself. There was an animal cast to her features when she did this. He watched her face, her closed eyes, the swing of her breasts and felt the movements of her ass in his hands.
Usually she controlled them both in this position, making him come just before she did. But today? ...Today was very different. Today Barry had already come, he could last forever. He wondered if Gwen knew - he was sure she did.
Right then, Barry sensed he was her toy, her plaything. He didn't care, let that beautiful pussy pump up and down on his cock all day.
Gwen's orgasm, when it came, was a beautiful, almost gentle thing. She was just grinding away, her buttocks slick on his thighs when it happened. Barry felt itaround his cock, a hot grasping as her pussy walls rippled and caressed his cock. Her mouth opened and body went rigid, her eyes stared, unseeing, at him.
She stilled then, on the outside. Inside, her body still milked at his hardness.
"Oh God," she murmured. She reached out a hand andstroked his face. "That was so beautiful."
Her body shone with sweat. The sun had climbed, the promised hot day was upon them.
She leaned forward and rested her hands on either side of his head. She bent her elbows and her breasts were on either side of his face, an Eden within Eden. He turned his head, seeking a nipple and Gwen obliged. It was big in his mouth, ripe, firm. He nipped her, flicking with his tongue. Gwen lifted her ass off him, making his cock withdraw halfway from her heat.
He thrust upwards, to bury himself in her again, his ass coming off the table..
Then they fucked. Her nipple was gone from his mouth. He was breathing the scent of her sweat between her breasts.
Passive lover no longer, Barry began thrusting up under her. Gwen's hips were moving too, matching his. His hands gripped her buttocks, pulling her open. All gentleness gone, each began using the other.
Barry's climax was there, poised, coiled. He wondered if he was going to make it.
He was sobbing for breath, struggling, matching his thrusts with hers, trying, trying, trying. Her sweat dripped on him, salty on his lips. Her breasts swung, hot and moist against his face.
His fingers dug into her buttocks and he lunged up at her, feeling the climax letting go, as every muscle in him seemed to urge him towards and into her pussy.
Then it began. The whole of his body spasmed, clenched. Barry drove up into her, he was coming, oh God he was coming. How he struggled, straining,thrusting, trying to reach the edge! He fought for breath, fought for orgasm. He begged his body to let itself tear free. His legs stretched and tensed. His left calf threatened to cramp. Christ!
Barry barely noticed Gwen's sobbing. In the midst of his own struggles she began squirming. Her movements synchronised with his and she came again, loudly,violently. Their world was suddenly wetter as she writhed and ground on his cock.
Barry heard, felt Gwen's climax happening. It was the trigger he needed. He seemed to fuse with her. A driving thrust, down, down through his entire body, he was coming. He ground his teeth, tensed, held his breath, paralysed for the moment. The first exquisite, scalding gush and ... blackness.
"Hi Honey, welcome back."
His eyes fluttered open, "Dear God, I ..., where ...,how long?"
"A minute, no more," she kissed him, her lips unutterably soft, her body, sweat-slick on his.
She giggled, "You came and then ... , well, then you went. Amazing."
He grinned, "I thought that only happened to ladies."
Saturday, November 22, 2008
"Alphabetically Yours" Candice
by Julius
Copyright 2005
That morning she had announced she was Candice, an artist's model.
This was their third little madness. The idea had been hers. When the mood and moment seemed right, this sweet maiden of his would announce her new name and profession. The day would then be given over to acting out an encounter. They would guide the 'where' and the 'how' using their imaginations or just let circumstances dictate. Go with the flow, as the expression has it.
Barry was a talented artist, or so people told him. It was a hobby, he wished it could be more. This latest scenario had a definite appeal for him.
They left the train and strolled together towards St.James' Park. Once there they parted company briefly, to become strangers, agreeing to meet again as if by chance.
One sketch in a hundred would draw itself. The pencil leading, his hand following. It was happening now, as easy as breathing. Her legs stretched, tight and long, as she threw pieces of bread for the ducks. Ankles, calves, thighs and that perfect ass appeared on the page, like a photo developing.
Silently he begged her to hold the pose while he shaded and added contour and line. Just his hand and his eyes moving.
She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. His heart did a little pitter-patter, he was crazy about this girl, this wife of his. She crossed the narrow path and stood in front of him, looking down.
"Is that me?" she asked, moving around the bench to stand behind him and look over his shoulder.
"It's very good," she added. Her long blonde hair tickled his ear and her perfume swirled around his head.
"Yes it's you, I hope you don't mind."
"Mind? No of course I don't mind, it's very flattering," she paused and he watched as her slim fingers reached to touch the paper, "should I pose some more?"
"I'd like it if you would," he said.
She moved back to the railings again and stood, with her bag of bread, tossing scraps. Barry's pencil flew and whispered. Beside his first sketch he began asecond. In this, the thin dress was gone and just the naked girl appeared. He took a blue pencil and added a tiny thong.
The bread gone, she turned and came back behind the bench again. She gave a delighted little squeal, "You've undressed me."
"I draw what I see in my mind sometimes," he said simply.
"You forgot my tattoo and I'm not wearing a thong,"
Barry closed his eyes, feeling her nearness, her breath on his neck. His cock, swollen already, stirred and stiffened in his pants.
"Could I sketch you from the front?"
She gestured around at the people walking in the park. "Promise not to take my dress off this time?"
He chuckled, "I promise."
She crossed once more to the lake's railings and turned to face him. She rested her hands on the iron loops of the fence and crossed her ankles. She was perfect.
The pencil seemed to move of its own accord. The pout of her lips, her breeze-tossed hair, the swell of her breasts ... God, but she was lovely. The light outlined her limbs through the thin dress, she appeared almost naked, despite his promise.
She shifted her weight and crossed her ankles the opposite way, cocking her other hip. The move was almost flirtatious. She smiled, "I'll have to go soon."
"Back to work?"
"Well not really, I've got this afternoon off. It's just ... ," her voice trailed off.
"Please stay a little longer," he gestured at his pad, "you're perfect somehow and this is going so well."
"Maybe a little longer then."
"What do I call you?"
"Candice," she gave a little laugh.
"I'm Barry."
He sketched, blissfully happy and Candice stood with a patience that delighted him.
He very much wanted to draw her in profile but she was beginning to fidget. "Come and sit down for a while, you must be getting tired."
She gave him a wry smile, "That's not the problem, this girl needs the 'ladies,' I'll be right back." She gestured across the park behind him.
"They're closed," he said as she pushed herself away from the railings, "there's a sign saying 'closed for repairs'." He loved this part of the game, steering the plot he called it.
"You're kidding!" she looked around, almost frantically, "there's nowhere else for miles."
He didn't know for sure if her need was real or not. But as always, it stirred him, the thought of her thighs clenching, the pressure behind her pretty pussy. His cock was now an insistent presence. "Come, sit down for a moment," he asked her again.
She sat carefully beside him, groaning softly. Her eyes found his and her hand slid under his sketch pad, finding his hardness.
He feigned surprise, "What are you doing?"
She gestured at the pad, "You sketched me nearly naked, I thought perhaps you found me attractive." She gave his cock a painful squeeze, "I think perhaps you do."
"You're very attractive and a wonderful model, but a model and her artist need to keep their relationship professional," he told her.
Her hand stayed on the bulge in his pants. "I'm sorry but I find myself attracted to you."
She removed her hand then and sat back. He watched as she began inching the dress upwards, exposing her knees. "I do model nude but I charge rather more."
She stopped until a couple with two children had passed. Then the hem resumed its upward progress. She parted her knees. "Do you prefer the undraped form?"
The hem was high on her thighs and his erection was a near-painful thing. "Most certainly, there's nothing more beautiful"
The dress moved a little more. She was naked under the dress. Sunlight glistened bronze on the exposed wisps of her bush.
Her knees came together with an audible slap and she gasped and clutched at her groin. "Oh but I need to go," she hissed through clenched teeth, all her playfulness gone. She glanced left and right, "Hold me."
He slid his hand under her skirt, under her hands and cupped her.
"Tight," she said.
He gripped her. They'd often played like this but never in public. He glanced around nervously but they were alone.
"The artist is being a little familiar now don't you think?" she asked him.
He didn't know how badly she needed to go and didn't really care. His own need swept over him like a flood. He felt her heat, her moisture, the soft press of her curls in his palm. It would be only moments before someone came by and the moment would be gone. He slipped one, two fingers into her and she moaned.
He wanted her so very, very badly. His trapped cock seemed about to burst. He slid his fingers deeper into her. She was all heat and cream inside.
"Someone's coming!" she hissed.
They sat while three teenagers went by, all noise and strut. Her skirt was over her knees again, his pad covering his groin.
As soon as they were alone her hand was on him again. "My turn," she said, her voice gone husky. In moments it seemed, she had him unzipped and his rigid cock out from under his briefs. "That's very flattering," she said, her small hand wrapping around his shaft.
She withdrew her hand and slid it up, under her dress. When she grasped him again her hand was slick with her own juices.
"Now somebody really will be coming," she whispered as she began pumping him.
It took no time at all before he was sobbing towards release. His body struggled, reached climax and hegushed helplessly, time and again.
A woman was approaching with her dog and Candice' hand slipped away from him. He was acutely aware of his open pants and his exposed cock under the sketch pad.
The dachshund led its owner past them and Candice lifted the sketch pad She giggled, "Aren't you messy?"
"That's art," he countered, "you wouldn't understand."
She hastily tucked his cock away and zipped him up. "Now give me your arm and help me hobble to the 'ladies.'"
"Don't you want ... ?" he murmured.
"My pussy and I need two things right now. The first is a pee.
He helped her to her feet. She grimaced as she slowlystraightened.
When she finally emerged he asked, "And the second thing?"
For answer she took his hand and led him towards the bridge that crossed the lake. When they were half way across she asked him to help her up so she could sit on the balustrade. "A little more sketching perhaps?" she asked, wriggling her ass on the stonework.
He stood opposite her, pencil at the ready. Candice rested her hands on the stonework beside her and crossed her legs. A Japanese couple crossed between them, smiling and giving little, bowing nods.
When they were gone she uncrossed her legs and opened them. She was suddenly all thighs. Sunlight through the dress lit their junction. Barry's eyes met hers, she smiled and licked her lips. There was no mistaking the hunger in her eyes.
His hand trembled as the pencil made its first few strokes. She spread her legs wider, as wide as the dress hem would allow. She was open, he could see the deep pinkness of her. His cock thickened.
It was difficult to imagine a more provocative pose.
He crossed to her and slid a hand up the inside of her thigh. Up, up till fingertips found wetness. His cock was rigid, despite it recent, happy madness.
"Shouldn't you be sketching?" she asked in a husky voice that made nonsense of her words.
He made a cock from three fingers and slid it slowly into her. She sobbed, she actually sobbed.
"Oh God! Barry! Stop!" she hissed the words.
A group of camera-bedecked tourists were approaching.
He retreated to his own side of the bridge and looked at her. Her legs were crossed again, her pose perfect but her face was flushed and her eyes were closed.
The fingers that held the pad glistened in the sunshine, glistened with Candice' juice. He made a pretence of drawing. The people passed. Smiles and 'Hellos' were exchanged.
Then they were gone and he crossed to her. Her legs opened to welcome him. She drew up the hem of the dress, "Kiss me, kiss me down here Barry."
He glanced round, no one on or near the bridge, he bent, his head between her thighs. Gently, oh sogently, he pressed his mouth into her pussy. Her soft thighs closed over his ears, he closed his eyes and left her to keep watch.
His tongue and lips explored her soft sweetness, her musky scent filled his nostrils. He felt her hands on the back of his head, her groin bucked against his mouth.
Suddenly her thighs tensed,.muscles and tendons straining. She was coming. She came. Sudden hot wetness filling his mouth.
Moments later she was frantically pushing him away. He surfaced and looked around. To his left, at the end ofthe bridge stood a policeman, his helmet making him very tall.
He saw the man grin and give a casual salute, turn and walk slowly away from them, along the side of the lake.
Barry looked at Candice and she looked back down at him. Her breasts were heaving and her face bore a deep blush. He helped her down and she clung to him.
"I'm so wet," she murmured.
He put his hand to his mouth, his beard, "Me too."
"Take me home lover, before we get arrested."
Copyright 2005
That morning she had announced she was Candice, an artist's model.
This was their third little madness. The idea had been hers. When the mood and moment seemed right, this sweet maiden of his would announce her new name and profession. The day would then be given over to acting out an encounter. They would guide the 'where' and the 'how' using their imaginations or just let circumstances dictate. Go with the flow, as the expression has it.
Barry was a talented artist, or so people told him. It was a hobby, he wished it could be more. This latest scenario had a definite appeal for him.
They left the train and strolled together towards St.James' Park. Once there they parted company briefly, to become strangers, agreeing to meet again as if by chance.
One sketch in a hundred would draw itself. The pencil leading, his hand following. It was happening now, as easy as breathing. Her legs stretched, tight and long, as she threw pieces of bread for the ducks. Ankles, calves, thighs and that perfect ass appeared on the page, like a photo developing.
Silently he begged her to hold the pose while he shaded and added contour and line. Just his hand and his eyes moving.
She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. His heart did a little pitter-patter, he was crazy about this girl, this wife of his. She crossed the narrow path and stood in front of him, looking down.
"Is that me?" she asked, moving around the bench to stand behind him and look over his shoulder.
"It's very good," she added. Her long blonde hair tickled his ear and her perfume swirled around his head.
"Yes it's you, I hope you don't mind."
"Mind? No of course I don't mind, it's very flattering," she paused and he watched as her slim fingers reached to touch the paper, "should I pose some more?"
"I'd like it if you would," he said.
She moved back to the railings again and stood, with her bag of bread, tossing scraps. Barry's pencil flew and whispered. Beside his first sketch he began asecond. In this, the thin dress was gone and just the naked girl appeared. He took a blue pencil and added a tiny thong.
The bread gone, she turned and came back behind the bench again. She gave a delighted little squeal, "You've undressed me."
"I draw what I see in my mind sometimes," he said simply.
"You forgot my tattoo and I'm not wearing a thong,"
Barry closed his eyes, feeling her nearness, her breath on his neck. His cock, swollen already, stirred and stiffened in his pants.
"Could I sketch you from the front?"
She gestured around at the people walking in the park. "Promise not to take my dress off this time?"
He chuckled, "I promise."
She crossed once more to the lake's railings and turned to face him. She rested her hands on the iron loops of the fence and crossed her ankles. She was perfect.
The pencil seemed to move of its own accord. The pout of her lips, her breeze-tossed hair, the swell of her breasts ... God, but she was lovely. The light outlined her limbs through the thin dress, she appeared almost naked, despite his promise.
She shifted her weight and crossed her ankles the opposite way, cocking her other hip. The move was almost flirtatious. She smiled, "I'll have to go soon."
