Sunday, July 31, 2011

Winning Isn't Everything

Jess's flesh tingled. The breeze caught the back of her knees as a reminder of how much bare flesh she was choosing to expose today. She flexed her warm toes in her suede boots, enjoying the feel of Kane's bold, hot cock inching it's way further towards the warmth between her legs. Around them, at the public event, people were watching the beautiful sailing boats competing on the water.

In the half an hour or so since the first spectators had arrived, a small crowd had now gathered. Jess and Kane had chosen a vantage point close to the sandstone ridge and protected from the water by railing. It was the cold, painted metal of the handrail that Jess gripped now. She tried not to wriggle, shuffle or cry out in anticipation. Jess feigned avid interest in the water sport, leaning forward as the wind picked up and the tension increased. It would be a few hours yet before it would be clear who the winner might be.

Behind her, Kane pushed into her. His cock head stretching her soft, wet walls until he was sliding home gently and deeply. Jess shuddered. He stopped, buried balls deep with his thickness inside her. Jess held her breath, deliciously, provocatively impaled. Their love play was apparently unnoticed.

Thankfully, Kane's grey greatcoat hid their activities and they were aided by Jess's choice of a tight, short skirt with her windbreaker. Her pussy was now reaping the benefits of a surge of morning creativity. In anticipation of her date, Jess had shaved and at the last minute, taken off her knickers. It was windy, though not blowing a gale and the sensation of nature on her intimate flesh made her frisky, flushed and keen for cock. After some coy rubbing and kissing, at the start of the day, Jess had whispered her request and it was the one he was carrying out now.

Kane was different to Jess's normal taste in fuck-puppets but so far, their new acquaintance was progressing. Certainly today, his smart, casual, upper-middle-class attire was serving them well. Kane moved between her legs, he held her hips firmly and rocked on his heels. The action was slight but it filled Jess's imagination with carnal longing. She wanted more. Kane lent in, kissing the back of her ear. She bit her lip.

“ Shall we go somewhere else?”

Impaled on his pleasure-pole, publicly, Jess was in a world of exquisite sensation. She struggled to respond.

“ I want you to fuck me.” Came her soft reply.

Kane's brown eyes lit with a responding carnal fire. He turned her towards him and slid his warm, spicy tongue into her mouth, licking the salt from her lips, left there by the wind. His cock twitched, still inside her but not buried as deeply as before. Jess ached for more length.

“ AhhhA” She said softly into his mouth.

Almost inaudibly, Kane growled. He let her go, making a show of buttoning his coat, adjusting his scarf and waiting for her.

They wove their way through the crowd of sailing enthusiasts and headed up the dunes toward the club house. Once they reached the building Kane pulled her to him. He ran his warm hands up the inside of her windbreaker, pawing at her plump breasts through her ti-shirt and her bra. Jess felt her nipples harden, both from the cold and from his brazen touch.

“ You're so hot.”

He planted a heated kiss on her neck. Jess slipped a cold hand inside his jacket, pleased to find his hard dick still protruding from his trousers.

“ I want this.”

She licked her lips. A dark lust shone in Kane's eyes and Jess reveled in the power she held over him. Her slender hand encompassed his cock. She began slowly to stroke him. After a moment, she withdrew and raised her palm to her mouth, coating it in saliva. She took hold of him once more and Kane closed his eyes.

“ Your Land rover?” Jess suggested shakily.

Kane's eyes snapped open.

“ God no.”

He kissed her mouth and moved her hand aside, replacing his cock with some difficulty within the confines of his pants. Kane tore them from their secluded alcove, her hand firmly tucked in his.

Just before a kiosk filled with yet more people, they came upon a door. Kane tried the handle, it opened and Kane tugged her into the building. They legged it up a flight of stairs like teenagers, locking the door behind them. Jess caught her breath. They found themselves in a large, carpeted room with sweeping views of the coastline.

Jess hoped the glass was tinted and she hesitated momentarily before striding to the middle of the room, beginning to undress. For a few moments Kane didn't notice her. He gaped, facing the sea, preoccupied with the view. When he turned back to the room's interior, Jess was nude, her clothes piled mischievously at her feet.

Kane's gaze swept over her exposed body. Her creamy skin glowed in the ambient light from the window. Her full figure so much like a sculptor's dream. Under his scrutiny, moisture pooled at the cleft of her thighs and her dark pink nipples budded. Jess steadied herself, calming her racing heart as she waited to see what her lover might do.

He took off his jacket.

Kane walked around her as though she were in an art exhibition, admiring her form and lazily sweeping his appreciative gaze from her ankles to the roots of her hair. Already flushed from her brief taste of cock, Jess pressed her breasts together. She licked two fingers and a thumb and stroked her own nipple. In the same action she pressed her thighs together, enjoying the swollen feel of her pussy, ripened with juice. She flicked her long, chestnut hair and dove two bold fingers into her snatch.

