Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Breaking him in

'C'mon and have afternoon tea?' Lisa slung the tea-towel prop she had chosen at the last minute, over her shoulder. She stood in her stiletto's, legs apart with her leather gun holster strapped to her hip. He didn't look up from his laptop.

'Uh huh'

There was a pause

'Wait...You cooked?'

At last his eyes left the screen and swept over her, taking in the full scene. Her coal-black hair fell in waves past her shoulders, her green eyes glittered with lust. She pressed her lush lips together, enjoying his appraisal. Liquid desire pooled between her thighs, making her grin back at him.


Lisa was cool. She couldn't cook, didn't even want to. She just wanted this man to come in from the patio and make love to her.

'You want me...'

She cut him off. Fuck this pussy-footing around. She had to be back on shift in three hours and was horny as hell.

'Yes. Won't you accompany me to the kitchen Officer? I'll get you something'

Andy got up obediently and there as no denying the bulge in his shorts.

'I guess I can spare a few minutes away from this report. My head is going to explode'.

He padded towards her over the bricks.

'Oh Andy, that's not what I want exploding'

Before he could catch her up, Lisa turned on her heels, walking back into the house, her hips swaying. Andy lagged behind, drawing a deep breath and admiring the curve of her butt in her black mesh knickers as she moved, the gun holster hugging her thigh and those long, lushious legs in heels.

By the time he pulled the glass door closed she was poised in the kitchen, one cute butt cheek resting on the high counter, her legs apart. She had a jar in her hands.
'Officer I was just hoping you would want a simple meal, I'm not so hungry myself but I'm sure I could force something down'. Her eyes were soft and her voice conveyed a smile.

Lisa undid the first few buttons of his uniform, until she could see a spray of fine, dark, springy hair on his chest. She dipped a finger into the open jar in her hand and smeared it on the tiny quarter of visible skin. For Andy, the sensation was almost painfully sticky as honey clung in his chest hair.

'Honey?' Andy questioned in disbelief. Lisa lowered her pretty head and used her tongue to clean the area, licking the exposed skin in light circles . Andy eyed the top of her head and his breathing quickened. Finally she stopped, lifted her head and met his mouth. Her full lips tasted of the skin-salt and honey. He almost bruised them in his eagerness to taste and feel the inner recesses of her hot, sweet mouth. If these first kisses were any indication of how aroused she was, by god she was ready for him.

At the thought, his heavy cock strained in his pants. Lisa unbuttoned more of his light blue shirt, parting it from his chest so she could press the softness of her breasts against his chest. Her large milk-melons were imprisoned in a balconette bra of the finest black lace. The pert mounds threatened to overflow from their stays and Lisa's aching nipples longed for his caress.

Andy needed little encouragement. Delighted, he unclipped her bra, whilst Lisa's shaking hands crept to the buckle of his belt. He transferred the heat of his mouth to her areola, slipping and sucked with impassioned zest. Lisa felt her knees buckle and she gasped, struggling to maintain her own task. She unzipped his fly and worked the edges of his boxers down, freeing his large cock. She ran an appreciative hand over the thickness of it, toying with his velvet skin. Lisa curled her fingers around his iron rod.

'Stop it' she breathed, almost unconvincing in her lusty haze. Abruptly he stopped caressing her breasts, Lisa thought the sudden lack of stimulation to her nipple was almost heartbreaking. He blew cool air on the slippery tip and she whimpered. Andy raised his head, wearing a mischievous grin.

'Did you say something?'

The pupils of his eyes were large, his features overcome with lust. Lisa pouted to avoid a response and kissed him. He could tell by her taste that she was aching for cock. Andy was curious as to why she would stall him? She gave him no immediate explanation, merely helped him out of what was left of his shirt and threw it to the floor. Next she slid off his pressed work pants, utility belt and boxers. They too were left in a puddle on the floor.

Lisa knelt on the rug, she kissed his thigh and Andy's proud erection bounced in pleasure. She stuffed one hand into the honey jar and brought her sticky fingers to his cock, reaching around to curl her digits onto his hot flesh. He winced in pleasure and where he had been wearing a cheeky grin, the smile fell from his lips as he watched her in wonder. On her haunches, before him, she still held his cock in one sticky hand, with the other she raised her dripping fingers to her lips and sucked, removing the sweet liquid with relish. He eyed her with open lust.

Then, instead of leaning in and taking his aching member in her mouth like he had hoped, she shuffled backwards and sat herself on the rug, legs akimbo. The pink peach of her sex lay open. Andy thought he would break from the luxury of it, and to avoid pouncing on her and thrusting into her like a crazed youth, he let out a ragged sigh and raked one hand through his honey-brown hair.

He watched as she ran one of her newly-clean digits over the flesh of her sex, taking care to caress her labia before dipping in to to coat her clit in her own juices, teasing it gently. Andy stood transfixed as she swirled two fingers, slipping them easily inside her dripping pussy. Lisa shuddered, she tipped her head back and Andy took a step towards her. She stopped him with one heeled foot.


Reluctantly, Lisa sat up. She saw that Andy was on tenterhooks. She returned her attention to his delectable penis and knelt once more, enjoying the taste of the cloying stickiness and most of all, his satisfied grunt as she took the tip in her mouth, greasing the head with her saliva like an ice-cream. She released him soon after, closing her mouth, tasting him and the honey all at once. Andy's hands went to her hair, gently urging her to resume her antics. She allowed him to guide her head until it was pressing her lips close to his cock. She made a show of keeping them closed.

He shifted in frustration and she let the moment last for a second longer, before engulfing his whole, glorious cock in her mouth, passing the tip down the back of her throat. He squirmed, he groaned and Lisa began to stroke, taking him out, clasping the base with one hand, slurping and slipping it all back in between her lips - like a greedy kid at the beach on a hot day, racing the sun to melting point.

She could feel Andy melting, he still had a hand in her hair and she responded to his suggestion of a rhythm as she thrust in and out, cleaning his member of all honey. By now Andy was shaking, he told her she was good, she was golden and somehow, his enlarged cock became even bigger.

Lisa knew if she kept this up he would blow. Instead she clasped the base of his engorged dick, looking up through her hair and lashes to see his flushed, concentrated expression as he watched her. She stood up, leading him by his cock over to the coffee table before she finally let go. Lisa lowered her body onto the glass and splayed her legs, wordlessly asking him to return the favour.

He knelt, obligingly and licked at her labia. Sucking cock was a pass time Lisa adored so she was wet and ready, Andy had barely flicked a welcome tip of his tongue across her sex, one, two, three times before she erupted in orgasmic spasms. He took his cue from her pleasure, grabbing a nearby cushion from the sofa, quickly coming back to kneel with her splayed before him,once more. Andy placed his penis parallel with the flower of her sex. He remained poised, as though awaiting permission to enter.

Lisa wriggled, shifting her hips so her juices covered his cock and it slid easily along her pussy, delightfully adding it's weight to her lush slit. Lisa allowed the cock head to tease her clit in this way, sliding up and down. She whimpered. Andy brought the head of his penis to rest at her opening, nothing more. He held the moment, gripping her thighs to prevent her thrusting onto him. She wriggled in ecstasy and he let a further half an inch of his throbbing cock make it's way inside her hot hole.
Teasing her in this way was making him sweat. He longed to close the distance and feel the meat of her sex envelope all of him. Instead, he sucked on a finger and leaned in to trace one nipple, which rose to attention, instantly. Lisa smiled in pleasure and grabbed at his big hand. She raised his forefinger to her lips and went about administering the same treatment she had lavished on his penis minutes before. Just barely inside her and holding his position, Lisa felt his manhood twitch.

Knowing she drove him crazy was added incentive as she continued her tortuous sucking and cajoling. Andy couldn't stand the tension a moment longer, his cock began to bury itself agonizingly slowly into her depths. Once inside, Lisa squeaked in pleasure and he stroked for the first time, breaking the spell. Lisa writhed and moaned, going mad for it.

Again, Andy stroked and his fingered were treated to a sexy suckle, and she made her satisfied noises onto his digits. He took another stroke, holding her thighs this time to achieve maximum depth. Lisa cried out, his hand leaving the warmth of her lips, forgotten, as she reveled in the pleasure of finally feeling him fill her. Andy was rising to the challenge beginning to expertly fuck her as she had planned.

They made a rhythmn together, Lisa made sure to clench and unclench her pussy muscles and the beads of sweat on Andy's forehead told her he was struggling to maintain control. Registering this, she pushed at his chest and despite being almost at the point of no return herself, clambered up. She poured her frame invitingly over the back of the couch til her creamy breasts were crushed by the cushions, Andy feasted his eyes on her sweetness, splayed, red and ready for him to plunder. He pressed a kiss into her prone peach, taking Lisa by surprise, she shuddered and giggled.

Andy guided his cock home, burying himself in her, giving her a good, deep fuck. As he pounded, his thighs met her buttocks and she rocked, moaning. Her cries grew louder by the stroke and eventually he felt her climax. Andy drove into her softness again and again, thrusting deeply before finally allowing himself to unload.

Limp and exhausted they lay on the couch together, Andy kissed her mouth and she ran a hand through his hair.

'I have to get back' She said finally, softly ' The squad will be waiting for me to authorize those patrol cars for tonight'

Lisa sat up, Andy to stroked the silky skin of her back. She arched like a cat. Reluctantly, she unbuckled her heels and got up, padding towards the bedroom. Andy put his arms lazily behind his head.