"Back to work?"
"Well not really, I've got this afternoon off. It's just ... ," her voice trailed off.
"Please stay a little longer," he gestured at his pad, "you're perfect somehow and this is going so well."
"Maybe a little longer then."
"What do I call you?"
"Candice," she gave a little laugh.
"I'm Barry."
He sketched, blissfully happy and Candice stood with a patience that delighted him.
He very much wanted to draw her in profile but she was beginning to fidget. "Come and sit down for a while, you must be getting tired."
She gave him a wry smile, "That's not the problem, this girl needs the 'ladies,' I'll be right back." She gestured across the park behind him.
"They're closed," he said as she pushed herself away from the railings, "there's a sign saying 'closed for repairs'." He loved this part of the game, steering the plot he called it.
"You're kidding!" she looked around, almost frantically, "there's nowhere else for miles."
He didn't know for sure if her need was real or not. But as always, it stirred him, the thought of her thighs clenching, the pressure behind her pretty pussy. His cock was now an insistent presence. "Come, sit down for a moment," he asked her again.
She sat carefully beside him, groaning softly. Her eyes found his and her hand slid under his sketch pad, finding his hardness.
He feigned surprise, "What are you doing?"
She gestured at the pad, "You sketched me nearly naked, I thought perhaps you found me attractive." She gave his cock a painful squeeze, "I think perhaps you do."
"You're very attractive and a wonderful model, but a model and her artist need to keep their relationship professional," he told her.
Her hand stayed on the bulge in his pants. "I'm sorry but I find myself attracted to you."
She removed her hand then and sat back. He watched as she began inching the dress upwards, exposing her knees. "I do model nude but I charge rather more."
She stopped until a couple with two children had passed. Then the hem resumed its upward progress. She parted her knees. "Do you prefer the undraped form?"
The hem was high on her thighs and his erection was a near-painful thing. "Most certainly, there's nothing more beautiful"
The dress moved a little more. She was naked under the dress. Sunlight glistened bronze on the exposed wisps of her bush.
Her knees came together with an audible slap and she gasped and clutched at her groin. "Oh but I need to go," she hissed through clenched teeth, all her playfulness gone. She glanced left and right, "Hold me."
He slid his hand under her skirt, under her hands and cupped her.
"Tight," she said.
He gripped her. They'd often played like this but never in public. He glanced around nervously but they were alone.
"The artist is being a little familiar now don't you think?" she asked him.
He didn't know how badly she needed to go and didn't really care. His own need swept over him like a flood. He felt her heat, her moisture, the soft press of her curls in his palm. It would be only moments before someone came by and the moment would be gone. He slipped one, two fingers into her and she moaned.
He wanted her so very, very badly. His trapped cock seemed about to burst. He slid his fingers deeper into her. She was all heat and cream inside.
"Someone's coming!" she hissed.
They sat while three teenagers went by, all noise and strut. Her skirt was over her knees again, his pad covering his groin.
As soon as they were alone her hand was on him again. "My turn," she said, her voice gone husky. In moments it seemed, she had him unzipped and his rigid cock out from under his briefs. "That's very flattering," she said, her small hand wrapping around his shaft.
She withdrew her hand and slid it up, under her dress. When she grasped him again her hand was slick with her own juices.
"Now somebody really will be coming," she whispered as she began pumping him.
It took no time at all before he was sobbing towards release. His body struggled, reached climax and hegushed helplessly, time and again.
A woman was approaching with her dog and Candice' hand slipped away from him. He was acutely aware of his open pants and his exposed cock under the sketch pad.
The dachshund led its owner past them and Candice lifted the sketch pad She giggled, "Aren't you messy?"
"That's art," he countered, "you wouldn't understand."
She hastily tucked his cock away and zipped him up. "Now give me your arm and help me hobble to the 'ladies.'"
"Don't you want ... ?" he murmured.
"My pussy and I need two things right now. The first is a pee.
He helped her to her feet. She grimaced as she slowlystraightened.
When she finally emerged he asked, "And the second thing?"
For answer she took his hand and led him towards the bridge that crossed the lake. When they were half way across she asked him to help her up so she could sit on the balustrade. "A little more sketching perhaps?" she asked, wriggling her ass on the stonework.
He stood opposite her, pencil at the ready. Candice rested her hands on the stonework beside her and crossed her legs. A Japanese couple crossed between them, smiling and giving little, bowing nods.
When they were gone she uncrossed her legs and opened them. She was suddenly all thighs. Sunlight through the dress lit their junction. Barry's eyes met hers, she smiled and licked her lips. There was no mistaking the hunger in her eyes.
His hand trembled as the pencil made its first few strokes. She spread her legs wider, as wide as the dress hem would allow. She was open, he could see the deep pinkness of her. His cock thickened.
It was difficult to imagine a more provocative pose.
He crossed to her and slid a hand up the inside of her thigh. Up, up till fingertips found wetness. His cock was rigid, despite it recent, happy madness.
"Shouldn't you be sketching?" she asked in a husky voice that made nonsense of her words.
He made a cock from three fingers and slid it slowly into her. She sobbed, she actually sobbed.
"Oh God! Barry! Stop!" she hissed the words.
A group of camera-bedecked tourists were approaching.
He retreated to his own side of the bridge and looked at her. Her legs were crossed again, her pose perfect but her face was flushed and her eyes were closed.
The fingers that held the pad glistened in the sunshine, glistened with Candice' juice. He made a pretence of drawing. The people passed. Smiles and 'Hellos' were exchanged.
Then they were gone and he crossed to her. Her legs opened to welcome him. She drew up the hem of the dress, "Kiss me, kiss me down here Barry."
He glanced round, no one on or near the bridge, he bent, his head between her thighs. Gently, oh sogently, he pressed his mouth into her pussy. Her soft thighs closed over his ears, he closed his eyes and left her to keep watch.
His tongue and lips explored her soft sweetness, her musky scent filled his nostrils. He felt her hands on the back of his head, her groin bucked against his mouth.
Suddenly her thighs tensed,.muscles and tendons straining. She was coming. She came. Sudden hot wetness filling his mouth.
Moments later she was frantically pushing him away. He surfaced and looked around. To his left, at the end ofthe bridge stood a policeman, his helmet making him very tall.
He saw the man grin and give a casual salute, turn and walk slowly away from them, along the side of the lake.
Barry looked at Candice and she looked back down at him. Her breasts were heaving and her face bore a deep blush. He helped her down and she clung to him.
"I'm so wet," she murmured.
He put his hand to his mouth, his beard, "Me too."
"Take me home lover, before we get arrested."
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
"Alphabetically Yours" Daphne
by Julius
Copyright 2005
"Tomorrow, I'm going to be Daphne, your neighbour. "She'd told him over breakfast, the day before.
"You mean Daphne ...?" he'd gestured, with a movement of his head.
"Yes Barry, that Daphne."
She knew he had a thing about the woman next door. There was no doubt that Daphne was an attractive girl; black hair, a perpetually suntan it seemed, and a perfect figure. But blonde Gwen knew she had bigger tits and a better ass and longer legs and she kept Barry on his toes in the bedroom.
She supposed it was the greener-grass syndrome, the male-wandering-eye thing. Gwen planned on giving Barry a Daphne overdose. She doubted it would really cure him but it might get the message across. AND she was going to enjoy herself.
Gwen was half way through two weeks of house-sitting for Daphne and John. She watered plants, closed and opened curtains and turned lights on and off at appropriate times. Barry had mowed the lawn the day before. All very neighbourly.
The idea to "be" Daphne had popped into her head when she'd been browsing through her neighbour's underwear drawer. Make that underwear drawers - well actually, all six drawers of a dresser. Her naighbour had everything from plain, cotton panties to nearly non-existent thongs. From plain white sports bras to corsets that made Gwen drool.
She lovingly sifted through the drawers, it turned her on. The crotchless panties and pantyhose especially; she'd never worn anything crotchless. She wondered how Barry would react to her wearing panties like that.
At that moment the idea was born.
Daphne was smaller than Gwen but that wouldn't matter. Everything would be tight and revealing. As for wearing someone else's underwear? That would just add to the attraction for Barry, she suspected.
She'd bought a black wig and left it, and a pair of her own heels, in Daphne's bedroom, in readiness for the day.
By the time she told Barry, she was deliciously turned on. She couldn't get the idea of wearing the very different underwear out of her mind. She was going to buy herself a pile of crotchless hose and panties when this little adventure was over; that was a promise.
The rest of the day was spent in wonderful anticipation. She knew what was coming and seemed to be getting hornier by the minute. She sensed the tension in Barry too, the poor guy could hardly contain himself. 'Oh Barry my love, just you wait,' she purred to herself.
They both slept badly. She seemed to spend as much energy keeping away from his roaming hands, as she did in restraining her own. Finally day dawned and she slid out of bed. She bent to kiss him.
"I'm going next door, I'll phone you when breakfast isready." He grunted and reached for her but she squirmed away. He flung back the covers and gestured at his erection.
"Look!" he said, "he wants his breakfast now."
She looked at his beautiful cock and felt the flutter in her belly. Oh that lovely thing, she wanted it so badly at that moment. She dashed for the bedroom door. "I'll phone, soon."
She let herself into Daphne's house, locked the door behind her, and went upstairs.
She struggled into a little pair of Daphne's shorts and a white halter top. She'd have to go braless. Daphne's sports bras were stretchy, but not that stretchy. The wig was next, she stared into the mirror. The transformation was amazing. She was certainly no Daphne look-alike but the general effect was quite remarkable. It was the way her neighbour dressed for jogging each morning. It was how Gwen sawher when she passed the house ... the way Barry saw her too.
Downstairs, she turned her attention to breakfast. Something light was called for. Coffee, fruit and croissants seemed to fill the bill. She softened some butter in the microwave and reached for the phone.
The front door-chime sounded and Gwen, a.k.a. Daphne, went to answer it.
"Hi Barry," she said.
Barry's face lit up, he opened his mouth but no reply emerged. He closed it and grinned stupidly. Finally he managed, "I really thought for a minute ..."
"You thought I was Daphne," she said.
He looked almost disappointed. 'My God, he really does have the hots for her,' she thought. Jealously stirred inside her. She turned and headed for the kitchen, "Breakfast's this way."
He sat and ate. She moved about the kitchen, getting his coffee, fetching cream from the fridge. His eyes never seemed to leave her. She knew the too-small, Lycra shorts and halter top emphasized her charms.
They might be Daphne's clothes but it was her, Gwen, filling them. Before the day was done he'd have no doubt about that. She didn't join him at the table but paraded for him, while she found little odd jobs to do, eating her breakfast as she went.
"I have dusting to do," she announced, "would you do the washing-up while I change?" With that she left and headed upstairs.
When she came back to the kitchen Barry just stared. It was very flattering but a little irritating too. She had rendered him speechless with her appearance but she knew he was seeing the black wig. Some part of him, she was certain, was seeing Daphne.
"Well, neighbour of mine, pour yourself a coffee and come and keep me company while I clean up the living room."
She walked out, hips swinging.
Her outfit had been a last minute find in one of Daphne's bottom drawers. The traditional French maid's uniform, a black dress with white frills and a small apron. Gwen thought it the sweetest thing. With a little cap on her head and a feather duster in her hand, she knew she looked very much the part.
To complete the outfit, she wore fishnet pantyhose; crotchless, fishnet pantyhose and a pair of black panties. Under the dress, one of Daphne's black bras struggled to contain her breasts. She stood, poised in her black heels and waited for Barry.
"My God Gwen, you look good enough to eat," he said.
"Very flattering Barry, but I'm Daphne remember, so you'd better behave yourself."
Barry grunted and sat down, his eyes never leaving her.
"You forgot to bring your coffee. I'll fetch it." She headed back to the kitchen.
She returned with a brimming mug and handed it to him. 'Gotcha!' she said to herself as his gaze dropped to her cleavage. She was all but falling out of the inadequate bra, as she bent over him. She imagined his cock swelling. "Just sit and drink that, while I get the dusting done."
She made a display out of the dusting, stretching and reaching and bending, anything to show herself off. The pantyhose left her exposed, back and front, and in between, except where the brief black panties gave her token covering.
Barry had never seen her looking so sexy. He was acutely aware of his own arousal and sensed hers. He knew his mind was a little confused, even if his cock wasn't. The wig and surroundings told him one thing, while her face and her flesh told him another.
She was playing a game with him. The outfit was to seduce him, yet her words said she was off limits. He had to play along, but every move she made seemed to scream 'fuck me!'
He wondered if the panties were Daphne's. They mustbe, Gwen never wore black underwear. This new knowledge seemed make his cock even harder. He wanted more than ever to press his face between Gwen's legs or was that Daphne's legs?
She bent far over to flick imaginary dust off books on a bottom shelf and he saw that the panties were now lodged in the cleft of her ass. He groaned. She turned and smiled sweetly. "Covet not thy neighbour's wife," she lifted her little skirt at the front, "nor her box."
Bary gazed longingly at the swell of her mound.
Turning again, she bent, "Nor her ass?"
"How can I help it?" he said, seeing nothing but fishnet and flesh. "It's a lovely ass."
She moved across the room to a long coffee table. Picking up her can of glass cleaner she sprayed the table's glass top.
"Would you help me please?" she asked.
He got to his feet and walked over.
"I don't want to leave any smears."
He stood, wondering what she wanted. They weren't here to clean house together - at least he hoped not.
"You'll have to wriggle under the table to see properly," she said, gesturing as if it were the most obvious thing to do.
It seemed a little silly but this was her game and presumably her rules. He shrugged and got down on the floor, and wriggled his way under the table. She began cleaning the glass, this was a show and he was an all but captive audience.
She wiped the glass clean and, after a last flourish,asked, "How's that?"
"Utterly perfect," he said, looking up at her.
"Thought you might like some different views of the female form." With that she sat, straddling the table, legs wide astride. He watched her through the glass.
"I hope you like my little titties Barry, Gwen has such big ones." She peeled the left cup down and her breast poured out. She set the right one free in the same way.
"I happen to like Gwen's breasts."
"But these are nice too?" she moved her shoulders making her breasts jostle.
"Honey, I know we're playing a game here. But seriously, I love your breasts, they're bigger than Daphne's and I'm glad they are."
She made no reply but looked at him and blew him a kiss. She took a lipstick from the apron's pocket and removed the cap. Very slowly and with infinite care, she coloured first one nipple and then the other. As she worked, his cock swelled and strained.
She coloured the areolae, the lipstick pulling the tender flesh this way and that. Like his cock, her nipples grew and lengthened as she worked.
He reached into his pants to adjust his trapped erection. It needed out, poor thing.
She smiled, "So Barry's a tits man is he? I thought he might be."
