Showcasing well-chosen accessories

One dirty night of lust and loving

Elise palmed the other man away from her in an instinctively feline response to being over-stimulated. Harry stepped away obediently and began tracing his own hard cock with his fingers. Harry ran his balled-up hand along it’s length. Carrying on, she supposed, from where he would have liked her to have taken over.

Elise couldn’t have cared less. For the moment her attentions were drawn elsewhere and Harry was the least of her concerns. She concentrated on the delicious feeling of being taken from behind by the substantial scotsman currently holding onto her hips with his ham-like hands. God it felt good to be ridden by this man. Her lover was so powerful, so beautifully, sturdily made. He bent her easily as though she was play dough and he ploughed her depths with youthful, unrelenting, enthusiasm.

His cock was thick and as he stroked in and out, steadily building the pace. It was all she could do to remain on her feet, holding on to the back of the baroque sofa, swaying with the intense motion of being taken again and again. Rhythmically his pole slid in and out. She moaned, fit to purring, loving every precious inch of the pounding and feeling her orgasm building. Her legs trembled, her belly twitched

“Ooooh Yes. Yes”

Aiden’s large hand slapped her arse.

“Thaaaaat Feels. Soooooo. Good.”

She swayed and her hair fell across her eyes. In front of her, Elise could make out the frenzied movements of the other man. Harry was clearly enjoying the show. She was surprised at just how much. As Aiden injected himself into her wetness once again she closed her eyes in bliss. He stroked, Harry came on her face.

She had almost been able to forget him in her present impaled luxury and the spurt of hot man-juice forced her to open her eyes. His pink sword was hanging a little limper now, still sliding pleasingly between him slippery fingers. Elise smiled up at him. Wiping the jiz from her cheek with one hand, she braced herself with the other. Aiden continued his glorious work. She was about to lick her finger and help Harry out with a bit of a show when all of a sudden the thrusting stopped.

“Wha...?”

She turned in dismay. Aiden kissed her full on the mouth, slithering his tongue inside her searing, sensual mouth, teasing her more. It was an impromptu embrace, laced with passion and which pleasantly surprised Elise, increasing her lust. She panted and he sucked on her lips, kissed the fine sheen of sweat from her nape, cupped her breast with his massive hand, sharing his heat. Their exchange heightened to fever pitch. Her pussy ached, her mind reeled. He firmly kept a distance between them, his burly forearms keeping her at arms length though she writhed in the air between their bodies, craving his embrace, pushing her pussy closer, unfulfilled.

He gently set her to one side. Harry flopped into the couch, watching them. Elise was breathing hard, cheeks flushed. Aiden grinned. He ran a hand over the length of his impressive cock as though feeling it’s worth, appraising his tool.

“Talk dirty to me”

It wasn’t a question. In his thick brogue it was a caress and she happily obliged. Elise licked her lips. She crossed the small room and took a seat on the foot stool in the far corner.

She planted her beautiful bottom provocatively, arching her feet and pointing her toes. Her sex opened, in full view for both the men. The wet flesh glistened with her juices. Elise watched Harry’s eyes widen and his dick renew it’s salute. Praise enough for the silent gift she lay before them. A little grin curled the sides of her mouth.

Elise licked her thumb, she wet her digits . Then she used her fingers to play gently with her nipple, tracing the areola and causing the pink peak to bud. The cleft between her thighs throbbed. She let out a breath. In a voice made soft and husky by desire she began.

“Aiden I love your cock. I fantasise about it’s girth pushing at my folds. I fantasise most about the moment when your beeauut” at this point she pinched her nipple and wiggled her hips.

Aiden took a step towards her, unable to help himself, his engorged member bobbing before them as he stepped. She met his eyes in silent command and he stopped. Aiden let out a groan but he smiled, tense with desire.

“...beautiful cock head, taut and hot, pushing it’s way into my pussy hole. The way it feels when you’re about to enter me. You make me want to beg to fuck your pole forever...”

Harry looked interested, but Elise’s keen eyes noticed the pleased grin that slipped from his lips. Her intake of breathe was audible.

“Harry” She sighed as she slipped a finger down her middle, tracing a path to her muff quickly.

“Harry”

She shoved an enthusiastic finger into her slit, more for his benefit than hers, then two, and moaned at the pressure she caused. Elise licked her lips.

“Harry you make me... So. Hot.” she panted.

Elise left the comfy spot on the footrest and reluctantly disentangled her hand from her pussy. She started to close the distance between herself and Harry, giving in to the feline, empowering pleasure of crawling wantonly towards him, her pretty arse in the air. Aiden looked sorely tempted but he stayed where he was, feet planted firmly on the carpet, legs apart. He watched her as though his eyes would devour her and she savoured every second.

To Harry she continued “I want to stuff your cock into my mouth or my arse and use your pleasure pole to make me cum. You want me to cum don’t you Harry?”

