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DAYBED

Posted by: Simon - 11-18-2025, 07:57 PM - No Replies

From the first moment I saw Yuna at her parents’ housewarming party, I fantasised about the two of us being together. She was twenty years old at the time, the daughter of Mr and Mrs Nakamura who had just moved in next door in our very exclusive neighbourhood. Yuna was pretty, friendly and fascinating.

And totally off-limits.

Rosie and I had been married for five years and together for seven. We had talked about starting a family, but she had persuaded me to wait. We had been together through difficult times, and we had seen each other flourish. Yuna was six years my junior. She was engaged to the son of a politician. She was the daughter of a potential client. She was the forbidden fruit you read about in lurid tales of men throwing away everything they’ve worked for.

It only made her more tempting.

Despite my best efforts, every time I let my guard down, I found my eyes drifting her way. By rights I should have been listening to her father droning on about shareholdings and business meetings, and how the small company he’d set up in his garage some thirty years earlier had turned into a multi-billion dollar corporation—all thanks to his own personal drive and ambition. As a business owner myself, that should have interested me. I should have been using the opportunity to network and attempt to pick up a lucrative new client for my own IT business.

But none of that seemed important. Yuna occupied my every thought.

She was nothing like my wife. Where Rosie was blonde, willowy and tall, Yuna was dark, petite and soft. Rosie’s breasts were prominent and round, Yuna’s barely made a dent in the yellow cotton shirt that draped over her torso. Rosie’s makeup routine was designed to look flawless, to make you wonder if she was wearing any at all. Yuna’s mascara made her eyelashes appear unreal like they existed inside some Japanese cartoon. Her dark eyeliner drew attention to those piercing, black pools.

Until then, I thought Rosie was everything I’d ever dreamed of in a woman. Now Yuna was all I desired.

I watched her standing with her fiancé, mingling with the younger guests, and wondered what she saw in him. She seemed like a sparkling gemstone against his dull, grey rockface. I dreamed of plucking her away from him, of pushing her down among soft pillows and tearing every shred of clothing from her body. I dreamed of caressing her flesh, pinching it between my fingertips until she cried out, running my tongue around small, hard nipples and along soft folds. I needed hot passionate outdoor sex with her, any romantic sex with her. I was already becoming an addict and I’d only just seen her.

It got so bad that I had to excuse myself from the group, hoping my erection wasn’t too obvious as I retreated from the room.

“Up the stairs, first door on the left,” Mr Nakamura said after me.

I nodded and thanked him as I fled.

What made me turn right at the top of the stairs, instead of left, is a mystery. I didn’t need the bathroom, that’s for sure, but nor should I have been snooping around my new neighbour’s property. Nevertheless, I followed the corridor to the end and opened the last door I came to, finding myself in what must have been a study. An ornate desk stood in the corner, and there were two leather armchairs placed to either side of a round card table. A large mirror occupied the whole of one wall, and above it, two katanas were displayed on a chrome frame, the blades sheathed. I wandered over to them and ran a finger along the wooden case of the lower sword, tracing the carved letters.

“It says, True Friendship.”

I jumped at the sound of a voice and turned to find Yuna standing in the doorway, watching me. She leaned against the doorframe, emphasising the curve of her hips beneath her long, soft skirt, and reached her hand up as far as it would go. A smile creased her lips, and my mouth started to water at the thought of kissing her.

“They are not heirlooms,” she said, her pronounced Japanese accent only making her more fascinating. “My father’s accountant, of all people, bought them for him.” She rolled her eyes and laughed.

I tried to be diplomatic. “He’s worked hard for everything he’s got.”

“Oh yes, my father has worked hard. He never lets anyone forget how he built his business from nothing. Do you want to know the truth? My mother’s father made a fortune in the tobacco industry. Twenty-five years ago he gave my father a hundred million yen as start-up cash. It was no loan. There was no interest to pay or shareholders’ meetings.”

I did a quick calculation in my head. Somewhere in the region of a million dollars. I shrugged. “Still, he’s built himself a fortune from that.”

“No, he hasn’t.” Yuna laughed. “The business is worth billions, it is true, but only because my grandfather hires people who know what they are doing to keep my father from running it into the ground. He bought this house for us because he would not want to see me or my mother out on the streets.”

I fell silent, not quite able to bring myself to bad mouth my host.

“Do you like swords, Mr…?”

