Coming home...

A bus. An ordinary bus on an ordinary day. Its not peak hour any more, I've worked late and the time has passed since the heavy tussle that comes with the afternoon. Now things have slowed down with more places to sit on each vehicle. The book I am trying to read isn't good. I look up and about. Such is the world that we live in, few people are doing the same. Even those without a phone to play with or a friend to talk to, stare ahead squarely at nothing, as if real life is a distraction.

A man sits behind me, four seats further back. He catches my eye. Grins. His sea blue eyes are luminous, his stubble unpracticed, and his impromptu happiness breaks an otherwise handsome face into an expression of lopsided mischief. Who wouldn't be hooked? My heart pounds. I look away. The driver breaks unexpectedly and elderly passengers make annoying noises of disapproval as they bend forward, riding the motion, their old bodies like carriages at a rail yard suddenly brought to a halt.

I look out the window to catch a glimpse of my own reflection in the day's fading light and open my face up into a smile. I read somewhere if you are happy enough to smile when no one is watching, you must really mean it. Someone is watching me today. Blue eyes from the back seat makes me self conscious.

A colleague told me I looked like a nurse earlier, my work shirt is blue and white check. It accentuates my breasts and I don't mind that it brings to mind a uniform. I've left the morgue and I like to pretend I have been at an office, working somewhere that smells less like disinfectant and has a view, preferably of water and trees.

Blue eyes focused in my direction cause the hairs on the back of my neck to tingle. A few delicious minutes pass by. I shift in my seat, watch members of the geriatric community pick their way carefully down the aisle and out into the strange, suspended, autumnal sunset on the street, their large, practical handbags held with purpose under fleshy, under-used arms.

I flinch. The man at the back of the bus shows me a dimple and I imagine he might share my sense of humour. I pause to scratch an itch on my leg. My stockings dip under the weight of my nails and I'm careful to alleviate the itch with a featherlight touch. These are my last pair.

Blue eyes gets up from the back of the bus. My stomach lurches. If he leaves it will just be me and the sky, the high pitched noise of the bus breaks at each stop and row after row of shops and houses. He doesn't get off. The action of his hand curling around the arm rest near my shoulder has a sensual flavour, as though he's caressing skin, not the thin aluminium rail.

“Hullo.”

“Hi.”

He sits behind me. I swivel to look. I want to start a conversation but my throat is dry.

“Your eyes are questioning.”

“This is my poker face.”

He laughs. It's magic. I bite my lip.

“I'm Paula.”

“Tim”

“Hi Tim. Want to come home with me?”

I haven't thought about the words, they come out of my mouth before I've willingly formed them and it leaves me with a strange sensation in my middle. Say yes. I don't want to fail.

“I might...?”

Dimples.

“Paula are you always this forward?”

“No.”

I glance out the window and realise my stop is coming up. I ring the bell. Up the front of the bus feet shuffle as the elderly prepare themselves for the stop. It puts my nerves on edge. We grind to a halt. I get up without looking back. I can sense the heat his body gives off as he follows me. The bus pulls away in a blast of hot air and brake noise. Highway sounds hide my confusion. Tim gestures for me to lead the way. I start walking.

After only four paces, maybe five, he tugs on my arm and I lurch to a halt. I hadn't realised I was practically running. His palm is warm and calloused as it slips into mine. We don't say anything. I start off once more, slower this time, towing him away from the heavy noise of the street.

We take a turn, heading further away from the steady traffic and into cool, overhanging peppermint gums lining the road.

“Wait!” he says “Are you real?”

“I don't know.” It comes out in a whisper.

I want him to kiss me. Silence feels like foreplay. I'm angry at the mundane, suburban setting. In the world of my imagination my handsome stranger would tug me into an alleyway. We would embrace with passionate, frantic urgency.

I look up from my own thoughts into unsettling azure blue. I can't bear to keep staring. We're holding hands, facing each other like lovers. He uncurls his fingers, releasing me. I feel the cool afternoon air where his palm has been connected to mine. He raises his hands to my face, encircles my cheeks in an intimate gesture. I catch my breath.

“Do you want me?”

He leans forward and kisses my nose. I brush the softness of my cheek through his waiting hand, eyes closed. I don't answer the question, I don't feel I need to. I just wait.

“Do you come here often?”

“Every day.”

Humbled.

Obtuse.

He strokes his thumb across my lower lip. I know my torso trembles. I can feel my body reacting to his touch and I can hear it too, in my quiet, jagged breaths.

The not knowing is over. I stretch up on tippy-toes and connect my lips to his. Hot and full, a reward for all the pissing about. I assess their weight, time and again before drawing the courage to press for an open-mouthed gesture. He complies. The afternoon threatens rain. Tim tastes of salt and aniseed, promise and apricots. He pulls away. I don't know what he sees.

“Can we go somewhere?”

I smile, open my eyes wide and grin like the world is winning. My familiar street fades and I start to look at the surrounds as though I have never seen them before. He doesn't take my hand as we move off. We don't speak.

In the hall at the apartment block I fumble for my keys. For a moment I'm nervous. He slides a warm hand across my kidney as I rummage in my bag. I forget what it is to be nervous. It's a game, a foregone conclusion.

