This is a growing collection of my stories. I appear to favour writing about sex and death, not always together. I'm also writing two books. Some days it feels like most other people inhabit a world where you can aimlessly wander into vendor-created wonderlands and purchase things you never knew you needed - for entertainment. The mind boggles. I believe it's because I wasn't allowed to watch television as a child. I just don't get some things. I'm ok with that

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

the simple act of loving isn't enough



I'm interested in the idea of seeing the two of you together. I want to watch. I know I never will. Does she bury her cold face in the warmth of your neck, to keep her nose warm? Do you let her, as you did me, grimacing from the cold embrace? Is she mercurial and quick tempered, like I am? Like I was, with you? Hot and cold again by turns, but always ready to take your cock in my hands and make love to you.

Do you kiss her like we kissed? Soft at first giving way to more insistent pressure and the growing sense of urgency? After love-making, do you pat your great chest and lie back, inviting her to enjoy the warrior-eque plains of your chest as you utter a simple command? I loved that. I like your self assurance and your monosyllabic approach to the complex patterns of everyday love.

When you make love, is she eager and yielding? I can't imagine you fucking a woman who showed signs of resistance. I can't imagine you fucking. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to imagine you riding her, you're big body belittling hers. Your silent stamina driving you both towards orgasm. It hurts.

It hurts.

It's not the leaving that did it. It's these images that are my destruction. My ultimate assurance that I loved you. My hands shake when I imagine you trading the same language of tenderness. I can feel the weight of the world in the back of my throat as I try to swallow these feelings. My rebellious imagination is making the pain in my insides resilient. I want it to end. I go on cutting myself on the jagged edges of regret. Does she moan when you stroke her and hold her head close, so close you're not actually kissing her, although the air you are both breathing is the same?

I ache to let it go. Whatever it is that you have with your new beauty, this woman that you chose over me, let it be different. Let your new feelings inspire a whole separate part of you, awakened by our parting, removed from the man that I loved. I don't like to think that now we are middle aged, we are mannered and the receptacles of our love are interchangeable. These thoughts destroy me.

I'm stroking another man's fair hair as he shudders and recovers, lying across my naked torso. I've perfected the art. I can caress a lover in such a way, he need not look in my eyes. I'm afraid I'll see something in the depths, something I was always searching for in yours. I remember finding it as you loomed over me, held up by the strength in your arms, thrusting your cock into me, possessing me and not only with your man- meat. We were all that mattered to each other. I saw an indescribable emotion in your eyes. Love? I don't know. I certainly haven't seen it for a long time.

I miss the warmth and the comfort of your arms. I miss your artless conversation and silences that spoke of your need for solitude, in opposition to my incessant chatter. I believe we were meant to meet. Perhaps we were meant to be separated. I know I ache for you, in the recesses beyond what is changeable, under a blanket of disbelief and beside the embers of my self esteem.

There is something to be said for compromise. A trait which we both might aspire to, although neither of us can happily, truthfully admit we possess. For all the broken summers and the plans we had, I have but this; I loved a great man.

In life, sometimes the simple act of loving isn't enough.

Saturday, May 21, 2011

The undoing of Lorenzo Vannostrand


Lorenzo is reticent when it comes to bedding the lovely Ashleigh. Is she too young for his tastes? Is his status as her employer an obstacle in their path? Ashleigh embarks upon a campaign to seduce the older man and discovers his surprising secret.


"A portion of mankind take pride in their vices and pursue their purpose; many more waver between doing what is right and complying with what is wrong. “

Ashleigh heaved. His hands were very distracting, one clamped around her thigh, the other strumming an unsteady rhythm on her swollen clitoris. His fingers were like a shy lizard, sliding in and out of the heat of the sun, playing in her intimate crevices and still he talked at her. Even for a learned woman his technique was surprising.

“It’s Horace”

Lorenzo’s eyes shone with mirth.

“It is.”

“Applicable now?

The ripples of pleasure began to build to a crescendo inside her. She fidgeted as best she could, her long legs splayed out in an unladylike fashion, Lorenzo’s firm hold the only thing preventing her from sliding free of the stern, high-backed wooden chair.

“The housekeeper will be back any second” Ashleigh gasped.

She teetered on the edge of collapse. Dare she let this man drive her to orgasm in the drawing room of her employers house?

“Stuff the housekeeper”.

His voice was low. Driving this woman to distraction was proving a terrible strain on Lorenzo’s self control. Still in her heels, her stockings rolled down to her mid-thigh, her skirt hitched up above her hips; Lorenzo could see she was luxuriating in his touch. He was still fully dressed, a boner the size of a kransky weighing in against the expensive linen of his trousers. Any more stimulation and he would leak pre-cum onto the starched, beige fabric. His caresses intensified on her slit, sliding two warm fingers to and fro, dipping into the velvety folds of her delectable vagina.

Ashleigh was unlike any of the fragile beauties he had pursued in the past. They appeared like rare insects speared on the tiny pins of his polystyrene personality when compared with the natural zest of this woman. Ashleigh oozed intellect, stamina, and virtually shone with intensity. It was enough to distract a man from his work.

Her pussy quaked beneath his touch. He knew enough of women to assume she was about to explode. One of her hands came up to grip his sleeve, steadying the frantic movements he was administering to her snatch. Her blue eyes bored into his. She was drowning in feeling, her lush mouth, ruby red with desire. She made him horny and it made him mean. Without warning, Lorenzo withdrew his hand. Ashleigh gasped.

“You’re right.”

Ashleigh pulled her skirt down over her thighs, silent and numb. Thrown from the extremes of intimate pleasure to the coolness of rejection in seconds, she shivered.

“Anyone could discover us here. I lost my mind for a moment. Wash up, I’ll go and find us something for lunch and we’ll rejoin the others”

Lorenzo strode from the room, Ash watched him go. These halls were potentially crawling with house guests, most of them male and geriatric. She couldn’t very well finish herself off in this grand old manor. Her pussy throbbed. She rubbed a hand over her mound and cursed.

Days passed and the most she got out of her boss was the occasion acknowledgement that he had been ogling her. In amongst the half dozen colleagues that were assisting with his cataloguing and over the large array of text before them on the substantial library table, his mouth would curl ever so slightly upward. He would nod almost imperceptibly at her, eyes bright with lust. In those moments she hated him, he was killing her with longing.

She tried in vain to remove him from her thoughts. Just when she thought she might have conquered her baser instincts, her resolve would crumble. The simple, unnerving sight of him rolling up a shirt sleeve, or tucking his unkempt, dark hair out of the way, reaching for his notebook, was enough to send her heart skipping.

Ash tried to reason with herself. He was only going to be in her life a short time. Long enough for the contents of his grandfather’s library to be categorised as part of the deceased estate. A few weeks at most. Since kissing her drunkenly, passionately, on her first evening at the house and aside from the single, other, tantalisingly incident in his drawing room, Lorenzo had gone out of his way to steer clear of her.