She continued to torment him with the decorating of her nipples, until they were bigger than he'd ever seen them. He wondered if he could come, just from watching her. He found himself squirming, almost desperate with his need. 'God!' but his cock felt huge.
Finally satisfied, she put the lipstick back in the apron and leaned forward on her hands. She lowered herself until her nipples touched the glass. Down she went, flattening her breasts against the glass. The circles of flesh grew until they touched, forming a figure of eight. With her weight resting on them, her breasts looked huge.
Barry couldn't resist, he wriggled along under the table and raised his head to kiss her nipples through the glass. She laughed, "What would Gwen say if she could see you now?"
He wondered what Daphne would think if she could see Gwen performing on her coffee table. But the thought was gone in a moment. He sank back to the carpet, his neck protesting.
She raised herself slowly, peeling herself off the glass, her breasts forming spheres again. Two dark, pink circles of lipstick on the glass marked where her big nipples had rested.
She worked her way along the table until she was sat, splay-legged, directly above his face. 'Her pussy mustbe wide open,' he thought. Her ass and thighs were flattened against the glass as her breasts had been.
The black nylon of the panties was stretched tight across her pussy, every contour outlined, emphasised. Had these panties covered Daphne's mound too? He was sure they had. There he went again, thinking about Daphne, he sighed, perhaps Gwen was right. But he wanted his wife so badly, wanted to nuzzle his mouth against the black-clad cunt above him.
She was moving again, to the end of the table. The panties were deep between her buttocks. How he longed to touch, to stroke his eager aching cock.
Still sat she bent over slowly, reaching down and resting herhands on the floor. Her breasts hung, full and heavy. "Come kiss these Barry," she told him.
Eagerly he wriggled himself out until his head was clear of the table. Her nipples were inches from his face. She bent her elbows a little and swung those lovely breasts, brushing them against his lips. She stopped moving and he took her left nipple between his lips.
"Gwen says you can make her come like this. Can you make me come?"
There was something very special about her pose. He'd never seen or held or loved her breasts quite this waybefore. She was above him, yet his only contact with her were his hands and his mouth. His hands cupped and caressed, held and lifted her heavy, swollen softness. The lipsticked nipple tasted of strawberries. It was almost hard with its arousal, daring his teeth to bite.
He released her nipple for a moment and murmured, "You do have the most beautiful breasts in the world."
Her reply was to move her shoulders, making the breast jostle in his hands. The other swung enticingly. He returned to his suckling.
He squeezed the breast and she murmured her enjoyment. He squeezed harder and she moaned. He sucked and nibbled, pulling hungrily at her and she did come, suddenly. She shook and sobbed as she gained release. He didn't stop but suckled and teased drawing out her orgasm, marvelling at her passion.
His own arousal had reached the point where he'd thought he would come with her. How he wanted his cock out, longed to touch it, have it touched, have it buried somewhere inside her. God, but he had to fuck.
But she was offering the other breast to him.
"I want you," he said, almost pleading.
"I want you too," she told him, her voice deep with arousal.
But she seemed intent on teasing them both. Making him wait. Making herself wait too. She was different today, the wig, the sweet sluttish displays. Despite these he still saw her as his wife, not his neighbour, Daphne.
He took the other breast in his hands and opened his mouth to make love to the nipple. He was gentle this time and she didn't seem to want any more than that. It was as if they were taking a break, a quiet moment before the storm that must come soon.
She didn't come this time, but her arousal built and built as he nursed steadily at her nipple. She knew that the other teases and poses she'd planned for his delight would have to wait for another time. She wanted him and she sensed his desperate need for her.
She struggled up to a sitting position. Her breasts felt heavy and their nipples tormented her with their sensitivity. She got off the table and knelt at its end.
"Come fuck me," she said.
He wriggled out from under the table, stood and pushed his pants down. His white briefs boasted a wet patch where he'd leaked so much pre-cum. He pushed his briefs off his hips and his splendid cock sprang free. Her heart leapt at the sight of it.
He moved round and knelt behind her, hooked her panties with a finger and pulled them to one side. Her slickness offered no resistance and his cock slid into her. They both moaned at the sweet satisfaction.
For a few long moments they were still, as each savoured the other. Her heat clung to him, his swollen length filled her.
Then they simply fucked.
He reached out and pulled off the black wig and Gwen'sblonde hair spilled free.
"Let me fuck my Gwen."
"What about Daphne?" she said.
"Fuck Daphne."
"You'd better not; fuck me instead."
The sex was quick and noisy. It had to be, they were too aroused to ever hold back. His spasms seemed never ending, scalding through the length of his cock. He thrust and she responded, he strove to fill her, she sought to be filled.
Crouched, coupled and spent, in that most natural of poses, they let hearts and lungs slow to normal. Again her breasts were crushed against the glass. She felt him dwindling inside her.
"Take me home and do that again?" she begged him very quietly.
He raised himself, his now-small cock slipped from her. She gave the little squeal she always gave at the mini-birth sensation.
"I'd like that," he whispered.
She reached between her thighs and eased the panties back over her cum-leaking pussy.
She stood unsteadily on wobbly legs, turned and sat heavily on the end of the table. Sprawling back she spread her thighs wide catching the waist-band of the panties with her fingers. Playing the slut, she drew them up, up, cruelly tight.
"Kiss me, kiss my pussy before you take me home."
He knelt and pressed his parted lips against the soaked crotch of the panties; Daphne's panties.
Copyright 2005
"Tomorrow, I'm going to be Daphne, your neighbour. "She'd told him over breakfast, the day before.
"You mean Daphne ...?" he'd gestured, with a movement of his head.
"Yes Barry, that Daphne."
She knew he had a thing about the woman next door. There was no doubt that Daphne was an attractive girl; black hair, a perpetually suntan it seemed, and a perfect figure. But blonde Gwen knew she had bigger tits and a better ass and longer legs and she kept Barry on his toes in the bedroom.
She supposed it was the greener-grass syndrome, the male-wandering-eye thing. Gwen planned on giving Barry a Daphne overdose. She doubted it would really cure him but it might get the message across. AND she was going to enjoy herself.
Gwen was half way through two weeks of house-sitting for Daphne and John. She watered plants, closed and opened curtains and turned lights on and off at appropriate times. Barry had mowed the lawn the day before. All very neighbourly.
The idea to "be" Daphne had popped into her head when she'd been browsing through her neighbour's underwear drawer. Make that underwear drawers - well actually, all six drawers of a dresser. Her naighbour had everything from plain, cotton panties to nearly non-existent thongs. From plain white sports bras to corsets that made Gwen drool.
She lovingly sifted through the drawers, it turned her on. The crotchless panties and pantyhose especially; she'd never worn anything crotchless. She wondered how Barry would react to her wearing panties like that.
At that moment the idea was born.
Daphne was smaller than Gwen but that wouldn't matter. Everything would be tight and revealing. As for wearing someone else's underwear? That would just add to the attraction for Barry, she suspected.
She'd bought a black wig and left it, and a pair of her own heels, in Daphne's bedroom, in readiness for the day.
By the time she told Barry, she was deliciously turned on. She couldn't get the idea of wearing the very different underwear out of her mind. She was going to buy herself a pile of crotchless hose and panties when this little adventure was over; that was a promise.
The rest of the day was spent in wonderful anticipation. She knew what was coming and seemed to be getting hornier by the minute. She sensed the tension in Barry too, the poor guy could hardly contain himself. 'Oh Barry my love, just you wait,' she purred to herself.
They both slept badly. She seemed to spend as much energy keeping away from his roaming hands, as she did in restraining her own. Finally day dawned and she slid out of bed. She bent to kiss him.
"I'm going next door, I'll phone you when breakfast isready." He grunted and reached for her but she squirmed away. He flung back the covers and gestured at his erection.
"Look!" he said, "he wants his breakfast now."
She looked at his beautiful cock and felt the flutter in her belly. Oh that lovely thing, she wanted it so badly at that moment. She dashed for the bedroom door. "I'll phone, soon."
She let herself into Daphne's house, locked the door behind her, and went upstairs.
She struggled into a little pair of Daphne's shorts and a white halter top. She'd have to go braless. Daphne's sports bras were stretchy, but not that stretchy. The wig was next, she stared into the mirror. The transformation was amazing. She was certainly no Daphne look-alike but the general effect was quite remarkable. It was the way her neighbour dressed for jogging each morning. It was how Gwen sawher when she passed the house ... the way Barry saw her too.
Downstairs, she turned her attention to breakfast. Something light was called for. Coffee, fruit and croissants seemed to fill the bill. She softened some butter in the microwave and reached for the phone.
The front door-chime sounded and Gwen, a.k.a. Daphne, went to answer it.
"Hi Barry," she said.
Barry's face lit up, he opened his mouth but no reply emerged. He closed it and grinned stupidly. Finally he managed, "I really thought for a minute ..."
"You thought I was Daphne," she said.
He looked almost disappointed. 'My God, he really does have the hots for her,' she thought. Jealously stirred inside her. She turned and headed for the kitchen, "Breakfast's this way."
He sat and ate. She moved about the kitchen, getting his coffee, fetching cream from the fridge. His eyes never seemed to leave her. She knew the too-small, Lycra shorts and halter top emphasized her charms.
They might be Daphne's clothes but it was her, Gwen, filling them. Before the day was done he'd have no doubt about that. She didn't join him at the table but paraded for him, while she found little odd jobs to do, eating her breakfast as she went.
"I have dusting to do," she announced, "would you do the washing-up while I change?" With that she left and headed upstairs.
When she came back to the kitchen Barry just stared. It was very flattering but a little irritating too. She had rendered him speechless with her appearance but she knew he was seeing the black wig. Some part of him, she was certain, was seeing Daphne.
"Well, neighbour of mine, pour yourself a coffee and come and keep me company while I clean up the living room."
She walked out, hips swinging.
Her outfit had been a last minute find in one of Daphne's bottom drawers. The traditional French maid's uniform, a black dress with white frills and a small apron. Gwen thought it the sweetest thing. With a little cap on her head and a feather duster in her hand, she knew she looked very much the part.
To complete the outfit, she wore fishnet pantyhose; crotchless, fishnet pantyhose and a pair of black panties. Under the dress, one of Daphne's black bras struggled to contain her breasts. She stood, poised in her black heels and waited for Barry.
"My God Gwen, you look good enough to eat," he said.
"Very flattering Barry, but I'm Daphne remember, so you'd better behave yourself."
Barry grunted and sat down, his eyes never leaving her.
"You forgot to bring your coffee. I'll fetch it." She headed back to the kitchen.
She returned with a brimming mug and handed it to him. 'Gotcha!' she said to herself as his gaze dropped to her cleavage. She was all but falling out of the inadequate bra, as she bent over him. She imagined his cock swelling. "Just sit and drink that, while I get the dusting done."
She made a display out of the dusting, stretching and reaching and bending, anything to show herself off. The pantyhose left her exposed, back and front, and in between, except where the brief black panties gave her token covering.
Barry had never seen her looking so sexy. He was acutely aware of his own arousal and sensed hers. He knew his mind was a little confused, even if his cock wasn't. The wig and surroundings told him one thing, while her face and her flesh told him another.
She was playing a game with him. The outfit was to seduce him, yet her words said she was off limits. He had to play along, but every move she made seemed to scream 'fuck me!'
He wondered if the panties were Daphne's. They mustbe, Gwen never wore black underwear. This new knowledge seemed make his cock even harder. He wanted more than ever to press his face between Gwen's legs or was that Daphne's legs?
She bent far over to flick imaginary dust off books on a bottom shelf and he saw that the panties were now lodged in the cleft of her ass. He groaned. She turned and smiled sweetly. "Covet not thy neighbour's wife," she lifted her little skirt at the front, "nor her box."
Bary gazed longingly at the swell of her mound.
Turning again, she bent, "Nor her ass?"
"How can I help it?" he said, seeing nothing but fishnet and flesh. "It's a lovely ass."
She moved across the room to a long coffee table. Picking up her can of glass cleaner she sprayed the table's glass top.
"Would you help me please?" she asked.
He got to his feet and walked over.
"I don't want to leave any smears."
He stood, wondering what she wanted. They weren't here to clean house together - at least he hoped not.
"You'll have to wriggle under the table to see properly," she said, gesturing as if it were the most obvious thing to do.
It seemed a little silly but this was her game and presumably her rules. He shrugged and got down on the floor, and wriggled his way under the table. She began cleaning the glass, this was a show and he was an all but captive audience.
She wiped the glass clean and, after a last flourish,asked, "How's that?"
"Utterly perfect," he said, looking up at her.
"Thought you might like some different views of the female form." With that she sat, straddling the table, legs wide astride. He watched her through the glass.
"I hope you like my little titties Barry, Gwen has such big ones." She peeled the left cup down and her breast poured out. She set the right one free in the same way.
"I happen to like Gwen's breasts."
"But these are nice too?" she moved her shoulders making her breasts jostle.
"Honey, I know we're playing a game here. But seriously, I love your breasts, they're bigger than Daphne's and I'm glad they are."
She made no reply but looked at him and blew him a kiss. She took a lipstick from the apron's pocket and removed the cap. Very slowly and with infinite care, she coloured first one nipple and then the other. As she worked, his cock swelled and strained.
She coloured the areolae, the lipstick pulling the tender flesh this way and that. Like his cock, her nipples grew and lengthened as she worked.
He reached into his pants to adjust his trapped erection. It needed out, poor thing.
She smiled, "So Barry's a tits man is he? I thought he might be."
She continued to torment him with the decorating of her nipples, until they were bigger than he'd ever seen them. He wondered if he could come, just from watching her. He found himself squirming, almost desperate with his need. 'God!' but his cock felt huge.
Finally satisfied, she put the lipstick back in the apron and leaned forward on her hands. She lowered herself until her nipples touched the glass. Down she went, flattening her breasts against the glass. The circles of flesh grew until they touched, forming a figure of eight. With her weight resting on them, her breasts looked huge.
Barry couldn't resist, he wriggled along under the table and raised his head to kiss her nipples through the glass. She laughed, "What would Gwen say if she could see you now?"
He wondered what Daphne would think if she could see Gwen performing on her coffee table. But the thought was gone in a moment. He sank back to the carpet, his neck protesting.
She raised herself slowly, peeling herself off the glass, her breasts forming spheres again. Two dark, pink circles of lipstick on the glass marked where her big nipples had rested.
She worked her way along the table until she was sat, splay-legged, directly above his face. 'Her pussy mustbe wide open,' he thought. Her ass and thighs were flattened against the glass as her breasts had been.
The black nylon of the panties was stretched tight across her pussy, every contour outlined, emphasised. Had these panties covered Daphne's mound too? He was sure they had. There he went again, thinking about Daphne, he sighed, perhaps Gwen was right. But he wanted his wife so badly, wanted to nuzzle his mouth against the black-clad cunt above him.