I open the door to my rooms and we go into the silence together. I take a drink of water and look across at him as I down the lukewarm liquid. I imagine his cock in his pants and how it might taste. I close my eyes, letting the water run over my tongue in the darkness. When I reopen them he stands with his hands in his pockets, eyes on the ground. His brown hair obscures the expression on his face. He plays with his feet, leaning on the arches, balancing and then bringing them flat to the floor.

Tim looks up. Clears his throat.

“Come here.”

Before I've closed the distance between us entirely I've started work on the buttons of his shirt. It's a light plaid, not dissimilar to mine and I want it gone. It feels like I'm unwrapping a present. He brushes my hair back behind my ear, assisting me and at the same time adding a tingling sensation to my face, my neck and the zero-ing heat in my middle.

A gentle finger under my chin draws my eye line away from small, clear buttons. This time it's Tim who leans in, offering his lips for an embrace. The moment feels quiet, fragile, a palpable amount of trust in the air. In my minds eye our passion explodes like sex in a foreign film, all heaving breaths and rank, rabid movement as the participants devour one another in love play. Tim takes his time. He presses kisses on my mouth as though savouring the taste.

With my eyes closed I will him to hurry up. I don't want gentle, I don't want affection. My body sings to be fucked. I lean in, opening my mouth, our teeth click. My eyes are closed as I fumble for shirt buttons, clearing the material from his chest, bending my head, biting his nipple. He squirms, swats me away. His eyes are a deeper blue, steeped in lust. I lick my lips and flick his belt buckle.

Tim takes a run at my shirt, foregoing buttons, a few of them pop as he slides material over my breasts, over my head, discarding the garment carelessly on the floor. I've a light pink lace bra and my nipples stand to attention trapped beneath it. Tim bends his head and adds moisture to the lace, embracing first one aureole, then the other in a sloppy, covetous kiss.

“Oo Oh.”

I can't help it. I squeeze my thighs together. He rubs the front of my skirt, cupping what he can find of my pussy in my tight, navy work skirt.

“Paula?”

“Mmm?”

“Tell me what you want?”

I open my eyes. He drags a thumb across the wet material on my nipple, expertly distracting my thoughts.

“I want you to take all your clothes off. I want to watch you do it. By the time you get to naked I want your stiff cock to spring free, begging to be buried in me. I want you to stand in front of me and hold onto it. So I can see you throbbing to fuck a woman. Then I want you to go find my bedroom. I'll get undressed. I'll follow you and I want you to start by eating my pussy. What I want most is to have your head buried between my legs... You know, you've got beautiful eyes”

“And you've a dirty mouth.” His voice is uncommonly deep, desirous.

I take a breath, close my eyes to steady myself.

“Will you do it?”

“No.”

Tim unclasps my bra and removes the lace garment. My breasts feel heavy, needy. He cups them in both hands and slides his palms up my torso. I snap the catch on his pants. My shaking thumb and forefinger find the zipper, the cotton of his jocks and the cock beneath. His adam's apple bobs in amazement. I take the flesh and grasp his meat in my hand. It grows and grows. Tim kicks off his shoes.

He leads me to the couch, just a few steps away and seats me facing him. We kiss. It's an encounter loaded with promise and heavy breathing. I revel in it. Our messy tongues find warm, moist flesh. Tim rips my tights. He rolls them down, off my thighs and shimmies up my skirt. My knickers are damp and he tugs my hips towards him, I slump in the seat. He drags my knickers to one side and tastes my pussy, wetting the material and my flesh with his tongue. It's delicious. I squirm, reaching to bury my hands into his hair.

“Ah!”

My knickers slide off in his deft hands and I spread my thighs wide. Tim licks and toys with my clit. I tremble, I ache. I ply at his shoulders, willing him to break contact with my wet skin. I want his cock to slide inside me. I can feel an orgasm blooming.

He inserts digits. I lose control. On the verge of orgasm I pull on his arms. Come to me. Don't let me die in your arms. Lust and blackness engulf my vision. I feel him pull back, finally, moments before my surrender. He sits astride the coffee table, creating distance between us. His proud, protruding member is hard and thick. I lick my lips, crawl on my knees towards him but fail to take the meat in my mouth. Instead we exchange sticky kisses, he tastes of sweat and me. It's exhilarating. I waste no time beginning to slide my pussy down his pole.

His blue eyes are hidden behind dilated irises. Tim's breath is short and his chest heaves. I feel so proud. We both look down at the connection of our sexes, my pussy juice coating his shaft. Before I'm sunk full of cock, he braces his heels and moves us, until I'm buried in the couch, my back to the cushions, cock meat all the way in.

“Unnngh!”

I bite my lip bury my nose in his neck. I don't want him to stroke. I feel sated, played, he's all the way inside me and I'm full up, dominated, aroused. With his big hands, Tim tilts my hips. His thumbs press upon my hip bones and his cock begins to glide in and out. Blue-black eyes feast on my expression. I stare back up at him, relishing the unfamiliar feeling of being taken, ridden, enjoyed.

