Red Cuffs, revised · Part 2

Red Cuffs, revised · Part 2 (2/2)
Previous

There's a knock at the door and when you answer there is a man standing there you've never seen before, a very handsome man in a blue pinstripe suit with a blue cotton shirt and a lawyer's tie. He's surpr ised to see you, and, in his shock, he steps into the kitchen. He is surprised, nonplussed, obviously very taken by your wholesome attractiveness." "You're staring at him, admiring his square jaw, his red-brown hair, when he looks up. Your eyes meet and you know that he wants you and that you want him. You say, "Hi," and he says, "Hi," and the two of you move towards each other until he's holding you in his arms.

You press yourself against him and you can feel his cock getting hard, your own pelvis rolling and swaying against him, urging him, encouraging him. His hand moves to your breast and he holds it, playing with it, moving sl owly to squeeze your nipple through the thinness of the t-shirt, the palm of his hand feeling it, pressing it, wanting it. " "You put your hand on his cock. It's hard and hot through the wool fabric. You clutch it, squeeze it in your hand several times as he gasps, taking your other breast in his free hand, fondling it, searching for the nipple so he can roll it bet ween his fingers.

He presses you backwards against the kitchen table so that the two of you are grinding against each other, your hand kneading his cock, his hands fondling your breasts." "Suddenly, without a second thought, you drop to your knees, open his pants and take his cock in your mouth. You suck him, his hands caressing your hair, touching your face. He is almost ready to come, when he pulls you up, pulls down your sh orts. He parts you with a finger and spreads your juice over the outside of our slit and lifts you to sit on the table. He maneuvers his cock to touch you, to slide it around the edge of your cunt.

And then he slides his cock into you, standing in front of you in his suit with his fly open, his eight-inch ramrod cock probing into your eager sex." "Your arms are around his neck, holding him as he makes love to you. You both come together, the toaster and microwave, visible over his lurching shoulder, blurring in your ecstatic vision. For thirty seconds you hold it, he slowly shrinking i nside you, you feeling the drops of cum falling to the polyurethaned oak table beneath you. He pulls away and puts himself into his pants.

You pull up your shorts." "'He's not home?' he asks quietly, his square jaw hardly moving, his eyes turning sleepy from spent passion." "'No, but I expect him any minute,' you reply." "'I'll call him tomorrow,' he says, and he leaves by the kitchen door. Your lover comes home five minutes later and as he walks from his car to the house, you rush into the bathroom to freshen up." As he told the story, he slowly opened her blouse, button by button. He pulled her bra up around her neck, exposing her breasts to the afternoon sunlight. The nipples stiffened as they both watched. "Beautiful," he said. As he looked up, their eyes met and they both laughed.

"Warm in here," he said, and he took off his shirt. "Very warm in here," he said, and he pulled off his pants. He had on black bikini underwear. She could see the cock, hard and bent downwards through the taut black fabric. He stood over her, his feet on either side of her and he slowly rubbed his cock through the cotton fabric, slowly, hypnotized by the sensations he gave himself, sliding his hand up and down on its hardness. He slowly lowered himself to his knees so that he sat lightly on her belly. "I don't want you to have to dryclean your skirt," he said. And he unzipped it, slid it down her legs and put it over a chair.

She flinched as he quickly reached out of sight over her pillowed head. His hand reappeared holding a bottle of massage oil. He poured it onto his hands, rubbed them together and began to work them over her breasts. The oil smelled like sandel wood and as he applied it to her body she felt stimulated, sensitized. It was a wonderful feeling, the hot slippery oil on her breasts, on her belly, on her shoulders and neck. She felt so calm, so relaxed from the massage and the warm sun through the window. She revelled in the rush of sensation from his oily touch on her nipples. He rolled them, squeezing them, gently spinning them free from his grasp. "Good?" he sighed. She barely nodded.

His palms flat on her breasts, he massaged them, the slippery contact electric through her skin, her breasts aching to be held, cupped, worshipped. They needed attention, they needed to be relieved of thi s arousal which made them ache. With his forefinger and thumb he gently flicked the nipples as though they were marbles, tiny drops of the scented oil flying each time his finger touched them. He leaned his head down and drew the nipples between hi s lips, teasing them, letting them pop free. He pulled them, sucking and licking them and the puckered aureoles around them. Pleasure built inside her, flowing from her breasts to her cunt and down through her tingling legs.