She was moving again, to the end of the table. The panties were deep between her buttocks. How he longed to touch, to stroke his eager aching cock.
Still sat she bent over slowly, reaching down and resting herhands on the floor. Her breasts hung, full and heavy. "Come kiss these Barry," she told him.
Eagerly he wriggled himself out until his head was clear of the table. Her nipples were inches from his face. She bent her elbows a little and swung those lovely breasts, brushing them against his lips. She stopped moving and he took her left nipple between his lips.
"Gwen says you can make her come like this. Can you make me come?"
There was something very special about her pose. He'd never seen or held or loved her breasts quite this waybefore. She was above him, yet his only contact with her were his hands and his mouth. His hands cupped and caressed, held and lifted her heavy, swollen softness. The lipsticked nipple tasted of strawberries. It was almost hard with its arousal, daring his teeth to bite.
He released her nipple for a moment and murmured, "You do have the most beautiful breasts in the world."
Her reply was to move her shoulders, making the breast jostle in his hands. The other swung enticingly. He returned to his suckling.
He squeezed the breast and she murmured her enjoyment. He squeezed harder and she moaned. He sucked and nibbled, pulling hungrily at her and she did come, suddenly. She shook and sobbed as she gained release. He didn't stop but suckled and teased drawing out her orgasm, marvelling at her passion.
His own arousal had reached the point where he'd thought he would come with her. How he wanted his cock out, longed to touch it, have it touched, have it buried somewhere inside her. God, but he had to fuck.
But she was offering the other breast to him.
"I want you," he said, almost pleading.
"I want you too," she told him, her voice deep with arousal.
But she seemed intent on teasing them both. Making him wait. Making herself wait too. She was different today, the wig, the sweet sluttish displays. Despite these he still saw her as his wife, not his neighbour, Daphne.
He took the other breast in his hands and opened his mouth to make love to the nipple. He was gentle this time and she didn't seem to want any more than that. It was as if they were taking a break, a quiet moment before the storm that must come soon.
She didn't come this time, but her arousal built and built as he nursed steadily at her nipple. She knew that the other teases and poses she'd planned for his delight would have to wait for another time. She wanted him and she sensed his desperate need for her.
She struggled up to a sitting position. Her breasts felt heavy and their nipples tormented her with their sensitivity. She got off the table and knelt at its end.
"Come fuck me," she said.
He wriggled out from under the table, stood and pushed his pants down. His white briefs boasted a wet patch where he'd leaked so much pre-cum. He pushed his briefs off his hips and his splendid cock sprang free. Her heart leapt at the sight of it.
He moved round and knelt behind her, hooked her panties with a finger and pulled them to one side. Her slickness offered no resistance and his cock slid into her. They both moaned at the sweet satisfaction.
For a few long moments they were still, as each savoured the other. Her heat clung to him, his swollen length filled her.
Then they simply fucked.
He reached out and pulled off the black wig and Gwen'sblonde hair spilled free.
"Let me fuck my Gwen."
"What about Daphne?" she said.
"Fuck Daphne."
"You'd better not; fuck me instead."
The sex was quick and noisy. It had to be, they were too aroused to ever hold back. His spasms seemed never ending, scalding through the length of his cock. He thrust and she responded, he strove to fill her, she sought to be filled.
Crouched, coupled and spent, in that most natural of poses, they let hearts and lungs slow to normal. Again her breasts were crushed against the glass. She felt him dwindling inside her.
"Take me home and do that again?" she begged him very quietly.
He raised himself, his now-small cock slipped from her. She gave the little squeal she always gave at the mini-birth sensation.
"I'd like that," he whispered.
She reached between her thighs and eased the panties back over her cum-leaking pussy.
She stood unsteadily on wobbly legs, turned and sat heavily on the end of the table. Sprawling back she spread her thighs wide catching the waist-band of the panties with her fingers. Playing the slut, she drew them up, up, cruelly tight.
"Kiss me, kiss my pussy before you take me home."
He knelt and pressed his parted lips against the soaked crotch of the panties; Daphne's panties.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
"Alphabetically Yours" Eve
by Julius
Copyright 2005
On Saturday, Gwen had thought of it, her next name, and a scenario to go with it.
Sunday morning dawned sunny, promising a hot day. It was a month now since their little frolic next door at Daphne's. She nudged Barry awake, "Coffee on the back deck?"
Barry got up, mumbled, "Sounds great," and padded towards the bathroom, sporting a healthy erection. 'You'll be needing that,' thought Gwen, getting out of bed and heading for the kitchen.
She put the coffee on and went outside. The trees, plus the fence Barry had put up the previous year, gave them complete privacy. Gwen peeled off the old tee-shirt she wore in bed and revelled in the touch of cool morning air. Naked, she stood looking down at herself, as the chill worked its magic on her nipples.
Barry emerged, wearing just boxers, "You're beautiful," he told her.
"I am today," she said softly. "I'm Eve, the first woman in the world, created fresh this morn."
"Then I'm Adam and very lucky," he grinned, realising this must be the next of her pretend sessions. "Pray tell, is this before or after the serpent's intervention?"
"Before, I'm afraid."
Barry feigned horror, "Nothing carnal then?"
"'Fraid not."
"Then I can just look?" he asked, looking anyway.
She pirouetted, "Oh yes, you'll even be allowed to touch."
Barry ate his toast and marmalade and sipped his coffee. His eyes followed her every move. Finally, she said, "The shorts have to go Adam." She placed her hand on her stomach and slid it down until her fingertips reached her trimmed bush. "This is Eden, remember."
He stood and slipped his shorts off his hips and stepped out of them. Gwen loved his cock. She wanted to touch it, to feel its hot heaviness. Not a full erection yet, but it was swollen and lifting to near horizontal. There was a sweet satisfaction in knowing she was the cause.
Moving across the kitchen, she picked up a small bag and headed outside again. She swore she could feel his eyes caress her ass. Turning in the doorway, she beckoned him to follow.
Taking a bottle of massage oil from the bag, she turned to face him. "I was wondering ..." she said.
After a pause Barry asked, "Wondering what?"
"Well, how would this girl look, covered in oil? How would it feel, having you put it on for me?"
She handed him the oil and he said, "Sounds a great idea." The grin on his face said just how great he thought it was.
He did her arms first, slow and gentle. His eyes seldom left her jostling breasts.
Kneeling in front of her, he began to oil her legs, starting at her feet. Slowly he worked his way up. When he reached mid thigh, she turned and leaned her hands on the picnic table.
He got to his feet and Gwen gave a little wiggle. "You can do my ass," she said, "but you mustn't enjoy it, OK?"
"OK."
She loved it. His slick hands slid over the swells of her ass in a continual caress. When he ventured his fingers a little between her buttocks, she wanted to tell him how good it felt, wanted him to go further, deeper. Christ, but it turned her on. She tried not to writhe, tried not to bend further. He never quite reached her anus, never lingered too long, just smoothed and slid his clever hands over her soft flesh.
She had to turn, to turn and look at his cock, to see his eyes. Oh sweet Jesus, his cock! Too big for her surely, too big for her sweet little pussy. And oh, the look in his eyes, the longing, the wanting. The poor, dear man, he wanted her as much as she wanted him!
She picked up the oil and began dribbling it over her breasts.
As he raised his hands she cautioned him, "Now remember, no enjoying this, either of us."
"Of course not," he said hoarsely.
She'd not imagined she'd get so aroused, not so quickly. They were to play, enjoy each other's bodies. Prolonged outdoor foreplay, that's what she'd planned.
His hands were on her breasts and the messages were pouring down to her pussy. She stared down, between his caressing hands. His cock pointed straight up at her. A clear drop of his juice crept down his shaft, another oozed out to follow it. The jutting erection swayed from side to side, as he oiled her breasts. It was hypnotic, how she wanted it in her hand, in her mouth, in her cunt.
It was a measure of her arousal, saying the word cunt to herself. Her whole being seem focused on cock and cunt; his cock, her cunt. The denial was sweet torture.
Her hands reached back and gripped the edges of the table as he cupped and lifted the soft globes of her breasts. Gwen's nipples responded to his palms, his fingers, until every nerve ending in her body seemed wired to the tips of those breasts.
"I can't take much more," she heard the words, and realised she'd spoken aloud.
She fumbled for the bag and took out a large red apple. It was temptation time.
"We're forbidden to eat of the fruit of that tree," he told her, nodding towards the apple in her hand.
Bless him, she thought, playing his part, despite his raging hard-on.
She brought the apple down and pressed it between her legs.
Gwen watched him watch her, his eyes fixed on what her hand was doing.
She perched her ass on the edge of the table and spread her thighs obscenely wide. Drawing the apple up and down her wetness, she fucked herself. She had the crazy idea of pushing it up inside her, despite its size.
She was so wet now, leaking, coating the apple. Would it really go inside her, she wondered? Barry's groan woke her from her fantasy. She raised her hand and offered the apple to him.
He licked it, the most erotic thing she'd ever seen. He took a bite, the sound loud and crisp. Gwen lowered the apple and began rubbing herself again.
Leaning back and straining her thighs open wider, she worked the apple, hard and deep, up and down, between the lips of her pussy.
"Adam want another bite?" she taunted him, "Adam want another taste?"
She felt the heat flooding inside her and knew she could bring herself off like this. She'd surely never been this cock-hungry before? That cock was only a couple of feet from her and it looked beautiful. She was going to have it in her, so very, very soon. The apple slid up and down.
She watched Barry through slitted eyes. He was staring at the action between her legs, his mouth slightly open. He licked his lips repeatedly. She looked down, her thighs were wide spread, tendons straining. Her hand ground the big, red apple into her pussy, slow and steady.
"For fuck's sake," growled Barry, bringing her back to earth. Her poor husband was gripping his beautiful cock now and pumping it slowly, his face a mask of longing.
He stepped forward and took the apple from her hand and flung it into the bushes. Pushing her back onto the table, he plunged his face between her legs. Gwen sobbed as his tongue and lips tried to devour her.
She writhed under Barry's mouth, like a fish on a hook. His tongue licked and lapped. His lips, kissing and sucking were turning her inside out. A scream began to bubble in her throat. God! She was coming!
He straightened and roughly pulled her off the table and spun her round. Her orgasm crouched in her body, poised, stretched. Her being held its breath, waiting. Sobbing on the brink, she braced herself with herhands on the table. She felt herself, quivering, trembling.
She was so wet with her juices that he entered her effortlessly, in one long, hungry lunge. She felt and heard his thighs slap against her ass. The head of his cock nudged against her cervix, making her gasp. He was deep in her in that one thrust, gripping her hips with his hands, grinding hard, trying to pierce her yet further.
She collapsed onto the table, her breasts crushed against the rough wooden planks. Barry thrust and withdrew, thrust and withdrew with a desperate hunger. The heavy table moved a little with each of his lunges. Gwen loved it, she was being fucked - no other word would do - and she heard herself telling him to fuck her, telling him over and over again.
He couldn't last long. She sensed him gatheringhimself, his breathing getting more desperate. He froze, thrust, froze again. God, she felt his cock swell inside her, heard him sob and then he was fighting, emptying himself inside her.
Gwen's orgasm burst free then. Her pussy spasmed and began its frantic milking of his cock, as she struggled and writhed between his straining body and the hard table top.
In time, they got their breath back and their hearts slowed. His cock softened and shrank, and crept from her. She loved and hated that withdrawal.
Barry stood and said softly, "Couldn't help myself hon."
He sounded almost sad and she felt the same flicker of loss. All that heat, all that passion, spent so quickly, done so soon.
She pushed herself up from the table and turned, weak and trembling, to face him. She smiled at him, her eyes locked with his. She wasn't finished yet and, although he didn't know it, neither was he.
She raised an eyebrow.
"What?" he asked her.
Gwen picked up the oil and reached for his shrunken cock.
"Let Eve have a word or two with this cute little serpent."
Copyright 2005
On Saturday, Gwen had thought of it, her next name, and a scenario to go with it.
Sunday morning dawned sunny, promising a hot day. It was a month now since their little frolic next door at Daphne's. She nudged Barry awake, "Coffee on the back deck?"
Barry got up, mumbled, "Sounds great," and padded towards the bathroom, sporting a healthy erection. 'You'll be needing that,' thought Gwen, getting out of bed and heading for the kitchen.
She put the coffee on and went outside. The trees, plus the fence Barry had put up the previous year, gave them complete privacy. Gwen peeled off the old tee-shirt she wore in bed and revelled in the touch of cool morning air. Naked, she stood looking down at herself, as the chill worked its magic on her nipples.
Barry emerged, wearing just boxers, "You're beautiful," he told her.
"I am today," she said softly. "I'm Eve, the first woman in the world, created fresh this morn."
"Then I'm Adam and very lucky," he grinned, realising this must be the next of her pretend sessions. "Pray tell, is this before or after the serpent's intervention?"
"Before, I'm afraid."
Barry feigned horror, "Nothing carnal then?"
"'Fraid not."
"Then I can just look?" he asked, looking anyway.
She pirouetted, "Oh yes, you'll even be allowed to touch."
At this he brightened but added, "But as you said, nothing carnal."
The scent of coffee drifted from the kitchen. "Let's have a little breakfast. Even Garden of Eden people have to eat." Gwen moved to the patio door.
Barry ate his toast and marmalade and sipped his coffee. His eyes followed her every move. Finally, she said, "The shorts have to go Adam." She placed her hand on her stomach and slid it down until her fingertips reached her trimmed bush. "This is Eden, remember."
He stood and slipped his shorts off his hips and stepped out of them. Gwen loved his cock. She wanted to touch it, to feel its hot heaviness. Not a full erection yet, but it was swollen and lifting to near horizontal. There was a sweet satisfaction in knowing she was the cause.
Moving across the kitchen, she picked up a small bag and headed outside again. She swore she could feel his eyes caress her ass. Turning in the doorway, she beckoned him to follow.
Taking a bottle of massage oil from the bag, she turned to face him. "I was wondering ..." she said.
After a pause Barry asked, "Wondering what?"
"Well, how would this girl look, covered in oil? How would it feel, having you put it on for me?"
She handed him the oil and he said, "Sounds a great idea." The grin on his face said just how great he thought it was.
He did her arms first, slow and gentle. His eyes seldom left her jostling breasts.
Kneeling in front of her, he began to oil her legs, starting at her feet. Slowly he worked his way up. When he reached mid thigh, she turned and leaned her hands on the picnic table.
He got to his feet and Gwen gave a little wiggle. "You can do my ass," she said, "but you mustn't enjoy it, OK?"
"OK."
She loved it. His slick hands slid over the swells of her ass in a continual caress. When he ventured his fingers a little between her buttocks, she wanted to tell him how good it felt, wanted him to go further, deeper. Christ, but it turned her on. She tried not to writhe, tried not to bend further. He never quite reached her anus, never lingered too long, just smoothed and slid his clever hands over her soft flesh.