Kane took off his shirt, unbuttoning the practical cotton of his business shirt to reveal a muscular chest and a fine spray of dark chest hair. Jess motioned she wanted to close the distance between them but he shook his head.

Not yet.” He said softly. “I'm enjoying the show.”

Jess's practiced fingers drew her juices deliciously towards her clitoris, coating the sensitive nub. The clubroom faded as she stroked and brought herself closer to orgasm.


She opened her eyes, pleased to note how Kane's cock strained at the fabric of his trousers. She strode barefoot over to the nearby wall and braced one hand against it. The other, she used to continue stimulating her sensitive center. She cast a glance over her shoulder. Kane had taken his cock out, proud and rock hard. He painted a picture of the ultimate voyeur.

Rock out with your cock out.” She said softly, her eyes dancing. Their eyes locked and Kane's lips gave way to a wry grin.

Please, please fuck me.” Her tone was husky.

His grin faded, and a familiar fire flashed in his eyes. Kane strode towards her. Jess lifted her hips and leaned forward in a deliciously provocative offer. His gaze zeroed in on his prize. Jess reacted quickly. Before he could reach her, she stepped away from the wall, meeting him and pulling his willing face down to hers in a feverish kiss.

When she broke away they were breathing hard. Kane registered bewilderment and he ran a hand through this dark, already disheveled locks. Jess happily wrapped her hand around his cock and sank to her knees. She very gently licked him all over, taking so long she began to feel his shaking hands as they applied pressure to the back of her head, encouraging her to do more. She knew he wanted her to take more of him into her mouth and relieve the exquisite, escalating pressure.

Finally, Jess slid most of his warm shaft into her mouth. She slurped and released, bobbed once again and this time deep-throated him.

OH GOD!” Kane bit out and in another situation, Jess might have smiled in triumph.

Greedily, she licked his balls with the flat of her tongue and pressed his cock back into her hot mouth. Jess kept one hand on his shaft, the other on his buttocks, willing him to cry out again. His impressive toy was so hard Jess began to wonder just how much more teasing he could take. She stopped and stood up, kissing him on the lips, continuing to slide a cheeky hand up and down his taut, velvet flesh.

Kane eagerly turned his attentions to her ripe breasts, cupping them lovingly as he ran his tongue around the sensitive flesh. Jess shut her eyes, nearly losing her footing. Kane popped her nipple into his mouth. Her pussy responded by growing ever lusher, keening to be filled. Jess couldn't help herself. She slid her hand between her legs.

I love you're creamy skin.” He said, naked now, except for his socks.

Do you like my hips?”


And this?”

She sought his hand, forming it into a small spade with two fingers jutting forward. Jess placed his warm, bent hand on her peach, willing him to thrust his digits into her. She was all but delirious with need, her only thought to burst the growing, aching, unbearable pressure. His slid two fingers inside and she shifted her pelvis towards his touch.


You like that?”

He thrust in again. Jess couldn't speak.

How would you like me to fuck you?” His voice was low.

The woman before him was more ready than he had ever seen her. Her cheeks were flushed and her delectable lips were swollen. Lust cast a shadow in her eyes, allowing a glimpse of the aching need that coursed through her prone body. He kissed her soundly, stroking her inner softness as he positioned her at the wall. Kane removed his fingers and thrust his eager cock into her, bending one of her legs at the knee.

Amazed that a man's entry could feel so good, Jess said nothing. She panted. He clenched his buttocks, released and for a second time, stroked inside his lover.

OooooOhhh” The world spun. Everything felt delicious, fat and full.

Shhhh.” Kane bit out, very close to her ear.

He kissed her mouth forcefully, his hot tongue twining with hers as his cock thrust into her depths again and again. Jess held her mouth open, eager for caresses but unable to focus her thoughts properly. Daylight disappeared momentarily. All that remained was the sound of her own breathing, his panting gasps and the feeling of his wonderful cock, stretching her.

Their kisses grew messy and wet. The flesh of Kane's abdomen contacted her clitoris from time to time, eliciting fireworks. At last, Jess's pussy quivered and quaked as she came. Feeling her release, Kane slowed his pace. He eased himself from her and turned her. Jess's palms connected with the wall. Kane shifted, gradually feeding his large cock into her once more, this time stretching her anus and filling her arse with deliciously, dirty intent. Jess felt her sex tingle. Memories of their brief outdoor encounter fueled her response.

Oh. YES.” She hissed.

His massive slug began to slide in and out of her, gradually increasing in pace. Soon, Jess was pushing back as he drove forward. She licked her fingers and reached down to stroke her clit as he continued. Kane slapped her rump. She jumped, clenching from the pain, impaled on his cock. It was the final straw for Kane's tenuous control and he unloaded a generous dollop of spunk into her back passage, sending her once more over the edge.

