Hidden Passions, Vol 2 Page 10
His body bucked under mine before his strong hands gripped my hips and pulled me back to his waiting mouth. I squealed as I felt him again exploring my sensitive depths. Then I suckled him in earnest as he took my throbbing pleasure pearl between those soft lips and pulled. We worked each other to a frenzy and again I cried out as one sure finger entered me to torment me from inside.
“F is for fuck!” he cried before he pulled free from my hungry mouth, climbed from underneath me, rose up behind me and slammed himself home.
I spread my thighs further apart as he loomed over me, humping me with powerful strokes. His hands pulled my hips higher and I instinctively lowered my chest to give him more access. I moaned as his thrusts set my nerve endings on fire. The sounds of our impassioned cries swirled around the room. We had lost control. I begged and pleaded with him for more. I ignored the carpet burning my knees and relished the feel of his sac slapping against my clit. He lifted me higher and higher until in one moment of perfect stillness, I exploded through the sun and plunged back to earth. I did not hear his roar of fulfillment, but I felt it deep within my being.
“F is good,” I gasped as he pulled me to his side and surrounded me with his masculine heat.
“I am glad that you approve.” His deep voice rumbled in my ear.
And so it continued throughout the night. G was for G-spot, which he found and manipulated with his fingers until I cried out for release.
H was for hot. Hot like the melted wax from the scented candles he produced from his bag, which we dripped all over each other and cooled with the gentle brush of lips and tongues.
He held me down to do my back, the feel of his hot hands combined with the heated wax gave me liberty to scream and buck as the wax sensitized my skin to the point of madness.
I was for the ice that we slipped into hidden creases and let the heat from our bodies slowly melt.
When he first slipped one over my clit and into my swollen opening, I sighed with relief, then gasped as it almost became too much!
But then his heated lips and tongue soothed away the cold, caused my juices to flow and mix with the melted ice, making him groan and ravish me with his tongue.
“I love your taste,” he rasped as he held my bucking hips in place.
I’ll never look at an ice cube the same way again.
J was for jelly. His favorite was strawberry. I was his bread and he thoroughly coated me before he lovingly, slowly, licked every drop from my weeping core.
My nipped were treated to the same sticky glistening sweetness, and he told me that it fit, that my nipples resembled his most favorite berry,
I discovered that I enjoyed the flavor myself, especially when coated over his thick cock. It was just the right amount of salty sweetness, and when he exploded deep within my mouth, I discovered that it was a delicious and filling treat.
K was for kinky. I tied him up on my bed and tormented him with light teasing scratches until he begged for mercy.
Then I flipped him over and began to paddle his ass with my bare hands.
I loved to see those solid globes of muscle jump under each blow, to redden just a bit and grow ultra sensitive to the touch. Then I made him beg for more as I reached underneath to fist his throbbing cock as I continued with my spanking, making him shoot all over the sheets.
He was a very bad boy and I gave him what he so richly deserved.
L was for licks. He gave me a tongue bath from toes to ears, paying special attention to the small of my back, the back in my knee, and the curve of my elbow. Who knew that they could be erotic zones?
I arched against him, groaning as he rubbed that long silky hair all over my body as the bath continued. My clit was given extra careful attention as it was being so well used, but by this point, I didn’t care! When he thrust his tongue deep within, I exploded around him, screaming out his name as my body spasmed beneath him.
And when I could finally breathe and think again, I returned the favor.
M was for massage. He rubbed my body with baby oil, smoothing out the kinks our straining bodies had caused.
I groaned and twisted under his care, but he lightly slapped my bottom.
“Relax,” he whispered as his fingers massaged out knots that my muscles, so unused to such strenuous workouts, and turned into. But he applied just enough pressure, his strong hands rotating and caressing my muscles firmly but lovingly.
I almost fell asleep under his touch, but when he turned me over and did my front, I was soon awake, refreshed, and ready for more.
N was for nibble. He nipped at my body from every angle, turning my skin into one solid G-spot! He combined pain and pleasure so sweetly that I screamed and climaxed just from his love bites!
And of course, I couldn’t resist nipping him back.
O was for orgasm. He gave me so many I nearly passed out.
P was for pussy. He gave me detailed instructions, complete with demonstrations, on how to keep mine happy when he wasn’t around.
And he gifted me with a set of toys, sized for him, he told me, to occupy my free time.
The latex cock was my favorite, detailed to veiny perfection and felt so lifelike.
Not that it would replace the real thing, he told me, but it would keep me in practice.
He also supplied a vast selection of lubes and creams, to protect his playground, he insisted.
But the self-heating ones were only to be used with him. I wondered how he would know if I cheated and used them on my own, but something in his eyes told me that he would know.
Q was for quickie. We had one on the kitchen.
We only went down for a quick snack, but the minute I bent over to look into he refrigerator, he growled and before I could blink, my back was on the kitchen counter.
I started to protest, the counter was cold, but then he was reaching into the fridge, pulling out a tub of butter, and then he kissed me.