Elise was between his knees. Harry looked down at her in delight. She reached for his now fully-erect cock and ducked her head. She took the tender head in between her lips and traced the helmet with her tongue. Harry quivered and shook. As Elise worked at covering his whole cock with saliva, she felt Aiden shift behind her.

Elise stifled a grin through a mouthful of man-meat and continued. These boys knew what she liked.

Elise began to use her mouth and her hands in a steady rhythm, cajoling Harry’s penis. Harry grunted with delight and ran a hand through her hair, assisting her head to take more of his cock. He rocked her mouth gently further and further down his pole. Elise hummed and Harry ‘Ahh hh’ - ed. Her work would be nearly done.

Aiden shifted his weight to his knees and once again positioned himself behind her. He guided his massive girth to the entrance of her pussy and Elise stopped. She held Harry’s cock in her hand a moment and wriggled her luscious arse on the dick at her rear.

“I want you to Aiden” She reassured him.

Aiden played with the puckered pinkness of her arse hole. His fingers began to work their way inside her. Elise tingled. She took one look at Harry and saw the hunger in his eyes. Without words she resumed her job of sucking him off. He grunted, running an appreciative hand down her back.

Elise could feel the enormous cock head bearing down on her anal entrance. He was slow and careful but Aiden was huge and at first it burned. He waited. Elise licked Harry’s length and cheekily pushed back a tiny fraction on her haunches. Aiden followed her invitation and insinuated more of himself into her tight little arse hole. Elise moaned in pleasure. Aiden surged forward and patiently waited for her muscles to relax. Then, instead of stroking he shifted his weight and reached around to her clitoris.

He pumped, lightly teasing her core with his finger. The world shifted off it’s axis.

“Oh . God.” Elise let the words out onto the cock in her mouth.

As Aiden established something of a punishing rhythm behind her, Harry held her head and surged. Great drops of cum shot down her throat. She pulled away and more landed on her lips, still more in her hair. She giggled but the noise was cut short by a stroke from Aiden.

Harry slithered down from his perch on the couch and came to meet her on the carpet. She let him kiss her cum soaked lips, fondle her breasts and lovingly, he took a nipple into his mouth as he made love to her other breast with his palm. Aiden was groaning now and she thought she might burst. With a carnal roar he took his cock from it’s cosy holder and shot his load down her back.

They slumped together, panting.

“Well how about that then?”

Elise wiped her face, blue eyes glinting with mischief. Aiden sat on his haunches at her back and she shifted her weight until she her thighs rested on his. Somehow, her giant lover manoeuvered them both so she sat on him, on the carpet. He cradled her slight body in his tree trunk arms. Harry joined them, reclining at her side, somehow managing to remain a part of their intimate embrace. They were silent a moment.

“I needed that” she said “You guys fuck like Gods”.

Elise grinned, sated.

Thought for the day

This has nothing to do with booty what-so-ever

I saw a man wearing a black and white t-shirt today with a stylized wedded couple on the front . She with a veil, he with a tux. The caption beneath read 'Game Over'.

Is it?

I am recently married so maybe that's why the hackles went up. I thought it was a juvenile way of thinking and that he just didn't understand, or was pretending to misunderstand - the benefits of an a committed, loving, (functioning) relationship.

And then I went on to think about it, perhaps too much. It's funny how a single incident has managed to stay with me all day.

In my experience living with another human in a partnership is about ebb and flow. Lately there has been a lot of the ebbing and not so much of the flow. That said, when it works it's magic. Some days though, the house feels like a vacuum not a sanctuary.

I know, I know, these things take time and it's a new house, a new neighbourhood, a state away from all we know and love. There is a lot of pressure on this thing we call 'our love'; our 'married life'.

Still on the ebbing - some days we just don't feel like friends. We are wrestling with each other, as we know we must, to keep a defined sense of the individual - the stubborn, changeable, forthright, independent individual which I could have sworn was the reason I fell in love with you in the first place.

Some days we argue a lot. Or rather, you sit in the kitchen, typing and gaining knowledge via the world wide web whilst I talk at you, occupying the same actual space but moving about in a different time and place. I think you want me to be there, you just don't engage or make me feel special. That's what I'm in need of, you know. I want you to make me feel indispensable, it feels a bit like necessary foreplay - for life.

Why do I love you? For all the reasons that frustrate and perplex me at times. I love your silence and your understanding. I love your willingness to do whatever it takes to learn new things and make them happen, I love that you have your own projects and hobbies and you don't need me and my approval. I love that you participate in a whole world of your creation just beyond my reach.

It would be awful were we joined at the hip and enjoyed all the same things. I am too selfish and childish for you, much of the time. I want, I want, and mostly I just want your undivided attention, which is ridiculous because your creative independence is one of the main reasons I fell in love with you in the first place.