She had to turn, to turn and look at his cock, to see his eyes. Oh sweet Jesus, his cock! Too big for her surely, too big for her sweet little pussy. And oh, the look in his eyes, the longing, the wanting. The poor, dear man, he wanted her as much as she wanted him!
She picked up the oil and began dribbling it over her breasts.
As he raised his hands she cautioned him, "Now remember, no enjoying this, either of us."
"Of course not," he said hoarsely.
She'd not imagined she'd get so aroused, not so quickly. They were to play, enjoy each other's bodies. Prolonged outdoor foreplay, that's what she'd planned.
His hands were on her breasts and the messages were pouring down to her pussy. She stared down, between his caressing hands. His cock pointed straight up at her. A clear drop of his juice crept down his shaft, another oozed out to follow it. The jutting erection swayed from side to side, as he oiled her breasts. It was hypnotic, how she wanted it in her hand, in her mouth, in her cunt.
It was a measure of her arousal, saying the word cunt to herself. Her whole being seem focused on cock and cunt; his cock, her cunt. The denial was sweet torture.
Her hands reached back and gripped the edges of the table as he cupped and lifted the soft globes of her breasts. Gwen's nipples responded to his palms, his fingers, until every nerve ending in her body seemed wired to the tips of those breasts.
"I can't take much more," she heard the words, and realised she'd spoken aloud.
She fumbled for the bag and took out a large red apple. It was temptation time.
"We're forbidden to eat of the fruit of that tree," he told her, nodding towards the apple in her hand.
Bless him, she thought, playing his part, despite his raging hard-on.
She brought the apple down and pressed it between her legs.
Gwen watched him watch her, his eyes fixed on what her hand was doing.
She perched her ass on the edge of the table and spread her thighs obscenely wide. Drawing the apple up and down her wetness, she fucked herself. She had the crazy idea of pushing it up inside her, despite its size.
She was so wet now, leaking, coating the apple. Would it really go inside her, she wondered? Barry's groan woke her from her fantasy. She raised her hand and offered the apple to him.
He licked it, the most erotic thing she'd ever seen. He took a bite, the sound loud and crisp. Gwen lowered the apple and began rubbing herself again.
Leaning back and straining her thighs open wider, she worked the apple, hard and deep, up and down, between the lips of her pussy.
"Adam want another bite?" she taunted him, "Adam want another taste?"
She felt the heat flooding inside her and knew she could bring herself off like this. She'd surely never been this cock-hungry before? That cock was only a couple of feet from her and it looked beautiful. She was going to have it in her, so very, very soon. The apple slid up and down.
She watched Barry through slitted eyes. He was staring at the action between her legs, his mouth slightly open. He licked his lips repeatedly. She looked down, her thighs were wide spread, tendons straining. Her hand ground the big, red apple into her pussy, slow and steady.
"For fuck's sake," growled Barry, bringing her back to earth. Her poor husband was gripping his beautiful cock now and pumping it slowly, his face a mask of longing.
He stepped forward and took the apple from her hand and flung it into the bushes. Pushing her back onto the table, he plunged his face between her legs. Gwen sobbed as his tongue and lips tried to devour her.
She writhed under Barry's mouth, like a fish on a hook. His tongue licked and lapped. His lips, kissing and sucking were turning her inside out. A scream began to bubble in her throat. God! She was coming!
He straightened and roughly pulled her off the table and spun her round. Her orgasm crouched in her body, poised, stretched. Her being held its breath, waiting. Sobbing on the brink, she braced herself with herhands on the table. She felt herself, quivering, trembling.
She was so wet with her juices that he entered her effortlessly, in one long, hungry lunge. She felt and heard his thighs slap against her ass. The head of his cock nudged against her cervix, making her gasp. He was deep in her in that one thrust, gripping her hips with his hands, grinding hard, trying to pierce her yet further.
She collapsed onto the table, her breasts crushed against the rough wooden planks. Barry thrust and withdrew, thrust and withdrew with a desperate hunger. The heavy table moved a little with each of his lunges. Gwen loved it, she was being fucked - no other word would do - and she heard herself telling him to fuck her, telling him over and over again.
He couldn't last long. She sensed him gatheringhimself, his breathing getting more desperate. He froze, thrust, froze again. God, she felt his cock swell inside her, heard him sob and then he was fighting, emptying himself inside her.
Gwen's orgasm burst free then. Her pussy spasmed and began its frantic milking of his cock, as she struggled and writhed between his straining body and the hard table top.
In time, they got their breath back and their hearts slowed. His cock softened and shrank, and crept from her. She loved and hated that withdrawal.
Barry stood and said softly, "Couldn't help myself hon."
He sounded almost sad and she felt the same flicker of loss. All that heat, all that passion, spent so quickly, done so soon.
She pushed herself up from the table and turned, weak and trembling, to face him. She smiled at him, her eyes locked with his. She wasn't finished yet and, although he didn't know it, neither was he.
She raised an eyebrow.
"What?" he asked her.
Gwen picked up the oil and reached for his shrunken cock.
"Let Eve have a word or two with this cute little serpent."
Friday, November 14, 2008
"Alphabetically Yours" Gwen
by Julius
Copyright October 2005
The postman didn't bring anything on Friday. Gwen knew she'd have to skip the letter 'F' for a little while. She was too horny to wait. Gwen was going to have to move on to 'G'. She'd be Gwen this time. In short, be herself.
She sat and idly played with their latest toy, a digital camera. Pointing it up her skirt, she pressed the button. She saw the flash through the cotton. There, a cute snapshot of the crotch of her panties. She smiled, yes, perfect for what she had in mind.
Gwen had known Barry wanted to fool around with the camera just a soon as they'd bought it. She rather liked the idea. Take pictures and not worry about having them developed and seen by prying eyes.
She'd always fancied being photographed in the bedroom but having intimate pictures pour out of one of those machines in the camera store; no way!
The idea of taking pictures of Barry's cock ... getting him hard, being his fluffer. She itched to do it, her pussy to tightened at the thought.
She knew of course that he wanted her to dress up in her sexiest things and let him take pictures of her.
When Barry got home she grabbed him as soon as he was through the door and told him. Waiting until Saturday morning had become unthinkable.
His eyes lit up. "I'd love to," he said.
Somehow they got through supper. Gwen was sure that neither of them noticed what they were eating.
Gwen showered first and scampered off to the bedroom.
She brushed her hair, applied a dusting of talc, a little perfume and slipped into her robe. She toyed with the camera, waiting.
Barry appeared, naked, his cock small and harmless in its shock of reddish curls. She wanted very much to touch it.
"Well," she said, brandishing the camera, "thirty six shots on here, what shall we do?"
"I'd like to take some pictures of you," Barry said, his eagerness a delight for her to see. Oh, but she'd waited all day for this.
Gwen opened her robe for him. Barry grinned and reached to take the camera from her.
The flash was brilliant.
"Let me see." She took the camera and peered at its tiny screen. She frowned at the picture of her heavy, braless breasts.
"Hold them, like you do in the shower," he suggested.
She gave the camera back. She knew what Barry meant.He always got a kick out of it when she lifted her breasts in the shower while washing the soap from under them. She went through the motions for him, cupping her hands under them and taking their weight.The camera flashed. It flashed again.
"This works a lot better when they're soapy."
Barry went to the bedside table and got the lubricant. He handed it to her.
"I'd rather you did it for me," she said, giving her shoulders a little shake.
"I'll get the stuff all over the camera. You do it, I'll watch."
Gwen trickled a puddle of lube into her palm and wished wishes about her breasts. Too big, too heavy, why couldn't they be cute, hard little oranges? But Barry worshipped them. She sighed and began applying the oil.
She stared at his straining erection. Maybe big boobs did have a purpose. His eyes followed every move of her hands. She felt her nipples hardening, tickling her palms as she juggled her elusive breasts.
The camera flashed. "I wasn't ready," she said.
She cradled her breasts in her cupped hands, purposely lifting one higher than the other. This was the pose he liked so much. Another flash. Her nipples were like small ripe fruit, she felt little muscles rippling in her pussy. She was making wanting noises to herself in her throat.
Barry was looking at the camera's little screen. His hand slid down instinctively towards his cock. She saw him move it quickly away, a sweet, self-conscious gesture.
"They're lovely, you're lovely."
Her reluctance, her near embarrassment began slipping away. She began playing with her breasts, making them jostle and bounce in her hands. Barry just stared, the camera forgotten.
Gwen leaned forward and took her hands away. She felt the weight of her breasts pulling on her chest. She gestured at the camera.
Barry grinned, his eyes seeming reluctant to leave Gwen's bosom. He knelt to take a picture of her glistening, gently moving loveliness. Gwen ran her hands over them, loving the feel of her own softness, wanting Barry's hands on them. He kept clicking away.
The heat was building in her now. Straightening, she slipped the robe off her shoulders and wiped her hands on it. She reached for the camera and turned to face the the bedroom mirror.
"You sample the goods and let me take some pictures."
She raised her arms to give him access. His hands slid around her and began making love to her breasts. His palms seemed to whisper over her nipples, triggering contractions in her pussy. She stared into the mirror.
This was new for Gwen, watching the reflection of Barry's hands playing with her. How sexy it looked and how sexy it felt. His fingers digging into oil slick flesh. She felt and watched the slip and slither of her slippery breasts in and out of his hands. She forgot all about the camera ... her pussy was getting a million signals. Her legs trembled and weakened as her body tried to handle the flood of sensations between her thighs.
Her nipples glistened like swollen berries. Her breathing had deepened and she was squirming in his arms.
Gwen felt the hot rigidity of his cock nestled between her buttocks.
She looked up at his reflection in the mirror. He was grinning and she realized she'd been working her thighs together, grinding her ass against him. She'd been trying to bring herself off.
Gwen sensed her own wetness, felt her climax coiled, poised, inside her. She'd been riding her wave while Barry watched.
Taking the lube bottle from the shelf under the mirror she squirmed round in his arms and squeezed some lube on his erection. She turned back to face the mirror and felt his slick, hard cock against her.
Barry pressed against her and felt his sweet insistent presence. Cock in cleavage, slowly pumping up and down.
She thrust her ass back at him and heard him groan. Triggering the camera she caught him, eyes closed, with a look of ecstasy on his face. His hands slid up and found her breasts again.
For the next long while, there was much squeezing of breasts and pinching of nipples. Her ass writhed and squirmed as his cock slithered and fucked between her buttocks. The camera flashed from time to time as she caught the magic he was performing on her breasts.
Neither came, but both were close. She told him repeatedly how she loved what he was doing. He told her how lovely her tits and ass were.
Breathless, they paused in their play. Barry rested his chin on her shoulder. "Let's see the pictures then."
She held up the camera and together they looked at thetiny screen. God but it was sexy. There on the little screen, shots of Barry doing lovely things to her breasts. How big and soft they looked. 'I look just like a porn star,' she thought.
"I love them," he said.
"The pictures or my too-big tits?"
"The pictures of your perfect tits," he said in her ear, making her squirm.
"Twelve shots left, what would you like now?" she asked him.
"To fuck you," he said, "I want to fuck you."
"Oh yes, yes, but shouldn't we try and take the rest of these before we do?"
"OK, but ...," he ground against her ass and Gwen felt the hardness and the heat of his cock.
She wanted him so badly.
"How about a couple of pictures of you?" she said.
She wriggled away from him and dropped to her knees, pointing the camera at his cock. She pressed the close up button and gave a little squeal of delight.
"Oh my God! I can make you even bigger," she said and pressed again ... and again. Each time his lovely cock grew and moved nearer on the screen. She took thepicture.
"It's incredible," she held up the camera, "each vein and hair, every little detail, perfect. Just like the real thing."
As she spoke a drop of his precum formed, swelling from the the little slit.
"Oh yes!" she breathed and aimed the camera. The flash flashed and she looked at the little screen. The precum glistened in the picture. She felt a sudden contraction in her pussy and groaned. Her need was suddenly a very urgent thing. She leaned forward and caught the droplet with her tongue before it could fall.
She picked her robe off the floor and handed it to him, "Wipe your hands and take our picture."
Gwen took the head of his cock gently in her mouth and waited.
Barry took the camera from her and she looked up at him, her eyes wide, her mouth full of cock. As he pointed the camera she sucked, hollowing her cheeks. She heard him groan and imagined how she must look. God, but he tasted good. The camera flashed. She closed her eyes, loving the feel of his thick firmness in her mouth, pressing on her tongue. It would be so easy, so very easy, to bring him off. The camera flashed again through her closed eyelids.
She released him with a loud, sucking kiss. "How many shots left?"
"Eight," he said, his voice husky and trembling. He nudged his cockhead against her lips.
She grabbed his cock in her hand and rubbed its head back and forth across her lips. Then, releasing him, she scrambled to her feet.
"Perfect, a few pictures of my pretty pussy."
She heard Barry make some protest as she crossed to the dresser. She pulled open her very-full underwear drawer. On top was the little red thong she'd chosen. She struggled it up her thighs and pulled it, high and tight up over her hips. She felt it slide into her.Two flashes and a chuckle from Barry.
Gwen scrambled onto the bed. She crouched on her handsand knees, her breasts pressed into the duvet, her ass tipped up.
"Oh dear God," Barry murmured.
She pictured the strip of red crossing her anus and disappearing into the slit of her pussy. If it looked half as sexy as it felt ... would he take her picture or fuck her?
The camera flashed.
"You didn't ask me to smile," she complained.
"I smiled for you," said Barry
Gwen reached her hands back, grabbed her ass cheeks and pulled herself wider open. "There, I'm smiling now."
She saw the flash and flung herself over onto her back.
"Four to go, take a picture of my new thong."
She splayed her legs and reached down and ran her handover her pussy. She was soaked, her hand came away wet. The wetness of the fabric would show dark in the picture. She'd look as hot and wet and horny as she felt. Perfect.
He took the picture. Gwen spread her thighs even wider and pulled the thong aside, displaying herself. Another flash.
"Two to go," she said and gestured for the camera."Kiss me Barry." She took the camera from him squirmed her ass on the bed, offering her open pussy to him.
She actually screamed as his mouth found her.
"Make me come, make me come," she begged.
His tongue lapped the length of her furrow drawing her higher and higher. Her trembling began and his lips took the nipple of her clit and suckled. His tongue-tip teased at her. In seconds it seemed she was over her edge. She saw a flash and realized she'd taken a picture as she came.
She bucked under his face wanting it to never end and begging him to stop and sobbing and turning inside out and dying and ...
His mouth was gone. She groaned at the loss. His hands were by her shoulders, the bed moving as he straddled her. She felt him above her. A nudging at her pussy lips and then; the long slow slide of cock into her. So good, oh it was so beautifully, perfectly right as he filled her.