'Ok Boss' He said, as he watched her delectable arse leaving the room. 'I guess I'll see you at work'.

Andy looked up at the ceiling in her lounge room and grinned. Her cream still covered his cock.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Ok now I have actually seen everything

Genki and the Art of Eel Porn - The Vice Guide To Sex | VBS.TV. Not recommended if you are easily squeamish. Me, I'm just fascinated by the existence of such an industry. Absolutely astounded actually. No words

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Melancholy November

Ali, ALI? You can hear me right?”

Her voice is gentle, insistent and she never once looks away from Ali’s face.

Picture a woman standing in a small street, quite close a to a... A stobie pole. Only she’s not standing on a street corner see, but in a theatre. To her left is the shiny red of the house curtain and in front of her is the ‘people’ smell of the crowd. (This theatre will be needing new seats soon and some of the audience are hoping the first act isn’t going to be long. The chair’s springs are sticking into various arses.)

You are staying with me, right?”

The bleeding woman nods.

Don’t die on me now” There is a lot of blood. “I sent that fat, nervous woman to call someone. Hold on.


Maura licks her lips. They’re dry, too dry. It’s grose. Where is everybody?

On this stage, the lights dim.” She whispers “Darkness....”

Maura takes a breath, interupts herself. It’s gaspy as she hadn’t realised she was holding onto the air. In anticipation for the story she has begun to tell?

Despite the hand supporting her bleeding friend and their uncomfortable position on the cold cement, Maura smiles. She loves stories. Almost imperceptively, so as not to disrupt her friend; the wound, this moment - Maura tries to shift and fails. Her right leg goes slowly numb and she dreads the pins and needles that will follow, later.

Act One...”

Ali’s voice is feeble, her tongue is tied. Her eyes are no longer open, but she is still there, prompting. Wanting something for the pain.

Ali look up at me mate?”

The bleeding woman complies.

I’ve got on a sports bra, I’m going to try to tornique the wound”

Without easing away from her load, Maura disrobes and rips at her white shirt. She ties the leg. Ali winces and her neck is at a funny angle as the other woman bends down to tie it off.

Breathless now, Maura sits back and continues.

The lady on our stage, she starts her monologue” Clears throat ...

Once I’ve battled my way through another glorious, orgasmic moment back to reality and the buzz from sexual stimulation has receeded, when the low hum of want is drowned out by the bright shiny daylight.”

Ali looks up, the pallor of her skin scares the other woman. In addition she can hear the woman’s breathing. Shallow and laboured.

No sleepy time” Maura kisses a finger and places it tenderly on Ali’s pasty forehead, their story forgotten. As she looks up, boots - attached to the strong legs of two emergency servicemen - send relief flooding through both the women.

They roll Ali from her and commence putting her body onto a stretcher. Her body. The woman is lifeless, a soupie, greyish tint to her skin and her dry cracked face. Maura wants to touch her. One last time.

There’ll be a next time” a nurse by her side reassures gently and drags her away to sit under a blanket. Apparently the shock can do funny things to her system and she must be molley-coddled and still.

Maura chokes on the hot chocolate and wonders when it is she can go home.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Lady Luck

Nathan's a good looking man, tall and broad shouldered. Naturally blessed with lean, chiseled features, he's something of a small-time con artist. Nathan likes to rely on the kindness of strangers. He enjoys people's trust. His toffee coloured eyes give the impression of generosity and warmth. In his presence a person can be made to feel both interesting and appreciated. He's aware of the affect he sometimes has on strangers, making sure his self-effacing demeanor keeps his manners endearing and his tone sincere.

Nathan has experienced a string of bad luck lately. Somehow, he'll have to turn things around and get his act together. Something's got to change, and quickly, though he's not too sure where to start. Right now, in need of a coffee with no money to speak of - he rings a friend and arranges to meet her at a coffee shop.

He closes the front door of a mate's place, having spent a night on the couch. He marvels at a beautiful woman walking by, her heavy hair swishing at her back. He imagines the way it might smell. She stops, not far away and kisses another man on the street. Nathan sighs, making his way to the coffee shop, affected.

Over coffee with Carla he tries to play the caring friend, listening to her whinge about her estranged husband, her unmanageably large house and her recent foray back into the dating pool. He orders a toasted sandwich for himself and she helps him eat, breaking it into tiny pieces and slotting it into her mouth between sentences.

He's acutely conscious that he'll have to ask her for money, sooner or later. She pops broken pieces of a cold, toasted sandwich as if to punctuate her sentences and never once directs an inquiry his way. When he can take no more he gets up briskly, forgetting his mission as he pulls his backpack across his shoulders. The childish gesture shaves ten years off him. Carla blinks up at him, catapulted from her own discomfort.

“I have to catch a bus.” He kisses her warmly before lurching out of the coffee shop and off down the street. It doesn't occur to him to look back, saving himself from a view of her astonishment. Now, directionless and devoid of cash, Nathan assesses the day stretching before him.

On the train Nathan sits next to a ‘suit’. She smells of fresh grapefruit. A navy skirt hugs her well-proportioned lower body and across her lap the fabric stretches so tight it appears likely to split. Nathan tries very hard not to admire her openly, for fear she'll catch him looking. He wants badly to touch her. He lurches with the movement of the train and the effort of trying not to invade her personal space. They get up simultaneously for a stop, exchanging a glance. Each stares back into identical, honey-brown eyes. After she has gone, Nathan can still feel his heart running. He is still able to catch the faint scent of her perfume. An involuntary rush of blood to his groin forces him to shift his weight.

After the train he makes his way up the stairs into too-bright daylight and pounds the pavement, deep in thought. After a while it starts to rain and he's forced to search for somewhere to escape the weather. Before long Nathan finds himself in a library, attached to a shopping centre. At least here he can read, stay out of the rain for a while and work out how to face the rest of the week.

He choses a book from the shelves, lazily observing all the action around him. The amount of people coming and going increases through the lunch rush. His blood cools in his veins. At one point, Nathan notices a familiar body in the sea of people passing by. Appreciatively he takes in her shape and size, the Venus-like proportions of her figure and the faint lure of her perfume. He recognizes the woman from the train. Goose-bumps forming on his arms.

Nathan plays it cool, calming himself. She senses him staring, turns to look at him and a shock of recognition passes over her features. She smiles shyly and turns away, plonking herself into a comfortable chair adjacent to his, a magazine on her lap. Relaxing, she takes off her work jacket. Her expensive, cream blouse moves like liquid. The fabric is elegant and thin, pulled taut across her ample breasts. Her tanned arms are smooth and freckle-free. Nathan's feels his moment had arrived.


She looks up from her reading, cherub lips forming into a smile.

“I want you to blow me.” The words appear on his lips before he can vet them. Blood rages in his ears.

“Here?” Her tone is thick with disbelief.

"Can you think of somewhere better?”

"Well, as it happens I work here. I know somewhere...” Her tone is changing as she forms the words.

“Ok.” Already his erection strains the fabric of his jeans.

It seems so straight forward, imminently possible to snatch a few moments of unbridled passion in a council library facility. Adrenalin from his un-rejected proposal fuels his recklessness, increasing his hunger. Nathan wants to have this woman, is almost mad with it.

"Do you think we should?"

"I've always believed in the here and now," Nathan puts in dryly. He still can't quite believe his luck.

"You'll have to wait," she whispers, grinning, noting the crazy lustful expression.

"Whatever you say, babe." His voice is soft.

They get up and without preamble she leads him past the counter stuffed with staff, off into the bowels of the building. He notes the rustle of movement amongst some of the desk staff as they walk by but no one tries to stop them. As they weave through rooms and hallways she's light on her feet, padding softly just ahead. Nathan enjoys the enchanting view of her delectable rear leading him into mischief.

Eventually, she stops, satisfied with her choice. By now they are in an office, small and undoubtedly tucked away. She strides in, Nathan closes the door behind them.

“I hope this is okay for you?” Her tone is soft, confused. For a brief moment Nathan just stares in amazement, unable to say anything. In all his life he had never before known a situation to parallel this one.

He closes the distance between them until his body is close to hers. Too close. In order to look at him she must offer her face up and meet his eyes. Her moist lips will be just centimeters from his. In the silence, her breathing becomes rapid and shallow. Nathan chooses not to hesitate further, bringing a large hand up to the small of her back, propelling her forward. The pillows of her breasts crush on the wall of his chest. Her features are still expressionless, although from this distance Nathan can see the unmistakable dark hint of lust in her eyes.

It feels delicious, these first rushed steps of their courtship. It crosses her mind how strange it feels to be so coy. They are adult, with little time. As the outside world shrinks out of context, so the air between them thickens and heats. She can touch the fabric of his shirt, can see he hasn’t shaved today. She doesn’t kiss him and he makes no move to try. Instead she lowers her head and unbuttoning his shirt, brushes the material off his chest with trembling fingers.

She unbuckles his pants. She unbuttons his boxers and without removing his jeans or his underpants, pulls his cock free of his clothes. It's fully erect and big, more substantial than she would have predicted. Her lips curl with a hint of appreciation. She moistens them and ducks down before him, wasting no time slipping the tip of his cock in her mouth. Perhaps she expected stale and sour, Nathan's cock is smooth and flavour-less. He makes no sound.

She takes in more length, quickly, testing him. She wants to hear him give away some audible hint of enjoyment. She runs her tongue down to the base, where the hair protrudes from his jeans. She snakes the width of her tongue up his length, looking up through her lashes to see his reaction. She can read disbelief in his brown eyes. She greases his cock more with her saliva and her lithe tongue, little pains of pleasure rock through his body, turning his limbs to liquid.