“Thomas. Richard Thomas. My friends call me Ricky.”

“I would like to be your friend.”

An involuntary shiver ran up my spine. The way she looked at me, those large eyes running over my body. Almost predatory. My cock twitched at the touch of her gaze, which only made her eyes flick down to the growing bulge.

“I’d like that,” I whispered, then added, “For us to be friends.”

She glanced up at the swords.

“After he got those, do you know what my father took to calling me? Katana. He’d say My little Katana, one day you will be married to a prince and you will look after your father, won’t you?” She laughed, but there was no humour in it. “At the time, I thought it was sweet. I thought Katana was such an exciting pet name. I didn’t realise he loved those swords more than he loved me. I thought he meant that I would find someone wonderful, not that he planned to marry me off for his own personal gain.”

“You don’t love your fiancé.” I nodded. It made sense.

“Nobody could love Colin. Nor could they hate him. Or find him amusing or infuriating. We will never have arguments and we will never have passion.” She pushed away from the door frame and wandered forward. I watched her body move beneath her clothes, wondering what she was wearing underneath. “I want passion, Ricky. I cannot even imagine having sex with Colin. I am sure the experience will be like filing a tax return.”

I expected her to pause when she got near to me, but she didn’t. She came closer until our bodies were nearly pressed together. I could smell a scent of citrus around her, intoxicating like a slice of lime in a Martini.

“Touch me. I know you want to. You have wanted to since you walked through our door.”

“I…” A soft growl rumbled from my chest, and I reached a hand around Yuna’s waist, drawing her in, my objection was forgotten. I slid my fingers down, over her buttocks, and squeezed her flesh. She responded with a soft yelp and tilted her head back.

As our lips met, I felt her fingers trailing over my erection. The kiss deepened and I grabbed handfuls of her skirt, lifting it up over her waist as she worked my zipper. My hands found soft lace panties, and I desperately tugged them down before pushing my hand between her legs, listening to her low moan as my fingers caressed her dewy lips.

She freed my cock and wrapped her hand around its girth, fingers dancing along the underside and making me leak precum. I grunted, turned us both, and slammed her hard against the wall, the mirror and swords shuddering in unison.

“Ricky, what the hell…?”

The sound of Rosie’s voice from behind should have made me jump. It should have made me ashamed of what we were doing. I should have come to my senses and let go of Yuna to chase after my wife.

I didn’t.

I thrust my cock in her grip, moaning as we kissed, my fingers circling her clit making her squirm against the wall.

A moment later, Yuna’s father was there in the room, tugging her off me and throwing her back. Her fiancé stared at me with an unreadable expression, trying to avoid looking down at my cock as I hastily, uncomfortably put it away. But I didn’t feel ashamed. I felt alive. Even as I fled the house, I knew that my marriage was over.

***

I think Rosie would have liked to be angry with me. I think it would have made it easier for her. Perhaps it even would have made it easier for me, to hear words of hate and fury, to be told how I’d broken her. But that wasn’t how things went. In the end, she sighed and told me she appreciated my honesty when I said I couldn’t see a way forward, that I couldn’t get Yuna out of my head. I slept that night in the spare room and Rosie was gone when I got up the next day.

The divorce was amicable and simple. Rosie found someone else and I even attended her wedding three years after we split up. I kept the house; Rosie said she couldn’t bear the thought of bumping into the Nakamuras in the street. Honestly, neither could I, but even worse would be to never have the chance of running into Yuna again.

I tried dating a couple of times. It didn’t work out. Each time I ended up going home alone, jerking off to thoughts of her, imagining the things we’d do together, imagining how she looked now. I hadn’t seen her once since that night.

Then, ten years after we first met, the doorbell rang as I ate breakfast by the pool, looking out over the bay. Expecting a delivery, or a salesperson, I didn’t even bother to put down my croissant as I padded through the house to answer it, and there she was.

“Yuna.” My mouth hung open as I looked her up and down. A black dress hugged her body. She hadn’t changed, had barely aged a day.

“I’ve left Colin. My parents won’t let me in the house. Can I come in?”

I nodded and stepped back, then closed the door behind her and followed her through to the living room. There were no tears in her eyes and her voice was matter-of-fact as if she was telling me the weather forecast. A little of her accent had disappeared in the decade we’d been apart, but her voice still had the same cadence, the same allure.