Gradually euphoria subsided and Kane withdrew, turning his pliant lover so they faced one another. A light sheen of sweat covered them both. Jess collapsed against his solid frame; sweaty, sticky, spent.

Oh, that was good.” She mumbled into his shoulder.

You're so hot.”

Kane kissed the top of her head through her hair.

We should get out of here.”

I just need a minute.”

He let her go and Jess sank to the floor. Jess ran a hand through her hair, pulling her aching limbs into sitting position as Kane ferreted for his clothes. Leaning back on her hands, exhausted, Jess grinned. She looked delectable, her skin flushed from exertion and her pert breasts pointing skyward. Kane smiled too.

All in all, Jess considered it wasn't a bad day at the races.

C'mon let's go and find out who's winning.”

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Petite Mort

I know you’re coming home and the lead up is excruciating. It’s like bait.

It's like foreplay.

At first you’re far from here, you’ll be a long time coming. Days pass. I refuse to acknowledge that you’re nearly here. In a few days you'll be in my bed. I think perhaps I should change up one or two things, so you’ll notice the difference. I have to stop myself.


You know me, you know us. You'll know I’ve been trying too hard to impress you.

I dress carefully the morning of your arrival. I want to enjoy the feeling of you undressing me later, free of grandma knickers or the threat of a shitty old bra.

On the way to the airport I try to remind myself of the facts. It's about you. I get so caught up in the idea that you’ll be plunging your cock into me soon and that I’ll feel special. I've been reading romance novels and dreaming of erotic sex. I forget it should be about you, not my fantasies. I set myself up to fail. It's my lover coming back to me, flaws and all, not a hero from a book or a fuckable stranger.

I time my arrival at the airport perfectly (something I’ve never been known to do well). I can see your big frame at the baggage carousel. I hold my breath. You haven’t noticed me and perhaps I’ll get right up close to see what your face says when you realise I’m here.

But you see me from a few meters away. You wave and smile. My heart thumps. You’re a little bit like the man I was expecting to welcome into my arms and my bed but so much more flesh, blood and unpredictability. The relationship we’ve been carrying on in my head comes to a screeching halt. I've remembered you a certain way, physically. It disturbs me that you are new, different, changed.

Then again, one can never really know another person. Not really.

I see you and I smell you up close and all I feel is uncertain. I feel wobbly, unreal.

When I dressed this morning what I didn’t imagine is how we would make love. I’m not one to try and plan how these things happen. I'm an awkward woman by nature, planning our flirtation would simply add to my natural gracelessness. In the airport, you kiss me.

Your kiss makes the sound of other peoples cars go away. It takes the edge of the nasty, airless, cement spaces in the airport building. I told you once that I read in a magazine how healthy it is to have 10 second kisses. I want some of those. I notice your new facial hair and how good it feels to be wanted.

At our house, I peel off your black jeans, eager to touch your cock. I wave my shaved pussy in your face and you suck on me. You slide your lovely lips onto my aching white snatch like it means something to you and I can’t wait to get more.

You watch me cum, strumming me to orgasm and we look at each like the answer might be in our eyes.

I’m so far away from you, being filled and caressed.

I hope I feel moist and tight. You lick my pink nipple and hold the weight of my breast in your big hand. You make the act of fucking chaotically soft and swollen. You take me, pushing your cock in, giving me all I can take.


In answer you withdraw. Roll onto your back with your hand on your cock.

“Where are they?”

I look for the packet, waving my white arse in the air by way of invitation. You run your large fingers over my clit, into my wetness, spreading my slickness around. It’s hard to concentrate as your fingers disappear inside but I bring a plastic sheath back from the bedside.

I take the proffered man-fruit and coat my toy with saliva. Your cock tastes of me and the room smells of sex. Your busy hand in my slit makes me moan.

I lick up the inside of your man-meat, sliding the whole thing into my mouth. I forget that we’re supposed to be wrapping you in plastic. You remind me. I roll it on like an amateur, getting caught up on the hood, the plastic catches on itself.

I remember the time a girlfriend taught me how to roll one on with my teeth. Why can’t I put that skill into practise now? (I don’t.) In the end you sort it out.

I want to feel you stretching me. And then it's real. You're slipping inside in one pleasurable movement. My cervix grinds and I’m impaled. In a moment, your hands are lifting my arse and dropping my weight into place in an intimate, pleasurable ride.

“I want to have control.”

I push you away. I relish the opportunity. I’m on top and a change of pace is exquisite. I bury you deep and rub my knees into the mattress, rolling my hips. The width of your cock pressed against the front wall of my cervix. Warm, profound, invasive, maddening fireworks. I’m taking it all. Your bedroom eyes watch me as I tip over the edge and orgasm. I cum on your cock, I cum on your hand. My breasts brush your bicep and we roll over.