I just need to relax, essentially and to learn how to become a student of the universe. Learn, find, interact and discover all on my own. I suppose it's for this reason I've created this blog, it's not about you, or at least it never has been, until today.

We had a fight recently and I said that one day you will look up from what you have been working on with that damn computer, look about the kitchen and I won't be there. You will notice for the first time that I have social engagements that don't involve you, a calendar with meetings and friends you haven't met and that we will have run out of time for each other. Only belatedly will you discover I have left and kept swimming off into the world without you. Some days this seems likely.

It seems more probable that this horrible future might eventuate if neither of us chose to make the effort to stay connected. I have a growing desire to learn and be lead by those older and wiser than myself, to seek out new things and find ways to engage with those around me. I'll never be a skirt twirling, sandalwood burning, washed out middle-aged lady going to silence retreats. (I hope) but I do feel the pull of more knowledge.

So what does that say about us? I know I love you. I am reminded of your greatness and your kindness as a human on a daily basis. I know too that anyone that reckons relationships are easy has never been a fly on the wall at our place.

I wouldn't give up the great chat and the awesome sex and the strange feeling of creating the building blocks on which we will perch the rest of our adult lives. It's simply that I am part of something that baffles me. Continually, in this new set of circumstances, I am confronted by and I marvel at; love.

I have found something with my man. Something that many humans will spend most of their lives searching to attain. Which leads me back to the guy and his shirt. How dare you try to belittle my fragile new world in bold font on a white t-shirt.

What is marriage? Is it a dirt track down which you fling yourself willingly, to be buffeted by extraneous circumstance and the will of another?

Is it a road down which few of my peers wish to tread, as an outdated, ill-conceived notion of forced monogamy that threatens to be a hindrance not a help?

When I realised I wanted to marry you I also realised that I was more Grown Up than Little Girl. I knew what I wanted. I also knew that marriage was a decision about life in an adult world.

I have not lost my sense of wonder. I'm not completely all grown up and hope to never be. I still love puddles and dress ups and screaming into the wind. By the same token, gratis of the passing years and my growing wisdom, I am not mistaken in my understanding of adult decisions. They are not final, people change and I know there is no happily-ever-after. There is, however a powerful need for an individual to feel loved.

I have no doubt that I am.

For that simple fact, I will always be amazed and grateful.

Isobelle in a different light

I rewrote it, I like it heaps better... it's got more suspense and more lust

At last, Isobelle sits in the expensive silence of Ezra’s car. Her freshly shaven thighs peep out from the short hem of her favourite dress. On her body the fabric pools like liquid.

“We’ll go to my place”

Ezra glances at her. She is not relaxed. Good. He likes it when he has the upper-hand.

At the high rise, Ezra uses his keys and a security pass, leading her through the foyer and up the lift. It’s up and up. From the balcony Isobelle can see the city sky - line. She stands outside, enjoying the warm air, whilst he gets the drinks. Eventually he stand s in the doorway, silhouetted by the kitchen lights. Isobelle’s pulse races. It’s real. Her legs begin to tremble. She turns from him to the view, trying to rekindle her strength.

“So lovely” Ezra’s voice comes from behind her. Does he mean her or the view?

In a lazy movement akin to seduction, Ezra closes the distance between them, rubs his palm up her back, his full lips descending on hers. It’s a fierce first kiss, possessive and brief.

“What is it that you’re looking at?” He curls an affectionate finger on the warm, soft flesh of her upper arm. Isobelle can’t think.

“I... I...”

She clears her throat, unable to read the sardonic promise in his glittering eyes. She licks her lips for the sweet taste of champagne. Ezra eyes her, experiencing a jolt of lust .

He chuckles. “I’ve got ideas about you and I.” He speaks softly. "Things I wouldn’t want to do in a train.”

It’s the timber of his voice. Isobelle thrills, between her thighs, her swollen pussy is lush and wanting. Lost in the moment, Isobelle starts to take off her clothes. Ezra ’s admiration is written on his face. The slippery fabric of her dress descends to the floor and beneath it, her light curves are coated in black. A balconette bra hugs her breasts and presents them, below it, her knickers are tiny and lace.

As he surveys his prize, Ezra can see the pulse in her neck. It’s an act of bravado from this nubile, sweet lady. Her racing heart beat giv es her away. His keen eyes take in the scene and his cock begins to throb. There will be no misunderstanding tonight . Preamble has shredded with her dress.

Ezra remains motionless. His silence gives him a n air of r oyalty and Isobelle plays along. Parting her lips in anticipation, she pads sensually towards her stranger. His blue eyes take in the scene, his dark skin glows in the lamp light and for now, her gaze is focused on his full mouth. She is close enough now to brush his chest with her hand . She reaches up and plants a kiss on the firm skin of his neck. He smells of salt, faint, expensive cologne and sandalwood.