I use my hands to steady us and make an effort to push back. The couch is too forgiving and the sensation dwindles. Wordlessly we switch to the floor, dragging a cushion for my pelvis and another for my head as we shift. My toes touch his ears as he drives into my softness. I'm alive. I tingle with knowledge and the precipice beckons. I don't know when I'll fall.

Tim leans back, he takes a moment to watch his cock as it hides and reveals itself. Then he licks a thumb and thrusts it towards my clit. I grind on his hand and explode into shards of delirium. Tim stops the action of his fingers and shifts his weight. He pistons into me, shaking with the effort of it. I hold onto his back, his butt; spent and waiting for him to cum.

He doesn't. Instead he withdraws, I keep my legs spread and he beckons my hands, willing me to jerk him off as I lie underneath him. Blue eyes wander over my prone body. I feel him go extra-specially hard in my hands. He cups my breast. I bite my lip and concentrate on the action of pumping his purple cock. He shudders and a ribbon of semen explodes onto my belly. His cock pulses, still in my hand. Spoof runs down my digits.

He drops his weight onto his hands and leans down to kiss me on the lips. He's panting more than I and we are both slightly sticky with sweat. I let go of his penis. I wipe my hand along the cooling cum on my belly and taste it, just for effect. I get dimples as payoff. Tim flops down onto the floor at my side and for a moment we both stare at my familiar ceiling.

Shyly I slide a palm over his hip. I lean on one elbow, looking at my freshly-found lover. After a moment he opens his eyes.

“Wow.”

Silence.

“I've never picked up a woman on public transport before.”

“I wanted to fuck you on the bus.”

“You have a terrible poker face.”

Tim kisses my nose.

Peaches (Her Fragile Restraint Part ll)

Hydie searches for her phone as it rings amongst her brother's magazines, newspapers and rolling tobacco products. The device shrills on relentlessly before she finally manages to locate and answer it.

“Hi.” A throaty baritone on the other end of the line, unfamiliar. She hesitates.

“Hullo...?”

“It's Patrick.” His voice is rich and smooth, like the man.

It's been two days since their encounter in the dressing rooms.

“How are you?”

“...Can I come over?”

Hydie stares at the wall clock, it's 7.30pm. She notices the stains on the clock's plastic cover, the clutter and mess around her, frowns.

“I live with my brother.”

“Oh.”

“But. I could see you tomorrow?” She hears hope in her voice.

“Ok.”

“It's my day off.”

“I know. Yes. Alright.” The sound of his five o'clock shadow as it catches on the receiver. “Come to my house. We'll have a drink.” His tone lightens. “I expect we'll work something out. I'd like to see you again. Come at 2.”

“Sure.”

“Goodnight.”

A sharp tang of surprise on her tongue as she puts down the handset. She makes herself a cup of tea, reads the paper, choosing to go to bed early. She calls to her brother lounging in the TV room as she pads her way up the hall.

...

Patrick owns a condo in a leafy street. It's a long simple bus ride to his suburb, affording her enough time to brew anxiety beneath her smile. Hydie's hands shake as she rings the doorbell. He answers in a work shirt and grey pants, like last time. Her heart does a flip flop. His sleeves are unbuttoned, he's barefoot.

“Hi.”

“You look gorgeous.”

Hydie giggles. He leans against the door frame and pulls her to him, encircling her waist in it's pretty yellow sundress. A hot, reassuring kiss.

“Thank you.” Hydie breaks away, grinning, much more relaxed.

“Come in.” He swings the door wide and ushers her inside.

In the back room, down a cream hallway, a man stands by the window, tumbler of scotch in one hand, the other touching the flawless glass of an enormous window. Anthony turns as they enter.

“Hi.”

Hydie shoots Patrick a look of surprise, his expression remains neutral.

“I'm Andy.”

“I'm Hyacinth.”

“I know.”

“Would you like a drink?”

Patrick makes his way over to a wall cabinet, busying himself fetching drinks and ice.

“Sure.”

Soon they are seated on the big, beige leather lounge in an otherwise sparsely furnished sun-room, Patrick sits opposite in a matching, single-seater lounge chair and his friend sits to Hydie's left on the lounge. The sun blazes through the wide window, muted by tinted glass. Hydie takes her drink and sips. Ice-cubes make a glorious clinking sound, knocking courage into her ribcage, forcing her to swallow nervously, the only other noise in the room. Anthony clears his throat.

“Well, I ought to get back to work. Nice to see you.”

Bursting at the biblioteca

At the library, we're sitting so close together I can feel his breath on my neck. I stare at a page of letters, grouped and typed in small neat rows. Already whole paragraphs of Times New Roman have become gibberish. His hand slides further up my thigh. My pussy anticipates his touch, a dull ache begins on my insides as desire starts to form. 

Our row of desks are nine flights above street level, facing the window. At night the view of blackness from these floor-to-ceiling glass panels reflects seriously studying students back onto themselves. Right now though, the sun is shining, corrugated campus roofs littered with air conditioning units look like over sized suitcases of 1960's space junk. The bricked path yawns away below us. 