You’re stroking my insides. I’m quaking.

In those few short minutes, you own me. We own each other.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

I can't hold it anymore (The Department Part 3)

Al and Lulu continue to get to know one another at work. As intelligence officers, there's so little time to play...

Stunned, Al holds Lulu gently, his hands at her waist. Her movements are forward, yet there is a peculiarity to them. She seems unpractised in her seduction. He dares to believe that she has been acting on impulse, driven by the strong, inexplicable pull of attraction between them.

Al has no idea just how far Lulu's actions from her usual character. No longer the wooden, chaste executive, Lulu is keenly aware the department has a way of ensuring colleagues are never given the opportunity to develop strong bonds. After these three days, it is doubtful they will ever work together again. Lulu takes a moment to admire the host of emotions revealed in the pools of his grey-green eyes.

“I'm not sure why I'm doing this.” Lulu says breathlessly, honestly.

Al grins.

“Just don't stop.”

It's Al that lifts her face towards his. He is taller than her by at least a few happy inches. Up close she notices how he is handsome because of his age, not in spite of them. It's the last thought that crosses her mind before her eyes close as she accepts the weight of his lips upon hers. His whiskers scratch her peachy flesh in a masculine caress and she pulls away, giggling. Al's eyes reveal his confusion.

“I'm sorry. It's your moustache. It tickles. ” Unthinking, she caresses his face.

Al is taken by surprise.


Lulu nods. The smile in her eyes threatens the corners of her lips.

“You want me to stop?”

“God, No.”

Al reapplies the pressure of his mouth. This time he takes care not to brush his facial hair against her soft flesh. It's a relief to put a name to the strange crackling tension between them. Lulu sighs. He tastes of mint and honey. She wraps one arm around an unfamiliar bicep, the other comes to rest on his hip. Lulu threads a finger through his belt loop without thinking. All the while, Al's insolent, hot tongue snakes into and out of her moist recesses, calling to her more carnal instincts. He succeeds in extracting a moan from her throat. Lulu knees turn to liquid. She trembles. It's the only outward sign of her inexperience. Self consciousness causes her to jerk away. Al is quick to stop her retreating. He plants a firm, calloused palm on the back of her neck, keeping their faces close.

“Don't you like that?” His grey-green eyes search her face.

Lulu exhales shakily, feeling strangely light-headed and short of breath.

“I wasn't thinking.”

“I don't care if you don't.” Grins. His moustache turns up at the ends.

“Al, we're on the clock”


Al kisses her delectable nose. She jumps.


Al brushes the back of his knuckles over the swell of her breast. Lulu's sucks in her breath.


Her lips are parted, her eyes dewy with lust. Al leads, pressing one of his thighs suggestively into hers. She involuntarily takes a step back. He repeats the motion. Too late, Lulu finds herself backed up against the motel wall. Al slides a hand down the delicious curve of her thigh, brushing his fingers seductively across her abdomen. Lulu senses leap at his touch. His hands are so close to their delicious target. Her pupils dilate. He cups the cleft between her thighs, covering the entire mound with his hand. Lulu's skirt limits their actions. Lulu pushes back suggestively into his grasp.



Al slants his lips over hers, moving his hand away from the juncture of her thighs to cup her arse. He presses against her, pinning her fine form between the strength of his body and the wall at her back. Lulu can't think of a reason to mind. Instead, she whimpers. Their tongues intertwine and his hands long to feel her flesh. Deftly, Al is hiking her respectable skirt, desperate for the touch of her creamy thighs.

Lulu tears her mouth away, assisting his pursuit. Her eyes are closed, her breathing ragged. Al rubs two practised fingers over the throbbing hub of her sex, through the silk of her knickers.


Her flushed features are the loveliest sight. Al tickles her swollen lips through the whisper-thin fabric. She presses her thighs together, trying to dispel the tingling longing.

“Lulu. You're incredibly hot.”

Despite the intimacy of their situation, Lulu giggles.

“It's you. You make me feel...”


Al lips brush hers with his own.

“What should happen next?”

“I want you to touch me.”

Al insinuates his fingers further into the slipperiness.

“My breasts.” Lulu blushes red to the roots of her hair.

“I see.” Al's knowing eyes dance with mirth.

He doesn't, only increases his exquisite, playful strokes, plunging and sliding wicked fingers inside her delicate underwear. Inside, he finds Lulu's nearly hairless vagina is lush and moist. She gasps and wiggles. Al's feather-light touch is too much, in reaction Lulu reaches, cupping one tight, masculine butt cheek. The other hand holds his arm as he stokes her already white-hot arousal.


Lulu is awash in sensation. She can't seem to muster the power of speech. Swathed in lace and hidden under the silk of her expensive business shirt, Lulu's breasts ache, neglected. Amid the commotion, impatiently and with shaking hands, she undoes the buttons at the front of her blouse to reveal her rounded, perfectly proportioned flesh. One look at temptation and Al's cock burns.