He can think only of taking her, tearing her clothes and fucking her on the blandly organized carpet. The sensation is too much for him and Nathan closes his eyes as she slides her lips around the head of his penis, taking his entire length into her throat and mouth. Quite suddenly she stops.

“I think I should stop now.” She's still holding his cock in her petite hand, kneeling in front of him. He helps her to her feet, adjusts his achingly rigid member.

“I have to have you,” he says finally. “Here.”

Wordlessly she turns away from him and undoes the zipper of her skirt, sliding the material up over her hips so he can see her gorgeous, firm arse peeping out from under the ludicrously tight skirt. She bends forward over the desk and offers her sweetness to him. She looks over her shoulder suggestively and smiles. She notes that his eyes are glazed by lust.

Exposed to his view, poised for action, she wiggles her rump. His honey-brown eyes feast on her sex and she can feel her wetness increasing under his gaze. In an appreciative, reverential homage to her recent performance, he kneels behind her, kissing her folds and stroking her glistening sex with his tongue.


He snuffles in her slit, buries his face willingly in the warmth and sweetness of the most amazing pussy he has ever set his mind to. Ahead of him she reels, a mighty orgasm building, making her push back against the intrusion of his tongue. Desire causes her to whimper and taking the sound as encouragement he inserts a finger into her vagina.


Nathan begins to gently finger fuck her and she squirms.

“I want you to fuck me,” she whispers her request and he can't hear her. “Oooh my god.”

Helpfully, Nathan eases two fingers in and out of her sex. She grips the table. He takes a moment to allow himself a final taste of her tantalizing flesh, lapping his tongue along her exposed lips, before he stands.

“What did you say?”

“I...” She turns towards him, Nathan initiates the kiss, their first, it's wholly satisfying, hot, wet and drenched in passion.

Eventually she pulls away, they are both caught off balance, soaked in desire. A moment later she is rolling over to clutch the desk once more. Nathan gently slides two fingers back into her pussy. He can feel the damp heat and the slight contraction of the muscles at the continuation of his pleasurable touch. She whimpers and he can hear her sharp intake of air. His cock is rigid in his hand, harder than ever. Nathan's shaking hand guides the head of his penis into the pocket of her arse and she wriggles. He directs the head of his cock down and feels her flesh parting as he enters her.

Finally, now he allows himself to moan, ecstasy washing over his limbs. At the first stroke she pushes back into him, feeling his length stretching her soft folds. He repeats the pleasure, again and again. She starts to sigh and he reaches around, cupping one luxurious breast through her clothes. The action stills her body’s urgent fever, allowing him to set the rhythm. He picks up the pace and shortens his strokes. She goes mad for it and squirms in his arms.

After a moment he's slamming into her, releasing stroke after wild stroke as he drives them both forward. He can feel the spasms and the rush of heat as she cums for him, throwing her head back. Nathan lets himself go inside her too, in the aftershock, her pussy still convulsing from orgasm.

Warm and shocked, she turns to him and kisses him full on the mouth. His limbs are still liquid. Nathan returns her kiss, reluctantly releasing her lips. He picks up her delicate hand, brings it to his mouth in a laughable nod to gentlemanly behaviour, then swiftly, as the reality of the situation returns to him, he grabs his pants and starts to tidy himself.

She takes a moment to shuffle the creased fabric of her work skirt over the plump swell of her hips. She’s definitely titillated, mildly amused. Her knickers are saturated. Still shaking, she finds her jacket, taking care to button it before making her way back, cheeks aflame, through the labyrinth.

A moment later Nathan finds himself back out on the street, alone. The day continues to drizzle but perhaps things aren't so bad, he thinks. He'll probably never see her again, and probably just as well. How could they top a first encounter like that? One thing's for certain, his luck definitely appears to be turning.

Friday, November 5, 2010


There are certain things to be said for what dizzy-ing heights make people do. Isabelle didn’t know heights would make her pulse race and her skin tingle until she stood up there for the first time… The way the ground begged to be remembered by her feet. How the empty air seemed so appetizing. She resolved not to work at heights, for though she loved it, she feared that one day the temptation to fill that space might become too great.

Isabelle had a temp job at a marine outlet that left her answering phones and feeling dead at night. She journeyed to work on the train and had somehow taken a liking to the second carriage. It had never occurred to her to follow a pattern or establish a routine for herself but she liked the certainty that came with a feeling of knowing her destination.

Out walking one night, she took herself up eight flights of stairs in an abandoned factory near her flat. She climbed the pigeon-stained stairs to the very top and found a broken window to access the roof. As she stood up there on the certainty of concrete she thought about two things. She thought of how she wanted to talk to the man she had noticed catching her train from the same carriage every day too; and that being above the earth with the luxury of a birds-eye view was a pleasure she responded to with a passion.

Isabelle thrilled herself with the feel of the cold wind, the un-giving concrete and the view of streets and places. She pressed her breasts on the cold tiles as she stood in the shower at her flat later, recalling the wind. Under the warm buzz of the shower head she let her hand stray between her legs, gently bringing herself to orgasm dreaming of open spaces. She craved the hard feel of a lover’s hands and the warmth of passion but she excelled herself, caressing her slippery pussy and working her fingers into the warm flesh, gently and consistently at first and then with a desire to thrust into herself she pressed her thighs together and added pressure to her hand. Later as she towel-dried her blonde hair in the lounge, elated.

Mark turned out to be a less-than-averagely talkative train companion. She worked up the courage to approach him one morning and looked again for him that night, bursting with questions but he seemed overwhelmed. They lapsed into a silence punctuated by the movement of the train on the tracks. As he went to alight at his usual stop he said “I’ll take you to dinner. I’d like that.”and wrote his phone number on her arm like a school boy. Isabelle skipped home to her individual-portion-sized frozen meal.

Later, she allowed herself to daydream of him as she knelt on the floor in her lounge. She splashed baby oil on her breasts and attempted to rub each nipple dry with erotic slowness, feeling her juices begin to collect. Soon each pink nipple stood proudly to attention like firemen and she clipped one between her thumb and index finger, forcing a noise in her own throat. She heard her breathing change. As she sat on her haunches circling her ample breasts with the palm of one hand she thought of Mark’s body pressed against hers like it had never been, she felt her pussy grow lush and warm and ache for a release.

Frustrated that she should want to be caressed so much and distracted so often by fleeting passions she showered and slept. On the train the following morning Mark was nowhere to be found. He appeared as usual on the homeward journey and it was he that began the conversation. Mark stood beside her and closed the distance between them when he spoke, as though they were intimate friends.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you” he said.
Isabelle’s mouth fell open a little. Brazenly she met his eyes
“I want you too” She said levelly, feeling the warm rush of desire through her body. His eyes darkened and all too soon he got off the train at his stop.

At home she ate a cold snack as she found the piece of paper where she had written down his number. “Mark” she said when he answered
“Yes hullo who’s this?”
Isabelle very nearly hung up.
“The girl from the train” He laughed lightly back into the receiver. She shivered with relief.
“Do you want to see me?” he asked
“Yes” said Isabelle.
“Let me take you somewhere special?”

She gave him her address and he turned up in a commodore. Mark drove them back into the city which was quieter now and parked easily on a street right downtown. He led her to a building nearby. Using his keys and a security pass he took her through the foyer and up the lift. They progressed to level 23. At a landing and they got out.

“We have to take the stairs from here” He grinned and took her by her hand. He led her up through endless stairwells and finally out onto a balcony that looked out over a tennis court, a freeway and the river. He smiled at her warmly and opened his jacket to cushion her from the wind.
“I like the wind” She said resisting his embrace and she felt his cold fingers touch the hem of her skirt.
She drew herself to him then and let him encircle her in his arms, they were warm and heavy and she reveled in the feeling of his tense skin beneath the cotton of his work shirt. He picked her up and placed her bum on the railing. She dared not look down but felt a shot of adrenaline that warmed her whole body.

She stuck a cold, brave hand down the front of his work trousers, keeping his eye contact all the while. She found the strength of his aching cock. It was hard as rock and smooth beneath her hand. He didn’t seem surprised though his expression clouded a little once she ran her hand the length of his shaft. She unbuttoned his pants, shuffled off the rail and eagerly met her hand with her mouth.

After too few wondrous strokes she got up to kiss him again. She knew she tasted of him, he returned the kiss, his mouth hot and sweet. She pressed her soft breasts against him. Mark instinctively kneaded her flesh, through her shirt and she strained against his touch. She remembered the pleasure of his cock and returned once more to caressing him with her tongue and her moistened lips. The wind picked up around them and Isabelle cried out with the pleasure that rocked through her before he even made a sound. She could feel herself creeping toward orgasm as she let herself get caught up in the urgency of the moment.

Finally, he plied her mouth away from his aching cock though his body shook with desire. He lifted her up on the rail; he pulled her knickers aside to make way for his large cock and accidentally ripped the fabric. She giggled and swallowed her laughter as he drove his length into her wetness. She inhaled with shock and pleasure and allowed her eyes to feast on his mouth, on the sensuous pleasure ripping through her and the tingle of awareness at their surrounds.

In a moment he was kissing her again, tasting the sweet change in her mouth as she came. Only then did he allow himself to relax into the warm pressure of her, driving his shaft home in a few solid strokes. She sighed with pleasure, riding the last waves of it before asking him quietly to put her down. He kissed her as he plucked her ripe arse from the barrier and set her feet firmly back on the concrete of the 30th level.
“Wow” she said and turned to admire the dizzy-ing view.