Gently easing her tongue from her mouth she tastes his flesh and stands on tip toes, planting another soft kiss near his ear. Ezra can hear her breathing as it changes. He is no fool and knows his power but she is coy and hesitant . Her frame too slight , her actions too gentle and yet, Ezra finds his interest in this beautiful creature intensifying. Tonight he could take her innocence and the thought rouses his senses to fever pitch.

Isobelle takes a series of breaths to steady herself . She is shaking. She kisses the corner of his mouth, offering a suggestion. Still, he does not respond. Isobelle takes a step back. Blinks, taking in the rising bulge in his expensive trousers.

Ezra imagines her tight, virginal pussy closing in around his proud cock. A jolt of electricity fuels his veins. He kisses her lips, gentle at first, insinuating his tongue into her wet, inviting mouth . She responds and leans into his kisses, straining for more. Ezra dips his hand down to cup a breast, burning a path with his mouth to the protruding flesh of her breasts. One hand strokes the skin on her flat stomach and Ezra can feel her quiver in answer to his touch.

She wriggles and presses herself closer inadvertently rubbing her almost naked form on his growing erection. He groans, corners her against a wall and allows his cloth covered cock to nestle in the inviting hollow of her thighs while his fingers trace the material of her bra, setting her sensitive skin alight. Isobelle whimpers as Ezra releases the catch, bending an eager head to suckle. Her puckered, pink nipple glistens from his caress. Isobelle runs her feverish fingers through his thick, dark hair. He looks up from lavishing attention on her moist breast. Ezra takes in the scene. Her skin is flushed, breathing unsteady and her eyes are desirous pools.

“I want you to place your hands on me”

“Fuck me.” She says softly “I’ve dreamed of you for days”

He chuckles, a sound that is soft and dense like wood and clover.

“What would you do?”

Air between them hangs heavy and empty a moment too long.

“I would take you in my hand" Isobelle flexes her slender finger for effect “I want to take your velvet steel in my mouth

“Velvet steel?" Chuckles.

Isobelle tugs at his pants with shaking fingers, his cock bounces free from its cloth cage.

She licks a finger and a thumb and slides her digits down from the head of his smooth, almost purple shaft to midway down it’s length . His cock is t hick, with a heavy head and a slight bend. It makes her pussy ache to claim him. She resists, drawing out the tension.

Isobelle sinks seductively onto her knees, s he hesitates only momentarily, eyeing his tool. It’s obvious she is unpracticed. Audibly, Ezra sighs. He makes ready to hide his member and lash his rampant need for her pussy.

“No no. It’s alright. I want to”

Ezra’s cool blue eyes are expressionless .

She takes the tip between her lips.

Then, as she takes more of his length into her hot, wetness , he bucks against the intense pleasure in surprise. Isobelle slurps and smiles as much as she can, shift ing her weight on her knees and tuck ing into her task. Soon his ample pole is slick with saliva, Ezra face-fuck ing in and out of her pretty lip s. A repeated, unrelenting action that succeeds in stirring his blood. Her innocence is replaced by eagerness. He grunts in approval and tries not to cum.

“You’re a good girl”

Pre-cum dawns on the eye of his cock, she can taste the salty, heavy drops. As he thrusts and grunts she can tell it won’t be long.

Abruptly.

He stops . Pushing her from him, looking down at her dishevelled hair, her swollen lips .

“You are too good at that”. More gently now. “Maybe that is enough for tonight”. His tone is ragged but his reason is firm.

Isobelle palls.

“Bu..t”

“I want to enjoy you like the treat you are ” Ezra rakes a hand through his thick, dishevelled hair. “Perhaps, for tonight, you should leave”

Ezra reluctantly begins to button his pants around his extended, aching pole. She sits dumbly on the floor in confusion. From the corner of his eye he watches her, hopes she is crazy with lust and will let him bury himself in her. She has to come to him, it has to be her choice. He retrieves her dress and thrusts it at her. She looks at him pleadingly.

“But you have undressed me with your eyes for weeks”

Her voice is soft.

“You are not even sure what it is you ask of me”

In her eyes he reads disbelief.

“I want you”

“What do you want?”

Isobelle hesitates.

“Say it”

Quietly. “I already did”

“Say it again. I need to hear it”

“I want you to fuck me”

Ezra ceases to adjust his clothes, he teases the bush at the cleft of her legs and sinks two digits into her folds. Isobelle’s lips part in surprise. He rubs the delicious wetness, finding her clitoris. Her knees almost buckle.

“Is this what you want”

“No” and then mildly, between gasped breaths. “I want cock.” She smiles dreamily, her whole body alive and humming with need . “You can tell I want it . Ca...an’t you? ” Isobelle gasps as he thrusts his digits inside her. He continues to pet her in a steady rhythm that brings her closer and closer to ecstasy. He glides his finger over her clit, teasing the nub gently. She lets out a little moan.