“Come with me”

Al removes his hand from inside her cunt, wordlessly. Decisively, he leads her to the bedroom. In opposition to practical thought, every nerve ending in her body sings. Lulu enters the room a willing participant and to prove it, at the side of the bed she unzips and steps free of her impossible skirt. Her peach knickers are sopping in the juncture at her thighs. He stares. The attention is exhilarating, Lulu shrugs off her blouse.

Beneath it, her bodice is cut low. Voluptuous flesh constrained in exquisite style. Al leans one knee on the bed. He moulds his hands around her creamy skin. He licks her flesh through the barrier of lace, trailing saliva. Lulu makes an appreciative noise in the back of her throat. She watches the top of his head, anticipating the feel of his hot mouth over her nipple. Al's eyes meet hers through his long, fair lashes. In the final moment before he finally suckles the rosy peak, he finds her holding her breath, eyes wide.

“Oh. Yes.”

Her acquiescence is almost a whisper and to Al it's the sweetest of sounds. Lulu's body is exploding, pleasure assails her senses each time the apex of her breast disappears into his willing mouth,. As tight as a bow, Lulu eagerly spreads her thighs in invitation, feeling as though she has known him much longer than just one afternoon.

“Please?” Her body hums with pent-up need.

Al swirls his tongue around the taut pink nub. His palm caresses her other breast. Lulu's plea pierces his concentration.

“Fuck me.”

Al doesn't require encouragement. He frees his hands and in record time Al divests his shirt and singlet. Lulu assists with his belt and trousers. Moments later Al finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed, a curious expression on his face as Lulu kneels before him, taking a sock from his foot. His raging erection is carving space between them.

Lulu wraps her pretty hand around his member, assessing the feel of him in her palm. She studies his shaft, a lustful darkness evident in her eyes. Al shuffles up, making his way to the middle. Lulu hand never leaving his cock. His engorged flesh is so hard it hurts. The pain is exquisite and a part of him never wants it to end. An urgency remains, to bury him in her velvet flesh.

Reluctantly, Lulu releases her hold and shimmies off the bed. She strips off her knickers. Al reaches across and captures her moist centre. She stops. Al strokes her, encasing his cock with his free hand, unable to stroke, his balls are too taught. For Lulu is grey green eyes glow silver. His self discipline is dangerously tattered. Lulu merely watches entranced.

She makes as if to lean over and put him in her mouth. Al shakes his head. No. That's not what he wants. In truth he is not sure he can stem the tide of orgasm should she choose to overstimulate his aching cock. Lulu wriggles onto the bed, knees either side of his hips until she is astride. His breathe comes in short bursts. He points his impressive man meat skyward, by way of invitation and Lulu takes her cue.

Every so slowly she descends. Impaling herself inch by inch. Al clenches his jaw. Lulu's eyes are round with excitement. Finally, he sinks within her and she closes her eyes. Al kicks up his hips, getting in first, catching her by surprise on a first stroke. He groans, both from the effort of shifting their weight and the pleasure of it. He cups her fleshy, delectable rear. Lulu bobs as Al controls the depth of their strokes. Lulu lets out a kitten cry, by way of request. Al complies, his moistened length disappears to the hilt on a louder noise of pleasure from Lulu lips.

Teetering unsteadily atop his big frame, her palms press his chest. Her fingers land on downy chest hair. It's enough to tip her over the edge. The crescendo of orgasm comes as a deafening roar, unleashing fireworks in her head, her toes and her skin.

“Oh” she says. “That's. So. Big.” Biting the words out in her fever.

Al stares at her. Her eyelids are heavy and half closed.The sight of her makes him swell with pride. A vulnerable, impossibly beautiful woman rocks and spasms on his cock. Al gets a twinge of something long-buried but his distracting dick is hot, full and he continues to push up. Lulu shifts. He swings their hips and in a deft movement Lulu is pinned underneath.

“Want more?”

Lulu nods. She softly descends from lofty heights. Al takes a punt.

“Should we 69?”

The look of confusion is only momentary. She shakes her head, No.

He can tell she is sexually inexperienced. Al extracts himself. Lulu sighs and tugs on his hips, urging him to re-unite their bodies. Her expression is mind blowing. Restraining himself, he slides down her body, coming to rest with his head between her legs. Something about their union touches him. He implores her to trust him with his eyes but hers are closed, in fact, she almost squeezes them shut.

“Trust me.” He wants only to surprise her with an array of sensations this day.

Al rubs his thumbs in circular motions on the flesh of her hips. He lowers his head and looks at her softness from close range. She is swollen, willing, utterly breathtaking. Juices cover the ripe peach of her sex. Al takes his sweet time, drinking it in. In response to the peculiar feel of his warm breath on her thighs and her prone vagina, Lulu wriggles impatiently.