“My grandfather has a spare room in his house in Japan. He will buy me a plane ticket and I will go. I’m sorry to drop in like this.”

I shook my head, then held up my croissant. “Have you eaten—can I get you anything?”

“Thank you, I’m fine.”

The silence hung between us for a moment, and all we did was look at each other. I wondered if the same thoughts were going on inside her head, memories of what had happened that night, of how it felt to be so carefree, so passionate, so foolish.

“You and your wife are…”

I shook my head. “I’m single now. Is there any chance for you and Colin?”

Yuna laughed. “No. There never was any chance for us. It’s a mystery it took me this long to leave him.”

The zip running up the front of Yuna’s dress glinted silver in the sunlight. It had been left open at the top, almost like an invitation, as it had already been partially unfastened so why not finish the job? She didn’t sit. My eyes wandered over her shoulders, her waist, her hips. I felt unable to exercise any control with her there, in my house, my one and only fantasy.

“I’ll make coffee,” I said because I needed to say something. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

Yuna shook her head. “I don’t want coffee.” She stepped forward and I was frozen to the spot. She reached out and caressed my shoulder, then she looked up at me. “For old time’s sake? Before I never see you again?”

I couldn’t hold back any longer. The croissant fell to the floor, spilling flakes of pastry over the carpet as I cupped a hand around her neck, then pulled her into me and leaned down, placing my lips against hers.

She softened at my touch, falling into my arms, panting breaths as she kissed me back, her lips parting at the touch of my tongue, her own twining around mine.

Fumbling with the zipper on her dress felt like being a teenager again. It clicked and rasped as I awkwardly tugged it down, unable to wait before slipping my free hand inside, finding her bare breast and feeling the peak of her hard nipple against my palm. She moaned and yelped, and I pulled away from the kiss to put my mouth to her chest, kissing the flesh between her breasts as I pulled the zipper down, over her belly, over her pelvis. I moved my mouth to the dark circle of her areola and licked and nibbled at her tit as the dress finally came completely undone. She let it fall to the floor, then placed her hands on top of my head, running her fingers through my hair.

“I want to make love outside,” she said. “Ricky, I want to remember what real passion is again. I want you to lay me down and screw me with the sun on my skin, feeling the caress of a warm ocean breeze.”

I glanced up and met her eyes. Those beautiful, dark eyes. Even now, her makeup was designed to be obvious, to make her almost inhumanly attractive.

“It’s been ten years since I experienced anything like that.”

“Me too,” I said.

Without waiting another moment, I grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her onto my shoulder as I stood up. She was still so small, so light, that it was like lifting a doll. She giggled and playfully pounded at my back as I carried her out of the house, down by the pool, and dropped her onto my daybed. Her naked skin, now only covered by lacy tie-side panties, looked inviting in the sunlight.

I flung myself down next to her on the soft mattress, then ran my fingers over her body, caressing her nipples, her stomach, sliding my hand down between her legs and pressing my palm to her already damp pussy.

Yuna reached out and stroked my leg, her fingers teasingly avoiding my already hard cock, then she grabbed my shoulder and pulled me in close, laughing as she took my lips with her own. She tasted so warm and tropical, soft like summer. I could smell her citrus scent and it took me right back to that first night. Pressing her down into the soft cushions, I covered her with my body as I tasted her, running my hand over her tits, feeling the hard peaks of her nipples against my palm.

She arched back and I moved my mouth to her throat, nibbling at the softness of her skin, lapping at her with my tongue. My hand moved down to cup her sex and I ground my hand against those enticing panties, letting the plum-coloured lace bunch and rub against her clit as I listened to the moans and giggles that fell from her lips.

“Sex should always be this much fun,” she said, laughing.

“Yes, it should be.” My touch drifted up and down her thigh, and she gasped and murmured as I pressed my fingers hard against her slit. “I want to taste you, Yuna.”

I didn’t wait for her response, moving down the bed to put my head between her legs. I lapped at her sex through her panties, tasting her musk and hearing her moan. My cock was hard inside my cotton shorts, and I wanted desperately to touch it, but my focus remained on her pleasure, on her enjoyment.

“Oh, God, nobody has ever done that for me,” she whispered. “Ohhhhh… Ricky, I want to be naked. I want to greet the morning with my body.”

I hooked my fingers into the waist of her panties and slid them down her legs. As I removed them over her feet, I kissed her painted toenails, making her shiver with need. Her pussy was shaved bare, the soft petals glistening, inviting.