“Please?”

A heart beat.

“Do you like my mahogany table?”

Ezra’s tone is dry. She nods.

“Go over to it. Lean over so your breasts touch the wood. Show yourself to me”

Isobelle does just that. She leans across the table. Her plump pussy faces him.

“Spread your legs”

Isobelle is aware that if she shows him her sweetness he will see the pearly sheen of desire on her flesh. He will see for himself that she is ready and aching to be plundered. With a sigh she spreads her thighs.

In the glow of the lamps on the sideboard, Ezra can indeed see evidence of her enthusiasm. He makes no effort to go to her, keeping the distance.

“I want you to lean forward, stretch yourself across my table”

Isobelle inches her torso further onto the table. Her pert bottom automatically pushes further into the air. She breathes in slowly, trying to keep the intake of air steady so Ezra won’t hear how aroused it makes her. She fails.

“What would you like me to do?”

She takes the erotic silence as a cue and looks over her right shoulder at him.

“I want you to do what you were doing before. Touch me”

A pause.

Ezra sees her wiggle her delectable rear in anticipation but he makes no move to go over to her. He takes a sip of his drink. The moment stretches. Isobelle looks over her shoulder at him once more . Her expression is flecked with annoyance. A smug smile plays on his lips.

“Why don’t you do it yourself?”

“But...?”

“I know you have been masturbating, you practically said so yourself. Show me”

“No! I...”

Ezra is measured in his movements. He places his glass down on the side table, unbuttons one and then another of his shirt buttons at his collar. Finally, deliberately, he is closing the distance between them. Isobelle makes as if to turn and greet him for a kiss. He places a palm firmly between her shoulders and the small of her back. It keeps her at her position.

Ezra releases his cock once more from the confines of his clothes. He throbs. His prize is so beautiful. He stands behind her with the head of his manhood nestled on the warmth of her sex. Isobelle takes frequent, shallow breaths.

“You won’t touch yourself for me”

“No.” Her voice is uncertain.

Ezra removes his gift. Still facing the table, she feels the loss of his cock. The moment had been almost momentous. Isobelle’s small frame is caught in a slump. Ezra braces himself.

In a swift, calculated movement he guides his cockhead into her dripping folds. Taken by surprise Isobelle is tight and on his first thrust Ezra experiences a heavenly sensation. Isobelle too, cries out.

“But...”

Ezra strokes once more. Now they are finally connected the feeling is tenfold, the anticipation has been too great. As his pole glides in and out of her pussy Isobelle revels in the new sensation. His large dick fills her slick passage, exploring and retreating in a ever-increasing rhythm.

“Ahh”

Isobelle lets her breasts slide against the finely polished wood of the table. As he pushes into her, she can feel her pelvic muscles as they quiver from the inside, Isobelle hears him groan. A sound of pure, gut-wrenching lust. Almost a smile on her lips now as she feels her body take her up over the crest of a mind numbing orgasm.

“I’ll teach you. You are mine" Ezra’s voice in her ear.

His pace is so fast and deep. One foot on a chair thrusting. He still feels good, sliding in and out of her, but Isobelle feels the slow come-down from her first orgasm. Behind her, the always-composed Ezra, with his pants around his ankles, his shoes still on - is clearly lost in the moment. Isobelle’s giggle becomes a squeak as she feels him grow even harder. Eagerly, Isobelle pushed back and Ezra at last finds his release.

Ezra finds himself pliant and sated as she turns, hips first, and plants a heated kiss on his unsuspecting face.

“That was my first. You were mind blowing. Promise me there is more?”

Ezra raises an eyebrow.

Isobelle's fantasy

Isobelle you're making me crazy. Isobelle I see you on the train. I can't not look at you. You're hair catches the sun, there is a innocence in your demeanour that I want to own, to break.

Isabelle I'll bet you didn't know heights could make your pulse race? Do you know what it feels like to be touched by satin and leather? To hold a piece of material between your lips? I want to be your bug-bear,. I want to be so close you can feel the warmth of my breath on your neck, so close you can't imagine anything but allowing me to help you find your release.

I bet you don't even notice me? I'm tall, I work out. You always get on the train and appear to be off in lah-lah land, half smiling, miles away. I know you're name. I've heard you answer your phone. You make me crazy with lust and I'm invisible. Do you know how sexy that is?

I crave the opportunity to make your skin tingle, to find your hidden heat. When you turn away from me and your hair sways, I can smell your shampoo. I imagine finger-fucking you naked, your expression clotted with lust, begging me remember to enter you once I have released the delicious pleasure of your mounting orgasm. Why don't you notice me? I thought I gave the impression I ravished you with my eyes?