He moaned as he coated his skin in the sensitive slippery condiment, then I shrieked as he easily penetrated me, the butter quickly warming to body temperature, and ending my protests with a whimpering sob.
My right leg found its way around his waist as he spread me further apart to manipulate my clit with his slick fingers.
He pulled and pinched and within seconds, I was screaming out another climax seconds before he gurgled my name and began to spasm as orgasm took control of his fine motor skills.
R was for rest. He let me take a nap with him, him lying thickly inside of me while I covered him like a blanket. He stayed firm and hard through the whole rest period, his hands gently caressing my back and neck as we both relished the closeness that had developed between us. It was comforting, and gentle and erotic as hell. We awoke even more eager than before.
S was for slave. I snapped my whip and made him crawl across the floor to me on his hands and knees.
I punished him for no other reason than the fact that I could.
He was commanded to satisfy me with his mouth, his skillful tongue searching out my hungry clit as I did my best to thwart his every move.
I forbid him to use his hands and I held him close to me by his hair, grinding into his face, watching his erection bead up clear pearls of pre-cum in his excitement as he sought to satisfy his mistress.
Soon, I was too hot, too wet, and too excited to take much more. I made him lie perfectly still while I rode him to a finish.
And for his reward, I let him jerk off with me watching.
His streams of cum shot in spurts as he kissed my feet and thanked me for allowing him his pleasure.
What a good boy I have.
T was for tease. He got even by tying my hands above me to my headboard while he stroked me to madness with a peacock feather.
He sat between my spread legs, ignoring my pleas for mercy, and worked the soft edge against the flesh of my exposed clit.
It burned; it felt so good!
I could feel my juices dampen the feather as he continued to apply the dir
ect stimulation to just that one point on my body.
I screamed and twisted within my bonds, trying my best to break free, to beg him to finish me, to get free and finish myself!
But he just laughed and told me to be patient.
My climax, when it hit, was so overwhelming, I thought I had died!
Now I understand the true meaning behind ‘the little death’ and I hope to die again within his arms as soon as we are done.
U was for under. He took me from behind on my balcony, both of us standing under the starlit skies, being caressed by the gentle night air. And V was for vocal. He made me ask for every motion of his body. He asked for my approval when he moved just right.
Did I like this?
Yes!
Did I want more?
Yes!
How did I want it?
Harder, faster, deeper, more! Please more!
Then, no more, too, too much!
Then it was not enough, give me more and I’m coming! I’m there!
In return, he was very vocal about how I made him feel.
He was so hot, so hard, so hungry.
His cock ached, his body cried out for mine, he was ready to pound it through.
I was his sexy little slut, his beautiful angel, his cock-master, his wonderful lover!
Then, oh God, he was there! He was going to come deep inside of me!
I hope the neighbors enjoyed the show.
W was for water. Later in the shower, he held me against him while he held himself inside me, steadying me, and brought me to release with the handheld showerhead.
The pulsing waves of the water were just the perfect stimulation needed to bring me off.
He didn’t even have to move, he just held himself very deep and very still within me.
The milking motions of my orgasm brought him off seconds behind me.
And then he tenderly washed my body, careful of all my tender parts, and then lovingly patted me dry with a thick fluffy towel. I had never felt so pampered in my life!
X was for…well, XXX rated. We watched a movie he had brought with him and tried to duplicate every position, no matter how difficult. I came at least three times doing the backward cowgirl romp. You can learn a lot from a porn queen!
Y was for yield. He held me in a straddled position while he pounded into me as if he could never get enough. I begged him to stop. I begged him to continue. And then yield became yes. Yes, I love what you do to me. Yes, I never want this to end. Yes, I would like to orgasm right now. Yes, yes, yes!
And Z? Z was for zipper. It was the last sound that I heard before I gave in to the exhaustion that had swamped my body. After tenderly placing me on my bed, I heard him pull up his zipper and quietly leave.
The next day I slept, rising only to see to necessary business. My mind felt detached, my body ached with the memory of his caresses. I floated in a haze of physical contentment I have never reached before in my life. I was sore, yes, but it was a good ache, a delicious ache. I felt a hurt that reminded me I was a woman and could deal with anything this life had to offer.
Tuesday when I walked into my office, he was there—long hair pulled back into a neat tail, linen pants pleated and shirt perfectly starched. He was all business as he handed me my coffee and mail. In no way did he let on that I had engaged in hot steamy sex with him, my male secretary. In fact, by the way he acted, one would assume we had never even seen each other outside of the office.
But then, around noon, I received a strange fax. It made my breath catch and my heart race. I reclined back in my chair and tried not to stare hungrily at him through the dividing glass window. With a few written words, my concentration was shot and my nerves stretched raw, but my body became liquid heat in preparation for his possession.
It read, ‘I am going to love you numerically. One, solo, auto. I’m going to watch you touch yourself until you come for me, and then I will do the same for you.’