There was nothing to be done but frig herself silently to sleep each night, remembering his hand between her legs and taking care not to shake the bed springs into creaking violently, leaving the older gentlemen in the adjacent rooms, in no doubt as to the exact nature to her nocturnal activities. Ash was finding herself more and more giddy with pent up desire by the end of each work day. Even watching his lips close around mouthfuls of boring, English desserts at their collective dinner table, was erotic beyond compare. Ash knew she was lost.

If she really wanted an almighty, lustful interlude, however brief, she would have to instigate things herself. Four more days and nights passed. On Thursday, whilst helping herself to a pile of hard-covered antiquity, her ample breasts jiggled as she pulled the books across the table. Ash took one from top of the pile, allowing herself the briefest of glances at Lorenzo. He stood, spell-bound, all but drooling at her. The other occupants of the room seemed oblivious.

She bit her bottom lip, unabashedly continuing her insolent appraisal of him. He flashed fire in her direction and typically, looked away. Ash cleared her throat and kept working. The older man dropped a book to the floor. One of the more senior specialists eyed him with disdain. Ash giggled. She felt it bubbling in her throat and couldn’t catch it before the sound escaped. Excusing herself she made her way quickly outside.

In the courtyard, Ash no longer felt the need to giggle. Alone, she quietly despaired. She unpinned her hair, running both hands through her thick tresses and massaged her scalp. She tilted her head upwards, into the afternoon sunlight and tried to empty her mind. She counted, she inhaled deeply and sighed, relieved as normality began to pump through her veins. Another sound caught her off guard.

By herself in the secluded garden, Ash had no comprehension of the picture she painted. Her long, auburn hair tumbling past her shoulders in thick waves, her arms raised above her head were pulling the delicate material of her blouse, stretching it to accommodate her breasts and accentuating every voluptuous curve of her ripe, tidy figure. When she sighed, her chest rose and fell deliciously. From the doorway, Lorenzo observed the scene in amazement. He was utterly out of ideas on how to avoid her sexual allure. The woman was seduction personified. His cock throbbed. Without thinking he paused and scratched his neck.

He need not have concerned himself with pondering a course of action. The rustle of his movement alerted her to his presence and the look she shot him warned him of an equally sharp fire burning within her. Ash felt something odd, as though her heart had fallen to the pit of her belly. Her hammering pulse filled her ears. More than that, she was acutely aware that her moment had arrived. Letting this situation slip past her would spell the end of any possible connection. She held him with her clear blue gaze, stock still. Staring.

“You make me crazy Lorenzo.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Ash blushed. She couldn’t bear to say it again.

“I make you crazy. I’ve thought of little else since I have had my hand buried in your cunt. You are a distraction. A goddess. A curse.”

“Why did you stop?”

In a habit now familiar to her, he pushed the sleeve of his business shirt up past one elbow. Ash caught herself wondering why he didn’t have better quality sleeve clips. She stepped towards him.

“I want you to touch me.”

Lorenzo laughed, a dry chuckle that caught her off guard.

“Good god girl. I’m afraid I’ll liquefy.”

Ash blushed. She kept moving, he met her halfway, not stopping when they were toe to toe. Instead he manoeuvred so her back pressed against the uneven stones of the building. She closed her eyes and waited for the touch of his lips. It never came. Ash’s eyes flew open. He stared down at her, feasting on her face, the intensity of his gaze devouring her. It confused her, she didn’t feel the need to be idolised like a doll. She wanted to be fucked and enjoyed. She wanted at last to have the cavernous ache within her filled by Lorenzo’s cock. Ash had seen his man meat pressing on his pants at their last 'juncture’ and wanted it for herself. Passion overtook her and she caught his crisp, proper shirt at the waist, tugging it free of his pants.

She began unbuttoning his shirt front, not stopping to assess his reaction, wanting only to drive him into enough of a frenzy to kiss her, to wake from his reverential stupor and stuff her with cock she deserved. Her eager fingers found their way past his cotton shirt and on, beyond the singlet material, to the heat of his skin. She reached her target of flesh and let go with an inward gasp of appreciation.

His abs were hard, the body beneath her hands was toned and taut. Ash wondered at how a learned, bookish man found the time to hone his muscles. At once her stomach jumped. Her body full of curves, would he find her not to his liking? Perhaps he would find her nakedness repulsive, fleshy, lacking? Ash hid her eyes.

Her reaction had consequences she could not have expected. Her lapse into self-consciousness was met with a searing kiss from Lorenzo, the older man having mistaken her hesitation for dismay at his lack of spontaneity. Terror made him cast aside his usual restraint. He kissed her with the enthusiasm of a school boy.

His hot mouth on her lips meant she stopped thinking. Ash accepted his flustered, short kisses and began teaching him to French kiss, guiding the movements of his mouth and introducing her tongue. He was an avid pupil and within minutes her body writhed against his, pressed between his chest and the wall at her back. She ran her hands through his hair, unconsciously pulling him closer. Lorenzo ground his cock into the cleft of her thighs and kissed her between snatched, shallow breaths. He felt a novice beside this young siren. Ash was nothing if not adept at introducing him to passion.

Lorenzo was prideful. He wanted her lush body with an intensity that shook him. He wanted too, that she not know she would be his first. The thought was alarming, cautioning him to be careful and to show restraint. He knew Ash could easily drive a man to orgasm without delay. For himself, he feared premature embarrassment. He would have to distract her with her own desire and please her fully before he turned his mind to his own satisfaction.

Ash was beginning to suspect his inexperience. She had no doubt he knew how to find pleasure on a woman’s body, as he had shown her in the drawing room. Today, things seemed to be spiraling out of his control. Could this amazing, sexy man be a complete novice to the ins and outs of sexual wonder? Her mind reeled. His cock pulsed between them. She pushed him to arms length, breathing erratically.

If he was a virgin, it would explain his many conflicting reactions to her. Ash searched his face. His hazel eyes stared back, dark and lustful. His lips were swollen and he too breathed as though having surfaced from underwater.

“Am I your first?”

Her hand splayed on his ample pectorals, his heart beating on her hand through the singlet, he looked away from her. Ashamed? With her pointer, Ash brought his face back around her's once more. Softly, she kept up her line of questioning.

“Am I to assume you’ve never... found ultimate pleasure with a lover?”

He said nothing.

“Lorenzo?”

His five o’clock shadow caught on her fingernails. His expression was achingly sincere.

“You are a witch. A vixen. How am I to help myself?”

He drew her hand from his chest. In silence, he lowered his lips onto hers.

“Make love to me?” Ash spoke so softly he wasn’t sure he’d heard it.

Safe to assume he didn’t need further encouragement, Ash enveloped his neck in her arms. She licked and nipped at his lips and he darted his tongue in and out between hers, teasing. She swirled her tongue into the warmth of his mouth. He groaned, drawing her closer. Ash flicked the buckle of his belt. She stripped him of his pants, they pooled at his ankles. His crisp, linen boxers followed. Privately, Ash marveled at the ironed-in fold lines on his undergarments. She kept the observation to herself.