Monday, November 1, 2010

Sexy sheets...

A warm breeze on her cool body, raking over naked, voluptuous breasts. Each is like a perfect jam bun, a perfect, perky nipple sits atop, budded in desire. She's lying on the bed, a sheet between her legs. The thin material offers a tantalising pressure, bringing pleasure to her freshly showered form. Excitement builds in her secret place, thanks to the whisper of fresh, cool sheets.
Perhaps the feeling of refreshment won't last long in the warmth of such an evening. Already night is pressing closer, teasing her nerve endings. Darkness closing in around her offers a seductive solitude, the chance to play. She flicks on the bedside lamp and plonks back onto the bed, smoothing her supple body against the satin sheets, curling a cushion towards herself, cat-like. After a minute of squirming she replaces the material between her legs with a finger.
Sighs, running a finger about her intimate curls. Her body's response is a silent plea. She can hear her breathe catching but resists the urge to delve into her own warmth. She aspires to keep the fire kindled, without a burst of flame, yet. She rubs her lips, wandering a finger over the fleshy planes. Reward is a glorious rush of desire, trickling through her limbs. It is building into a welcome wetness pooling just below her fingers, just outside her reach, luxuriant torment.
One, knowing hand seeks her breast, fondles the nipple and knows the quick joy of a pinch. She squirms, fondling a handful of softness, licks her finger and runs it across a rosy peak.
"Oh..." she says softly to no one.
Her sex must have called to him, somehow, in her desirous stupor. A door creaks on its hinges in their bedroom. Knees akimbo, a rumpled sheet still at work on the juncture between her thighs, she glances over her shoulder. He meets her eyes. She can hear the sound of his bag being dumped, the impatient thump of shoes onto floorboards, a zipper and the dull thud of cloth. In a moment, his arms are either side of her splayed form. Body heat reaches out to cover her, even before their skin can touch. She feels him radiating warmth.
He kisses her neck, a newly formed 5 'o'clock shadow makes prickles on the softness. She sighs. Squirms. He supports his own weight so as not to displace her, gently coaxing the sheet from between her thighs, replacing it with a head. In a sweet moment of recognition she feels the weight of his cock, pressing at her smooth, wet labia. A doorway to bliss. She finds his actions hot and forward. He reaches around to her hip, slides a warm, large palm over the flat of her stomach and into the folds of her pussy. He wants to know she wants this. She turns towards him for a kiss.
The bedside lamp is hidden by a cloth, bathing the room in a warm, red glow. The colour catches her imagination as she shuts her lids, feeling him enter her. She moans. He caresses her clitoris and she could die from it. So full. Still there is more pleasure to come. He drives her to distraction, with each stroke his thighs press her buttocks, and as there is no cause to rush he takes his exquisite time. A finger flutters at her budded nerves, over and over, pushing her towards orgasm. When at last she can feel him quicken their strokes and his glorious, digital stimulus, it's because she feels him engorge within her. It's hard to bear the fullness, in a moment without air or separateness.
He stiffens and they both fall from the precipice, into the magic of a selfish moment. Together.
In a further minute they will begin to feel the humid evening again. The stillness will be as pressing as the night air. For now, they breathe. Her damp hair sticks to her nape, and he has collapsed upon her. He kisses her shoulder and rolls onto the mattress, one arm still protectively splayed across her body.
She is still breathing hard.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Being an Adult (Part 9)

Against his better judgment Highfield had thoroughly enjoyed every second of their night together. In her company he had spent, quite simply, the best date ever. In less than 4 hours she had proved she was forthright, opinionated, brave, adventurous and a lover of good food, good wine (and good company). Highfield shivered and stubbed out his cigarette. He wanted her to be no more than a figment of his imagination, only then would he be safe from his raw wounds.

Behind him, Abbey unlocked the passageway door and stepped out into the courtyard. At first she didn't see him. She looked up at the night sky. She wished she could just forget about the evening but he haunted her thoughts. The simple fact that they shared the same apartment building, jangled her nerves. She'd be unable to sleep, no point turning in just now. As she turned, Abbey saw a figure across the lawn stub out a cigarette. So close she could just reach out, take two steps and touch him. She didn't. Instead Abbey excepted the pitiable no-win situation in which she found herself and the man she thought she could see in the half-light. Abbey strode purposefully to the back door and wrenched it open. She stepped inside.
"Why?" Abbey shot softly. It was all too reasonable, she thought, he was very clearly messing with her head.
"I seem unkind to you?"
Abbey didn't say anything, she wanted to run. She wore reason like a cloak, waiting with forbearance to see what followed. It wasn't possible, she thought, to be more miserable.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

why aren't you trying to stop me (Part 8)

If Abbey had noted his progress down the hall she would have seen Highfield make his way out the back, into the stillness. Highfield wanted to smoke. He didn't turn on the light. In his minds eye he was back in the night before, as he enhaled. Back when Abbey had dragged her drowned-rat arse around the corner, into the courtyard and into his life. He exhaled and listened to the sounds of traffic, reasuringly a block or more away. He wanted her, didn't see any problem with being honest with himself. The problem for them was he wasn't ready. His body could take a one-night affair or a few casual rolls in the hay, (he felt his blood quicken at the thought) emotionally, after the last 18 months, he knew he wasn't the man he used to be and worse - couldn't picture himself being anything other than self serving in a relationship. His tattered heart needed time to mend. Highfield had been genuinely shocked when the wife he loved had asked for a divorce. He didn't pretend to understand women and he thought he couldn't quite handle the musings of this one - Abbey was headstrong and beautiful, such a woman was altogether too much of a handful for what he felt to be his emotionally exhausted self. Drawing in his cigarette Highfield imagined that the path least painful for them both, was the path of least resistance, creating distance, with or without telling her so.

Monday, September 27, 2010


Its so cold. I'm shivering but I don't think its just the cold. I've got a cold heart, cold because the last time I saw you I shouted at you as you left. I've got a stone where my love for you should be and it's wearing me out.
I'm a balloon, tethered at a knot and every time something I know and trust shifts, a long way away from me, one of the stays snaps and a bit of the air rushes in to pull me from the ground.

The balloon bobs, straining at it's stays. I'm sure I want you, though this isn't a happily ever after. Don't tell me that's not what I want.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

A time and a Place (Part 6)

"Let's go for a walk first. I mean, I don't know where we are but I think we should take a look around, talk for a while and then go in. I don't want this to feel forced."
He was still looking at her, his earnest expression up-rooting her confidence.


"Look, I just want to make love to you. And I think what you want, is to get to know me first."
He got out of the car and shut his door, making his way calmly to her side. Abbey felt anger rising, but at least he was honest. He was identifying the situation for what it was, a date with the promise of more when they reached the privacy of his rooms, like acknowledging a package that waited for them.
Abbey got out of the car by concentrating on making her legs work, she slid the substantial distance to the ground and planted her feet firmly before she dared to meet his eyes. The green pools sparked at her, all hunger and hesitation. Highfield leaned in and she thought he was going to kiss her, hell she ached for him to kiss her. Instead, he placed his nose millimetres from her neck, in an intimate gesture and sniffed, playfully, his wet tongue darted in and out until she could feel the ticklish dampness on her nape. Abbey squealed and tried to squirm away, laughing.
"What are you doing?"
Abbey laughed harder.
"I never knew that"
"I think it's a strange habit I learnt from my friends"
"It's very..."

In a moment the mood changed, he was still looking down at her, with a smile turning the corners of his sexy lips but his green eyes darkened and he leaned down to plant a hot, gentle kiss on her lips.
"You're very beautiful".
But Abbey thought, behind the smile and inside the to-die-for green depths she could sense a something hadn't been there before. Oh dear God. Abbey groaned, he was damaged goods.

She sure wasn't sure, how to take him. One minute he was playful and full of confidence and the next he was giving her soul-stirring kisses and searching looks.
"I never said 'Hey! wet lady in the rain, I'm an uncomplicated man who likes to smoke cigarettes in the dark, why don't we get to know each other?'" Highfield spoke softly.
"No, I guess not" She admitted slowly.
Abbey let herself be led closer to his tall frame, til their hips met. Highfield gathered her up, drawing her torso into his, until his brown hair brushed her face as he leaned down to capture her mouth, making her thoughts swim. He insinuated his warm tongue into the hollows of her mouth and she closed her eyes. She could feel the warmth of his chest through her thin cotton shirt. A moment later, Abbey fluttered her eyes open for a fraction of a second and was almost undone by the closeness of his perfect features, long lashes draping his closed eyes. His mouth teased a further response from her, and she found herself sliding her arms around his neck, craning, stretching, to be closer.

The darkness of lust descended, Abbey felt warm and languid, her breathing changed. He must have heard it. Highfield's arms shifted and he almost lost his balance. Reluctantly, he released her.
"Hey Crazy-Lady, you're driving me insane"
"Why did you bring me here?"
"I wanted a date"
"What do you suggest?"
"Dinner. I want to eat with you, not play like dumb kids."
Highfield looked her up and down. He didn't know whether to be insulted or pleased. She was a slight woman and now she stood defiantly before him, donating her forthright opinion, hands on hips. Only her flushed cheeks gave away how vulnerable she had been just moments before. He almost laughed. The evening was not turning out as he had planned but she was a woman who clearly knew what she wanted. If he was honest with himself he was having a fine time, glad they were anywhere, together. Abbey's stomach growled. She threw a look at him and wrenched the door open.
"I want to eat a two course meal. I like soup and I feel like rich, buttery food tonight, like eating a cuddle. Do you know anywhere around here?"