Looks like I’m in for another interesting weekend.
Cat’s Paw
It was too hot to think. With my air conditioner broken, I had opened all of the windows in my bedroom in an effort to let some cool air inside. To my knowledge, this was the hottest night of the year, and the humid air was making it difficult to breathe.
Outside, even the sounds of the crickets were stilled as if they were too affected by the sweltering heat to care. I sat in the picture window in my circular room and ran a frosty glass of iced tea across my forehead. In deference to the heat, I wore only my thin cotton tank top, stolen from a past lover. The white cotton hung just long enough to cover my bottom, not that I needed any covering at all, isolated in woods as I was.
This house, this Victorian castle, was all that I had of my Aunt Lavina. The dear woman passed the property to me after her death a few years ago, and now I had the time and money and decided to visit the old place.
“There are strange thing in those woods,” Betina, the woman I hired to manage the property in my absence warned me when I first arrived. “Your aunt was a strange one, living out here all alone, but you’re a pretty young thing. You need to go to the city and meet a nice young man and settle down.”
I laughed off her concerns. Soon she departed and I settled down to take in the atmosphere of my new abode.
But then the air conditioner broke in the middle of the night and here I was, trying to keep cool on the hottest night of the year.
I sat on the thick cushion of the window seat and looked out over the tall trees to a midnight blue sky. There, suspended above the trees, slightly obscured by passing clouds, was the most beautiful cherry moon I had ever beheld.
I watched, transfixed by this glowing orb, until the heat and humidity of the night was forgotten. Time was forgotten. I don’t know how long I sat there, staring up at the moon, glass of tea melting in my hand, but suddenly I wasn’t alone.
The largest, handsomest tomcat I had ever seen sat just outside the screen, standing on a tree branch, staring at me.
“Pretty kitty,” I murmured to it. “Are you lost?”
He stepped closer to the window so that I could view his majestic form closer. He was black with unusual streaks of gold running throughout his shiny coat. His bright green eyes shone in the moonlight and his tail waved, almost hypnotically from side to side as he assessed me.
“Go home, pretty kitty,” I said. “There are bad things in the woods tonight.”
Instead of leaving, he came closer to the window, resting one paw against the screen. Not knowing why I did it, I placed my hand against the screen too, exactly where his paw rested.
Without warning, he dug his claws into the metal of the screen and with one mighty pull, yanked it right out of the window.
I let out a surprised shriek and fell back, the glass of ice tea falling and drenching my cotton shirt. The startling contrast of cold against my hot skin and my fear made my nipples harden. I ignored that and watched as the cat strolled into my room.
What is going on here? I wondered as I watched this creature settle down on my cushion.
As if daring me to move him, he stretched himself out and looked at me.
As I observed him in disbelief, his body began to glimmer and shine. I watched ,amazed. His limbs grew longer, seeming to take on human form as a bright light surrounded him. With a flash so intense it burned my eyes, the cat was gone, and in its place was a man.
“What the hell?” I gasped, shivering in the puddle of my tea and wondering if I was dreaming.
He tossed his long black/gold hair over his shoulder and reclined again on the cushion in all of his well-endowed naked splendor. His body was large and muscular and his dark skin looked as if he’d spent hours lounging in the sun. He lay there unabashedly naked, his large flaccid member resting against his thigh, his green eyes focused solely on me. “You called me,” he purred.
“I did what?” I nearly screamed.
“Your yearnings and your hunger called to me, Blood of Lavina.”
“You called to me, Blood of Lavina, and I have answered your plea.”
I knew that this wasn’t some sick joke. This man was real, and he was sitting right there on my window seat.
“Do you not know, Blood of Lavina? Do you not honor our pact?”
“What pact?” I said haltingly. “What is going on here?”
Sensing my confusion and with head tilted to the side in feline curiosity, he observed the expression on my face.
“You do not know, young one?” he murmured as he rose to his feet.
Instinctively I backed up. Strange cat-men were not something I ran into in the city and I didn’t know how to take this one.
“Be not afraid, Blood of Lavina. I will not harm you.”
“Stop calling me that,” I yelled as I backed away from him, my heart pounding furiously in my chest. “My name is…”
“Mine,” he arrogantly cut me off. “You belong to me now.”
His words stunned me. “What are you talking about?”
“In years past, I guarded Lavina, protected her from those who would do her harm, and in return all I asked for was a mate. You, Blood of Lavina, are that mate, given to me in a blood-bond at the time of your birth. All of these lonely years I have waited for you to grow and come to me, and now you have arrived. Your hunger, your loneliness, and your desire drew me here. Can you not feel me within you?”
I didn’t notice before, but yes, there was a tingling in my body, and it got worse, or better, depending on your point of view, as he drew closer.
“You have worn my mark for many years now, Blood of Lavina, and I have come to claim what is mine.”
“I belong to myself,” I whispered as he took another step closer. I was paralyzed by fear. No, not fear–-fascination.