Next, she pushed him to sitting position in a metal garden chair. She straddled him, rocking her hips on his cock. Ash was careful to turn his balls blue with abrasiveness. She didn’t show his member gentleness or too much attention. Faced with an inundation of softness, perhaps an inexperienced man might explode. In the back of her mind she kept hold of the hope that if she handled this correctly, if she handled him correctly, there would be future opportunities, other moments, for different kinds of lust.

Ash bravely went about her seduction. She grabbed a handful of his thick hair and pulled his mouth away from hers. His hazel eyes wore surprise. With a finger, she tapped his nose a little patronisingly and clambered up to continue the show. From her vantage point, a few untouchable feet away, Ash took her time to undress. She popped each button of her muslin blouse until her surprising, red, lace bra began peeping out. Ash made short work of her skirt, popping the buttons and shimmying the garment to the floor.

She took her French knickers and her stockings off in one movement. Ash stood brazenly before Lorenzo. Legs splayed, his cock rigid, like a succulent prize, appreciation shone in his eyes. He still wore his singlet and Ash could see the definition of his muscles though it’s weave.. She wanted more, dreamed of him naked before her. A pity now wasn’t the time. She would make do.

Her sweet curves were a delicious shade of milky white, as though she had never bared her body to the sun. Her breasts were large and perky, sitting beautifully beneath the lace of her unexpected underwear and the fabric of her blouse, unbuttoned to her navel. She padded barefoot towards him, Venus personified, offering her body. Lorenzo shook with responsibility.

He was at least half a decade older than her, perhaps more. Aside from the fact that very few women had been semi-naked in his presence, he had never seen a woman looking so ripe and fuckable. No stranger to satisfying himself with picture and moving images of lustful acts, Lorenzo knew quality. No one, in any of the publications or his wildest dreams, had ever looked as delectable as she.

Ash bent at the waist and kissed him. First her hot lips burnt a path up his collarbone and finally she arrived at his mouth. Hungrily, he accepted the cinnamon taste of her. Her creamy breasts greeted him, peeping out from their material confines. Lorenzo growled. He removed her blouse, he fumbled like a novice with the clasp of her bra and she let him. When at last her breasts swung free she offered them to him, easing further forward to allow him to capture her sensitive nipple in his mouth.

Lost in the smell of her, sucking on a pink tip, Lorenzo became dimly aware she was lowering herself onto his cock. His engorged, aching member was finding it’s way home with impressive intensity, as though it possessed a mind of it’s own. Her pussy lips coated in her juices, the smell she exuded grew stronger. As his dick began truly disappearing, he appreciated her softness. Lorenzo’s eyes popped, he felt dizzy.

“Breathe” She whispered helpfully, blissfully engaged in her task and trying to watch his face.

He throbbed. she buried him up to the hilt. They stopped. Conversationally; the thick edge to her voice the only give away as to the true intimacy of their situation, Ash added

“You’ve got a really lovely cock, Lorenzo”. His disobedient member bucked within her.

“Steady.” She looked him squarely in the eye and rocked her pelvis.

He moved within her, reveling in a new feeling of possession. Ash’s eyes closed slowly and she fought to remain 'teacher’.

“I’m not sure how much longer I can take this. I’ve wanted you so long.” She planted a searing kiss on his jaw. “If I cum quickly, I think it’s only fair you should too. ”

Ash barely got the last words out. Beneath her, Lorenzo shifted his hips and it sent little ripples of hyper awareness through her achingly sensitive pussy. She rose up and dropped her pretty bottom onto his thighs, completing the first successful stroke in their coupling. A part of her wanted the excruciating hotness to last forever, the rest of her wanted to cum buckets on his ample pole. She rocked her hips, rose up and stroked.

“I have an idea” Lorenzo kissed her.

He steadied them both and stood, backing her into the wall once more, tucking one of her knees in against his side. His cock head slid up inside her and he thrust forward, his buns clenching as he struggled.

“Ooh” Ash gave him, appreciatively.

Lorenzo pushed into her again and again. Ash adored it. He was strong enough to hold her upright, fit enough to build up to a punishing rhythm and he seemed to be making a super human effort not to unload unnecessarily. Ash clutched at his neck, burying her face in the smell of him. Within minutes her pussy juices broke enthusiastically over his cock and she came.

“Oh” She offered softly “It’s.. It’s...”

Lorenzo was pleased at his lover’s achievement, he need no longer hold himself in check. He increased his strokes so he slid almost completely out of her, thrusting back in with a punishing certainty. Only one more stroke and he was done, shuddering and shaking as he unloaded into her. Lorenzo's body slumped, a great deal of his substantial weight shifted onto her. Ash ran her hands slowly up and down his back, astounded at what they had achieved.

A noise caught them both off-guard. Lorenzo snapped from his rapture. Men could be heard, a group of their colleagues were making their way down the corridor, towards the glass doors and the little garden. Lorenzo moved first, rushing to his pants in a crumpled heap at his ankles. Ash couldn’t quite process what was happening, she fumbled and shook, her fingers numb and heavy, failing to obey her command.

Unsure how they both managed, the couple were set to rights by the time 3 of their colleagues came into view. The men barely gave them a second glance as they passed by on their way to the great hall. In the moments that followed, Ash raised her skirt and adjusted her knickers. Lorenzo smoothed the front of his shirt with his hands. He watched her through his lashes as she put her appearance in order. His hair was delightfully rumpled, his clothing slightly ascue. He wore a caged expression.

“We should do this again” His tone was soft, it matched the question in his eyes.

To his dismay, Ash shook her head in disbelief.

“Here?”

“In the privacy of a bedchamber, Goose.”

Ash laughed.

“I’d love that.” She broke the awkwardness, kissing him. “You did a fine job. It was...”

“Astounding?” The older man grinned at her, a peculiar light in his eyes.



Monday, May 16, 2011

Josie Chances her Luck Part 2



Josie opened her eyes whilst their lips met, it was a strange sensation, hesitant and sensual. His eyes were closed, his long dark lashes fluttering as he concentrated on his task. Me, I’m that task. Josie felt her chest expand in a rush. He likes me. She closed her eyes, content to experiment.

His kisses didn’t stay soft and gentle for long. Harry licked her crevices, feeling the moist insides of her mouth with his tongue, then he broke away and kissed her neck, one hand massaging a breast, the other attempting to undo buttons. He gave up, kissed her quickly on the lips and slid a hand up the inside the material to the lace of her bra. He flicked a finger over her nipple, kissed her hard on her nape and reclaimed her mouth.

He was breathing pretty hard. Josie liked that he was aroused and she wanted to be naked with him, he seemed so intent, so focused. She wondered if it had been some time since his last fuck. Discretion prevented her from asking. Instead, she undid a button on his jeans and plunged her hand into his warm crotch. The reward was mesmerising. He was big and hard. AND he wore boxers. Josie smiled as he kissed the exact point her cleavage commenced and worked his way up to her collarbone with slick kisses.