Yuna laughed as I kissed her thigh, then moaned softly when I covered her pussy with my mouth, moving my lips against her secret lips, lapping at her dewy warmth with my tongue. As I gently licked at her sex, flicking her clit with the tip of my tongue, she stopped laughing. Instead she writhed, grabbing her breasts with both hands as she cried out, shuddering and panting as I brought her close to a climax.

“Oh, God, what’s happening? I am…Ricky…God, I am going to soak you.”

I urged her on with my tongue, with my mouth. Sucking at her slit and lapping at her hot little bud. I tasted her sweet nectar, but I wanted more. Her body shook and she grabbed at my hair, tugging painfully, but I didn’t let up. She jerked and her stomach quivered, and then she shrieked as she grabbed my head, burying my face in her pussy as her cream slid over my tongue.

She filled my mouth and I took it all, revelling in the taste of her after all those years. Fuck, how I’d wanted this moment, how I’d imagined doing these things to her. I could barely believe it was really happening. I swallowed her gift until she calmed and dropped back, releasing my head, and then I gazed down into her eyes.

“That was…like nothing I have ever felt before.”

I smiled. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“I’ve dreamed about your cock every night since we met. I want to suck it. I want to feel it in my throat.”

What could I say? I drew up into a kneeling position and hurriedly unbuttoned my shorts. Yuna sat forward and helped, pulling down the zipper and grabbing at my cock. It was thick and hard already, and she ran a finger over the head as I cupped her face and leaned in for a kiss. Yuna wrapped her hand around my shaft and tugged, and I thrust into her, gasping and straightening at the feel of her hand on me.

“I’ve wanted this,” she said, then leaned forward and took my cock between her lips.

The feel of her mouth on my shaft was mind-blowing after being celibate for so many years. She tongued at the underside of my cock and my head bobbed at the back of her throat as she moved back and forth, building my orgasm. I didn’t know how long I could hold back, it had been so long, but I was determined to enjoy the moment while I could. I brushed the hair back from her face and gazed down into those dark eyes, and regretted every day that we’d been apart. I should have tracked her down, I should have told her that I wanted her. She had been trapped in a loveless marriage and I’d done nothing.

I loved her.

“Yuna,” I gasped. “Yuna…fuck…I need to talk to you.”

She didn’t stop. Her tongue flicked and her mouth sucked and I moaned and grunted and felt my cock swell as she stroked at it. I writhed with her touch and closed my eyes as the building tension reached a crescendo, then felt my whole body shudder as I emptied my load into her throat. The sound of her moans of pleasure only drove more cum from me as I quivered and nearly fell, my body collapsing into that single moment of pleasure.

When I finally opened my eyes, I saw her looking at me, a smile on her lips as she licked up the spilt drops of my release from around her mouth.

“What did you need to talk about?” She grinned and ran her hand over my hypersensitive cock, nearly blocking out all thoughts from my brain.

“Fuck…”

“Yes, you have said that already.”

I laughed. “Stay with me, Yuna. Don’t go back to your grandfather. We can make this work.”

She leaned forward and took my lips in a kiss. She tasted of my own release, but I didn’t care. I kissed her back and pulled her close, and we fell together onto the bed, our bodies entwining as I started to get my second wind.

Ends

Continue reading..

PARIS VIEW

Posted by: Simon - 11-18-2025, 07:55 PM - No Replies

She arrives five minutes early. I’ve been waiting for an hour. I hear her before I see her—that signature clip of stilettos on paving stones. Small, hurried, excited steps.

I turn to watch her. Jacket, pencil skirt, white blouse, slim folio case and serious sandals. Her gaze flits across the street, and I relish these seconds where I can just observe her. When she finally sets eyes on me her business face melts into a broad smile. Her steps quicken and she flings herself at me, arms wide open.

“You managed to get away?” We grip each other perhaps tighter than is appropriate for a public setting and break away quickly… too quickly… that fizzy anticipation causing unnecessary nerves.

“Naturellement,” she replies, in a playful French accent. “Would I let you down? Pas moi.”

She never lets me down. Ever. She gets precious few opportunities to slip away from her husband so when one presents itself, she always sends a message well in advance to give me time to make my own plans to be with her.