"Do you want to fuck me?" she asked. She realized a second later that her next words were going to be, "But I don't want you to." He simply shook his head "no" and rubbed her breasts in a wide sensuous circle with his hands. His right hand travelled downwards and he gently placed his fingers below her slit and drew them upwards, spreading the wetness and sending an electric shock through her body. Suddenly she wanted something inside her, a cock, even fingers assuag e the aching she now felt. As he stroked the entrance to her sex, her pelvis arched off the floor in time to his stroking. He coordinated the stroking with the sucking of her nipples.

Stroke! and he lifted his head, letting her left nipple release, her breast shivering, the nipple hard and erect. Stroke! his finger teasing just inside, sliding up and past the clitoris. Pop! he released the other nipple from his lips. "I don't want to fuck you. I just want you to feel good. Think of men's cocks and your cunt and your beautiful breasts and the warm afternoon sun." His cock bulged beneath the black fabric. Suddenly, she wanted him to touch it. "Take off your underwear and show me your cock. Touch it for me. And I'll sit on your face. And you'll make me cum. But first, touch yourself. You can masturbate yourself, if you want." He stood up and took off his underwear.

His cock was rigid. He licked the palm of his hand and slowly began to masturbate for her, stroking his cock as he stood beside her. His hand moved in slow strokes, the cock pulsing with each rhythmic s troke of his hand. She lay mesmerized. His balls swinging slowly beneath the cock, the purple head getting larger and darker each time he stroked his hand up its length. His face became tense with pleasure, his mouth open, his breath whistling hoarsely at the end of each stroke. For a second he stopped and a tiny clear drop of fluid quivered on the tip of his bulging cock. His legs were locked and Maryann saw the muscles of his thighs clenched, their shape hard beneath the skin.

Slowly, he resumed. And as he worked, he began to move down, kneeling over her so that his cock was almost between her oiled breasts. "I'm going to make love to them, I'm going to make love to your beautiful breasts," he whispered. And he put his cock between her shining breasts, the sunlight relfected by the oil and sweat that now covered them. He took a breast in each hand and pressed them together around his cock. And he began to slide himself between them, the oil an d sun blanketing them, the breasts and cock and his hands a marvelous passionate focus of attention. She arched her back so that her breasts were higher, so he could get his cock totally wrapped in her oiled breasts.

The unbidden thought, that what would feel best was his cock in her cunt, crossed her mind. She turned her attention back to her breasts, to the slippery work of his cock, to his ass sliding on her stomach, the muscles hard beneath his weight, her breasts hot, the nipples pressing into his palms. Again she thought of how it would feel to have his hot hardness slide slowly in and out of her sex, her insides sucking him up, taking his cock from him and making it her own. He moved to hold her breasts in place with one hand, putting the other hand behind himself and between her legs. With his finger he began to gently stroke her clit. "Ohhh," she said, "ohhh, that feels good.

Put your fingers inside of me. Please." He moved them down and slid them inside of her. He slid his hips forward and with the tip of his cock he teased her lips. She put out her tongue and licked it. He held it there while she slid her tongue around the tip, pursing her lips so she could take it between them and feel and taste the salty smooth skin. He slid further forward and put his cock in her mouth. However uncomfortable she may have felt an hour ago at that thought of his cock in her mouth, at this moment it felt good, a prelude to things he would do for her. As she let her lips slide over him, she tasted the oil from her breasts, slightl y bitter in her mouth.

He lightly touched her face, his fingers tracing the outline of her cheeks, her eyebrows and nose. He ran his fingers through her hair, threading his fingers in it, pulling it lightly. The pulling of her scalp, the massaging of her hair felt g ood. With his fingers he touched her lips around his cock, he slid them over her lips, her saliva wet, a drop sliding down her chin and onto her neck. He pulled his cock from her mouth and moved off of her. His strong hands lifted her and turned her so she was sitting up. Sliding beneath her, he lay on his back and slid under her so she sat on his chest. Her hands lay on the top of his head, the cuffs dangling through his hair.

He began to move his tongue slowly around her clit. "Ohhh," she said, "ohhh, that's good. Go slow." As his tongue teased her clit he brought his hands around under her arms to fondle her breasts. His chest felt oily and as he fucked her with his tongue she began to slide her forward and back on his chest. Her ass on his oily chest felt slippery and warm and his hair tickled between her ass cheeks. Now that she was sitting up she could see the top of the desk. The books and papers wer e scattered about. "I'll have to pick up later," she thought. Still eating her, he massaged her ass with one hand, kneading it and massaging the muscles deep inside.