In a moment of weakness, Harry did something telling. He cupped her face in both his hands and looked into her eyes. He made her feel as though her irises were the centre of his universe. Josie blinked, unsure. She squeezed his ample pole, in the palm of the hand she had wedged down his pants and he tilted his head back and rolled his eyes. Bingo.

“I see you like that”, she purred.

“Oh Honey, you have no idea.”

“Oh I think I do.” She murmured the words against the warmth of his lips.

Helpfully, Harry undid the zipper of his jeans, giving her freedom to flex her fingers.

“Thank you.”

She started to cautiously stroke his warm, hard cock, working out what he liked. He shivered and shook, Josie found it fascinating to watch. She wondered if he might cum very quickly if she continued. Harry read her mind.

“I have a surprise.”

“You do?”

“Yeah”, he smiled his heart-melting, lopsided grin. “Can you take your pants off?”

Josie laughed aloud.

“Maybe later?”

“O.K, maybe you’re right. Where is your fridge?”

“Behind you”

He sauntered over to the fridge with his backpack and Josie watched, intrigued. He glanced back.

“You can’t look.”

She busied herself finding a suitable album for their mood, leafing through her vinyl until Harry came to stand beside her. In an intimate gesture, he played with the skin on her lower back whilst she selected something good. Josie placed the needle on the track and faced him, gyrating her hips. She raised her hands above her head and danced, writhing her delicate fingers. Harry, opportunist, tugged her thin shirt up, over her breasts so she could easily slip out of it.

Josie watched his face. Her breasts were probably her best feature and today, her ample rack was nestled in her best bra. Josie smiled privately, 'just in case’ had become 'thank-fucking-god’. Her black, lacy number cupped her ample, pale, fleshy mounds perfectly. He looked impressed. She let her hands fall down to her sides, a little bit shy now she was semi-clothed. He’s standing in front of you with his fly undone. Josie laughed. She couldn’t help it. Harry looked down.

“I forgot I was semi dressed.”

“We got distracted.”

“Yeah. Oh man, you have the most amazing body”.

Josie beamed. Harry ran his big, broad, warm hands up and down the length of her back. He was so close his heat radiated. She stretched towards him, feeling her way in the strange immediacy.

“And you, smell... Awesome.” Josie said softly.

She nearly died from the intensity of the moment, very nearly melting off into the atmosphere. Harry smelt like apples, something else, illicit to her senses and very male, tobacco. Harry unhooked her bra and placed it behind her on the stereo. Josie gasped, forcing herself to not to reach out and cover up. Her pert breasts bounced into view. He cupped them, then ran his hands under them, moulding his palms to her rib cage. Tenderly he turned her body away from him, continuing to explore her flesh and the creamy warmth. Josie looked out the window, seeing nothing.

It was too hard to concentrate on the real world, she couldn’t ignore all the sensations ripping through her body, mocked any attempt. His touch was firm and sensual. She found herself looking down at his hands as he cupped her fullness, she bucked her arse into the bulge behind her. He kissed her bare shoulder, burning a line of small kisses to her ear.

“I’m so hot for you. I think I’ll break if we don’t fuck.”

Josie turned, enchanted. She kissed him on the mouth, slurping his bottom lip playfully into her mouth, tracing the inside curve of his gums with her tongue. Swirling around in circles on his hot inside, she pushed him to the floor, sitting on him, her legs either side of his hips. Together they unsheathed his chest. She ran her hands appreciatively over him. Clearly, he worked out. Harry was virtually hairless and his arms and torso were nicely defined. Josie ran her tongue along his breast bone, dipped into his navel and wriggled him out of his jeans.

“Oh, My.”

Josie grabbed his cock and licked all of it, over and over until the whole thing was covered in a fine sheen of saliva. She ran her tongue down his length and eyed him through her lashes. Harry looked back at her in disbelief. She smiled with his cock in her mouth and it bounced beneath her touch. She decided he liked that. Josie tickled his balls, he liked that too. She bobbed and sucked, feeling him grow even harder. He grabbed blindly at her, seemingly trying to get her to stop. Josie relented. She massaged his impressive cock with her thumb and a few of her fingers.

“Should I stop?” Her lips felt rubbery. She made her eyes wide with faux innocence. Harry’s breath came out in a whoosh.

“Ah”, was all he got out. His voice was husky.

“You know...” Josie hopped up, feeling playful. She popped the button and zipper of her pants. “For a guy who’s older than me, you seem easy to please.” Her eyes twinkled.

Bravely, she turned away from him and dropped her jeans to the floor. Her pink and black knickers came into view. She loved them, they had a keyhole at the back that tied with a ribbon, giving the impression that her bottom was succulent cleavage, ready for unwrapping. Trying out her best nymph impression, Josie slipped out of her jeans.

“You like these?”

She turned back towards him and snapped the elastic at her hips. He looked up in amazement, the picture of masculine confusion, red faced and breathing heavily. His eyes were saucers of lust. She loved every second of it.

“You overwhelm me, Sweetheart.” Harry told her, in his thickest Irish drawl.

She crawled back to sitting atop him once more, his cock throbbing between them, through the cotton of his boxers and the satin of her knickers. She clenched her thighs and rose and fell over his impressive mound.

“Do you have a condom?”

His man-meat was like steel beneath the soft flesh of her inner thighs. Her pussy juice soaked into the material of her knickers and the room began to smell like her, like sex. Harry ran his hands up her thighs.

“I don’t Sweetheart. I never thought it would get this far”.

Her face twisted in dismay. Harry eased her off his lap.

“We can do other things.”

With his boxers sticking straight out like a tent in front of him, Harry padded over to the fridge. He took out a box and came back. She didn’t get a chance to see what it was, he obscured her view and kissed her on the mouth.

“You look lovely like that, all swollen and ready for me.”

Josie blushed and self consciously brought a finger to her lips. He kissed it and then her mouth once more. Harry fondled her amply breasts, his fingers making there way towards her soft centre. She moaned, leaning into his touch, willing him to ease the torturous tension. Harry ran a thumb over the sensitive little nub of her hyper-alert clitoris, through her knickers.

“Oah!” She squeaked, hoping he wouldn’t stop.

He didn’t. Harry patiently rubbed a friendly finger around her secret parts, then two fingers, as she twitched and thrust her pussy towards his ministrations. He brought a pussy-juice coated finger to his lips and sucked. Josie thought she had never seen anything so erotic. Her vision was clouded, her mind reeled, her insides ached for fulfilment. She kissed his mouth, sloppy with need.

Josie groped at her knickers and managed to struggle out of them. She felt for his crotch, searching for reassuring hardness. As his fingers worked their wicked way around her sopping peach she tried in vain to direct his throbbing member towards her folds. Though Harry kissed her passionately and deftly played sweet music on her clit, he wouldn’t let her find relief.