As it happens he did. Half an hour later they pulled into the car park of a pub, nestled in exquisite gardens, just off the main road. Warm, inviting light spilt from within the A-frame buildings' apex. Chalet-style windows and climbing ivy gave it an oldy-worldy feel that set her at ease. Once inside Abbey saw the rooms were small and the furniture was wood, accentuated by red fabrics, cream walls and stripes. A waiter greeted Highfield and no sooner had they been shown their seats when the owner joined them at the table.
"Willard, good to see you" He cast a discrete glance in Abbey's direction, she wasn't able to stop herself from adjusting a hair behind her ear. He knows this place?
"Jeremy, the place looks great."
Abbey watched the two men exchange pleasantries. They were old acquaintances, it seemed. Abbey caught herself wondering if he had met Highfield's wife. She forced her treacherous thoughts away from the subject.
"You, my dear, must be Abbey" Jeremy offered, surprising them both.
"Highfield rang me this morning. He said he thought he might try to take you bowling but if you hated it, could he reserve a table as back" The older man grinned.
"I don't discount treachery" Abbey added smoothly, smiling at them both. She was pleased.

Abbey didn't care what they ate. She knew the food was delicious, the company excellent and she didn't need the coffee supplied at the end of the meal. As it was she was already shaking. Highfield drove them home, the conversation lapsing into silence. With the lights of the city fading in and out of view, Abbey appreciated the benefits of the good red wine and almost allowed herself to relax. Where were they going?
"Is this the new way home?"
"I didn't want to go home" Highfield countered her. "I want to take you somewhere"
"Ok" Abbey was sleepy and full.
"Ok you'll come along, or Ok it's a good idea to go somwhere"
"It's a good idea, seriously"

The words were prevelant in her thoughts as half an hour later they they waded through an abandoned lot strewn with rubble, small shrubs, bits of construction debri, bricks and steel. Where the dirt was piled to the walls, every now and then, there was a break in the stones big enough to climb to a higher vantage point. The lot was resplendent with old, concrete storage towers stretching upwards towards the sun. Highfield had talked her into following him, to climb to their pinnacle, for the view. Part of his argument had been him admitting he had done just that, two weeks previously, alone. He knew the way and it was 'sort of safe'. Not the kind to demure from a challenge Abbey kept her doubts to herself. He wasn't a crazy man, she didn't think. As he scrambled helpfully ahead of her with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old, she couldn't help but wonder about him. Her stomach was full, it was dark and dangerous. A successful ascent involved paying close attention to where one feet were, at all times and trying not to freak-out whilst looking for missing rungs, holes in the floor and trip hazards. Hardly the average sort of past time for a man in his late thirties on a Wednesday night. The were probably missing 'House' on the box. Abbey giggled to herself, narrowly avoiding losing her footing.

After a quarter of an hour, Abbey had to admit it was all worth it. They were around 30 stories above the ground, with the industrial precinct below them and further out, a glimpse of other suburbs and highways. She sat on the cold concrete and looked at her companion, making very sure she was leaning with her back to solid concrete. Highfield remained standing, hands in pockets looking reflectively across the night. His fine, fair features accentuated by the shadows on the rooftop. The shadows caught under his eyes and she was at a loss to even hazard a guess as what he was thinking.

Later, in the car as they pulled into a park near the apartments. Abbey breathed a huge sigh of relief. No matter what happened from this moment forward, she had enjoyed an amazing evening. Sitting in the cabin of his plush SUV, after spending some of the night in the wind, outside - she really felt -much more so than she had in a long time. The warm rush of emotion made her want to laugh. She smiled broadly, stifling herself.
"I've had a great time"
"Me too"
"Want to come up for a nightcap?"
As they stepped away from the vehicle, Highfield shook his head, smiling at her.
"No. I wouldn't want to ruin it".
At the door he excused himself, without even turning to kiss her. Abbey stood, assaulted by such a lack of ... everything. After a moment of pause she was able to move off towards her own front door.

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Terracotta and Disbelief (Part 5)

The evening couldn't come quick enough. She stayed in her pajamas most of the day, had a shower at three and was wandering around eating fresh capsicum and hommus, when he rang. Despite the fact that her nerves were a-jangle it was her day off damnit and she was determined to claim some of it, at least, for herself.
"Hullo this is Abbey"
"Hey Crazy-Lady. How about I scratch you at 7?"
"You may do whatever you like" Abbey said dryly "Does this mean you have wheels?"
"I do"
"Ok. See you then, then"
And she hung up. Feeling silly, feeling as though she had over-estimated a situation, who talks like that? Was he a player? What provoked him to speak to her in his sleepy-casual tone (that he, no doubt reserved solely for women). It made him sound like a wanker. Abbey turned off the tv in disgust, she put on music.

By the time 7pm rocked around she was feeling mixed up about the whole thing. Her phone rang.
"I'm outside"
"Hullo. I see"
"Come down"
There was a pause.
"Don't forget your room keys"
She practically threw the phone down but smiled at his impertinence. In a moment she had grabbed what she needed and was making her way downstairs. He was waiting on the pavement, next to a Landcruiser. It was a nice car, a little too ostentatious but she didn't care. Not when a man like that stood in front of it. He was smoking, holding the cigarette leisurely in his hand as a single line of smoke curled it's way into the dusk. He wore dark jeans and an expensive, light green shirt, open at the neck. He must know it brought out the colour of his eyes.
Highfield grinned when she trotted down the front steps to join him, her breasts bouncing on her foot falls. He whistled and Abbey stopped before him. "May I?"
She looked up at him quizzically, as his lips descended on hers. He kissed her lightly, brushing his lips across hers. It was less of an embrace and more of a promise. Abbey grinned.
"Did you have a good day?"
"Better now"
He motioned for her to take the passenger seat.
"Where will we go?" He opened the door for her and she slid in. Tonight she wore powder-blue flares, that were all vintage good taste. They hugged her hips. She had paired it carefully with a linen, collared button-up blouse in two types of cotton. Her cork-and-leather shoes were tan, Abbey had swept her hair up into a high pony above her ears. She was a little uneasy at being dressed too casually, she'd gone for 60's chique. Who knew if it was fashionable? She knew it suited her and tried to remain at ease in her skin. He had whistled, that was a good sign, now he let his eyes linger on her breasts as he joined the seat across from her. The moment stretched. Abbey looked away, forcing her eyes forward, lest she reach across the gears and the hand brake and beg him to give her more kisses.
"We're going bowling".
Abbey raised an eyebrow but said nothing. As Highfield drove them out of town, they chatted and Abbey allowed herself a sneaky view of his profile. It made her breathe catch and desire pool in the centre of her stomach (or if she was honest, a little lower down). His long eye lashes framed those amazing green eyes, she couldn't see their colour at present but it was stamped in her memory. He was clean shaven tonight (unlike this morning) and he smelt of sandalwood and tobacco. It all added up to an appealing package alright, no doubt about it. The thought made her shiver.
Highfield broke off mid sentence.
"You're searing me with the way you're looking at me". His voice was low but he only glanced at her, keeping his focus on the road.
Abbey coughed and looked away.
"What are you thinking?"
The question surprised her.
"You're really hot". She chose to speak plainly, flushing a little at her honesty.
"I got nothing on you, Miss I've-stepped-out-of-another-era."
"You like it? I wasn't really born to wear 21st century fashion, my body is a ... different shape"
"I'd think you look stunning." Highfield spoke cool-ly but the words ignited the moment and Abbey found herself flushing again.
"Why don't you have a girlfriend?"
"Maybe I like to be free to see who I want"
He didn't look like he enjoyed being free, not at that precise moment. Abbey noted his jaw hardened as if he chose to clench his teeth. He stared at the road, un-blinking. She turned her attention forward too.
"Not everybody will tell you everything you wish to know." Highfield added ambiguously.
"You're married."
"No. Not now..."
"You were?"
"I was."
"Yeah. This is the first time we have hung out together, outside of our apartment block. I don't want to talk about my ex-wife."
Abbey sighed, beautiful men were always taken. She shrank a little in her seat.
"It's not your sister's apartment is it?"
"No. We both own it. She took pity on me and helped me buy something, after the divorce."
"So you part own it?"
"Half. I half own it." He clarified
"Oh. Mine's a rental." She tried to say it lightly, all the while wishing the subject would change.
"See now, I know you've started thinking I'm damaged goods". Highfield spoke dryly. Abbey laughed.
"No actually I was thinking that as all the best men are taken, this is why I've met you. Because you were and now, unexpectedly, even for you, you're not"
"It's not a swear word".

They rode in silence for a while. Highfield pulled in outside a large complex and stopped the car. Around them dusk was falling. He felt awkward, shy, like he'd said too much and broken the magic of their new acquaintance already. Spoiled things and didn't know how to find his way back to where they had been. He flipped his green eyes to look straight at her.
"Do you want to go bowling?"
There was a pause.