But this was her—my—most audacious rendez-vous yet: Paris. For her—a conference (that was one hundred per cent genuine). For me—a meeting with a client. Well, probably about fifty per cent genuine. But my wife believed it all right.

So here we are in the most romantic of cities with two whole afternoons and two glorious nights ahead of us. We’ve never had a whole night to ourselves before. Now there’s no need to rush. There’s time to do what we want, when we want.

“Rodin?” I ask

She turns to the museum behind us.

“One of the most sensual of sculptors.” I continue. “Famous for The Kiss. His work was deemed so explicit that many of his pieces were covered in cloth so as not to offend. He came to define French erotica…”

She cuts my guidebook narrative short.

“I know we said it would be great to see the exhibition, but if I’m honest I’d rather have something to eat. Then enjoy a bit of legendary French erotica back at my hotel.” She squeezes my buttocks. “My room is fab. You’ve got to see the view. And I know just the place to eat.”

“Oh really?” I say, casting my gaze to her breasts, then her mound which is beautifully encased in that skirt… “Me too.”

She rolls her eyes and bats at my upper arm playfully and tuts, knowing exactly what I’m getting at.

“When I was a nanny in my gap year I always headed to a particular bistro.” She nudges me along. “Looks like a bit of a dive on the outside, but the food is to die for.”

“Sounds good to me. Is it far?”

“Just round the corner.”

Le Bistrot

We walk, her hand tucked through my arm in true continental style though she is doing the leading. A tug and we turn sharp right between two small shops. Only locals would know the location of that opening.

The moment we are engulfed by the darkness of the alleyway, she pushes me against the wall. I feel that she wants me every bit as much as I want her. I inhale her perfume as she pins my head back against the rough stone and kisses me deeply.

A French kiss in France. And it is some kiss. Her tongue searches out mine, her hands pull my head into her. I’m being consumed… deliciously so.

“Fuck, I needed that.” She exhales.

Her hips press against mine and my cock responds with a throb. Her fingers trace the edges of my erection through my trousers.

“And I also need this, too,” She whispers in my ear.

“God, I’ve missed seeing you,” I reply, “These two days have been the only thing I’ve thought about for the past six weeks.”

“Me too,” she replies. There is a slight pause as we both look into each others’ eyes. We smile simultaneously as if a similar thought is bouncing between us. “First, food,” she declares, “then we fuck.”

“D’accord.” Now it is me trying out my French.

She takes my hand and leads me further down the alley before we emerge into a classic Parisian side street. The scene could be taken from a 1950s black and white film set. A soft-top Citroen is parked on the kerb, a flower shop’s colourful contents flood the pavement, and a tatty little bistro with a red awning perches on the corner.

It’s spring. It’s warm. She chooses a table outside, pulls out a chair and takes my hand as she sits.

“Paris. Just us.” Her excitement has a tinge of the child within. “Now what are you going to have?” she asks, grabbing a menu.

As we look at the handwritten sheet a waiter arrives.

“We’ve got to have champagne,” she declares and the waiter, hearing this and no doubt anticipating a sizable tip, turns before he even reaches our table.

“No expenses spared,” she announces.

“Absolutely,” I concur. “Your expenses?”

“Of course! You have to have some perks when you join the board of directors.”

So we drink a glass or two of champagne and order our starters.

Hors d’Oevures

I screw up my face as she holds the escargot on her fork and laughs.

“Not tempted?” she teases, dangling it in front of her mouth.

“I can’t,” I say, shaking my head.

“Oh be brave,” she urges and offers it to me. “You are missing a treat. It tastes magnifique. France is all about flavours. Rich and new and tempting.” My face remains distorted. “OK. OK. As a little reward, if you swallow this new and exciting morsel, I will give you the most amazing blow job when we get to the hotel.”

“All your blow jobs are amazing.”

“Thank you,” she says. “But this one will be especially good. I will lick that gloriously fat dick of yours until you are on the brink of coming. I will take it deep into my mouth until you are yearning to thrust. I will milk all your early juices and savour your exquisite flavour.”

“Well, that’s quite an offer,” I reply. “All right then. What do they say? When in Paris…” I open my mouth and bite onto the soft escargot, which is actually rather like a scallop in texture. The taste of garlic is overwhelming.

“So, what do you think?”

“It was OK. I like it.”

“You need to be a bit more adventurous in your tastes.”