Sliding his tongue in and out of her slit, he also began to press with his upper jaw on her pelvis. She began to fuck his mouth, his tongue inside her cunt, darting over her clit, his mouth pressing forward rhythmically against her. With her arms in the cuffs she was unable to use her hands, unable to do anything except pull his hair, pulling his head forward to her, pressing her cunt and hips and ass and pelvis into his mouth, her oily hot body fucking him. She pressed her tits forward into his hands, her nipples standing hard and dimpled, her breasts sliding and shivering beneath his caresses. He cupped her breasts in his hands, he pinched and squeezed her nipples.

For a time they loved, rhythmically making time stand still in her erotic pleasure. His lips and tongue lead her down a path of contented pleasure. After a time he stopped. And gently moved out from under her. There was contentment in the air, a peace, the silence of siesta time in the afternoon when all the world seems to be napping and the sound of the random car passing by seems muted and faraway. And in the background of this afternoon haze, a soft click darted through her reverie, followed by a gentle whine. She half-opened her eyes, but he had already turned away from her.

He gently moved her back from her sitting position, putting a pillow once again under her head, making her comfortable. She felt as though she was at the beach, lying in the sun, having a dream, a fantasy brought on by a hearty lunch and strong drink. It felt wonderful lying there relaxing, her body langourous in the soft warmth of the carpet. She was content to lie resting, her breats warm and heavy, her cunt wet and steamy. And then, down in her warm, wet, well-tended cunt, she felt a touch, a pulsing, a soft singing on the wet lips. For a second she thought it was him, that he had put his cock to her sex. The thought only seemed mildly disturbing.

She decided she'd wait to stop him only if he tried to put it inside her. But he slid it around the edge of her secret place, teasing her, playing with the lips of her slit. It felt somehow odd, somehow not quite what she expected of a hot thick cock. The singing humming thing wasn't him, it wasn't a real cock. The thought crept towards her, arriving she didn't know when, an inconsequential thought as she lay sunbathing on the beach on this delightful vacation. He moved it longways, and slid it slowly up and down, masturbating her, teasing her, pressing it for a moment against her clit, then sliding it downwards across the entrance to her passion-stained cunt.

She arched against its shivering warmth. It was hot and big and it made her tingle, sending waves of excitement through her body. She began to move against it, her body enraptured with the stroking hotness against her cunt. He changed the angle and slid it into her. She opened her legs, her legs pressing outwards, akimbo, to give the widest space for the blessed pulsing warmth. He slid it in and out, in and out, making love to her, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. He moved his face closer and with his tongue stroked her clitoris, at the same time loving her shivering cunt with the humming surrogate penis.

Rhythmically he ran his tongue around her clit, stimulating her, working her passion higher, moving in slow circles, building her towards her climax, the mysterious plastic penis keeping erotic tempo. Her passion built and suddenly she was unable to control her body. Her pelvis arched up to meet every thrust of the vibrator, every circle of his expert tongue. The tropical beach were she was lying suddenly became alive with men, populated with handsome naked men sporting erect penises, men lining up to serve her any way they could. The sun gleamed from the penises as they worshipped her, their cocks saluting her, helping her, urging her on in her passion. Time lost meaning.

In this secret place of fantasitic passion and excitement they moved together, he making love to her with his mouth, tongue and surrogate penis, making love to her in the golden heat of the afternoon sun, the room echoing dis tantly with muted love sounds, the air passionate with tropical sexual enraptured silence. Her face and torso were beautiful in the sunlight streaming through the window, madonna-like in their white purity, rosy and glistening with her heightened state, her state of ecstasy. Her breasts were gorgeous and heavenly, her nipples standing out in relief, casting tiny shadows across her breasts.

Her glistening stomach was outlined with muscle, her smooth-skinned legs knotted with love and passion. Her thighs pressing to gether and apart, involuntarily keeping the rhythm of his loving. Her toes dug into the carpet, pressing her pelvis upwards in passionate embrace of the day. Her body shivered uncontrollably, and she cried out. "I'm coming. Oh, I'm coming!" With one hand he stroked her breasts and nipples, and with the other, clutching a singing piece of white plastic, he made love to her. She shook and arched and moaned.

Streams of colors flew through her vision, the sunlight falling across the two of them, a slash of warm gold bathing them as they achieved ultimate pleasure, ultimate emotional release. And then she exploded, shivering and arching and pulsing and… And exploding. The ecstasy lasted a year. The ecstasy lasted a moment. Her spirit sang with joy, filled with emotino, with passion and love, and… and… Passion. Silence came again. An exhalation. A sigh. And she lay warm and fulfilled. A pause. "I have a meeting at four," she said. "What time is it?" Her voice quavered slightly. Which was his pride as he moved to get her her skirt.

Red Cuffs, revised · Part 2 (2/2)
Previous