At home, alone, Isobelle touches her intimate creases and greases them with her longing. She slides her slippery fingers around her wetness and presses her lush breasts on the cold glass in the shower. It gives her body tremours and her nipples rise to peaks. Under the warm buzz of the shower she lets her hands wander between her legs, gently bringing herself to orgasm imagining bringing to life the suggestion she can see in the eyes of her tall, dark-haired commuter.

He makes her tremble, he makes her ache for the hardness of a lover's hands on her sweet tight curves. Isobelle excels herself, working her fingers into the warm flesh. Such consistent attention fuels her desire to thrust into herself. Unthinking she presses her thighs together and adds pressure. What would he want from her? Total and silent, depraved surrender? To bind her to his need? To nip her flesh? Cast her to the floor and take her blindly? Isobelle explodes in orgasm, feeling the tremours rack her slight frame.

Isobelle inches foward

“Ezra”

Isobelle coyly purses her lips, repeats his name. They lapse into a silence punctuated by the movement of the train. About to alight at his usual stop

“I'll take you to dinner. I'd like that.”

He doesn't take her number and after he's gone, without the heat of his gaze, she knows bereavement.

Later, Isobelle expresses herself in her lounge. She daydreams of his possessive stare and his taut, lean, torso as she kneels on the floor, wracked by longing. She splashes scented oil on her breasts and rubs each nipple dry. Her hips undulate with erotic slowness. She can feel her juices maddeningly begin to collect at the juncture between her legs. Each pink nipple stands proudly to attention, thighs trembling.

Wanting...

She roughly clips a budded breast between her thumb and index finger, forcing a noise in her throat. Isobelle half- crawls across the coarse carpet, enjoying the burn on her knees, the feel of a breeze on her lush pussy. She' s heavy with juice, ready. Isobelle listens to her breath, how it changes. At last, she hauls herself up on her haunches, circling her ample breasts with the palm of only one hand. The other nestles in her desperate folds, building towards her release.

On the train the following morning Ezra is nowhere. Isobelle finds herself searching.

He appears as usual on the home-ward ride- His brazen stare laced with ridicule. Did he sense her relief? Standing beside her, the weight of peak-hour bodies closing the distance between them as though intimate friends, Isobelle thrills. This is what life is all about. Her body vibrates and she struggles for breath. Mistakenly glancing up at him, his chocolate irises are dilated, seductive, fixated.

“I haven't been able to stop thinking of you”.

Isabelle's mouth falls open. She has nowhere safe to look. In a rush of brazen heat she meets his eyes.

“I want you too”

She feels warmth of shame through her body. His expression darkens. Talking in low tones they exchange numbers. All too soon he leaves their train.

After dinner she stares at the blank tv. Shaking fingers toy with her phone. It rings five times before anyone makes it to the receiver.

“Hullo?”

She breathes, he chuckles. The mirth fills up the phone, breaks the ice and descends into her body like whiskey.

Isobelle parts with her address. She fidgets in her front room and stares at where she has sunk to her knees and parted her sex for him over the last few days.

Finally they are about to meet.

Isobelle's Dirty Surprise

At last, sitting in his car in expensive silence, her freshly shaven thighs peeping out from the short hem of her favourite dress. As she moves, she knows the fabric dances like liquid.

“I’ll take you to my house”

Ezra glances at her. Notes she’s is not relaxed. Good. He likes it when he has the upper-hand.

At the high rise, using his keys and a security pass he leads her to the penthouse, through the foyer and up the lift. It’s up and up. Isobelle can see the city skyline from the balcony. Outside in the warm air, he stands in the doorway, silhouetted. It’s real. Her legs are beginning to tremble.

“So lovely”

Ezra’s voice comes from behind her.

“Do you like to be... shocked?”

Isobelle can’t think.

“I... I...”

Reason forces her to clear her throat and she walks inside to relieve her eyes of his silhouette. It has started to disconcert her. With the sweet taste of champagne on his lips, he gives her a first kiss. In a lazy movement akin to seduction, Ezra closes the distance between them and rubs his palm up her back. His full lips descend upon hers as he tastes her. Isobelle experiences a jolt of lust from her core.

“I’ve wanted to do these things to you” Chuckles.

“Things that aren’t fit for the train”.

It’s the menacing timber of his voice, it makes her shiver. Isobelle thrills. Will she be dominated by this mysterious man? Already her pussy is lush and wanting. She takes the moment at face-value and starts to take of her clothes.

Ezra eyes her, impressed. The slippery fabric of her dress descends to the floor and beneath it her light curves are coated in black. A balconette bra hugs her breasts and presents them. Her knickers are tiny and lace. As he surveys his prize, Ezra can see the pulse in her neck. She is afraid.