We touch glasses and drink more bubbles. Her foot touches my leg under the table and as she takes her serviette to wipe her mouth. “Have you tasted your own come?” she asks.

Le Plat Principal

As we wait for our mains, she prompts me.

“Well?”

“I’ve tasted yours.” I reply.

“That’s not what I asked.” She leans forward placing her elbows on the table and cups her chin, staring me down. “Have you tasted your come? Or any other man’s come for that matter?”

“No. And no.”

“Not tempted?”

I can sense the dialogue about the snail being repeated.

“I’m not saying I wouldn’t…”

“It’s funny isn’t it?” She cuts in. “It’s almost expected that women taste their own juices. Take that film we watched last time…”

“The one with the three women. Each in the black lingerie?”

She nods. “Did you notice that after she plays with her pussy, she licks her fingers, then offers them to one of the other girls who eagerly sucks on them?’ Not waiting for my response she continues. “With girls, it’s a given that you are going to taste yourself. You offer me your fingers all the time, don’t you?”

I nod. “But I thought you liked it?”

“I fucking love it.”

I grab the initiative. “To ask the question you asked of me.” It’s my turn to lean in. “Have you ever tasted the juices of another woman?”

She pauses, takes a sip of champagne and smiles. “Yes,” she replies. “That sounds a bit naughty, doesn’t it? “

“Who? When? Where?” I have too many questions.

“To answer in reverse. Here in Paris. When I was nannying. My employer.”

“Bloody hell. Tell me more.”

She empties her glass and orders another bottle. And as she tucks into her fish and I my steak, she tells me of the time when her employer’s husband was away on a business trip to London. His wife, the mother of the child she was looking after, opened a bottle after she’d had a particularly hard day nannying and the two of them got talking and how that led to a touch, then a kiss, and then sex on the sofa.

She continues with a second tale. The evening the husband returned from London the wife cracked open a bottle of fizz to toast his return. The three of them were chatting away until late, then there was a touch from the wife on her cheek, then a touch from the husband, a kiss with each of them, and a threesome in front of the fire.

“So, yes, I have tasted another woman and she has tasted me.” She concludes. “But what are we doing talking about past encounters and sexual liaisons? These two days are all about us. And the sex we are going to have.”

“I think the sex we are going to have after this meal is going to be all the hotter because of what you’ve just told me.”

She smiles, knowingly. “Well, if that’s the case let me tell you more about that threesome because it’s very relevant to what we’ve been talking about.”

“How so?” I venture, conscious that I am now fully erect, my cock bent awkwardly under my trousers, pre-come seeping and my briefs distinctly damp.

Le dessert

Two crème caramels arrive and she leans forward to kiss me before picking up her spoon. Her hand has made its way under the tablecloth and finds the bump in my groin.

“Well, you’ll have to come a bit closer because it is very, very hot and I wouldn’t want any of the other diners to hear.” I lean in, our heads nearly touch and she drops her voice to a whisper. “He started by watching while I kissed and played with his wife. Then when his wife went down on me, he joined in. The two of them pussy licking simultaneously…”

“Just like in the film?” I interrupt.

“Absolutely,” she murmurs. “Then he started to fuck his wife and I sat on her face, while kissing him. Then we sort of slid from one position to another. She’s sucking his cock. Then I’m sucking it. Then we both are. He’s inside me, and then inside her. It was just a muddle of the three of us and yet it seemed so natural. Each change of position came so easily.

“I don’t know how long it lasted, perhaps an hour. We actually had a break in the middle and she disappeared for five minutes. You’d have loved to see her when she returned. It’s just what you like. She was wearing an apron, nothing else apart from her highest heels. She was carrying a tray with bread, cheese, another bottle of champagne and three glasses.” As if to emphasise the point she tips her empty glass my way and I pour for her once more before she continues her mesmerising tale. “We sat on the sofa, the three of us right up close in a line, and scoffed the food and downed the fizz. Threesomes make you hungry and so, so thirsty! And when we finished eating, he started to play with her apron, and then lifted it up and beckoned me to go under it and lick her pussy.”

As she speaks, she rubs me under the table and I’m convinced the whole place must know. I surely have that tremble and tell-tale flush, the same shade colouring her cheeks as she works me.