Then he took her, quickly, fiercely, his hunger a desperate thing. She welcomed the violence, revelled in the slam of his hips, the plunge of his cock. She grunted with each impact of his body. He strained and sobbed as his own orgasm stormed nearer. Then she was coming again and begging for cock, more cock, more cock, fucking cock. They both went rigid for thatblissful moment and turned to liquid as their dams burst.
Still at last, they lay on their sides, face to face, entwined. Sweetly, gloriously wet and breathing each other's breath, amazed at the heat and passion of moments before.
Gwen still held the camera. She held it up and pressedthe view button with her thumb nail. There it was, the last shot. Somehow she'd taken the picture. Down between her beasts, Barry's body over hers, and in the centre of the picture, his lovely cock, glistening, halfway into her, every vein, every hair.
"How do you like Gwen as Gwen?" she asked softly.
"My Gwen?" he touched the camera with his hand, "she's pretty as a picture."
Copyright October 2005
The postman didn't bring anything on Friday. Gwen knew she'd have to skip the letter 'F' for a little while. She was too horny to wait. Gwen was going to have to move on to 'G'. She'd be Gwen this time. In short, be herself.
She sat and idly played with their latest toy, a digital camera. Pointing it up her skirt, she pressed the button. She saw the flash through the cotton. There, a cute snapshot of the crotch of her panties. She smiled, yes, perfect for what she had in mind.
Gwen had known Barry wanted to fool around with the camera just a soon as they'd bought it. She rather liked the idea. Take pictures and not worry about having them developed and seen by prying eyes.
She'd always fancied being photographed in the bedroom but having intimate pictures pour out of one of those machines in the camera store; no way!
The idea of taking pictures of Barry's cock ... getting him hard, being his fluffer. She itched to do it, her pussy to tightened at the thought.
She knew of course that he wanted her to dress up in her sexiest things and let him take pictures of her.
When Barry got home she grabbed him as soon as he was through the door and told him. Waiting until Saturday morning had become unthinkable.
His eyes lit up. "I'd love to," he said.
Somehow they got through supper. Gwen was sure that neither of them noticed what they were eating.
Gwen showered first and scampered off to the bedroom.
She brushed her hair, applied a dusting of talc, a little perfume and slipped into her robe. She toyed with the camera, waiting.
Barry appeared, naked, his cock small and harmless in its shock of reddish curls. She wanted very much to touch it.
"Well," she said, brandishing the camera, "thirty six shots on here, what shall we do?"
"I'd like to take some pictures of you," Barry said, his eagerness a delight for her to see. Oh, but she'd waited all day for this.
Gwen opened her robe for him. Barry grinned and reached to take the camera from her.
The flash was brilliant.
"Let me see." She took the camera and peered at its tiny screen. She frowned at the picture of her heavy, braless breasts.
"Hold them, like you do in the shower," he suggested.
She gave the camera back. She knew what Barry meant.He always got a kick out of it when she lifted her breasts in the shower while washing the soap from under them. She went through the motions for him, cupping her hands under them and taking their weight.The camera flashed. It flashed again.
"This works a lot better when they're soapy."
Barry went to the bedside table and got the lubricant. He handed it to her.
"I'd rather you did it for me," she said, giving her shoulders a little shake.
"I'll get the stuff all over the camera. You do it, I'll watch."
Gwen trickled a puddle of lube into her palm and wished wishes about her breasts. Too big, too heavy, why couldn't they be cute, hard little oranges? But Barry worshipped them. She sighed and began applying the oil.
She stared at his straining erection. Maybe big boobs did have a purpose. His eyes followed every move of her hands. She felt her nipples hardening, tickling her palms as she juggled her elusive breasts.
The camera flashed. "I wasn't ready," she said.
She cradled her breasts in her cupped hands, purposely lifting one higher than the other. This was the pose he liked so much. Another flash. Her nipples were like small ripe fruit, she felt little muscles rippling in her pussy. She was making wanting noises to herself in her throat.
Barry was looking at the camera's little screen. His hand slid down instinctively towards his cock. She saw him move it quickly away, a sweet, self-conscious gesture.
"They're lovely, you're lovely."
Her reluctance, her near embarrassment began slipping away. She began playing with her breasts, making them jostle and bounce in her hands. Barry just stared, the camera forgotten.
Gwen leaned forward and took her hands away. She felt the weight of her breasts pulling on her chest. She gestured at the camera.
Barry grinned, his eyes seeming reluctant to leave Gwen's bosom. He knelt to take a picture of her glistening, gently moving loveliness. Gwen ran her hands over them, loving the feel of her own softness, wanting Barry's hands on them. He kept clicking away.
The heat was building in her now. Straightening, she slipped the robe off her shoulders and wiped her hands on it. She reached for the camera and turned to face the the bedroom mirror.
"You sample the goods and let me take some pictures."
She raised her arms to give him access. His hands slid around her and began making love to her breasts. His palms seemed to whisper over her nipples, triggering contractions in her pussy. She stared into the mirror.
This was new for Gwen, watching the reflection of Barry's hands playing with her. How sexy it looked and how sexy it felt. His fingers digging into oil slick flesh. She felt and watched the slip and slither of her slippery breasts in and out of his hands. She forgot all about the camera ... her pussy was getting a million signals. Her legs trembled and weakened as her body tried to handle the flood of sensations between her thighs.
Her nipples glistened like swollen berries. Her breathing had deepened and she was squirming in his arms.
Gwen felt the hot rigidity of his cock nestled between her buttocks.
She looked up at his reflection in the mirror. He was grinning and she realized she'd been working her thighs together, grinding her ass against him. She'd been trying to bring herself off.
Gwen sensed her own wetness, felt her climax coiled, poised, inside her. She'd been riding her wave while Barry watched.
Taking the lube bottle from the shelf under the mirror she squirmed round in his arms and squeezed some lube on his erection. She turned back to face the mirror and felt his slick, hard cock against her.
Barry pressed against her and felt his sweet insistent presence. Cock in cleavage, slowly pumping up and down.
She thrust her ass back at him and heard him groan. Triggering the camera she caught him, eyes closed, with a look of ecstasy on his face. His hands slid up and found her breasts again.
For the next long while, there was much squeezing of breasts and pinching of nipples. Her ass writhed and squirmed as his cock slithered and fucked between her buttocks. The camera flashed from time to time as she caught the magic he was performing on her breasts.
Neither came, but both were close. She told him repeatedly how she loved what he was doing. He told her how lovely her tits and ass were.
Breathless, they paused in their play. Barry rested his chin on her shoulder. "Let's see the pictures then."
She held up the camera and together they looked at thetiny screen. God but it was sexy. There on the little screen, shots of Barry doing lovely things to her breasts. How big and soft they looked. 'I look just like a porn star,' she thought.
"I love them," he said.
"The pictures or my too-big tits?"
"The pictures of your perfect tits," he said in her ear, making her squirm.
"Twelve shots left, what would you like now?" she asked him.
"To fuck you," he said, "I want to fuck you."
"Oh yes, yes, but shouldn't we try and take the rest of these before we do?"
"OK, but ...," he ground against her ass and Gwen felt the hardness and the heat of his cock.
She wanted him so badly.
"How about a couple of pictures of you?" she said.
She wriggled away from him and dropped to her knees, pointing the camera at his cock. She pressed the close up button and gave a little squeal of delight.
"Oh my God! I can make you even bigger," she said and pressed again ... and again. Each time his lovely cock grew and moved nearer on the screen. She took thepicture.
"It's incredible," she held up the camera, "each vein and hair, every little detail, perfect. Just like the real thing."
As she spoke a drop of his precum formed, swelling from the the little slit.
"Oh yes!" she breathed and aimed the camera. The flash flashed and she looked at the little screen. The precum glistened in the picture. She felt a sudden contraction in her pussy and groaned. Her need was suddenly a very urgent thing. She leaned forward and caught the droplet with her tongue before it could fall.
She picked her robe off the floor and handed it to him, "Wipe your hands and take our picture."
Gwen took the head of his cock gently in her mouth and waited.
Barry took the camera from her and she looked up at him, her eyes wide, her mouth full of cock. As he pointed the camera she sucked, hollowing her cheeks. She heard him groan and imagined how she must look. God, but he tasted good. The camera flashed. She closed her eyes, loving the feel of his thick firmness in her mouth, pressing on her tongue. It would be so easy, so very easy, to bring him off. The camera flashed again through her closed eyelids.
She released him with a loud, sucking kiss. "How many shots left?"
"Eight," he said, his voice husky and trembling. He nudged his cockhead against her lips.
She grabbed his cock in her hand and rubbed its head back and forth across her lips. Then, releasing him, she scrambled to her feet.
"Perfect, a few pictures of my pretty pussy."
She heard Barry make some protest as she crossed to the dresser. She pulled open her very-full underwear drawer. On top was the little red thong she'd chosen. She struggled it up her thighs and pulled it, high and tight up over her hips. She felt it slide into her.Two flashes and a chuckle from Barry.
Gwen scrambled onto the bed. She crouched on her handsand knees, her breasts pressed into the duvet, her ass tipped up.
"Oh dear God," Barry murmured.
She pictured the strip of red crossing her anus and disappearing into the slit of her pussy. If it looked half as sexy as it felt ... would he take her picture or fuck her?
The camera flashed.
"You didn't ask me to smile," she complained.
"I smiled for you," said Barry
Gwen reached her hands back, grabbed her ass cheeks and pulled herself wider open. "There, I'm smiling now."
She saw the flash and flung herself over onto her back.
"Four to go, take a picture of my new thong."
She splayed her legs and reached down and ran her handover her pussy. She was soaked, her hand came away wet. The wetness of the fabric would show dark in the picture. She'd look as hot and wet and horny as she felt. Perfect.
He took the picture. Gwen spread her thighs even wider and pulled the thong aside, displaying herself. Another flash.
"Two to go," she said and gestured for the camera."Kiss me Barry." She took the camera from him squirmed her ass on the bed, offering her open pussy to him.
She actually screamed as his mouth found her.
"Make me come, make me come," she begged.
His tongue lapped the length of her furrow drawing her higher and higher. Her trembling began and his lips took the nipple of her clit and suckled. His tongue-tip teased at her. In seconds it seemed she was over her edge. She saw a flash and realized she'd taken a picture as she came.
She bucked under his face wanting it to never end and begging him to stop and sobbing and turning inside out and dying and ...
His mouth was gone. She groaned at the loss. His hands were by her shoulders, the bed moving as he straddled her. She felt him above her. A nudging at her pussy lips and then; the long slow slide of cock into her. So good, oh it was so beautifully, perfectly right as he filled her.
Then he took her, quickly, fiercely, his hunger a desperate thing. She welcomed the violence, revelled in the slam of his hips, the plunge of his cock. She grunted with each impact of his body. He strained and sobbed as his own orgasm stormed nearer. Then she was coming again and begging for cock, more cock, more cock, fucking cock. They both went rigid for thatblissful moment and turned to liquid as their dams burst.
Still at last, they lay on their sides, face to face, entwined. Sweetly, gloriously wet and breathing each other's breath, amazed at the heat and passion of moments before.
Gwen still held the camera. She held it up and pressedthe view button with her thumb nail. There it was, the last shot. Somehow she'd taken the picture. Down between her beasts, Barry's body over hers, and in the centre of the picture, his lovely cock, glistening, halfway into her, every vein, every hair.
"How do you like Gwen as Gwen?" she asked softly.
"My Gwen?" he touched the camera with his hand, "she's pretty as a picture."
"For Services Rendered"
(a flasher of 100 words)
by Julius
Copyright October 2006
The letter was from Sue's health-plan company, she opened it.
She read, "We regret there is no provision in your plan for the claim made."
"Didn't think they'd pay," she said to Harold.
"Don't see why not," he grumbled, "you needed the treatment and I'm an experienced cunnilinguist."
"I'm so dependent on the treatment." Sue squeezed her thighs together and squirmed in the chair. "Ninety bucks an hour seems so reasonable."
"I agree honey," he sighed.
She reached for him with one hand, drew up the hem of her skirt with the other and spread her legs.
"How's my credit?"
by Julius
Copyright October 2006
The letter was from Sue's health-plan company, she opened it.
She read, "We regret there is no provision in your plan for the claim made."
"Didn't think they'd pay," she said to Harold.
"Don't see why not," he grumbled, "you needed the treatment and I'm an experienced cunnilinguist."
"I'm so dependent on the treatment." Sue squeezed her thighs together and squirmed in the chair. "Ninety bucks an hour seems so reasonable."
"I agree honey," he sighed.
She reached for him with one hand, drew up the hem of her skirt with the other and spread her legs.
"How's my credit?"
"Knitting"
This morsel, a limerick, was my very first posting to ERA, as it was then.
The date was Sunday, September 16th 2001.
I was brand new to the site and, a few days earlier, I'd had the first inkling of the horror that was to become known as '9/11'. I was logged onto the site when a message appeared:
"Go turn on your TV, an airliner has just crashed into a sky-scraper."
The world had changed.
Anyway, to happier thoughts ..............
"Knitting"
by Julius
Copyright 2001
My sweet maiden has long pubic hair,
Soft and lustrous and silken and fair.
Carefully she trims it,
Then deftly spins it,
And of socks I have twenty three pair.
The date was Sunday, September 16th 2001.
I was brand new to the site and, a few days earlier, I'd had the first inkling of the horror that was to become known as '9/11'. I was logged onto the site when a message appeared:
"Go turn on your TV, an airliner has just crashed into a sky-scraper."
The world had changed.
Anyway, to happier thoughts ..............
"Knitting"
by Julius
Copyright 2001
My sweet maiden has long pubic hair,
Soft and lustrous and silken and fair.
Carefully she trims it,
Then deftly spins it,
And of socks I have twenty three pair.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
"Titillation Betwixt"
"Titillation Betwixt"
by Julius
Copyright 2002
Months ago she'd asked, "What is it about breasts that so fascinates men?"
He'd tried to answer a woman question with man words and had not done too well.
Last week they'd watched "Notting Hill" and to his delight Julia Roberts had asked the same question of Hugh Grant and his answer had been no better.
The living room was lit by just candle glow.
This was one of their planned lovings. They'd waited all day. John wore just a white thong. Steph in purple bra and thong and white fishnet panty hose and make-up and pearls and a hungry smile. As always, the chemistry took over and the planning kind of slid away.
He sat on the chesterfield and she sat between his legs, her back against his chest. Her bra cups were peeled down off her breasts, straps off her shoulders. His hands were filled, more than filled, with her breasts. He watched the action over her shoulder.
They were both aroused and becoming more so. He wished he'd left the thong off. His trapped cock a sweet agony in the pouch, her back pressing it hard against his stomach. It was a full week since they'd last made love and their mutual hunger was driving them now.