Beside me, Jack licks his lips without looking up. One hand holds a pencil but he's not working on his notes anymore than I am. His fingers continue to trace a path up the smooth flesh of my thigh, working their way unhurriedly towards my skirt's hemline. It's summer, my legs are bare and I kicked off my Havanas half an hour ago. I can feel my own hands beginning to shake. A warm palm presses down on my skin. I glance across at him and he's staring at me. Behind us, the shuffle of shoes indicates we are not alone. Someone is making their way in and out of the shelving, searching. I turn my head.

A dark skinned man stops close by, he wears wire rimmed glasses and an expression of concentration. He searches on a top shelf, retrieves a book, leaves. Jack curls his fingers in between my legs. I'm lush, waiting. He pushes a finger into my slit and languidly strokes all the way upward, missing the nub of my clit. I ache, unfulfilled. He pushes two fingers into my sopping folds, past my lips, into my vagina. Once again he curls his digits, only this time they are inside me, searching. It works, I jerk forward, impaled on his probing hand. He rubs and thrusts.

It's delicious.

Part Two: Rose's Makeshift Lover

Rose is relieved to be flying business class, leaning back in her seat with her eyes shut she hears the rustle of fellow travellers taking their seats around her. She tries to focus on the reason for her trip and the man she is to meet for the first time tomorrow. Derwisch is a dream, an idea concocted a few months ago, founded on conversations in cyberspace, first over the clamour of forum conversations and later by personal message.

Until recently he has been almost a complete mystery; then his offer. Based on Derwisch’s proposition, Rose assumes he is older than she, perhaps in his 50's. He wants a companion with whom he can travel, a privilege for which he is willing to pay.

It seems far too good to be true, he talks of Egypt, India, Canada and Mongolia, all the places she ever dreamt of as a child. They were offered now, by this man she barely knows, with strings of course. Rose intends to spend the next few days with Derwisch, testing the relationship's potential. If it all goes well, he has said he will arrange everything.

She curses herself quietly. Circumstances have transpired to make her unsure. Perhaps she will forget the sexy foreigner from the airport lounge. Luckily, she has no way of contacting him. Rose opens her eyes, perturbed. By her side, a woman arranges personal effects: a book, tissues, glasses and water. The cabin crew begins to close above-head lockers; in-flight TVs flicker and twitch. One hostess bends over Rose's chair, she smells of marigolds and fairy floss.

“I have been asked to give you this.”

It's a business card; she pats Rose's arm before she rises and moves off down the aisle. Rose glances at the crisp, white card.

Roman Aguilar

Business Intelligence Manager

Accenture AUS

M +61400 253 363

E. business.R.A.@accenture.com

Rose clasps and unclasps her hands in her lap to stem her elation. In-flight safety demonstrations commence. Derwisch, she tells herself. Rose sighs loudly. The woman at her side offers her a tissue. Rose shakes her head politely, remembering to breathe out slowly through her nose.

The flight lands in Auckland and Rose disembarks. She catches a cab to her hotel. Her room is tastefully appointed in muted blues and creams. It's also large. No beige, she thinks happily and kicks off her shoes. Rose runs a bath, wandering through the adjoining rooms. She steps out onto a balcony, amused to discover that Auckland isn't a pretty city.

A knock sounds at the door. She opens it hesitantly.

“It's ten past twelve.”

“It is Ma'am.” The teenage in hotel uniform bows his head, avoiding her eyes.

“A Graham Derwisch asks to see you?”

“Downstairs?”

“Yes Ma'am, he said he would wait. If it suits.”

“Oh.” Rose is flustered, tired.

“Tell him no. I want to stick to our arrangement.”

The teen looks quizzically at Rose.

“And why didn't you just place a call?”

“The gentleman asked me to come.”

Rose closes the door, she tries to re-establish her sense of calm. She wonders for the umpteenth time if it was a smart decision to come to Auckland. Finally, Rose sinks into her warm bath. She ducks her dark head under the water.

Half an hour later, feeling refreshed and relaxed, Rose orders a fruit and cheese platter and a bottle of crisp, white wine from room service. So much better she thinks, than the aeroplane or her empty flat across the sea.

A noise at the window catches her attention. A scrabbling, followed by a dull thud. Rose thinks to put on a sweater, hating the idea of being caught out in the dead of night, her pale breasts swinging freely beneath her cotton pajama top. 'I'm a prude' she thinks and then laughs, remembering sex and Roman at the airport, with relish.

“Shit” She whispers, alone.

The hair on the back of Rose's neck rises. Sounds of scuffle drift in from the balcony. Earlier, Rose set the door ajar, letting the fresh night air flow to her rooms. Right now it makes she feel foolish and shaky. Perhaps there is something to be said for locks and caution?

Rose takes a breath and turns on the terrace light. The decking illuminates and she can make out the cause of the noise. A man, his shirt torn and his shoes missing, gets up from where he has fallen. He limps and is missing a shoe. He holds up his hands in surrender.

“I'm Graham.” The man says softly, looking her in the eyes. “Graham Derwisch.”

Relief fuels Rose's reaction and she laughs, clasping her hand over her mouth to stifle her rude response. She hiccups. Her stranger rakes a practised hand over his chin and the start of a 5'o'clock shadow.