“Eventually, fuck knows how he held off so long—we had both come a couple of times by now—he climaxed in her mouth.” She stares into my eyes and licks her lips, forcing me to imagine the scene with her delicious pout wet and pursed. “But the really, really hot bit was what happened next. With his come in her mouth and seeping down her chin, she kissed me.” The way her eyelids flutter and hood, I know she visits this in her fantasies often. She is visualising every moment of the encounter… “Our tongues met and his spunk flowed between us. Then he kissed me and finally her. His come coating all our mouths.” She pulls back and winks. “Fucking horny, eh?”

I kind of just splutter in reply. I have nothing approaching this level of, well—naughtiness—in my sexual background. But the thought of new dishes like this being added to our sexual menu thrills me.

“So, when we go back to my hotel room after I have given you that amazing blow job.” She says and I can sense a question on her lips. “And after you’ve enjoyed fucking my pussy, are you up for tasting a bit of your come?”

I kiss her. “If that’s what you want, darling, of course, I will,” I reply.

La Chambre, Hotel Mathilde

Her hotel is only a short walk away and we get there by late afternoon. I am desperate to fuck her, but—always in control—she makes me wait. She says she needs to change into something more appropriate for our first night in Paris.

I wait in the ensuite and when she is ready, she opens the door. I am not to enter. Yet. Her body language makes that clear.

She sits on the sofa, with a view of Paris through the window behind her. She is wearing the most exquisite black lingerie and I notice metal links on her shoulder straps. I wonder if she’s also experimented with a bit of bondage in her past. My curiosity morphs into hope but my thoughts are cut short when I look at her eyes.

They are closed. And this commands my attention. Very slowly she starts to perform. Her fingers caress her legs. She plays with the chain straps. She bites her bottom lip and opens her eyes. Her smile invites me towards her and I sit next to her and we start to kiss. There is intimacy rather than an urgency to her mouth and I sense that she wants to take this one real slow.

Tender fingers remove my glasses: a simple act but one of unbelievable intimacy. She pushes me back and sits astride me and I feel her grind against my cock. She slips a chain strap from her shoulder. I un-cup a breast from her basque and kiss her beautifully pert, soft, welcoming nipple. She frees the other breast so it can be pleasured my mouth, too.

Purring, she climbs off me and I hear heels clack against the floor, I sense she’s going to keep them on while we fuck. She un-pops my fly buttons and hold my prick in her beautiful hands, and it thickens under her touch. She takes me in her mouth, starting at the helmet, knowing that the spot underneath is where her tongue can work the most magic. Moaning, she holds my shaft in both hands and pumps as she licks.

Making eye contact with me, she moves to my balls and proceeds to draw a line with her tongue right up the length of my shaft. She is skilled in fellatio. Very skilled. Her tongue is always on my frenulum, while she pumps and strokes me. Gradually her movements become bolder and more of my cock is in her mouth, each nod of her head takes it deeper inside and I feel the warmth and wetness of her cheeks. My cock has never been fatter; my helmet never more engorged.

The truly awesome blow job over, she moves up my body, we kiss and I taste my cock on her lips. Without any communication, we both seem to know that now is the time to fuck. She eases on top of me, pulls her knickers to one side revealing a smooth, bareness and she guides my length into her wet, warm pussy.

As I feel her tightness enclose my prick, I remember the deal: I can’t come inside her. But heck, how I want to explode in her cunt right now. What did she say as we left the café? “I want all that glorious spunk over my breasts and chest. I want you to shoot it all over me, because you know what’s for le dessert…”

Her fabulous locks brush against my face and chest as she grinds back and forth on my thick dick. Gradually picking up the pace, she rocks herself to the most delightful of orgasms. Her aperitif.

Effortlessly, the dynamics shift after she has come. Easing off my jeans, she climbs onto the sofa and offers me her arse. I am going to be in charge of the thrusting now. I am her piston and my thrusts push her to her second orgasm, deeper and more visceral than her first. Le plat principal.

We change position and I am on top, our faces meet and this most delicious of fuck continues. This isn’t the intense, fast fuck that I had been yearning as she told me about that threesome. This is tender and loving.

Yes, loving. I have fallen for her. It’s not just the sex, it’s that connection she forges with me. I could never talk to my wife about sex like she did at the bistro. No-one could start foreplay so far in advance of making love. And that is just what we are doing right now—making love.

I feel her pussy tighten as I slide my cock in and out of her. The inevitable happens—her third orgasm: le dessert.