“I...” Josie was flushed with the need to cum. “I want you to fuck me.”

Her eyes were glazed, her lips blood-red with lust and her cheeks flushed. Though she had no idea, Harry thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She became dimly aware of a rustling as Harry fidgeted with a package. In the back of her mind she hoped it was actually a prophylactic wrapper, but her brain was a bit addled to articulate her concern.

He stopped touching her. Josie sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, making a noise like a disappointed kitten. Harry watched her, his cock throbbing. He wanted to surprise her and yet his desperation was nearly at fever pitch too. Josie dropped a hand to her own pussy, intent on relieving some of the ache, even if Harry had stopped. He batted her hand away, taking her chin in his hands.

Just before he kissed her, Harry noted that her eyes were black with lust, the green of her irises had disappeared. He ran the long, narrow ice block provocatively up her inner thigh. Josie shivered with shock. She mumbled at the feel of ice on her skin but her words were lost in their embrace. Harry pulled away to check.

“Is this ok?” He asked thickly.

Josie wasn’t sure what she was agreeing too and she started to nod. She felt an icy pole insert itself between her thighs and she came, in crashing waves over his hand and the glace as he rubbed it on her clit and then disappeared it into her sopping pussy. Seconds later he abandoned his ploy. It was Josie who interrupted him, demanding more. She pushed him down so he was beneath her on the floor. She held his stiff, aching pole in her hands and directed it at her wet centre, unable to wait a single moment longer.

She sank thoughtfully onto his meat and sighed like an angel as he filled her. Barely allowing him time to register the strange mixture of cold and hot, Josie rose up on her knees and sank back down, again. Once fully impaled, this time she ground her hips into him, feeling his substantial penis moving within her, grinding her clit onto his abdomen. It was too much, Harry’s world was spinning, his seed was bursting to get out. He steadied her hips and looked at her pleadingly.

“Go slow.” His desperate expression spoke volumes. “Go slow. You’re a goddess.”

Josie did her best. She ceased to grind like a woman possessed. Rising up once more, she stroked. Her eyes rolled her pussy starting to quake. It’s never felt this good before. Harry rubbed her breasts, distracting her from her task. He seized the moment, rolling the two of them, his cock still buried deep but on top of her this time. He didn’t stroke. He withdrew. Josie clawed at him, trying to get him to fill her once more. Harry avoided her hands.

He slid down on the carpet and cupped her lovely, fleshy bottom in his hands. Josie bent her head and stared at him in amazement, a question in her eyes. Needing no encouragement, Harry buried his head. It was an amazing sensation. Harry thought she tasted like sunshine, her juice dribbling down his chin as he lapped. He was aware too, of his painfully rigid cock pressing into the carpet beneath him.

Josie leaned back on her elbows and spread her thighs in appreciation, offering more of her sweetness to the deft, well practised strokes of his tongue. He licked and teased, he buried his tongue deep in her slit and playfully shook his head. The feelings were delightful beyond measure. Before long Josie felt a gargantuan orgasm brewing in her pussy. He rubbed his pinkie on her sphincter and Josie erupted, cooing and grabbing at his arms.

She wanted him to stop licking her, to stop playing her like an instrument with his expert touch and tongue. Her pussy throbbed for bigger things and she succeeded in pulling him up on top of her, revelling in his weight as he covered her body with his. His pussy-coated face came very close to hers.

“Do you mind?”

“Mind what?” Josie’s mind was a haze of longing.

“I taste like you.”

“Kiss me, fool” Josie shot at him, echoing her own throw-away line from earlier. An earlier, that felt like a lifetime ago.

He lowered his head and kissed her, an embrace that was at once tender and searingly hot. His tongue darted in and out of her mouth, asking her to surrender. Josie didn’t need to be coaxed. Her thighs fell open and she felt the weight of his cock sliding inside her wet centre. Her breasts rubbed against the wall of his chest, his unrelenting kiss stealing her breath.

“Oooh.”

“You feel so good.”

Harry stayed very close, his face millimetres from hers. He thrust into her with a lusty intensity that seemed to shake them both. He established a rhythm and whereas Josie might have closed her eyes at the amazing sensations he unleashed inside her, his expression demanded she keep her eyes open, fixed on his. He pumped into her sopping pussy, more and more firmly.

“ooOHh.” Her muscles clenched around him.

Josie’s fingers clawed at his back. His blue eyes captivated her and ultimately, as his pace intensified to fever pitch, it was his gaze that drove her to orgasm. He watched in awe as she started to cum, quivering inside and out. His face shone with pride at his achievement. She felt like his woman. Her amazing, mind-numbing. seemingly-endless orgasm was their triumph. Josie didn’t question the sensations ripping through her, not then, she just felt. She was a ball of feeling and light.

Harry exploded inside her and she gasped, shocked. As if reality came roaring back into their little universe, Harry withdrew like a hot poker, leaking out the rest of his load onto the softness of her belly. Harry was heaving and sweating into her. Josie couldn’t help it, she laughed. His eyes had a wary look, he seemed scared, apprehensive.

“Don’t worry” she wrapped arms around her exhausted lover. “You won’t be a daddy, I’ll take the morning after pill.”

Harry collapsed, relieved and a little ashamed at his lack of restraint. Their lack of restraint. His big arms encircled her waist and he rested his head on her stomach, oblivious to his own sticky discharge still drying on her skin. Josie grinned, playfully stroking his hair. Her universe felt different.

“You big, dirty boy.” She giggled.

Harry kissed her side.


Sunday, May 15, 2011

Josie Chances her Luck

In a game of cat and mouse, this pussy has more energy than most.

Josie leaned back, distancing herself from her computer screen. Surely, that was enough editing for one day. Her eyes felt squint, the back of her head throbbed in the way only an impending headache could. Josie sighed and closed the browser window. She took her coffee out onto the small, metal balcony and watched Melbourne go by, beneath her. Out in the wind she felt the beginnings of her headache receding and the wind washed her mind clear.

Straining her eyes felt good. The rush hour crowd passed by beneath her, 30 floors down, on the footpath. Her eyes adjusting once more to the middle-distance. A little boy with an amazing mohawk and his mother went by, a good looking man in a business suit brushed past people rudely in his haste before disappearing from her view, enveloped by the buildings.

Inside, Josie resisted the urge to turn on the TV. She logged onto a social chat site and talked to a few anonymous avatars. It wasn't really her thing but Josie was new to this town, had few friends as yet and therefore little social contact. An idea gripped her and she logged onto a dating website, wrote a brief profile and submitted a photo. Losing her nerve she logged off forgot about it and made dinner for herself.

It was a few days later that Josie remembered she'd signed up to an on-line meeting-place, having finished a particularly meaty editing session. She decided to check it out. The results made her jump up, she looked again at the computer screen, from the safety of standing behind her chair, 87 responses? She grinned, trawling through the messages. A lot of crap, some men in their mid fifties only looking for younger women, who had to be in there thirties or younger. She deleted all of these without reading them. It narrowed the field to 50.