“My god woman. You're beautiful.” His voice is thick.

Al's face descends, undertaking his task with relish, he begins to lick. At first, Lulu stares at the ceiling, unsure how to react. He can feel the stiffness in her body beneath his hands. Al licks with leisure, his warm hands on her hips, his sucking thorough and mesmeric. Before long he notes tension leaving her limbs. Al introduces two digits to her sex.

“Ooh!” Lulu cries. She bucks.

His fingers slide in and out of her tight slit as he eats. A few minutes more and she begins to thrash. Al alters his rhythm, caressing her g-spot with feather-light strokes as he concentrates his tongue on her clitoris. Her inner muscles dance, her wetness increases. Lulu claws at his arms, urging him upward.

Al takes the underside of her shin in his palm. Dizzy with desire, he asks her to roll. She plies her flesh from the sheets and Al thrusts. It's a surprising sensation, coupled with a new depth of penetration. He squats and pulls her onto his pole from behind. In a moment, she relaxes. Al finds he can only complete a handful of strokes. She is so tight, so delectably plump and fuck-able, a study in womanly curves.

Al stops. He slides appreciative hands up to caress the curves of her flesh. He kisses her nape and the tender spot behind her ear. Lulu's dark hair has loosened, it falls in delicious waves down her back. He caresses her thighs. Lips poised for a kiss, he poses his question.

“What now?”

Lulu's eyes are closed, her skin is slightly damp as a result of their exercions. The same physical activity has released her inhibitions.

“Come for me.” She rolls the words around, drunk on passion. “I want to see you come for me.”

He withdraws and asks her to lie on her back. Al's no fool and he can see she is sated, her inexperience tiring her early. He removes himself from the bed and stands in the doorway.

“Will you touch yourself?” Her eyes twinkle, under heavy lids.

“Of course.” Al grins like a much younger man.

He takes his rigid shaft in hand and rubs, sliding one palm up and down it's length. Lulu watches, transfixed, a self satisfied grin playing on her lips. His uncircumcised cock bobs boldly beneath his touch.

“You're so big.” She murmurs. Al feels the rush of blood as his shaft turns to steel.

It's her eyes. He continues to pleasure himself boldy, for a short minute, under her watch. Her prone form, alabaster flesh and the curves of her body offer up a delectable impression. A lustful vision in a near-slumberous state.

“Can I have a go?”

Shyly, Lulu takes his velvet steel in her hands. She rubs the tip with a thumb and two fingers. Al leans his thighs on the mattress briefly, before Lulu draws him bodily onto the bed. She opens her legs and guides his head back into the warmth between her burning thighs. Al refuses to capitule. Their eyes meet. Her sex open to his hungry gaze, Lulu continues to stroke him with her hands, her creamy belly beneath his cock, her breasts rocking deliciously in sympathy with her strokes. She increases pace. Al's eyes roll.

Lulu calls upon half-remembered wisdom from an article on sex-play, she reaches in to fondle his ball sack. Al groans. Below him, her cleavage is prevocatively trapped between her upper arms, thrust upwards, towards his face. Lulu is a goddess, one small hand stroking his pretty penis, the other jumbling his balls. It takes only a few moments before she feels him grow heavier, harder in he hands. Al grunts. A satisfyingly substantial amount of warm, sticky cum erupts from his cock.

He encourages Lulu to cease stroking his over-sensitised member, planting a hand either side of her tiny waist and dropping a tender kiss on her swollen, cherub lips. He searches her face for signs of regret. Finding none, Al's face relaxes into a lopsided grin. Her toes curl.

“This isn't over.” He plonks his frame down next to his new lover.

“You don't think so?”

“Oh you're far too lovely to only fuck once. Next time I'll have protection, so I can stay in you.”

His honest words bounce off the ceiling. Lulu rearranges her body quietly. She admires his tanned, handsome features from out of the corner of her eye. Finally, she meets his gaze. Al's steel-grey eyes burn into her brown ones. The air sizzles.

“I've never done this before.”

“I haven't had sex in five years”

Her honest answer stuns him.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” She drops her head onto his shoulder. Al wraps her up in his arms.

If he's honest, she stirs up something in him he's at a loss to explain. Instead, Al succumbs to the urge to rest, closing his eyes. Lulu snuggles into his chest. They fit just right. Al's stomach does flip flops but he is too exhausted to do anything more than relax.

Friday, July 1, 2011

I surrender (the Department Part 2)

Less than a week later, Lulu finds herself on another assignment, training more men, in updated technologies, for the agency. More associates under her supervision means more work in the short term. Better agents are a bonus, she sees the value in the necessary evil of on-going training. It makes her sigh. To begin, she drags her feet, going about the process of unlocking an innocuous brown door, awfully similar to the other brown doors on level 3 of an unremarkable, cheap hotel in a good downtown neighbourhood. She greets Graham with barely a nod, relieved he has come early. The room and it's décor would undoubtedly be oppressive on one's own.