As he lifted and squeezed her breasts he wondered how anyone could be puzzled about the attraction.
The subtle heaviness, the incredible, moist warmth of the skin under her breasts as he lifted them. The hardening nipples that teased his palms. The skin! Oh the skin, like the down under a bird's wing. The warmth, the softness. His trapped cock was begging for escape, release.
She was loving the touch of his hands. Moving her shoulders, begging somehow for more of this. Little moans of pleasure as he kneaded her fullness, slid palms over nipples, teased and tugged at the small fruit with thumbs and forefingers. He wanted to suckle her. She responded to his squeezing and he squeezed a little harder. She responded to this and he wondered that flesh so sweet and soft could enjoy being handled like this. The feel of her was driving him crazy, he couldn't believe the level of his arousal. He was so hard, so hungry for her. He laughed softly and she asked him what was funny.
"The question about what men see in women's breasts, that's what. Just playing with yours is making me close to coming."
"Love them all you like." she murmured.
"I'd love to fuck them!" he groaned, squeezing her.
She squirmed off the chesterfield and knelt on the floor between his knees. She cupped her hands under her breasts, lifting them, separating them. Staring into his eyes she whispered, "Well, fuck them then!"
He struggled his cock and balls out from the side of his thong. They both stared at his erection for a moment. She loved it, he was quietly proud of it. He couldn't believe how hard he was. He took the bottle of oil off the coffee table and squeezed some onto his cock and into her cleavage. She leaned forward and took his erection between her breasts and pressed them together. He groaned at the sensation of soft enveloping warmth.
He moved his hands to cover hers but she slipped them away leaving him to hold her breasts and he squeezed them together and thrust up between. This was paradise! He felt the soft burn start inside and knew he could come, almost at will.
She was loving it too. The hard heat of him between her breasts, his hands forcing them together. Her nipples in his pubic hair. And then he was thrusting between them! She looked hungrily down watching the darkness of his cock's head appearing and disappearing in between the swells of her big, white breasts.
Her arousal amazed her! He was only sliding his cock between her breasts after all, but tonight, somehow, this was enough.
He squeezed them together, tightening the tunnel they made. She could feel the torment of his hair on her nipples. Dear God! She could feel her orgasm lurking, uncoiling in the pit of her stomach.
He was watching that cock head too. He withdrew, then thrust again, slowly. He was actually squirming now, barely able to contain his hunger. Squeezing her breasts, thrusting his oiled hardness. He fought to control the looming orgasm as his body struggled for release. The feel of her breasts in his hands, the slickness of them clinging to his cock. He thrust, his cock head peeped from the top of her cleavage, the little slit pulled open by the drag of her breasts.
He heard his voice saying, "What do I see in your tits?" and again, "what do I see in your tits?" Then,"If you could feel this you wouldn't ask."
"Mmmm!" was all the answer she gave, revelling in the pressure of his hands, the hot, slow burrowing of his cock.
He was a thrust, a moment from coming. The white heat at the base of his cock churned. His body seemed to be ringing like a bell. He froze, she too! They both knew how close he was. She struggled up off the floor and fought her panty hose down her legs, sobbing with the effort, with the frustration as they resisted.
He cock glistened with oil. He could feel his heart's pulse in it. He stared at the precum glistening at the twitching tip willing himself not to come in that desperate moment. Then she was kneeling astride him, pulling her thong aside and lowering herself onto him. His cock speared up into her heat, they both cried out. He didn't come with her first, tight, hot slide down his length but then he thrust to meet her and he did come.
A scalding rush and another. He was helpless as his climax tore free. He buried his face between her oily breasts. She clung to him. Both sobbed their passion. He struggled to thrust higher into her, she squirmed her ass down on his thighs, felt her first spasm blossom. Both sought desperately to get that cock deeper. Still he came, spilling, willing himself to empty endlessly into her. Her pussy convulsed around him with a milking hunger, draining him.
He found himself wishing he had come between her breasts. Wishing he'd come between them as a gesture. As an offering, to let her know how wonderful he thought they were. To let her know what he saw in her breasts, her wonderful, beautiful, soft breasts.
She was laughing and telling him that she loved him and he realised he'd said it all out loud.
"I love your breasts!" he said into her cleavage.
"And my breasts love you, and your lovely, tit-fucking cock!"
by Julius
Copyright 2002
Months ago she'd asked, "What is it about breasts that so fascinates men?"
He'd tried to answer a woman question with man words and had not done too well.
Last week they'd watched "Notting Hill" and to his delight Julia Roberts had asked the same question of Hugh Grant and his answer had been no better.
The living room was lit by just candle glow.
This was one of their planned lovings. They'd waited all day. John wore just a white thong. Steph in purple bra and thong and white fishnet panty hose and make-up and pearls and a hungry smile. As always, the chemistry took over and the planning kind of slid away.
He sat on the chesterfield and she sat between his legs, her back against his chest. Her bra cups were peeled down off her breasts, straps off her shoulders. His hands were filled, more than filled, with her breasts. He watched the action over her shoulder.
They were both aroused and becoming more so. He wished he'd left the thong off. His trapped cock a sweet agony in the pouch, her back pressing it hard against his stomach. It was a full week since they'd last made love and their mutual hunger was driving them now.
As he lifted and squeezed her breasts he wondered how anyone could be puzzled about the attraction.
The subtle heaviness, the incredible, moist warmth of the skin under her breasts as he lifted them. The hardening nipples that teased his palms. The skin! Oh the skin, like the down under a bird's wing. The warmth, the softness. His trapped cock was begging for escape, release.
She was loving the touch of his hands. Moving her shoulders, begging somehow for more of this. Little moans of pleasure as he kneaded her fullness, slid palms over nipples, teased and tugged at the small fruit with thumbs and forefingers. He wanted to suckle her. She responded to his squeezing and he squeezed a little harder. She responded to this and he wondered that flesh so sweet and soft could enjoy being handled like this. The feel of her was driving him crazy, he couldn't believe the level of his arousal. He was so hard, so hungry for her. He laughed softly and she asked him what was funny.
"The question about what men see in women's breasts, that's what. Just playing with yours is making me close to coming."
"Love them all you like." she murmured.
"I'd love to fuck them!" he groaned, squeezing her.
She squirmed off the chesterfield and knelt on the floor between his knees. She cupped her hands under her breasts, lifting them, separating them. Staring into his eyes she whispered, "Well, fuck them then!"
He struggled his cock and balls out from the side of his thong. They both stared at his erection for a moment. She loved it, he was quietly proud of it. He couldn't believe how hard he was. He took the bottle of oil off the coffee table and squeezed some onto his cock and into her cleavage. She leaned forward and took his erection between her breasts and pressed them together. He groaned at the sensation of soft enveloping warmth.
He moved his hands to cover hers but she slipped them away leaving him to hold her breasts and he squeezed them together and thrust up between. This was paradise! He felt the soft burn start inside and knew he could come, almost at will.
She was loving it too. The hard heat of him between her breasts, his hands forcing them together. Her nipples in his pubic hair. And then he was thrusting between them! She looked hungrily down watching the darkness of his cock's head appearing and disappearing in between the swells of her big, white breasts.
Her arousal amazed her! He was only sliding his cock between her breasts after all, but tonight, somehow, this was enough.
He squeezed them together, tightening the tunnel they made. She could feel the torment of his hair on her nipples. Dear God! She could feel her orgasm lurking, uncoiling in the pit of her stomach.
He was watching that cock head too. He withdrew, then thrust again, slowly. He was actually squirming now, barely able to contain his hunger. Squeezing her breasts, thrusting his oiled hardness. He fought to control the looming orgasm as his body struggled for release. The feel of her breasts in his hands, the slickness of them clinging to his cock. He thrust, his cock head peeped from the top of her cleavage, the little slit pulled open by the drag of her breasts.
He heard his voice saying, "What do I see in your tits?" and again, "what do I see in your tits?" Then,"If you could feel this you wouldn't ask."
"Mmmm!" was all the answer she gave, revelling in the pressure of his hands, the hot, slow burrowing of his cock.
He was a thrust, a moment from coming. The white heat at the base of his cock churned. His body seemed to be ringing like a bell. He froze, she too! They both knew how close he was. She struggled up off the floor and fought her panty hose down her legs, sobbing with the effort, with the frustration as they resisted.
He cock glistened with oil. He could feel his heart's pulse in it. He stared at the precum glistening at the twitching tip willing himself not to come in that desperate moment. Then she was kneeling astride him, pulling her thong aside and lowering herself onto him. His cock speared up into her heat, they both cried out. He didn't come with her first, tight, hot slide down his length but then he thrust to meet her and he did come.
A scalding rush and another. He was helpless as his climax tore free. He buried his face between her oily breasts. She clung to him. Both sobbed their passion. He struggled to thrust higher into her, she squirmed her ass down on his thighs, felt her first spasm blossom. Both sought desperately to get that cock deeper. Still he came, spilling, willing himself to empty endlessly into her. Her pussy convulsed around him with a milking hunger, draining him.
He found himself wishing he had come between her breasts. Wishing he'd come between them as a gesture. As an offering, to let her know how wonderful he thought they were. To let her know what he saw in her breasts, her wonderful, beautiful, soft breasts.
She was laughing and telling him that she loved him and he realised he'd said it all out loud.
"I love your breasts!" he said into her cleavage.
"And my breasts love you, and your lovely, tit-fucking cock!"
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
"Wetness"
"Wetness"
a Flasher by Julius
Copyright 2002
Wetness
The sea, from the sea we came. Eons too long ago to count. Those first struggles up the hostile beach. Helpless then, near helpless now.
Wetness
Sweat. Sweet salty sweat, her taste, her scent. Nuzzle and taste her armpits. Lift her breasts and lick beneath. The warmth, the humid perfection!
Wetness
Saliva. From your mouth to hers, and yes, to that one, down there. From her red lips, juices from her pink lips too, to your aching length.
Wetness
Precum, jewels glistening one by one. Nature's oil. Nature's notice of things to come.
Wetness
Her sweet lubrication. Melted butter, slick to touch. Warm honey, sweet to lick. Subtly salty sometimes too.
Wetness
Semen. Your oh-so-little contribution. The frantic, twitching, pulsing, over oh so soon! Why ........ oh why?
Wetness
Her come. So wet she gets, as she arrives and arrives twice, thrice, again? A leak? A trickle? A flood?
Wetness
Love her enough to bathe in her. And you sweet maid? Respond in kind, lick me, love me, suck me, blow my mind.
This salty wetness
Our salinity. The gods' sweet reminder of whence we came, the sea. Wet little creatures we. Still struggling.
a Flasher by Julius
Copyright 2002
Wetness
The sea, from the sea we came. Eons too long ago to count. Those first struggles up the hostile beach. Helpless then, near helpless now.
Wetness
Sweat. Sweet salty sweat, her taste, her scent. Nuzzle and taste her armpits. Lift her breasts and lick beneath. The warmth, the humid perfection!
Wetness
Saliva. From your mouth to hers, and yes, to that one, down there. From her red lips, juices from her pink lips too, to your aching length.
Wetness
Precum, jewels glistening one by one. Nature's oil. Nature's notice of things to come.
Wetness
Her sweet lubrication. Melted butter, slick to touch. Warm honey, sweet to lick. Subtly salty sometimes too.
Wetness
Semen. Your oh-so-little contribution. The frantic, twitching, pulsing, over oh so soon! Why ........ oh why?
Wetness
Her come. So wet she gets, as she arrives and arrives twice, thrice, again? A leak? A trickle? A flood?
Wetness
Love her enough to bathe in her. And you sweet maid? Respond in kind, lick me, love me, suck me, blow my mind.
This salty wetness
Our salinity. The gods' sweet reminder of whence we came, the sea. Wet little creatures we. Still struggling.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
"Nay? Needs Must"
by Julius
Copyright 2002
They'd met, flirted, dated and finally become an item a few years previous. Now, neither imagined life without the other. Soul mates really. A rare,"marriage made in heaven" and both assumed that they would marry one day.
Their sex was magic. The between-sex times? More like joy filled play somehow. He sometimes thought his life consisted of having sex or basking in the afterglow or longing for next time.
And her? He hoped she felt the same.
They had few secrets from each other, certainly nothing important. Each tolerated the other's little faults and foibles. Even these seemed to emerge one at a time and become accepted as fun parts of their enjoyment of each other.
She did have one small hang-up, if that was the word, about something in her character that puzzled her a little. Mutual embarrassment was really foreign to them as a couple but this was something she'd yet to bring up in conversation. It stayed in the back of her mind, lurking quietly. Oddly it was something she very much enjoyed but she couldn't bring herself to mention it to him.
The simple fact was, that she found the need to pee could be a major turn on. Well, not all the time of course. But when the need hit her during lovemaking it seemed to intensify everything else.
A week or so ago had been typical. She'd woken to a hard cock nestled in the cleavage of her ass and a gentle hand cupping her left breast.
She was turned on in an instant it seemed and the realisation that she needed to pee just compounded things. It was that lovely first-thing-in-the-morning fullness. Not quite urgent yet, but it made her focus on the subtle pressure and where that subtle pressure was. But he seemed set for 'slow and gentle' lovemaking and she whispered that he'd better hurry because she needed to go. He'd offered to help her and his hand had slid playfully from breast to mound. Then he'd just lain there, cuddled up as close as it's possible to be. He'd cupped her firmly and it had felt wonderful. He'd whispered, "There, let me hold her for you."
"She likes that," she told him softly.
He'd woken with an exquisite erection and a considerable need to take a pee. The two coming together as they so often did. Piss-proud 'the guys'often call it. The urge to snuggle against her had won out over his other need. And why not? So he'd gently stroked his erection and firmly suppressed the urge that had brought it about.
She loved it, she'd teased herself this way many, many times during their lovemaking, never telling him. The insistent pressure down there somehow adding to the longing. It made her squirm, made her want to clamp her thighs together, to hold herself. To hold herself as he was holding her.
This morning was somehow special she'd thought. Her body seemed to glow with her arousal and she found herself almost curled around the other need. Before she knew it, she was telling him all about this secret self-tease. To her considerable surprise he told her that he enjoyed the same thing and, as with her, it seemed to intensify his arousal.
"And it's like that with you? You need to go now? And it turns you on?" he asked her, his voice a mix of surprise and delight.
"Oh! Yes to all three! I'm full too but I want that sweet cock of yours and both sensations are beautiful." She clamped her thighs tightly on his fingers to emphasise her words.
He writhed against her. The full curve of her sweet ass pressing against his belly, increasing the pressure inside him. Increasing too his longing, he was wickedly hard now.
He chuckled in her ear, "That's wonderful, why did you never tell me?"
She squirmed and wiggled her ass, feeling his hardness nestling hotly back there in her cleavage. "You don't have to go just yet do you?" She didn't wait for ananswer but raised her leg and reached back between her thighs for him.