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.

“Oh”

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?”

“Yes.”

“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.

“ Ohhhh..”

“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.”

Insatiable

Playfully Riley coaxes his lover to new heights...

The magician continues to weave his magic, sliding his finger in and out of her moist hole. Karina moans, licking her lips. He plunges, not rubbing, just thrusting with his digit, ignoring her surrounding flesh, her clit, focusing too much of his attentions on her cock slot. She fights to divert his attentions. Kneeling next to him, on all fours, Karina is sucking on his meat, keeping her cunt within easy reach. Karina enjoys herself, diving for the head, sliding her moist tongue around his helmet, lathering as she travels. She pulls his foreskin taut before engulfing his member in a complete, moist stroke. In return, Riley's dexterous hand responds, finally beginning a gentle, insistent assault on her nub.

“Oh ….Rie...” she sighs “Oh Yeah.”

Karina makes appreciative noises. Her voice vibrates as she bobs on his cock. Her pussy throbs. She tries to return the pleasure without losing her mind, She spreads her thighs even wider, allowing him ultimate access whilst she continues to suck and lick. She buries her lips in the divot at the base of his shaft greedily. Her mouth is deliciously close to his balls. Her wet kisses increase his desire. He groans, A LOT. Riley clenches his thighs. She giggles and the throaty sound translates immediately onto his penis, sending a shiver up his cock. Riley reaches down and holds onto the base of his dick, extracting her face from it. His expression is keen with desire.

“Don't do this. Stop” He grins. “Stop”

All the while his fingers fidget on her insides. He gives her delightful, feathery caresses and clouds her mind with erotic sensation. His fingers explore her labia, flitting about to include her clitoris and Riley thrusts inside her slit with two fingers. He finds no rhythm, deliberately. She tenses her pert bottom, enduring the torture. His touch holds a certain urgency. Excitement drives his fingers.

“Gentle” She whispers, unable to wait.

In one move, Karina is whisking her leg around. She sits on top of him. Karina puts a palm flat on his chest and begins to stuff her pussy with his length. At first she holds his gaze but as his man-meat finds its way in, she finds herself almost unable to keep her eyes open. Its like butterflies and steel; chilli and sponge cake, inexplicable but deliciously filling. The smoothness of her descent makes her pussy feel like cream. She is hot and slick, greased by desire. His ample length rides in, stretching her. She takes her tantalising time.

Riley lets her slide home, until she is fully stuffed. He holds her hips. His grip is strong and she is unable to rise and stoke. They remain connected in limbo, in the breathe before a fuck. His palms thread upwards from her hips and he fills his hands with her breasts. Each thumb teases a nipple and waves of feeling flicker through Karina. Fire makes its way from the tip of her pert tipples to her sex. She sucks on her bottom lip. It emerged from her mouth glistening.

The heat of his palms moves all over her velvet globes. He grasps and flexes his hands around them, holding her flesh until she bends, willing him to take her breast in his mouth. Her chest descends, he licks at the tips. She tenses her pussy muscles, feeling his girth on her insides, immobile. The sweetest of tortures.

“Please?”

She begs and he ignores her. Riley lathers one pink, pert nipple, rubbing and coating the other with the warmth of his hand. Her pussy remains stretched but still their bodies are stagnant. She enjoys the feeling of being impaled, wanting more desperately. Karina shifts her weight and Riley's hand shoots to her hip in reprimand, steadying her

She opens her eyes and admires the man kissing her big breasts with enthusiasm. She leans in, thrusting her chest at him, breathing hard. His fair hair hides his eyes. Desperate to feel his cock thrusts, she hesitates only a moment. Karina grabs the candle from their night stand, unloading some of the saucers hot contents onto his pecks. He jumps, taken aback by the scalding heat. His action inadvertently thrusts his cock deep into her.

“Witch”

Riley stops making love to her breasts. He blows out the candle and sets it to one side. Deftly he switched their positions and strokes without preamble. He charges the silence with his forceful entry. His rocking hips thrust his ample man-eat into her wet folds and eagerly Karina meets him. She spreads her thighs wide, willing him to plunder more of her. He pumps and when she thinks she might die from it, he holds her ankles either side of his ears and takes his cock to new depths.

Riley drops his pace. She moans and moans. Their intimate slowness doesn't last. Riley coaxes her up and flips her. He drives his unrelenting pole into her softeness, her knees either side of his thighs. She lets him take her for a number of deep, fast thrusts. 'Gentle', she tells him, as though calming a stallion. Riley registers her request. He's buried in her, 8/10th lost to the moment but he grins, obediently slowing their pace.

Karina moves next, drawing her hips up rhythmically and rolling her pelvis in time with his strokes . He lets her lead as his orgasm builds. Karina keeps up her rocking motion, bending to allow her body as much penetration as possible. Eagerly she buries her head on the bed, near her elbows. At each deep stroke her fingers clutch the mattress.

“OhGodOhGod. OH GOD!”