In the corner of the room, an assassin rifle sits atop a tripod. It moves occasionally on it's digital mount, responding to altering coordinates but Graham's attentions are on the room's other large toy. He introduces himself quickly, his attention focused on the telescope. She sets up her laptop, a small amount of tracking equipment and using an app., links to the weapon's coordinates.

“You like you're work?” Lulu begins, by way of conversation.

She takes over the table with her tools, looking at Grahan out of the corner of her eye. He is a lean man with peculiar, angular features.

“It's not interesting enough.” Graham grumbles.

Lulu fails to acknowledge he has response. His pessimism stumps her. Stillness envelopes the room. Time passes slowly, they pour over the equipment and Graham takes notes on an i-pad. After a time, he lights a cigarette, leaving the table to blow smoke carefully out of their rented window. Afterwards, he makes them coffee

It's a relief when the digital fingers of the mantelpiece clock creep towards shift change and Graham can' t help musing that a such a good looking could make for such poor company. He drops his coffee mug into the small sink with a clunk and fetches his coat. It's a false cue, an odd moment and even the men can't explain how these things occur. As though attuned to one another, Al enters the room at precisely the moment the other man is ready to make his exit. Graham rolls his eyes for the benefit of his partner. He heads out into the corridor wordlessly, relief evident in his stride.

Al lets the brown door close with a click. If he's surprised that Lulu's the 'Super' he doesn't let it show. She looks up, assessing him, perhaps remembering having seen him in the foyer. Al's face is distinctive on account of his moustache. It has appealing 70's qualities. He nods at her and fingers his facial achievement. Lulu's full mouth curls into an involuntary smile. Captivated, Al is oblivious to the treat he is witnessing.

Schooled in stony reactions, Lulu's composure is inexplicably, momentarily, melted. Butterflies quake in her belly, shivers shake in her limbs. Lulu imagines the 'tache tickling her lips. The flight of imagination passes. She recovers. Ever the gracious host, she introduces herself to the room's newcomer. As she stands to shake his hand, the expensive material of her skirt shimmies down her ripe, rounded thighs, righting itself. Al fights the urge to ogle, managing to keep his eyes level with her face. She is all business.



“Is it German?”

“Yes. 'Ready for battle'.” He stops. “At least that's what it means.” Al self-depreciates without thinking. He feels the world spinning and tipping, experiencing a heady sensation at the realisation everything else about him is irrelevant, in the face of attention from this crazy-beautiful, full-figured woman.

“How appropriate.”

Lulu means only to pass off the compliment as a allusion to his chosen profession. Her assertion comes out, instead, as an invitation. Lulu laughs, caught off guard by her own candure. Al admires her with an eyebrow raised. He isn't to know she is practised in the habit of withholding merriment. The woman before him is radiant in her mirth, her cheeks are flushed, her eyes dancing. He watches with approval. Al raises his lips beneath his moustache in a smirk. It's a habitual mannerism of his.

Lulu feels the room heat up and wishes she had thought to wear a more loose fitting skirt. She shifts. Al slides an appreciative eye up her leg, to the fullness of her hips. Suddenly Lulu's breasts are uncomfortably taut against the material of her blouse. Lulu fights the urge to take deep breaths, acutely aware that she'd rather be dead than thought of as the type of woman in possession of a heaving bosom. Her face flushes with the effort of reigning in her reactions.

Al can't take his eyes from her. She's like cookies and cream, all curves and playful glances. His cock aches in his pants. He has been alone with Lulu less than 15 minutes. Already he is ready to abandon the afternoon of study in favour of any chance at rendering his man-meat sunk into her honeyed flesh. Al coughs. Rank and file of associates reasserts itself, fighting to override the turn of events. In the stillness of her narrowed gaze, Al fingers a button midway down his cotton shirt.

“You will learn valuable new skills from this assignment. Think of it more of a training exercise.”

“It's a glorified stake out. An insult.” His tone derisive.

“Yes, if you wish. It's a minor job, you will learn much from my new methods”

Al sighs. He resents the up-dating of his techniques, eradication of skills honed by years in the service. Technology no substitute for intuition and intellect, Al wouldn't dream of owning an i-pad. He is almost religious in his devotion to hard-won skill, over quick-fix gadgets.

“Where would you be if your dinky system powered down? Ff there is a brown out, for example? A power surge? Instinct alone, unlike technology, can save you.” Al eyes the equipment with suspicion.

Lulu reads scepticism in his expression. As a man in his early forties, his handsome features are pronounced, a sensual turn to his lips, smile lines etched into crinkles at the sides of his eyes. He looks like a man who used to be happy. At the moment, his grey-green eyes are a chilly, boring right through her.