Josie decided that she had to pick at least one and she would have to meet him. It seemed only reasonable and hell, the odds were pretty good. She set about her task with her tongue firmly tucked to one side of her mouth, held there by her teeth. It was one of her more awful habits, she wasn't even aware she was doing it.

Two hours later she had narrowed it down to a selection of ten men, 8 of which sounded too good to be true. Five of them had left telephone numbers. Instead of messaging, she took the bull by the horns and decided to call. Josie looked at the clock, 7pm on a Thursday. Was that an ok time to call? The first one was Ralph. At Ralph's house a very young voice answered the phone, a child of around 7 or 8? Before the man could come to the phone she'd hung up. Josie carefully deleted his profile from her selection.

Harry answered the phone and sounded annoyed, she very nearly hung up. She introduced herself and there was a pause. Silence down the line that made her a little nervous.

“I'm impressed by your nerve.”

She sighed into the receiver and they chatted for a few minutes. Harry had just gotten home and jumped in the shower, the phone had forced him out and he was dripping, hence his annoyance. As they chatted for a little longer he seemed to relax. He told her most women on the site started their correspondence via email, and that sometimes, he spoke to ladies three or four times this way before they stopped. No one rang him, it was almost uncouth. He laughed into the receiver and Josie felt her heart jump. It was a great sound, deep and easy.

Why was a nice-sounding man such as this one, looking for dates on an Internet site, why couldn't he snag girls in the real world? Josie didn't ask. She learnt that Harry lived across town and that they both had Skype. She agreed to talk with him some more in a day or two, neither of them suggested meeting in person and after that they hung up. Her fingers tingled as she set down the phone. What was wrong with him? The man seemed a little too good to be real. Perhaps he had bad acne scars? Perhaps he was fat?

On Monday her phone rang, it was 11 in the morning so Josie presumed it was her agent. She answered brusquely, caught off guard by Harry.

“We seem to have a habit of talking at inopportune times.”

He worked from home, he said (although he didn't tell her what he did for a living and Josie didn't ask). He wanted to have a Skype chat with her that evening. Was she free? Josie hesitated, she didn't want this man thinking she had nothing better planned. Testing her luck she declined. He didn't say anything right away, only breathed down the phone line.

The thought struck her that for strangers, they were standing very close together, his breath made it sound like he was actually breathing on her. Josie sighed, exhibiting another of her bad habits. She caught herself and tried not to exhale too heavily into the phone-line.

“Oh alright, I may not be free this evening but you work from home, right? What about right now?”

She bit her bottom lip and waited for his response. Harry cleared this throat.

“O.K.”

They exchanged Skype details and got off the phone. She logged on and waited. It dailled, Josie picked up and there they were, facing one another on the little web-cam screen.

“Hi” She said shyly.

He grinned at her, a lopsided grin that looked like one side of his lips were activated by a string. He had a dimple. She broke into a broad grin, her stomach flip-flopping. Off to a good start.

She learnt all types of things about Harry. He was 33, a writer, Irish and knew few people in Melbourne. He'd come here several years ago chasing a woman. She had left him some time ago, since then he had been saving for money to go home. He didn't go out and meet women the regular way because it meant sitting in bars or going to shows or watching bands and all these things cost money. Money that he was saving to pay off his debts and pay for a ticket to the UK. Damaged goods. Josie thought to herself as he talked. But he was fun and easy-going and they laughed a lot.

Josie was more cautious about telling him things about herself. At 26, she felt as though she should be in a better place in her life and had made some interesting choices but she was a good copy editor and this well paid work in Australia was her big chance. She told Harry about her job and talked about where she would like to travel. She kept the conversation vague and the details of her own life hazy. Josie wasn't sure why. She didn't distrust him, it just felt too easy and she refrained from attempting to spill her life story over the Internet to a man she had never met in the flesh. At 2pm, Josie excused herself. She had to get back to work.

They hadn't arranged to catch up again and Josie thought she might like to meet him in person. He lived around an hour away from the city but public transport in Melbourne was good, perhaps she would call him later in the week and arrange something. She put him out of her mind and got stuck back into her work load. Later she went to the gym.

Two weeks passed and Josie found herself wondering if she had made a bad impression. She regularly used her vibrator to stimulate herself and more than once she had caught herself fantasising about Harry's cute, dimpled grin as she used the buzzing tool on her pussy. Had he lost interest? Never one to stand by as the rest of the world turned without her, Josie picked up the phone.

When she rang his number, it went through to voice mail. Before she could over-think her reaction, she breathed playfully into the receiver, doing (what she thought sounded like) a Marilyn impression.

“Hey Big Booooy, it's been so long since I've heard from you. Don't you wanna play with me any more?”

She gently replaced the receiver with a click. Josie went for a run. When she got back her answer service was blinking. She grinned and retrieved the message, hugging a cushion from the couch to her chest in anticipation.

“Hey”, and then came one of Harry's characteristic loaded silences;“Don't take this the wrong way. Was it you that just rang me? Some cute, saucy vixen left a message on my phone. I thought it might be you.”

That was all. He hadn't said that he'd like to speak with her, in fact, she was a little disappointed. Except for the fact that he had described her greeting as saucy, he hadn't really given her a reason to contact him. So she didn't. Metaphorically sitting on her hands for a few days, Josie left things as they were.

Saturday rocked around, Josie watched commuters on the streets below change from suits rushing to drone-jobs, to big groups of teenagers; families with pushers and couples hand-in-hand. Sometimes the scenes below made her so determined to be part of life, instead of observing that she caught the lift the 30 floors down and went out to walk in the streets, brushing past real people with relief as she headed towards to City Baths.

Josie loved to swim, she liked the feel of the water on her skin and the bubble of protective not-noise that closed around her in the sub-terrainium seclusion. Exhaustion too, was a welcome retreat from the addled wondering of her lonely brain. This particular Saturday she finished up at the pool and stepped outside onto Swanston St feeling sufficiently elated. She made her way back to her apartment with a spring in her step.

Once inside, Josie hung her bathers over the balcony to dry. Out in the wind she heard the phone ring. She raced to answer the call.

“Hi” Josie answered breathlessly.

“Hey Babe” Harry purred into the phone.

“Oh, it's you.” She pretended to be non-nonplussed.

“Yeah it's me, Crazy Girl. Who else would call you at 9.30am on a Saturday?”

Josie laughed quietly. My mum. But she didn't say anything.

“I'm really lonely, and horny today. Come over?”

What was left of Harry's Irish accent twanged sexily at her.

“No.” Josie didn't know why she was overly cautious with new people but she trusted her instincts implicitly.

“Fine.”

She sensed he was about to hang up.