She feels Riley thicken, his legs growing tense like tree-trunks. Then she forgets him, hearing and seeing nothing beyond the tumbling blackness of her own earth-shattering orgasm. Spurred by her exquisite, impromptu inner-massage, Riley unloads his cum. He slows his movements, watching Karina bounce and writhe as passion ripples through her. Her pussy muscles clench and unclench delightfully and so he holds on, waiting. The moment subsides. Karina giggles, feeling dirty and playful. It's the only sound in the silence following their mutual release.

Carefully, Riley continues to feed her his diminishing member, pushing what is left of his fatness back into her slickness. He is familiar with the pleasant reaction his final effort might receive. It does the trick. Most unexpectedly, Karina loses herself in another crashing orgasm, her pussy alive, her cheeks flushed, her resistance at its weakest.

She eases him out of her then, before being reduced to a wobbling mess of pussy and secretions. Karina rolls onto her back and pulls him to join her. Riley relaxes. He kisses her ebony shoulder and the corner of her beautiful mouth. He didn't say anything and she isn't sure it's necessary. When he lowers his head and takes her into a desirous, tangle of tongues she knows they don't need to speak.

The kiss deepens. She wraps a leg around his thigh, drawing him bodily closer. In surprise she notes his cock's hardness between them. The man's desire is insatiable. Karina runs her hand through his blonde hair and continues. Her hammering heart belies her exhaustion, though she's more than ready for more.

Lust and Longing

She's afraid for the wet, salty stain her pussy lips will likely leave on the sofa. Crysta shifts in her seat and wishes fleetingly that her skirt wasn't so short, that she wasn't so aroused and most of all, that her brazenness hadn't prompted her to abandon her knickers at her rented apartment.

Marcel chuckles into her mouth, feeling her shift, wondering at her sudden anxiousness. Crysta can hear his mirth through her lusty haze and it grounds her, pulling her back to the present. Marcel's sensual assault on her mouth continues. His warm tongue continues to slip in between her lips exploring and titillating her sensitive, wet skin.

“Please, please?”

She whispers into their embrace, against the heat of his kisses, in the sharp air she can gasp. She pulls away for a reluctant moment. The question goes unfinished. Marcel examines her fine features. Her cheeks are flushed and her swollen kiss-bruised lips shine with their mutual saliva. His gaze moves to her telling, desirous pools. Her green eyes question him.

“Not here?”

Marcel asks the question softly but he makes no move to remove them from the busy foyer. Crysta holds herself stiffly, unwilling to plead. There is an ache in the soft hollow between her thighs. Her fingers itch to run through Marcel's glossy, neat hair. She extends a hand, touching his thigh, ignoring the shot of carnal excitement that darts about her body.

“I think, I should go”

Crysta knows the tone of her voice belies her need.

Marcel leans in. At first she thinks it is to kiss her.

“Don't you want me?”

His voice is a whisper, brushing past her ear. She is but is unable to read the expression on his face. When he speaks again his voice is normal.

“You're right. You go ahead, I'll catch you up. I need to make my excuses to the Board”

He dips his head and kisses her lightly. Crysta gets up, anxiously glancing at her seat, where a small stain is beginning to spread. She hears Marcel's laugh as he strides away from her. His cruelty stabs at her. How could he know it troubled her? He doesn't look back. How could he be so insensitive? Quickly, she makes her way out the glass revolving doors and back to the apartment.

Once through the doors Crysta takes off her clothes, throwing them carelessly over a chair. She pads about the apartment, reveling in her nakedness, making the choice not to 'gift wrap' her body for him. She dislikes the scratchy bras and tiny lacy panties that are meant to be seductive. They leave her cold. Instead, she paces, enjoying the feel of a cool breeze on the fine hairs of her belly. Like skinny dipping, she thinks and opens the balcony door. There is nothing in the rooms but white, sterile surfaces and clean, crisp order.

Finally, Crysta takes a seat on the floor beside the immaculate bed. Before her is a full wall of mirrors. They are the sliding doors that house the closet.

She sits with her knees bent, feet flat on the floor. Her rich dark hair tumbles in unkempt waves past her shoulders. Crysta watches herself, first running a slender hand through her Hispanic locks. She opens her legs. The peach of her pussy is swollen and glistening. Marcel knows too well how to bring her to aching arousal with his kisses and caresses. She is tired now, from being teased. Tight, agitated and fit to burst.

Her reflection cups a breast, feeling the soft weight. Next she licks her thumb and toys with the brown nub of her nipple. She leans back into the side of the mattress, plunging an eager few fingers into her wetness. Crysta begins to stroke, gently playing with her labia. She takes care to run her fingers across the fine hairs at her cleft, and then back into her secret place. Crysta shivers.

She lets the air escape from her lips in one rapid breath. In the silence of the room her own need is the only sound. As she elicits pleasure, experimentally, she increases the volume of her tiny gasps. Her aural adventure succeeds in adding warmth and wetness to the lush playground beneath her fingers.

She strokes and watches, her lips parted. The blood-flow to her face increases. She looks hot and ready. Now stroking is not enough. Crysta turns her body, facing her round arse to the mirror and her face to the mattress. Her chin almost touches the top of the sheets.