Monday, August 30, 2010

Bacon and All Spice (Part 4)

Abbey woke the next morning with a sense of wonder. She lay back on the cotton sheets and gazed at the high ceiling of her room. The ornate centre- piece drew her eye in an elaborate circle. Again! She loved it, the bed was large and comfortable, sunlight streamed in from her high windows. What kind of a day would today be? After the drama and mayhem of last night, could anything be as exciting?
Abbey worked at a car dealership as a receptionist and wrote gory, scary, beloved b-grade movies in her spare time. She had sold two, without calling herself Abbey. Her lounge room sagged with its massive collection of shlock horror. Today was Saturday and for once, in her short life, she didn't have to be anywhere, or meet anyone.
Abbey pictured her room in darkness, a snap-shot of happiness - popcorn, a mug of milo a smile and a dvd. She sighed and felt the weight of her bedding on her chest. For now, she could smile contentedly at the ceiling, alive and warm from sleep. Her thoughts drifted to a sexy man in her apartment block. The way he had kissed her, beguiling, honest and sensual. It made Abbey wonder why on earth something had made her hesitate, bringing their games to an end.
She knew, after all that if he was interested in her. A dynamic relationship, fueled by more than just sex beckoned. Hell, being together in the same room as him seemed to create sparks. Perhaps she wanted more than just sex, and that was why she had shied away from a more pleasurable evening. Her thighs throbbed with the weight of an unspent promise. Abbey knew it had taken almost all her gumption to step from his embrace and slow things down. Highfield wasn't a man she wanted just to fuck, she realised. He had an enthusiastic take on the world, a languid humour and a lazy wit, she wanted to get to know him.
Abbey reached over to her night table, searching for the piece of ripped white-lined paper, the kind she so detested. A bold disregard for consequences made her dial it.
His mobile rang. Abbey's heart thumped in her chest. Sleepily, he answered, the deep, soft timber to his voice causing a shock of electricity to run right through her. Abbey adjusted the pillow near her arm.
"Goo' morning" having not spoken to anyone, her voice was hoarse and though she didn't know it, wary.
"Morning princess." Highfield put no emphasis on the word. He chuckled down the phone.
"Did you dream like I did?" he said in a rich, male voice that made her think of golden syrup and chocolate.
"You know what I think?" Abbey spoke boldly, she felt the blood quicken in her veins.
"What is it?"
"Come over?"
"You serious?"
"I don't know"
She hung up. The uncertainty of the next few minutes hung on the air.
The doorbell rang and then she knew. All of a sudden Abbey felt no remorse. It was one thing to tease a man and another to crave his company.
With the confidence of a woman that knows her fridge holds bacon and eggs and mushrooms, she opened the door to all 6 " 4 of him blocking her doorway. He wore flannalette space pajamas, only the bottoms and a dark blue singlet. He filled out both the singlet and his pajamas nicely, she noted. His well shaped arms spilled out through the arm holes and she wanted those big warm appendages, desperately, to hold her. What impulse prevented her from throwing herself into his sturdy arms? Abbey didn't know, but she was glad of it. Already she was shaking with anticipation.
Lifting her gaze to a broad, hard chest that spoke of pure masculinity and sunlight. Abbey took a deep breath.
"Goo' morning"
"So you say" Highfield said soflty, as he insinuated himself into her living room. He looked both perturbingly gauled and self righteous.
"I can't really explain it..." In the moment that followed, Highfield reached up and placed a wayward lock of Abbey's hair behind her ear. She could have felt a pin drop. As she drew a breath, the world seemed to stop,
"I invited you for breakfast."
"Good." Highfield said the word lightly, though his eyes tortured hers with another question.
"I'm hungry"
"Well I went," triumphantly "in the rain last night, to the shops"
"So I hear". Highfield's reply was as dry as her mouth when he looked at her. Abbey wore Elmo flannelette pajama pants, not dis-similar to his own, light blue singlet, no bra and a cheeky grin on her face. What the hey? And she could think of nothing she would rather do, than spend a little more time with this enigmatic, cheeky man.
"You know what?"
"No". Abbey looked up at Highfield, through her lashes. To hell with decorum, she wanted this man and was sure that he could read it in her eyes.
Highfield mounted a grin on his face. She leaned forward without thinking to receive a kiss. He planted his warm lips on hers.
"I don't want bacon. I don't eat bacon, You don't know anything about me Abbey. What I do want - is an evening with you tonight. I'll pick you up at 8."
He grabbed his jacket and pulled it on over his pajama top.
"I'll see you then. You are crazy, beautiful and I don't know how I am going to stand it. But I'm walking away now, and I'll see you tonight"
He left. Abbey chewed her lip in her own sitting room. She got up after a minute and got out her kitchen skissors, she began to cut the bacon rind.

Monday, August 9, 2010

Willard and the Wet Woman (part 3)

"How can you be so sure?" Her lips were almost touching his as she formed the words.
"Perhaps because you're shaking". Highfield's voice was low and intimate. "Do you always shake?"
"No". Her response was feather-light, almost inaudible. His green gaze swept her face searching for something. For that brief moment Abbey thought he looked almost vulnerable, as though he was seeking her approval.
"Then if you don't want me to, I won't touch you". Highfield's hands drifted off her arms and back to his sides. Abbey could feel the cool air that separated them, the cold re-wrapping itself about her like a blanket. In the shadow after the warmth of his embrace, she began to fathom her regrets.
He was already sliding on his heel, backing away from her and widening the gap between them. Highfield's eyes never left hers.
Abbey swore, she knew a moment of indecision before a new and indescribable emotion welled up inside her slender frame. Before she could stop herself she practically threw herself at him, stretching on tippy-toes to wrap her arms about his neck, offering her lips to be kissed, hesitating only a second before the pleasurable feel of his lips met hers, causing her to murmur with relief.
"Hey Crazy-Woman" Highfield said softly "let's go inside?"
A door opened down the hall and their elderly neighbour peered out. Abbey made sure to shut the door softly before she took a lid off her giggles.
"I'm not in the habit/"
"I don't care. You're amazing. Less talk?" His large frame filled up her lounge room. The room had never looked smaller to her. Highfield took of his jumper and threw it carelessly onto an armchair
"Your turn" he challenged lazily, Abbey obliged.
Next Highfield stepped out of his leather shoes and kicked them away, his affected carelessness made her smile and he met her with a cheeky grin. He looked so sexy, his hair ruffled, standing in his socks. He humbled her, his openness and his eagerness to engage in the moment. She took a moment to appreciate his solid frame and broad shoulders that tapered to a lean torso. Highfield's thick, well defined arms showed he had the body of a man that worked, rather than worked out, to achieve his physique. Abbey eyed him silently, unconsciously tracing her lower lip with her tongue, she the thought of his naked chest.
"Abbey, it's your turn"
She grinned, and without a trace of the self-consciousness she was feeling, took off her shirt. Her full breasts were held in-check by a delicate, aqua lace balconette bra. Her bountiful bosom was almost bursting from it's constraints. It was her favourite lingerie and she knew she looked good in it, even though her nerves were on tenterhooks standing semi naked before this handsome man she barely knew. Still, she reasoned, he had helped her out of her clothes once already this evening so it was worth attempting to go the extra mile.
In admiration, Highfield offered a low whistle. He made no attempt to move towards her, standing his tantalising ground in the centre of the room. To her delight the next item he removed was his shirt. Dark hairs sprang from his chest and highlighted the path to his jeans. He was tanned and toned, she noted, suddenly self conscious of her soft, ivory midriff.
"Can I touch you now?" Highfield asked, unsteadily. He closed the distance between them in a few short steps and bent his head. This time he kissed her neck, warming the skin with his feverish breath and passing his lips lightly over her nape, Abbey shivered, afraid his caress would turn her limbs to water. He trailed his lips along her burning flesh, making a path towards the top of her breasts, her soft flesh reacting violently. There was no mistaking her pleasurable response as her nipples budded and hardened. The weight of Highfield's calloused, bronzed hand brushed her breast and she gasped, pressing herself closer to him. Highfield unwound just one of her hands that had somehow found their way around his neck once more, and let it rest on his body. She could feel the strange sensation of masculine strength, lightly peppered with hair, beneath her hands. He coaxed her exploring hand further, until it brushed the top of his jeans, of her own volition Abbey cupped the straining weight of his cock through his jeans. She heard his breathing quicken, he shifted his weight and played right into her waiting fingers, allowing her to feel along his length. Abbey was quietly impressed.
A tiny voice in her head registered that a man built as he was, probably got to enjoy pastimes such as this one on a not-too-infrequent basis. Abbey tried not to think, instead she shuddered. Highfield stopped abruptly and put a little distance between them.
"Am I going to fast for us?" His face was flushed but there was genuine concern, amongst the desire she could clearly read in his green eyes.
"I should see you tomorrow" Abbey began unsteadily. She went to the door and opened it. "I have to work in the morning."
Highfield ran a shaking hand through his brown hair. He picked up his shirt.
"You want me to go?" he said the words almost disbelievingly.
"I think it's best"
"Alright". Highfield tugged his ti shirt over his head and added more cheerfully
"Alright Crazy-lady but this isn't over"
In a moment he was out in the hall, closing the door discretely behind him without another word.

Monday, July 12, 2010

Willard and the Wet Woman (part 1)

Ranting under her breath she carried the heavy shopping up the long street home.
She let her mind drift to the waiting heater and a refreshing cider.
It was definitely raining now when she set out had been nothing more than a light drizzle.
It was only when she put her bags down at her doorstep that she came to realised her problem. Keys. She could see them in her minds eye next to the empty coffee cup with a hire company name on it, on her desk at work. Damn! Abbey sighed and took a longing look at the soggy bags of groceries.