His keen eyes take in the scene and his cock begins to throb. There will be no misunderstanding tonight, they both mean to have their fun. Preamble has shredded with her dress. Ezra remains motionless. His silence gives him a regal air and Isobelle decides to play along. She closes the distance between them, parts her lips in anticipation and brushes his chest with her hand.

He watches.

Bolder now, she reaches up and plants lush kisses on his neck. He winces. She is too coy, too slight and innocent. A darkness flickers within him and Ezra drags her head from his neck in a quick movement, he captures her hair. Isobelle gasps. The pain is real. He pushes her to the floor before him, letting go. She takes in the bulge in his expensive trousers, there is nowhere else really to look.


“Suck it” Ezra rumbles.

Isobelle tugs at his pants with shaking fingers, his cock bounces free of it’s cloth cage and she thrusts herself into kneeling position. Ezra assists her by holding his length at the base. Soon his ample pole is slick with saliva and he assists her to face-fuck, the repeated, unrelenting action causing her to gag.

“You’re a good girl”

Ezra thrusts with his hips. Isobelle’s eyes bulge. It’s rough and uncaring. Her emotions swirl. Pre-cum dawns on the eye of his cock, she can taste the heavy drops. As he thrusts and grunts she can tell it won’t be long. ..
Abruptly.

Unexpectedly. He stops.

He pushes her off, looking down at her shaken form.

“You are too good at that”

More gently now.

“Too compliant, not the slut I was hoping to fuck”

Isobelle palls.

“Bu..t”

“You are too sweet. I think you should leave”

Ezra reluctantly begins to button his pants. He retrieves her dress and thrusts it at her. She looks at him pleadingly.

“But you have undressed me with your eyes for weeks”

Her voice is soft.

“I want you”

“You want me to treat you badly?”

In his eyes she reads disbelief.

“You want to be my whore?”

Ezra finishes his first lesson

“I don’t know what I want. I want you to show me.... ”

Isobelle stills at her place on the floor before him. He notices she has her knees up to her chest and knickers that are wet at her slit.

“Take off your knickers”

Ezra watches her carefully. She stands. Obliges. She makes the move in such a way that her breasts dangle before him, like a treat. Her legs remaining straight.

“You will like my mahogany table” Ezra’s tone is dry. She nods.

“Go over to it, lean over to show yourself to me”

Isobelle leans across the table. Her plump pussy faces him. She can feel a blush of shame on her cheeks.

“Spread your legs”

Isobelle knows if she shows him her sweetness, he will see the pearly sheen of desire on her flesh. He will know she is titilated. Will he use this to his advantage? With a sigh she spreads her thighs.

In the glow of the lamps on the sideboard, Ezra can indeed see evidence of her enthusiasm. He makes no effort to go to her, keeping the distance.

“Lean forward, stretch yourself across”

Isobelle inches her torso further into the centre of the table. Her pert bottom automatically pushes further into the air. She breathes in slowly, trying to keep the intake of air steady so Ezra won’t hear how aroused this makes her. She fails.

“What would you like me to do?”

She takes the erotic silence as a cue and looks over her right shoulder at him.

“I want you to finger me”

A pause, broken by Ezra's quiet drawl.

“I didn’t hear you”

“I want you to touch me”

“Are you wet?”

Her delectable rear wiggles in anticipation. He makes no move to go over there. He takes a sip of his drink. The moment stretches. Isobelle looks over her shoulder at him, her expression flecked with annoyance. A smug smile plays on his lips.

“Why don’t you do it yourself?”

“But...?”

“I know you have been masturbating, you practically said so yourself. Show me”

“No! I...”

Ezra places his glass down on the side table, unbuttons one and then another of his top buttons at his collar. Finally, deliberately, he closes the distance between them. Isobelle makes as if to turn and greet him for a kiss. He places a palm firmly between her shoulders and the small of her back. It keeps her at her position. She flexes her slight back, leans forward.

Ezra releases his organ from the confines of his clothes. He shifts quickly, stands behind her with the head of his manhood nestled on the warmth of her sex. Isobelle takes shallow breaths.

“You won’t touch yourself for me?”

“No.”

Her voice is uncertain. Ezra removes his gift. Still facing the table, she feels the loss of his cock. The moment had been almost momentous and now there will be no hope of release.

“You will never be a whore” Ezra’s voice is heavy with regret.

“You are too weak for me, too mild and pretty”.

Isobelle’s small frame catches in a slump. She knows she won’t please him tonight, can sense that the magic is almost at an end.

Ezra braces himself. In a swift, calculated movement he guides his cock-head into her dripping folds. Taken by surprise Isobelle tightens on his first thrust, adding to her heavenly sensation.

“oOHh”

Ezra strokes once more. Now their sex are connected the feeling is tenfold, anticipation too great.

“Just let me fuck you” He bites out, building his pace.