“You can Skype me if you want? Just give me a minute or two to put some clothes on.” She added wickedly and giggled. As she hung up, Josie thought she heard Harry groan.

Like a woman possessed, she hatched a plan. Her hands shook but she felt emboldened by his blatant offer and her sex tingled. She rushed to the freezer and took out an ice-cream, frozen-in-a-cone. She put her wet bikini back on and moved her laptop into the lounge room. Josie set it down on the glass-topped coffee table and settled herself on the floor in front of the couch.

He dialled through and she picked up the call. As the web cam kicked in, before she lost her nerve she picked up the frozen treat. He waved. Josie put her fingers to her lips and indicated he shouldn't speak. She put the ice cream in her mouth and cracked the outer layer of chocolate, eating the thin layer of chocolate and all the nuts. She looked into the web cam and carefully positioned her body so he got a good view of her lush breasts and perky pebbled nipples. Her suit was still wet and it worked to her advantage.

Josie began to enthusiastically make delicate love to the ice cream in her hands, squeezing the vanilla treat between her lips and melting the cream until it ran suggestively down her lips and chin. Harry stared at her performance, wide eyed. He leaned in. Josie knew she couldn't eat the whole ice cream without saying something.

“Do you like that?”

Harry nodded, mute. His laptop screen shook as he moved it, directing the web cam at his crotch. Through his light-coloured jeans Josie could make out a straining erection. Ice-cream caked all around her mouth, she grinned. Devilishly made her terminate the Skype call. No sooner had she wiped her mouth and popped on a ti-shirt, than the phone rang. He didn't greet her, but Harry paused just long enough for Josie to be sure who was calling.

“You're wicked.”

“Thank you.” Josie purred.

“Wanna come over now?

“No.”

And Josie hung up.

She laughed at the receiver, did a little run around her apartment with all the nervous energy accumulating in her system and then she took herself off to a warm shower. She changed into tight jeans and a halter top, ate some muesli and made the decision. She dialled Harry's number.

“Hullo, Harry's phone”

Josie didn't bother to say who it was.

“But you could come here?”

He paused. She licked her lips in the delicious, characteristic, shocked Harry-silence.

“Well Harry, I'll give you my address and you can decide for yourself.”

After hanging up the phone, Josie felt a pang of apprehension. She was dizzy with desire and in her haste, had given her details to a total stranger. Josie ran a hand through her long, honey-brown locks and glanced at the door. Maybe he wouldn't come. She began clearing her junk from the lounge room, just in case. All the while wondering how long it might take, if he did decide to show up.

Josie painted her toenails. She made vegetable stock using her nervous energy to chop and dice things she found in her fridge. She sought out containers and froze some of it. A few hours passed. Perhaps he really isn't going to show up. Restless, Josie bundled her hair into a loose knot on top of her head, located a book of short stories a friend from home had sent recently and threw it and a rug into a big, old carry-all.

Josie was determined to find peace of mind at the park. Then at least, if he did show up, hours later and cocky with it, she would have the last laugh. She wrenched the door open, almost careering into a visitor. Harry. How in the hell had he gotten up the lift without being buzzed into the building? She scowled at him, her black mood dissipating. He wore beige-ish moleskins, a dark blue ti-shirt, comfy-looking skate shoes and a wicked grin. One dimple taunted her. His blue eyes twinkled at her, mocking her anger.

Hey Lady. Goin' somewhere?”

I...”

Josie felt a bit silly.

I was going to the park to get air. Interested?” She swung her daggy shoulder bag between them and he eyed her with interest.

No.”

The Irish twang to his monosyllabic response caught her off guard. Her senses zinged with lust.

Oh”. Josie let all of the air out of her lungs in a rush.

Can I come inside?” He gestured towards the inside of her flat.

Josie nodded dumbly. Harry took one long, searching look at her face and grabbed her hand, hauling her bodily back over the threshold.

You're a moody one.” He looked at her in a disarming way that made her feel like he was looking right through her. She felt a twinge of regret at her childish behaviour.

I didn't think you were coming.”

Obviously”.

Coffee?”

Oh. O.K.” Harry rubbed his hands together in an unconsciously nervous gesture.

He paced about the lounge room. Josie blushed, recognising that he would be remembering what she did on the web-cam, only hours before.

You're much better looking in person”, she ventured brightly.

Yeah, you too.” He racked a hand through his messy hair. “C'mere?”

With a degree of uncertainty, Josie went. She stood two foot from him and looked up into his eyes. He was a good looking man, taller than her by a good few inches and by god, he was nervous. He tugged a belt loop at the front of her jeans shyly but firmly, encouraging her to close the distance between them. Harry crooked his finger and lifted her chin. Their eyes met.

His expression was sizzling hot. Josie bravely put her hands on his chest, palms first. Under the thin layer of his worn ti-shirt, he was hot. His heart was hammering too. Josie slid her hands from his pecks, to the his neck, lowering his face towards hers. She filled her nostrils with his unfamiliar scent. It was the last sensation to hit her, before their lips met.

You drove me crazy this morning” he murmured onto her lips.

Kiss me, fool” Josie shot back, licking his lower lip and opening her mouth to take his tongue.


Sunday, May 1, 2011

Sex after the Storm




This is steamy make up sex with no apologies for hotness and haste.

We're still shouting, it makes my heart hurt. And then, BANG the door slams shut. In the corridor, I'm suddenly alone. The walls reverberate with nothingness. And my tears choose to fall. Great racking sobs. For the love that we'd had, that I shattered; for my big mouth, for your sharp retorts and the shreds of our relationship that are left in this sullen silence, made all the more  conspicuous by your absence.

I picture you, striding towards nowhere. Your boots hitting the pavement in a steady rhythm, noticing no one. You plunge through people. The same invisible crowd examine your ardour out of the corner of their eyes, wondering what made you so angry. Anger translates into your mood, your beautiful eyes flash, your lips have thinned and the cigarette in your hand trembles.

'Cool off. Cool off Babe and come back to me'. By now I've descended down the wall into sitting position, until my sorry arse is resting on the polished boards of the hallway. Normally this would be my favourite time of day. Outside, filtering into my miserable hallway, it's dusk. The sky is falling slowly.

Inside, the charged silence nearly succeeds in driving me crazy. I can hear the clock tick in the kitchen, three rooms away. By now, my face is dry and salty. My tears have cleared. My skin feels hard from the sheen of sadness that still coats my face. I want you.

Where are you? Will things ever be the same?

Later, I hear the scrape of your lead footsteps as you approach the stairs leading up to our doorway. It's a foreboding sound. I almost crack a smile as the doorbell rings. In your haste you stormed out and didn't take your keys. We're forced to confront one another. I don't want to shy away. A coward would unhitch the latch and disappear into the bowels of our house.

It's one thing I'm not.

I swing the door open and search the look you're wearing for signs of life and love. I harden my heart and look again for signs of possible rebuttal. Aside from ready anger, directed at me in the flint from your green eyes, you give me nothing. Your face is hard. It scares me.