“Fine.” Lulu concedes. She turns her back on his grey-green disdain, making her way to the kitchen.

Once she's gone, Al relaxes his hunched shoulders. He straightens his shirt. He can barely believe the goddess he saw a week ago passing namelessly through his company foyer is here as his superior. He pulls on his woollen tie, it hangs more loosely round his neck. Al touches his moustache, then rubs his hands. A blood vessel in his cheek twitches. He controls his urge to pace. He looks around for the first time, standing in shadow, alongside the window, peering down at the world below.

“What do you see?” She re enters soundlessly. It annoys him.

“I think this room is exposed. The sun is likely to shine through this window very soon.”

Al indicates the well-polished glass panes that take up almost a whole wall.

“I think that if I was a passer-by and for some, inexplicable reason I were to look up, this telescope” He taps it. “And that gun - ” He indicates the formidable weapon with a wave of his hand. “Would be visible, caught in light strong enough to obscure the tint and lay bare these objects. I think if this was my hide out, I wouldn't have booked it. And if I had, I wouldn't be staying.”

Al can't explain why he feels so extraordinarily defensive. He steps back into the centre of the room. Lulu clears her throat.

“We have thought of this.” Her tone is even.

She crosses the room and adjusts the Venetians until they are almost closed. With a flick of cord she drops a pretty, sheer, layer of material in front of the Venetian bands.

“Believe it or not, two layers are enough to obscure the light you speak of. Nothing will be exposed.”

Lulu's firm tone is laced with double entrendre.

“Is that so? Miss...”


“Lulu Ravenhead.” Al rolls the name around on his tongue. “Your daddy was a poet.”

“Don't patronise me.”

“Sorry.” And he was.

Al chooses to change the rapidly developing hostility in the room, simply by sitting. He does so in the closest available chair, at the instant the notion comes to him. Immediately the mood in their room changes. Lulu hadn't clocked the amount of tension between them until it begins to dissipate. Al smooths his hand over his moustache and looks up at the most beautiful working supervisor he had ever laid eyes on.

“Hyperbole aside, it's a nice name.” He grins. It's disarming.

“You don't want to work with me, do you?”

“It's not you, Lulu, it's the ground-work you're making me re-cover.”

“You mean the revision the department is making you do.”


“Where would you rather be?”

A pause. Lulu blushes. It's unlike her to ask for personal details. Al's light eyes flick over her in assessment. She sips her water, trying to marshal her thoughts. She is never this flustered and her obvious weakness irritates her nobler instincts.

“What I meant was, what kind of hobbies do you in enjoy?”

Al stares at her. Lulu sighs.

“What kind of leisure activities does a man, such as yourself, get up to in his time off?”

“Who wants to know?”


“You? Or the department?”

Lulu sits. Like everything she does, the movement is graceful. Her electronic equipment creates a fine, comforting, ocean of space between them.

“Me.” She adds quietly. “Just me.”

Al regards her with naked disbelief.

“If we can't work together, then let's work out why not.”

“I told you.”

“You're a reasonable man Al. A woman like me, trying to re-train a man like you? Guess what will happen to you if my efforts prove unsuccessful?”

“I've been working in the department for 13 years.”

“I know, I've read your file.”

“What don't you know?”

Lulu glances out the window. It's well into the afternoon and the light is beginning to change. Impressed by Al's ability to assess how the planes of sunlight would alter the anonymity of their hideout, she notes his prediction would be in evidence, had she not earlier closed their blinds. She quakes a little on the inside. The sensation puzzles her. Perhaps she has been indoors too long? Lulu reasons away the niggling realisation that perhaps it is Al sending her senses reeling.

“A lot of things” Her honest reply hangs in the air like a person shouting a conversation, long after the loud music has ended.

So many minutes had passed since he first posed the question, her answer makes him stare. Al doesn't say anything. Instead he turns away, retreating in much the same way she had done, making his way to the kitchenette. Lulu watches him go. A part of her acknowledges that she should get back to work. They have three days to master these new systems. Another, more mischievous part of her reaches up and undoes a button on her silk blouse. Her fingers shake as she passes the ivory jewel through a buttonhole. She pats her full lips to steady herself and stands.

In the kitchen, Al takes a moment to steel himself. When he re enters the room, the picture she paints throws him completely off kilter. Lulu's entire focus is on him. Al grins beneath his moustache. On a more self-assured man the gesture would not be so endearing. His heart pounds. Her brown eyes sparkle and she crosses the room.

“I think we shouldn't work today.” Her voice is husky.

She reaches up to undo his woollen tie and remove it altogether, a strange expression in her eyes.

“Oh really?” His voice cracks revealing his surprise.

Lulu slides off his tie and twines the material suggestively in her hands. She leans in to whisper.

“I don't think either of us could concentrate. Do you?”