Oh but the feel of her hand on him, guiding him! She was slick-wet and ready. His cock nuzzled at her entrance and then that exquisite first slide into her, long and slow. She cried out as he entered, opening her, filling her.
Oh the sweet pressure of her ass against his belly. Now the sweet torment began.
For her too came that same emphasis. His penetration merely added to her wonderful discomfort. It added something else. It focussed all her senses between her thighs, in her belly.
He heard her murmur, "Ooh sweet man I'll have to go soon!"
"Yes," he whispered, chuckling, "Me too!"
It turned each on now to know that the other had this need. And the knowledge that it was a mutual turn on?It was a wonderful, upward spiral.
He began to fuck her, slowly and gently. Every thrust was heavenly but every thrust was a reminder too. The tightening of his muscles, the sweet pressure of her ass against him. But how could he not press against that ass? It seemed to press back to meet him. Soon this became too much to bear, he was losing the sweet game he played with himself.
He asked her, "Sit on me, please," and added, "if you dare."
She agreed eagerly. This was perhaps their favourite position but tough for a girl with her present need.
He pulled slowly from her, she gave a little meow at the loss. He rolled onto his back and, oh so carefully, she got to her knees and straddled him. Shegazed down, loving the sight of his arousal, amazed as always at how big he looked. Did that lovely big thing really slip in her tightness so painlessly? She desperately wanted it inside her now. She placed a hand on his stomach and pressed gently. He gasped and she giggled and said softly, "Me too." She was nibbling at her bottom lip as she concentrated on containing herself, not easy with her thighs wide astride, her moist sweetness peeled wide open.
Then she was lowering herself, aiming his cock with her small hand. She sank slowly down. He felt her tightness yield wetly and then the first sliding impalement. The most beautiful sensation in the universe he thought. Into her tight, almost scalding heat, skewering up and up as she slid down and down.
His arousal was unbelievable. He never had much control in this position. Something she knew very well. They both loved it! He could watch her breasts swing and bounce, love them with mouth and hands.
She could control his penetration and the speed of their lovemaking. Control! She seemed to need a lot of control right now. Her over-full bladder tormented he rat every move. Oh but she enjoyed sitting there with him buried inside her, feeling herself blissfully full and blissfully full of his cock. So acutely ware of her arousal. She loved playing this game with herself but now they were playing it together. Turning him on, turning her on. Why had she never told him before?
Nobody was doing anything too vigorously. They daren't! She told him in quiet tones that she couldn't hold on much longer. She always had this battle with herself, telling herself she couldn't wait. But, as long as he was in her, loving her, she always managed to hang on. One day she knew she'd lose it but that was the joy of it. The gamble, the tease. He slid his hands over her buttocks and begged her to be still. He closed his eyes and felt the heat of her around his cock. He did that nameless clenching in his groin that made his cock move inside her. She did her matching magic and clenched her pussy round his cock. They called it 'inside kissing.'
She raised herself off him, drawing him out of her until just the head of his penis was still inside her. Then she lowered slowly, taking all of him back into herself. She repeated this once, twice, three times.God, but she had to pee or burst! More lip biting as another wave of needful pressure swept through her groin. It was moving from sweet torment now to sweet pain. She began to slide back and forth, sliding her ass down his thighs as if to shear off his cock. She felt the pressure of him inside her, first in one direction then the other. Then she began sliding her ass from side to side. His eyes were closed now and she knew he was getting close with this treatment. Buts o was she.
She leaned forward onto her hands and, moving her shoulders, let her nipples tease his lips. She raised herself a little giving him room to love her. He thrust up and their bellies slapped together, she all but lost it right there and cried out. "God! I nearly peed all over you then!" she said through clenched teeth.
"That would have been very sweet."
"Maybe, but we'd need a new mattress!"
At that moment he didn't really care. He caught a nipple with his lips and and sucked it and a mouthful of breast flesh too. She moaned.
All he cared about was the beautiful heat of her surrounding his cock. That and his need to pee. Knowing she was in the same desperate fix merely served to turn him on more. But most of all he had to come. She sat up again pulling her nipple noisily from his mouth. Her pussy was wide open when it needed to be clamped shut. She couldn't hold on much longer, she really couldn't. She ground her teeth as another wave of need swept over her. It passed, but only just. She looked down at him, lifted her breasts with her hands and said softly, "Ready?"
"Oh yes," he answered, barely audible. She began slowly raising and lowering herself. He lay perfectly still as she slowly, beautifully, began jerking him off with her pussy. At his level of arousal he didn't need to even move. The tension built in his thighs, he stared at her engorged nipples, the right one glistening wetly from his mouth. He watched her breasts moving in the cups of her hands, almost spilling over. The slow boil began somewhere at the root of his cock. His need to pee was now just adding to his sweet desperation. That sucking, clinging, sliding sweetness that was milking his aching cock! She was sucking him with that magic, rippling pussy!
Her body seemed almost to cease to exist. Just that bliss between her legs and the heat of him, up into her belly. And of course that other screaming insistent need. But she didn't care, all that mattered was the climax that was building. She wanted to come, she had to come.
He sensed her need and began to hump his hips to match her rhythm. They came, almost gently, almost silently but perfectly together. It was incredibly intense. She was moving almost gently at one moment and then gripping and rippling along the length of him the next and he was gushing desperately, pulse after pulse after boiling pulse into her.
They said not a word, just stared in disbelief into each others eyes. Suddenly she uttered a little cry and scrambled off him, leaking their juices from her. His cock slapped wetly against his belly and he watched her hobble away clutching her groin, sobbing her need. She was bent over slightly, taking little short steps and making little "Oohing" sounds as she headed for the bathroom.
The sweet agony of his wait while she gushed endlessly, noisily, happily.
He lay, listening to her relief, thinking she'd never stop, desperate with his own need. Oh! Hurry girl! He begged silently. He had to go! He clung onto his drooling cock.
They needed two bathrooms?
Copyright 2002
They'd met, flirted, dated and finally become an item a few years previous. Now, neither imagined life without the other. Soul mates really. A rare,"marriage made in heaven" and both assumed that they would marry one day.
Their sex was magic. The between-sex times? More like joy filled play somehow. He sometimes thought his life consisted of having sex or basking in the afterglow or longing for next time.
And her? He hoped she felt the same.
They had few secrets from each other, certainly nothing important. Each tolerated the other's little faults and foibles. Even these seemed to emerge one at a time and become accepted as fun parts of their enjoyment of each other.
She did have one small hang-up, if that was the word, about something in her character that puzzled her a little. Mutual embarrassment was really foreign to them as a couple but this was something she'd yet to bring up in conversation. It stayed in the back of her mind, lurking quietly. Oddly it was something she very much enjoyed but she couldn't bring herself to mention it to him.
The simple fact was, that she found the need to pee could be a major turn on. Well, not all the time of course. But when the need hit her during lovemaking it seemed to intensify everything else.
A week or so ago had been typical. She'd woken to a hard cock nestled in the cleavage of her ass and a gentle hand cupping her left breast.
She was turned on in an instant it seemed and the realisation that she needed to pee just compounded things. It was that lovely first-thing-in-the-morning fullness. Not quite urgent yet, but it made her focus on the subtle pressure and where that subtle pressure was. But he seemed set for 'slow and gentle' lovemaking and she whispered that he'd better hurry because she needed to go. He'd offered to help her and his hand had slid playfully from breast to mound. Then he'd just lain there, cuddled up as close as it's possible to be. He'd cupped her firmly and it had felt wonderful. He'd whispered, "There, let me hold her for you."
"She likes that," she told him softly.
He'd woken with an exquisite erection and a considerable need to take a pee. The two coming together as they so often did. Piss-proud 'the guys'often call it. The urge to snuggle against her had won out over his other need. And why not? So he'd gently stroked his erection and firmly suppressed the urge that had brought it about.
She loved it, she'd teased herself this way many, many times during their lovemaking, never telling him. The insistent pressure down there somehow adding to the longing. It made her squirm, made her want to clamp her thighs together, to hold herself. To hold herself as he was holding her.
This morning was somehow special she'd thought. Her body seemed to glow with her arousal and she found herself almost curled around the other need. Before she knew it, she was telling him all about this secret self-tease. To her considerable surprise he told her that he enjoyed the same thing and, as with her, it seemed to intensify his arousal.
"And it's like that with you? You need to go now? And it turns you on?" he asked her, his voice a mix of surprise and delight.
"Oh! Yes to all three! I'm full too but I want that sweet cock of yours and both sensations are beautiful." She clamped her thighs tightly on his fingers to emphasise her words.
He writhed against her. The full curve of her sweet ass pressing against his belly, increasing the pressure inside him. Increasing too his longing, he was wickedly hard now.
He chuckled in her ear, "That's wonderful, why did you never tell me?"
She squirmed and wiggled her ass, feeling his hardness nestling hotly back there in her cleavage. "You don't have to go just yet do you?" She didn't wait for ananswer but raised her leg and reached back between her thighs for him.
Oh but the feel of her hand on him, guiding him! She was slick-wet and ready. His cock nuzzled at her entrance and then that exquisite first slide into her, long and slow. She cried out as he entered, opening her, filling her.
Oh the sweet pressure of her ass against his belly. Now the sweet torment began.
For her too came that same emphasis. His penetration merely added to her wonderful discomfort. It added something else. It focussed all her senses between her thighs, in her belly.
He heard her murmur, "Ooh sweet man I'll have to go soon!"
"Yes," he whispered, chuckling, "Me too!"
It turned each on now to know that the other had this need. And the knowledge that it was a mutual turn on?It was a wonderful, upward spiral.
He began to fuck her, slowly and gently. Every thrust was heavenly but every thrust was a reminder too. The tightening of his muscles, the sweet pressure of her ass against him. But how could he not press against that ass? It seemed to press back to meet him. Soon this became too much to bear, he was losing the sweet game he played with himself.
He asked her, "Sit on me, please," and added, "if you dare."
She agreed eagerly. This was perhaps their favourite position but tough for a girl with her present need.
He pulled slowly from her, she gave a little meow at the loss. He rolled onto his back and, oh so carefully, she got to her knees and straddled him. Shegazed down, loving the sight of his arousal, amazed as always at how big he looked. Did that lovely big thing really slip in her tightness so painlessly? She desperately wanted it inside her now. She placed a hand on his stomach and pressed gently. He gasped and she giggled and said softly, "Me too." She was nibbling at her bottom lip as she concentrated on containing herself, not easy with her thighs wide astride, her moist sweetness peeled wide open.
Then she was lowering herself, aiming his cock with her small hand. She sank slowly down. He felt her tightness yield wetly and then the first sliding impalement. The most beautiful sensation in the universe he thought. Into her tight, almost scalding heat, skewering up and up as she slid down and down.
His arousal was unbelievable. He never had much control in this position. Something she knew very well. They both loved it! He could watch her breasts swing and bounce, love them with mouth and hands.
She could control his penetration and the speed of their lovemaking. Control! She seemed to need a lot of control right now. Her over-full bladder tormented he rat every move. Oh but she enjoyed sitting there with him buried inside her, feeling herself blissfully full and blissfully full of his cock. So acutely ware of her arousal. She loved playing this game with herself but now they were playing it together. Turning him on, turning her on. Why had she never told him before?
Nobody was doing anything too vigorously. They daren't! She told him in quiet tones that she couldn't hold on much longer. She always had this battle with herself, telling herself she couldn't wait. But, as long as he was in her, loving her, she always managed to hang on. One day she knew she'd lose it but that was the joy of it. The gamble, the tease. He slid his hands over her buttocks and begged her to be still. He closed his eyes and felt the heat of her around his cock. He did that nameless clenching in his groin that made his cock move inside her. She did her matching magic and clenched her pussy round his cock. They called it 'inside kissing.'
She raised herself off him, drawing him out of her until just the head of his penis was still inside her. Then she lowered slowly, taking all of him back into herself. She repeated this once, twice, three times.God, but she had to pee or burst! More lip biting as another wave of needful pressure swept through her groin. It was moving from sweet torment now to sweet pain. She began to slide back and forth, sliding her ass down his thighs as if to shear off his cock. She felt the pressure of him inside her, first in one direction then the other. Then she began sliding her ass from side to side. His eyes were closed now and she knew he was getting close with this treatment. Buts o was she.
She leaned forward onto her hands and, moving her shoulders, let her nipples tease his lips. She raised herself a little giving him room to love her. He thrust up and their bellies slapped together, she all but lost it right there and cried out. "God! I nearly peed all over you then!" she said through clenched teeth.
"That would have been very sweet."
"Maybe, but we'd need a new mattress!"
At that moment he didn't really care. He caught a nipple with his lips and and sucked it and a mouthful of breast flesh too. She moaned.
All he cared about was the beautiful heat of her surrounding his cock. That and his need to pee. Knowing she was in the same desperate fix merely served to turn him on more. But most of all he had to come. She sat up again pulling her nipple noisily from his mouth. Her pussy was wide open when it needed to be clamped shut. She couldn't hold on much longer, she really couldn't. She ground her teeth as another wave of need swept over her. It passed, but only just. She looked down at him, lifted her breasts with her hands and said softly, "Ready?"
"Oh yes," he answered, barely audible. She began slowly raising and lowering herself. He lay perfectly still as she slowly, beautifully, began jerking him off with her pussy. At his level of arousal he didn't need to even move. The tension built in his thighs, he stared at her engorged nipples, the right one glistening wetly from his mouth. He watched her breasts moving in the cups of her hands, almost spilling over. The slow boil began somewhere at the root of his cock. His need to pee was now just adding to his sweet desperation. That sucking, clinging, sliding sweetness that was milking his aching cock! She was sucking him with that magic, rippling pussy!
Her body seemed almost to cease to exist. Just that bliss between her legs and the heat of him, up into her belly. And of course that other screaming insistent need. But she didn't care, all that mattered was the climax that was building. She wanted to come, she had to come.
He sensed her need and began to hump his hips to match her rhythm. They came, almost gently, almost silently but perfectly together. It was incredibly intense. She was moving almost gently at one moment and then gripping and rippling along the length of him the next and he was gushing desperately, pulse after pulse after boiling pulse into her.
They said not a word, just stared in disbelief into each others eyes. Suddenly she uttered a little cry and scrambled off him, leaking their juices from her. His cock slapped wetly against his belly and he watched her hobble away clutching her groin, sobbing her need. She was bent over slightly, taking little short steps and making little "Oohing" sounds as she headed for the bathroom.
The sweet agony of his wait while she gushed endlessly, noisily, happily.
He lay, listening to her relief, thinking she'd never stop, desperate with his own need. Oh! Hurry girl! He begged silently. He had to go! He clung onto his drooling cock.
They needed two bathrooms?
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