As his pole glides in and out of her wanton pussy Isobelle revels in the sensation. His large dick fills her slick passage, exploring and retreating in a ever-increasing rhythm.

“Ahh”

“You don’t deserve this”

Isobelle lets her breasts slide against the finely polished wood of the table. She doesn’t speak. As he pushes into her she can feel her pelvic muscles take him, quivers spreading through her from within. Isobelle hears him groan in satisfying, gut-wrenching lust. She stifles a smile on her lips and she feels her body take her up over the crest of a mind-numbing orgasm.

“I’ll teach you. You’re mine" Ezra’s voice in her ear.

His pace fast and deep. One foot on a chair thrusting. He still feels good, sliding in and out of her, but Isobelle feels the slow come-down from orgasm A thought occurs to her, the always-composed Ezra, with his pants around his ankles, his shoes on is ‘teaching her a lesson’. His composure is gone. Her giggle becomes a squeak as she feels him grow inside her, cumming, about to lean on her back. Eagerly, Isobelle pushed back. Ezra finds himself groaning, pliant as she turns, hips first, planting a heated kiss on his unsuspecting face.

"Teach me?”

Ezra raises an eyebrow...

Stolen Moments

She rocked back and forth, awash in the inexorable pleasure of the moment; impaled on his thick cock, running her slender hands over his impressive torso. His chest hair tickled her fingers, a stark contract to the muscles of his chest and stomach, like down-covered steel.

Touching him pleased her, it added sensations to her fingertips that drove her further towards orgasm. The journey her fingers took only intensified the way her sex felt, wrapped around him, stretching her as she rode him. He glistened with sweat, beneath her, tense and watchful. As though she pleasured him almost to the point of cumming, as he made a commendable attempt to prolong these precious moments.

She felt her own release mounting. To save them both she rode up and gloriously down only once more before she stilled. In the pause she bent her head to kiss him, savouring the fullness of his lips and the heat of his mouth. The exchange made her weak with desire, doing nothing to cool the fires that raged within her. She whimpered.

Making the most of his slight, momentary advantage, he drove his hips up into her softness, taking her by surprise. He lifted his head eagerly and licked at her nipple. For Cara it was too much, she knew she had to do something to alter their coupling immediately and interupt the tell-tale tingling. She needed to steer herself from the point-of-no-return.

In a swift movement she planted feet either side of his wide frame. Without breaking contact with his impressive meat she shifted, choosing to pleasure them both from a deeper angle, squatting on his cock. She lifted herself off her lover until she was poised with only the tip resting in her wetness, before slowly taking in his length once more. He eyed her with delight. As she continued to stroke, he cupped her fleshy rear, raising and lowering her onto his glistening pole, a wry smile touching his full lips.
His green eyes met her brown ones, she noted his pupils were so dilated with lust his irises was almost black. She revelled in the knowledge that this is what she did to him, in her arms he had become a lustful, carnal beast of a man. He growled and caught her nipple between his lips. She almost laughed but he chose that moment to again participate, impaling her, again and again; gaining the upper hand, flaunting his superior strength over her feminine whiles.
Finally she shifted, drawing herself back onto her knees, about to resume a steady pace atop his solid frame but he rolled them both and thrust into her, lifting her leg for ultimate penetration. The action caught her by surprise.
‘Oooh’
He smiled down at her, drowning in her pleasure, using a thick finger to slide between them and gently rub her clitoris. She whimpered.
Cara was light-headed, lost in pleasure, the bubble of orgasmic pleasure steadily building and filling her. It was like being fucked by a god, she thought, not a mere mortal. Such was his pleasure at her pleasure and the feel of his solid, muscled body. As Cara met his eyes, he stroked and she abruptly orgasmed on his pleasure- pole.
In the wake of her release her inner muscles clasped and unclasped around him. Aiden felt his cock length and fill her even more. He spurted his load and grinned. For a moment he forgot his bulk and leant his full weight on her much smaller frame. She squeaked in protest and he quickly relented, rolling from her. She ran her hand over his face, tracing the line of his jaw, his lips, she wanted to memorise all of him on her fingertips. He drew her finger into the warmth of his mouth and sucked. Cara was in awe, fucked senseless and unable to believe he was real, hers, at least for the time being.
She sighed and in the half-light their breath mingled, their bodies cooling rapidly. She wished Aiden would speak but when she rolled over to nestle into his chest, he merely wrapped his giant arms about her and pulled her close.
For now, it was enough.

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.

Ok now I have actually seen everything

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

Melancholy November

“Ali, ALI? You can hear me right?”

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

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

You are staying with me, right?”

The bleeding woman nods.

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

HOLD.”

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

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

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

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

“Act One...”

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

“Ali look up at me mate?”

The bleeding woman complies.

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

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

Breathless now, Maura sits back and continues.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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