She squats on her heels, leaning around to try and see her pussy. She wants to see her flower and it's pleasing reaction to stimulus. Crysta dips a finger into her vagina, wiggles. She likes it a lot. She inserts two. The mirror-play is quickly forgotten. Soon she's on her knees, burying her face in the mattress, using both hands between her legs. One hand deftly rubs her clit and the other slides two digits in and out of her pussy. She moves them around, finding her g-spot. Her body begins to sing.

“Oh!”

Crysta doesn't hear the key in the lock. Marcel steps into the room and follows the small, hot sounds he can hear from the bedroom. He puts his keys down on the night stand and Crysta looks up at him with big eyes, snapping her hands from their playground. Caught in the act. Marcel blinks, he doesn't say anything. Her cheeks are stained with shame.

She makes as if to get up. Marcel stops her, he kneels behind her on the ground, in the gap between her bed and the mirror. He kisses her neck, his warm breath helping to appease her embarrassment.

Crysta has her hands on the floor, either side of her kneeling form. It looks to him like a position of defeat. Marcel takes her arms gently and raises them. He places her hands, palms down, on the bed and traces the line of her beautiful form. He runs his warm hands from shoulders to hips. She turns to question him, trying to look at his reaction through the corner of her eye. She can’t read his expression.

Behind her, still all dressed in his corporate suit, his eyes are downcast. Marcel is taking his time to admire her body. Flattered, she breathes a further sigh of relief. His gaze is obscured by his long, dark lashes. She turns her head away, content now to enjoy the sensation.

She feels Marcel's hands traveling the length of her sensuous, nude back. He splays his hands softly under her bottom and cups each cheek in his hands. He leans down. She feels the silk of his tie brushing the small of her back. Marcel plants a kiss on her coccyx. She wiggles her creamy cheeks and the sensual assault intensifies. He plants warm kisses up along her spine, spreading his arms over her shoulders, caressing the skin there, all the way to her hands.

Crysta is fighting to stay still, reveling in the feel of limbs turning to water under his reverential touch. His ministrations reach her nape. She's sitting back on her haunches now, her sex inches from the carpeted floor. She whimpers, her need a tangible presence in the room. Marcel chuckles deep in the back of his throat. It makes her think of chocolate and caramel and not the busy foyer from less than an hour before. Into her ear he whispers.

“I can’t believe you started without me. I'm glad I came when I did. Let me worship you.”

Marcel stands and pulls her up beside him. Crysta feels the heat of his body through his suit. She presses her flesh to the material. It feels good, cloth and buttons teasing her nakedness. Rapidly, she does her best to undress him. She removes his tie, tugs out enough of the knot to lift it up over his head and she splays the shoulders of his suit jacket recklessly, brushing the unwanted item to the floor.

Crysta's hands are shaking as she begins to unbutton the collar of his shirt, first one button then two, then three. She's going too fast. Marcel grabs at her wrists and halts her progress. He kisses her lips and draws her tongue into a sensual dance of longing, feeling the velvet insides of her mouth, sucking her tongue. She can hear the pounding of her own heart in her ears. Then, Marcel is planting little kisses on her cheeks, her eyes, the lobes of her ears. She giggles, taken aback by the gentleness of the love he is trying to give.

Marcel clasps her wrists and all but throws her onto the mattress. She tumbles eagerly onto her back. He doesn't follow her. Marcel undoes his own buttons, looking her directly in the eye as he undresses. Never has she seen a man look better in his shirt tails. The singlet hugs his hard torso and the muscles of his arms are clearly visible, more so when he moves to remove his shirt.

Next he flicks his belt buckle and Crysta can barely stand it. Marcel grins, watching the parade of emotions across her lovely features. She props herself up on her elbows, dark hair spilling onto the bed in delicious contrast to the sheets. She is unaware of her captivating beauty. A tiny self-satisfied smirk threatens the corners of his mouth.

“What?”

Marcel doesn't reply. He unbuttons his suit pants and slides down the zipper. He reaches in and eagerly pulls his erect cock over the elastic of his starched, white boxers.

“Do you want this?”

He points his member at her. It's thick and substantial.

“Oh Yes” Crysta breathes, closing the distance between them and rising to her knees.

She holds him in her hand and increases the firmness of her grip. Very slowly, Crysta small hands trace the entirety of his length. She makes a primal kitten-grunt in the back of her throat and fairly pounces on him. At first she licks. Her delicate teasing, after so much tension, threatens to drive him insane.

“You're no good for me” Marcel stammers.

Crysta goes on to lick him thoroughly, like a Calipo, covering all of his shaft in her sweet saliva. Finally she plunges his length into the recesses of her throat. Marcel's relief is short- lived. She stops.

“I want you to fuck me. This is very nice. But I want some. You owe me cock.”

She tugs on his member. Marcel flinches. Crysta feels his reaction in the muscles of his thighs.

“Take off your pants”

Marcel obeys. His steel-blue gaze leaves her as he draws his pants down to the floor. She admires his handsome profile and those flawless, chiseled cheekbones. Stubble threatens his chin. Mine. She thinks fleetingly, proudly.