She hedged her bets and made her way down the little lane to one side of her apartment block, sloshing in the over grown alley way until she got to her window, Abbey hoped to be able to jimmey it open and climb in through the study. After a half hearted attempted, she discovered it was tricky to get the sticky old frame to budge. By now she was soaked to the skin.

She swore and grumpily headed around into the enclosed area at the rear of the block. She had only nipped down to pick up a few things, after an exhausting day and now Abbey felt deflated and harassed. This was not a good start to a what could have been a much-needed relaxing evening. As she rounded the corner into the large, comfortable backyard area, she failed to notice it was lit pleasantly with bud lighting and the barbecue shone in the warm winter light, the glass glistened in the rain, and perhaps, at any other time the view would have been comforting. Now she eyed it with irritation. All she saw was a cold area, and a man smoking in the shadows. At least she might make her way out of the rain if she asked whoever-it-was.

How she was to enter her own apartment? Abbey cursed her lack of a phone once more and wondered if the man might able to help her. Dripping wet, her hair plastered to her head, her shirt clung to every cold inch of her torso. In a word - miserable. She felt the rain run off the bridge of her nose. Defiantly she shook her head before speaking.

He stepped further forward into the light when she addressed him. Crushing his cigarette underfoot and pocketing the butt, the man looked up in surprise. She was met with bright green eyes. His brown hair flopped in an unfashionable style over an eye. Abbey was a little taken aback at how good-looking he was and he was far more relaxed than she and drier. Abbey felt at a distinct disadvantage.

"I live here. I'm new. Why? Do you? Out drowning rats this evening I see." He grinned. "Nice weather for some."

Her heart did a strange flip flop and she put the sensation down to relief from desperation, this strange man might be able to help her get home after all.

"I've locked myself out."

His eyes smiled at her and he fought it back from reaching his lips. Abbey laughed despite herself.

"Yeah, yeah this sucks. I just need a phone to get my mate to drop some keys around, can I borrow yours?"

For a moment he met her eyes evenly without looking away. The air crackled and Abbey chose to think it was from the impending lightning storm.

"For sure".

He opened the back door with a key and held the door out. As she walked into the corridor Abbey sighed with relief. At last, she was away from the incessant rain and it shouldn't be long before she would be dry too. She shivered. Her clothes stuck to her frame.

"What's your name?" She asked quietly through chattering teeth as he opened the door to his apartment.

As the door swung open she was treated to a wave of warmth.

"I've just had the central heating fixed. Neat timing. I'm Highfield."

She shot him a quizzical look. Highfield extended a warm dry hand towards her and grinned.

"What's you're real name?"


"You're name is Willard?"

"Yeah it totally is."

Abbey borrowed Highfield's phone and rang Anita, who promised to make the trek in the rain in about 30 minutes. She hung up and looked at Highfield. Large toned muscles stood out from the sleeves of his powder blue polo shirt. He was hot.

"Take a photo. It lasts longer."

Abbey blushed. She wanted to sit but her clothes were sodden.

"I'll get you a towel while you wait..."

"That would be perfect."

"Like you." He said as he disappeared out the door.

"Excuse me?" Abbey doubted he'd heard her and was left wondering if she had heard correctly.

Highfield came back with a large and fluffy green towel exactly the colour of his eyes.

"Your mother bought you this?"

She took it gratefully and started to dry her dripping head.

"That she did. You're good."

Abbey found herself blushing.

"It matches your eyes."


"Yeah and I was just standing here hoping you didn't have a girlfriend."

The words were out before Abbey could hold them back. A silence offered itself to the room.

"You're hot" Highfield shot back. The moment crackled on.

Abbey laughed

"Like this?"

"Yeah, I can see you've got talent. I like my women wet."

He walked right up to her, until they were almost touching.

"You're clothes are kinda, clinging. And those curves..."

He didn't make any move to touch her as she stood in front of him, the towel in her free hand. Her grey shirt was indeed sticking to everything; her breasts, her tummy. She made a belated attempt at dignity, holding the shirt away from her chest self consciously.

"You know what they say, what's seen cannot be unseen."

Abbey shot him a bewildered look.

"And trust me, it's ok. I'm not eager to forget."

Highfield still didn't move an inch. She thought fleetingly that he looked a few years older than she was.

"You're leering."

"My apologies. Let me get you a dry shirt, if it's making you uncomfortable." And he ambled out of the room.

What was happening to her? Perhaps the storm was driving her crazy. Here she was, in the lounge room of a man she barely knew, saying the strangest bluntest things. Something about the whole situation was making her blood sing, her heartbeat pound in her ears. Abbey didn't like it. The whole evening was beginning to spiral completely out of her control.

He came back with a whisky, a pair of tracksuit pants and a large, light blue sloppy joe.

"Bung these on for the time being, Spunk-Rat, before I do weird things to that lovely body"

Abbey blushed red to the roots of her hair, Boldly she decided to accept the situation for what it was.

"Why?" she heard herself saying. She was wide eyed. "What would you do?"

"Well first Crazy Rain-Lady, I would... hey what's your name?"


"Well Abbey" Highfield began huskily "I'd like to give you a hand getting out of these clothes."

And in a moment Highfield was closing the distance between them. He clasped her cold wrists between his thumb and forefinger and raised her hands above her head. He smelt of spice and sandalwood, slightly musky and very male. Her shirt came off. Highfield whistled but he made no move to touch her. He slipped the hoodie on, over her head. Next, he helped her ease the wet sweat pants from her cold, clammy legs. They puddled sadly on the floor. Grabbing her hand in his much larger one, he helped her step free of the wet mess. Her small frame was swamped in the blue hoodie and already, she felt much warmer.

"Fine lady?" he said softly.

Highfield was quite close. She inhaled his intoxicating scent.

"Do you feel better?"

"I couldn't have been wetter" She immediately regretted her words, worse, her comment did not go un-noticed. Highfield raised an eyebrow.

"I'm much better now." She quickly added.

"Your friend will be here soon with your keys."


Suddenly remembering the whisky he scooped it up from the small coffee table.

"Share this with me?"

She gratefully accepted the glass and took an appreciative sip. All things said and done she was heating back up nicely. It was a relief to be away from the rain.

"It's been a hairy afternoon" Abbey offered lamely.

"I'm a hairy afternoon."

Charmed, Abbey laughed. She sat on the vinyl couch, her wet thighs and knickers made a rubbery noise as she shifted. She ignored it. Highfield looked at the tracksuit pants still in his hand and the woman in front of him comfortably sporting one of his jumpers like a dress. He folded the sweats over a chair and sat with her.

"How come we've never met?"

"This is my sister's place."

"Oh. Do I know your sister?"

"I don't know, do you? She's short, her name's Dinkum"

"I'd remember that."


She looked at him steadily, wanting him desperately to touch her again. He didn't.

"Thank you for doing all this. I... I'm just an idiot really. I left my keys at work. Holey fuck is this place a fortress."

"It does have some crazy security. I mea, that's good. I guess. At least I got to meet you."

They sat in silence. Abbey sipped her drink, feeling the whisky curling around her frozen insides and unlocking the icicles, dislodging the discomfort.

"What do you do?"

"I don't want to talk about my job, or the evening. How about we concentrate more on the beautiful, semi-naked addition to my lounge room."

At that moment Abbey felt brave and indestructible. Giving him a long, slow, assessing look that traveled from his lap up to amazing green eyes, she felt the moment pop and burn around them. Then very gently, almost imperceptibly, Highfield lent towards her. Abbey let him. He kept his eyes open until he was within millimetres. He set his warm, soft lips atop hers, planting a kiss. Just as gently as he had descended, Highfield retreated. Her lips tingled.

"I'll stop this if you want me to."

She turned towards him and cupped his unfamiliar, stubbly face in her hands. God, he was beautiful.

"I don't think that's really necessary."

Highfield grinned back at her, the kind of full scale grin that lit his sexy eyes from within. Abbey felt a rush of emotion and pushed it to one side. For tonight, she did not want to think. Highfield ran a finger along her jaw.

"You have a magic about you." Highfield said softly.

Abbey scoffed.

"Don't be ridiculous. We're both attracted to one another, tell it like it is."

For a moment Highfield looked taken aback. He tried to hide it.

"I'll take whatever you want to give" Highfield heard himself saying.

The seconds that ticked by were warm and ponderous. He leaned in to bridge the distance between them, but instead of planting a kiss, he let his hands wander, feeling his way through his own jumper onto her curves. Abbey closed her eyes as his big warm hand continued, first up to her ribs, close to the throbbing underside of her heavy breast and then on her thigh, where the material ended.

Only then did he really kiss her, a slow sultry exploration, almost like a question mark. Her full lips met his and she sighed into his mouth, the molten heat of his tongue probing deeper. Abbey became aware of the knock at the door.

"Anita" she said softly, creating distance between them.

As she got up to answer she looked back at the disheveled man on his own couch. Through his jeans she could see the strength of his erection. She smiled to herself and then back at him.

"I'll get the keys."

Abbey opened the door without looking back and stepped out into the hall.