You flick the last of a cigarette out into the front yard and push past me into the room.

“We need to talk.”. My voice is flat but it cracks anyway. I ache to touch you, to make us forget. There's a yawning distance between us and all of a sudden I don't feel so brave.

“Yeah.” You look at your shoes.

I want you to watch me. I will your selfish, downcast eyes to search my face, as I was searching yours. Does our love amount to so little?

“Kane..? It got out of hand before, you know what I'm like. I wanted you to understand a few things but I didn't mean for us to get so...ugly. I love you.”

The words come softly. I can feel the phrases brewing in me as I talk. If I can keep speaking, I have the bizarre sensation that I'll know what to say. I pick invisible lint off the sleeve of my green jumper. I can tell I have your attention, mostly because of the pause I've chosen. You haven't moved.

“I gotta grow a thicker skin, I guess. I wish you didn't talk about me. About US on your show”

“Yeah.”

I can feel my eyes narrowing as you echo your previous monosyllabic response.

“I won't do that so much any more.”

To my ears the words sound ominous. You stumble on.

“I'm sorry I mentioned your pot belly, you must know I'm being stupid, it's only tiny. I criticized your dress-sense but someone had to say something...you're outrageous.”

I should have been angry, right then. I should have been inconsolable. But one side of your mouth twitches in place of the ability to grin. You reach for me with tree trunk arms that I call home, encircling my waist. I exhale as though I have been holding my breath for ten years, leaning into your embrace. We're so close I can smell your skin. I nuzzle your neck.

“You shouldn't do those things.” I reprimand.

Another pause.

“Babe, you do bad things too. This would never have happened if you hadn't started up at me about eating less butter. You made me feel like shit. I can look after myself, I'm a grown man”

I'm listening. One impertinent finger lifts my chin so we have eye contact.

“In future, don't ever shout at me. I hate shouting.”

“You wouldn't listen/”

And you silence me with a kiss. A searing, heated, nasty-hot, grazing kiss that makes me want to clutch you and devour your head. You stubble burns me. You lash my softness with the intensity of your viper-tongue.

It's the same tool that less than two hours ago was hurting me. You dared to you insult me with your two-bit philosophy and your precious opinions over the airwaves no less, so my humiliation was complete. Now I'm dining on our discontent. There's a desperation in the union of our mouths. You're clutching my shoulders and pressing your warm chest into mine. Our shuffling and the noise of our breath takes up space in the stagnant hallway. You thrust your hips and I step back. We stumble. My back comes to rest pressed against the wall. You unbutton my work shirt with shaking fingers.

I make a noise in the back of my throat and pull your ti-shirt over your head, exposing your chest to my hungry fingers. I kiss you collar-bone and the spot where your chest hair stops. I gasp as you stuff your hand up my shirt and fight the under-wire of my bra to catch my breast. I can hear your shoes clumping heavily onto the floorboards as you kick them off.

I almost bang my head on the wall as your keen lips recapture mine. Without your belt I can easily wedge my hands past the elastic of your boxers, into the warmth of your groin. As I grasp your madly erect cock, we both stop. Panting, looking at each other for the briefest of moments. Then I'm kissing your lips and wrapping my free hand around your neck, pulling you closer.

You meet me there, in the middle, surrounded by a dark haze of indecision and need. 'Oh Kane' my heart calls. I don't want you to hate me.

We kiss as though after this last exertion we'll have nothing left to give each other. Maybe there is nothing left to hope for once this moment passes? Cities have been lost for less. The surrender makes me whimper and you mistake it for lust, pulling me into your embrace, smothering my voice with your tongue. As I love I am lost. As I give, I am disappearing into the apparition that you wish was me. It has to be enough for now.

I'm reeling. Backing away from you. I can't see your eyes and if I could, your pupils would be dilated so much they would obscure the vivid green. You're as vulnerable as I am at this moment but neither of us draw breath to commiserate. I hastily help you out of your jeans and your socks. There's lots of panting and shredding of clothes. We're so clumsy as we rush, it's almost laughable. I'm hungry for your cock.

You're naked. We're hot, wet, sloppy. You're hiking up my tiny skirt and touching my clit through the lace of my knickers. I'm squirming against your fingers. You're sliding a brutal hand around my breasts, grasping, rubbing. You're pushing the materials of my clothes out of your path, there's no thinking. I get a sharp pleasure from the feel of stretched cloth.

I'm at new heights of feverish arousal and I want you to fuck me in the impeding doom of twilight, on the floor of our unlit hallway. I want to feel you moving inside me, when the only sound will be your rasping breath and my mews of ardour.

I get my wish.

With your knees bent and my back flat against the wall, I can feel your cock about to enter me. My knickers are pulled to one side. We both tip and you use your knees to lift and pin me up. Cock meat slides into my-not-quite-ready pussy. I open to you but not without a bite of pain. You like it tight. Your grunt assuages my tiny grudge. I enjoy the fulfilling feeling of you sliding home.

Our eyes don't meet. You're tongue is on my neck, in my ear. You're lost in softness, thrusting. It's hard to manage like this, despite the anger. You move us. Clamouring down the hallway with your impaled load. My hold on tight, my hands clasped around your neck. We continue fucking in the kitchen. You dump me so I'm splayed on the dining table, my hips meeting yours. I can't quite reach your chest although I stretch my fingers to try to touch you. When you thrust it makes my back arch. Your dick nods at my g-spot.

“AAAhh”

I sit up, shuffling my arse towards you. We both watch your meat sliding in and out of me, sleek with juice, thick and pink. I lean back on my hands and you follow. I can feel the heat from the wall of your chest but we're not touching. You continue to pump in a frenzied rhythm, driving us both to the edge. I brush the hair out of your eyes and our lips meet. You're raking your tongue over my teeth, plunging it into my mouth. I'm sucking it, against the backdrop of squishy noises from our sexes meeting.

We're still kissing as I cum all over your blissful pole. I'm moaning and thrashing. I'm a danger to us both in my mind-numbing orgasm. You're tongue retreats and you hold me. After the shuddering subsides I can feel the pulse in your neck, close to my face. You're chest hair tickles my sensitive breasts. But you haven't come. You keep thrusting at me and my body is more pliant now. I lie back, enjoying the rushing feeling of your dick coming and going. I imagine your little arse cheeks clenching as you stroke.

You pull me up, I get stuck to the plastic table-cloth as I move. I almost laugh. You flip me over and bend me over the table. The urge to laugh leaves me swiftly as I take what you have to give. With your big hands on my hips, your pace increases and the depth of your strokes make the back of my eyeballs hurt.

“Oh. Kane!”

There's a guttural noise of pleasure from your exertion. I can feel you growing inside me. I feel the shuddering mini-tempest of your cock as you unload wads of spoof up my insides. I sigh and start to giggle. It's a breathless, massive noise. I don't know what we'll do now.

Kiss me. It doesn't matter, kiss me.