Wickedly, Crysta leaps up off the bed. She means to prolong their foreplay, rushing outside into the cold of the afternoon. He watches her through the glass, playfully leaning out over the balcony and looking at the other high-rises. He shocks her by joining her out on the terrace. Marcel's body presses her thighs into the cold mesh of the balcony railing. His hands appreciatively take in the contours of her slender waist, her breasts. Her nipples are budded from the wind.

Unable to help himself any longer he nestles his cock head into the warmth of her thighs. She shifts, glancing over her shoulder at him, catching his awkward kiss on the corner of her bottom lip. God she is beautiful. He pushes his cock into her, not asking, taking. His urgency surprises them both.

Crysta bends her knees and shuffles him backwards. The delicious fullness takes over her senses as he enters her slick passage fully. Cold, eager hands grab the railing. Then she pushes back. Marcel grunts, he strokes. He keeps his rhythm long and uneven. Crysta pants, silently begging for relief from his teasing.

He holds her hips in his hands, watching his manhood disappear time and time again. A sheen of sweat forms on her pearly white skin. She is the most delicious woman he has ever fucked. It's enough to keep him rigid, bigger than he's ever been.

“Mrhhhm” She says “Mrhhhaaa”

Pride swells in his chest. Her loss of control is his doing. Marcel is careful not to give her too much, it's a heady combination, a fine woman, the cold; their view. He wants to save something of himself. He wants to make their time together unforgettable. Marcel wishes to fuck her with grace.

When he withdraws his cock she wiggles with surprise. He reaches up to hold her shoulders, until she is facing him. The balcony air whips her hair into a mermaid's frenzy. Pink spots shine on her cheeks. Marcel leans in.

“I have more...”

He takes her hand and leads her inside, making sure he has control this time. He doesn't trust this sprite to stay put and let herself be made love to. Marcel wants her undivided attention. He wants to unload his seed into this special woman, but only once she has become his sated, mewing lover. He kisses her in the space before the bed and makes no attempt to pull her onto the soft mattress.

“You’re beautiful Crysta. Your skin is the colour of cream.”

Her leads her into the kitchen and beckons for her to sit on the counter. Crysta obeys, her curiosity aroused. From his briefcase by the door, he brings a pot of thickened cream. Crysta grins. Marcel's steel-blue gaze holds hers as he takes off the plastic lid and peels away the foil seal. He dips fingers into the tub and licks one, feeding her the rest of the cream on his hand. If she was any more excited she might be forced to purr.

Marcel enjoys the show as she sucks his digit. Her mouth is deliciously hot, her tongue swirls. He dips his fingers into the tub and smears some more of the cream on her thigh. Marcel comes to her on his knees.

Crysta takes in the sight of his handsome head between her thighs, licking lightly at her left thigh. She might burst from the pleasure of it. When the cream is all gone he continues planting his heated lips on her thigh, traveling inland to her shaved labia. Until finally, he dips his tongue inside her lips to taste her centre.

Crysta curls her toes. She runs appreciative fingertips through Marcel's thick, dark hair, mussing it in her unbridled enthusiasm. She doesn't think he'll care. Moments later, in wide- eyed bliss she's cumming on his face. The orgasm rips through her, almost unexpected. A searing delight.

Marcel looks up from his task. He wipes his lips on her thigh. As he stands before her, his satisfaction is evident by his straining arousal. She pulls his head down into a hungry kiss. Marcel uses his hands to slide her hips forward. In no time his hard cock bears down at the apex of her legs, seeking entry to her intimate space.

“Oh. Yes”

It is all Crysta can think to say. Her limbs are deliciously jelly-like and the ache in her middle is intense.

Marcel slides his ample man-meat into her. They fit snugly, perfectly in union for a moment. He holds her thighs in his hands and looks down into her green eyes, creating a pause in the storm. Crysta closes her lashes in a silent plea to hurry. Marcel strokes.

Bliss.

He continues, happily picking up the pace. Sliding his member in and out of her soft folds. Soon, he's hammering into her slit and the room is alive with his grunts, her softer tones and the wet sound of their flesh meeting. Despite the thoroughness of the fucking he is administering to his willing accomplice, Marcel takes a moment to kiss her on the lips. She cups his face in her hands. As she cums a second time he tastes it in on her tongue.

“MmmM”

Her pussy muscles convulse around him. It's too much. Marcel feels the volcano building in his toes. He clenches and unclenches his butt muscles, trying not to dig his nails into her delicate flesh. He aims his head skyward, ready for release. Crysta chooses her moment perfectly, reaching in to stroke his perineum.

He spurts his substantial load and it feels as though he is emptying his soul. The moment swims and spins. Panting they lean on one another. Bodies slick with sweat, limbs rubbery with exertion. A perfect contrast to the characterless surrounds. Crysta kisses his salty lips and unwinds her legs.

“We should rest” She whispers. A grin turns her expression mischievous.

“We only have all night”.

Breaking him in

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

'Uh huh'

There was a pause

'Wait...You cooked?'

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

'No'

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

'You want me...'

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

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

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

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

He padded towards her over the bricks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Did you say something?'

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

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

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

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

'No'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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