Monday, June 28, 2010

not just wicker baskets and big hats: a picnic

Sandy walked by the door of the bathroom, in a hurry to remove her drab work clothes. At the sound of Tully humming she stopped and peered in. Her flat mate was immersed in bubbles and warm water, eyes closed and her head resting on the edge of the bath. The steam hummed to the ceiling from out of the bath, slate bath tiles beneath the tub wet, as though she had been splashing in the pleasant warmth. Sandy took in the sight of a relaxed lady, soaped and glistening, bubbles running over her svelte arms and steam gently rising from the tub.
Tully opened her eyes and Sandy started with dismay, had she been staring? Tully gave her a lazy smile and sunk deeper into the steaming warm water, when she resurfaced her long black hair clung to her neck and face. She brushed it out of the way and looked up at the other woman
"Oh Wow,this is So good"
Sandy only smiled, thinking to herself what a picture Tully looked, like this. She marvelled at how amazingly rare it was to see her so relaxed. Normally, the two of them ran about making their lives and their working lives a perfect fit. But today was Sunday. Sunday nights were special in so many ways. Ordinarily Tully loved them.
"I see you" Sandy offered softly. The atmosphere in the room was charged with a certain flavour. Spice, Sandy grinned to herself and took a step closer, she was now inside the bathroom. Sandy put down the bag at her side.
"That looks OK, you know. So do you" She finished deliberately, hoarsely. Sandy hedged her bets and took another step closer. Tully sat up out of her steam-bath and the bubbles began to fall away, leaving her lithe body, glistening in the heat, exposed. She leaned over and almost put her arm across to preserve the illusion of chastity, stopping the bubbles as they pooled above her nipples. Sandy could hear her heartbeat in her ears and choosing this moment to make her next move - even to herself, the sound of her shoes on the tiles was grating. She slipped off her socks. As she walked towards the bath she felt dampness seep into the spaces between her toes. Sandy felt the heal of her foot growing damp. She leaned on the sink casually and pulled them off, slinging her socks into the ikea clothes basket. Tully just watched and nearly disappeared under the water as she feigned disgust. There was a wry twist to her mouth, pulling her lips into a sensual, mischievous expression. The moment lit itself into smaller spotfires. Perhaps a white elephant appeared and disappeared in the steam across the mirror. Neither woman noticed and Sandy bravely closed the distance between them. She sat on the edge of the tub and only paid the most precursory attention to the fact water had began seeping into her jeans around her hip for Sandy had other ideas on her mind. Her preoccupation allowed her to lean in.
"Do you have a headache?"
"I know something that's great for stress relief" Sandy's eyebrow arched
Tully grabbed her by the second button on her work blouse.
"You're a dag" it was the last thing she said before her soft lips found their target on Sandy's own. She closed her eyes and drank in the sweet, plushness of the delicate embrace. Sandy smiled too.
"What if I got in there with you?"
"What if you did?" Tully lifted her arm out of the warm waters, reaching up to cup the other woman's shoulder. Water ran down the sleeve of Sandy's white shirt and the fabric clung to her arm. She shivered. With one foot in the water and her black pants soaked to the skin, Sandy kissed the other woman's warm features, her eyes, her damp eyelashes that stuck together so seductively, the nub of her delicate nose, by the time Sandy claimed her lips Tully was quivering, shaking with a need to be touched, engaged, explored.
In the quiet of the house the noise the water made as it wrapped about her leg caused her partner to jump, sliding her bum around on the porcelain of the tub. She squeaked in approval and Tully giggled.
Sandy got in, fully clothed. As she did, warm suds slopped out all over the black tiled room, making the floor glossy and reflective. Awkwardly, for the first time that afternoon Sandy slid her feet in until she was crouching at one end of the tub.
"Like that?" Tully shot her a heavy look and pulled her, Sandy's weight fell across her friends slight, naked form and they kissed once more. As the kiss deepened Sandy could hear Tully's breath becoming shallow. She explored the interior of her mouth, gently at first, with sedate darting intensity and then choosing to burn her way into a more steady motion. Tully tasted incredible. To Sandy she tasted of chili and chocolate... and hope.
She sloshed to her knees and pulled away from the embrace, encouraging Tully to stand in the shin deep water, coercing her as she too, made her way upright. The water made the material of her thin blouse cling in all the right places, over the swell of her breasts and the delicate softness of her epaulets, the material coming in at her navel, clinging to her taught midriff. She wore a singlet beneath, and a white lace bra.
Sandy managed to coax Tully all the way upwards by brushing her arms and raising the other woman's lips to hers as she rose to standing. Wordlessly, Sandy got out. She didn't take her eyes from Tully's blue ones, unbuttoning her shirt and peeling it from her soaked frame. Tully came to her, the suds continuing to fall away onto black tiles. Hungrily wasting no time reuniting their lips, and in return tasting her warm water-soaked lips made Sandy weaken, she let out a little moan.
"And I'm cold" she said softly, breaking the embrace and smiling coyly into Tully's close, perfect face. Tully's blue eyes rounded in surprise at the change of tact. She almost replied but Sandy continued to strip. In a moment Tully's hands were on her stomach, trailing her breasts, pleasing the budded nipples with pressure, offering caresses alternatively from the sweet warmth of her mouth or the comparative, abrasive coldness of her hand. Boldly Sandy rounded Tully's hip in her palm, slipping her hand around to cup her cheek. At this Tully inhaled, catching a deep breath of sweet bathbubble smell and the citrus tang of Sandy's perfume. Was it her body or a scent? Surely nobody smelt that good naturally, or tasted so good, or moved with the same strength and suppleness and most of all, made her want to lead the way into a much more passionate embrace that would satisfy them both; Sandy mused. She pushed her hand around to the curve of Tully's stomach, her wet fingers making the journey sticky and tantalisingly staccato-ed. Tully flinched and giggled, the noise dying in her throat as Sandy continued on her path towards pussy, brushing the bath-moisture from the springy hairs, easing two presumptuous fingers past her folds, into her centre and making her wriggle with delight on Sandy's hand.
Still dressed in her clinging black pants Sandy ran her other hand down Tully's neck. Lost in a sensation of pleasure, the other woman bent her head and moved inside the caress, Sandy trailed a path with a playful hand, down her supple back, her two fingers still buried at Tully's core, moving ever so gently around, in an exquisitely sedate motion. In a moment of clarity Sandy chose to turn Tully to face away from her, until she could witness her own reflection. The sight of her flushed face and her bright, uncharacteristically dark eyes, took her by surprise. She looked so luschious, so alive, as to be almost feverish. The moment sang with promise.
Sandy's hand probed and Tully's knees almost buckled. Her fingers wrapped appreciatively around the bathroom sink basin.
'Don't move... any ..muscles' Sandy requested in a low, husky voice.
She rummaged in her bag and almost broke the moment. In her haste a smile played on her lips and she balanced her slight weight on the balls of her feet.
'I've got chocolate, wouldn't it be fun?' Tully only watched as Sandy unwrapped the Picnic bar, casting the wrapper impatiently onto the floor behind them. The compound chocolate coated toffee peanuts never looked so intriguing before, never so suggestive as in the oestrogen charged confines of their share-house bathroom. A kiss sealed the moment and Tully gripped the sink
'Go on then Tiger, make my afternoon' Tully shot at her dryly. Sandy raised her eyebrow but she failed to comply. She bent her head to kiss Tully and their lips met.
'What would you like?' Sandy asked softly, after a moment. The words out of her mouth whilst still touching the other woman's lips.
'For you to fuck me'
'Like this?' Sandy placed the cold head of the Picnic bar at the delicate crux between the swell of Tully's bottom and her sex. Tully shivered and parted her thighs ever so slightly. In the mirror she saw Sandy kiss her shoulder blade, her collar bone, and then as the blood rushed to her ears and she was overcome with desire, Tully could feel the magic of Sandy's hand sliding the chocolate bar into her, only a fraction, before withdrawing. The suggestion of more to come drove her crazy and she wiggled her attractive rear whilst turning to look at Sandy in the room.
'I dare you' her eyes glittered. Sandy didn't need a dare and she pushed the improvised dildo into the folds of her sex, removing it at the same pace until she established a gentle rhythm. Tully sighed, pushing back, allowing Sandy set the rythmn as she kissed the corner of her mouth, her neck. When she arched her back Sandy worked a trail of soft kisses down her nape, responding to the growing urgency of the other woman's need and removing the basin as a barrier between their flesh. They came together, torso's touching, a pleasurable sensation of soft flesh on flesh. All the while Sandy continued to work on Tully with the bar, by now the heat of her pussy and the weight of her love juice began to melt the chocolate. Sandy let the bar fall to the floor to be cleaned up later, she licked a chocolate covered finger and leaned in for a kiss,. Tully obliged and gave herself up to the sensations raging through her, an expert hand unheeded, now led the way towards orgasm, fingering her clitoris, gently entering her passage, revelling in the joy of her wet and appreciative pussy and with it Tully rose to the breathy heights of release.
At the point-of-no-return she cried out and lost the ability to kiss or be kissed, she shuddered and went on shuddering, the muscles of her core contracting and releasing. Tully writhed on Sandy's hand and before long was pleading for her friend to stop her beatific, torturous caress, Sandy obliged and slowed her movements. Reluctantly she pulled away from their embrace. The room smelt of clean flesh and pheromones. Heat from their adventures and the cooling bath water had successfully steamed up the mirror.
Tully leaned back for a fraction of a second and they eyed one another
'You didn't even take your pants off'
Sandy chuckled coyly and took a moment to meet her eyes. Intuitively she reached for the towels and wrapped them both, she led the other woman out of the black tiled bathroom and away from the remnants of the fun they had enjoyed. Sandy ushered them both into the warmth and seclusion of her bedroom. The key turned in the lock of the front door, signaling the arrival of their other flat-mate, just as Tully kicked shut the door.