And now it’s my moment. I’ve been holding off my own climax for too long. But I have not forgotten the deal. Indeed it was the thought of it that has got me this far. I am up for it. Fuck, am I up for it?

Withdrawing, and with her wetness still clinging to me, I take my cock in my hand and pump out ribbons of come over her breasts and chest.

Now, this is it and this is something that’s very, very difficult to explain to a woman, especially to women who, like my lover, can come more than once. Once a guy shoots his spunk it’s pretty much game up. Doing anything hot from this moment onwards is intensely difficult. Something has to push or pull you to carry on.

And what is propelling me forwards is my desire to please her. My desire to deliver. And my love for her.

She runs her fingers through the pool of spunk on her chest, lifts them to her mouth and licks them. Then we kiss. My come coats our tongues and lips. And it tastes good.

After probably half an hour lying next to each other, she heads for the minibar. And returns with two brandies. We don’t talk. We don’t need to. The meal, the setting, the sex had said it all. Content and fulfilled we raised our glasses to each other.

“A taste of things to come?” I suggest.

“Oh, most definitely,” she replies smiling.

Ends

Continue reading..

FLASHLIGHT

Posted by: Simon - 11-18-2025, 07:54 PM - No Replies

How tedious could an evening be when my mind was surging with the need to get my hands trailing down his body? I had to get him away from it all, but I needed to choose my moment carefully. The boring, mundane pleasantry of the evening’s occasion found us both in a room full of people milling around making the delights of small talk an art form. I tried hard not to keep glancing over at him, I had to hide any and all interest I may have had in the tall young blonde man standing near the bar. That was a struggle in itself; catching sight of his sexy arse in the navy blue trousers.

It was critical that I didn’t reveal any signs of my crazed desire for him, or my knowledge of knowing the lean athletic torso. When the moment allowed I hastened a sneaky peek, noting the frame of his body housed snugly within this evening’s dark shirt. Just in that glance alone brought thoughts of the firm smooth curve of his chest running down to a slightly softer but none the less muscular stomach with its soft little wasps of body hair. My mind was on nothing other than him and how my body was yearning just to touch him again. Fuck him again, a tinge of romantic sex to our encounters.

It was never my plan to fall for one of my husband’s employees, I wasn’t one of those women who constantly sought the fun of younger men. This encounter I had fought hard to resist, until I succumbed a few months ago when we found ourselves alone and from that moment on, I realised it was impossible to resist the urges I had when he was near. So our little rendezvous began. Each of our encounters were often short-lived, intense moments of pleasure that only left us wanting more. Each of them fraught with concerns that we could be caught out at any time. Maybe that is what made each one of them surge with an intensity I found intoxicating. On this occasion, my chance lay during the rather dull cocktail party thrown for a few key members of staff with a variety of companies we worked so closely with. We knew we would both be there, myself elegantly dressed as the wife of all that the company stood for waiting to grab the divine body of a young 28-year-old American who joined as an enterprising hopeful only six months earlier. Thankfully the numbers in attendance, as well as the rather lavish roomy surroundings, allowed me to find a chance for us to meet again.

The social event drained on, to me it was all such a drag other than knowing he was in the room only a few feet away, but I couldn’t get my hands on him until that moment when I knew no one was aware of my movements. That was our chance. Moving across and through the door at the back of the room, I knew I was being watched. Within moments, my inner self was responding to his physical presence close behind me. I could even sense the air exhaling from his lungs, brushing at the back of my naked back as we moved quietly into the small unlit anti-room. With no discussion, he carefully followed my moves and responded accordingly

Shutting the door behind us, I finally had my moment I had been after all evening. With no words spoken, I pushed him back against the wall so I could fully take him in and feel his face again in my hands once more. What was this man doing to me? How had he got so into my head I was struggling to carry on such simple evenings such as tonight without the heated longing I possessed. He raised my blood like no other man and fuelled my inner soul with heated desire. I couldn’t drink enough of him in as I longingly caressed the side of his face and down his wide neck. His lips moved eagerly to my neck and face with a passion I felt in his every touch. As my eyes adjusted to the lack of light, I could just make out the look he gave with those cool blue eyes. In those few moments, I was delirious with the feeling of pleasure and cared not where I was. I felt his lips caressing my skin, his tongue trailing a moist softness as I pressed myself against him slipping my hips to sync perfectly with his so our bodies were as close as they could possibly get.

Wasting no time I began to undo his shirt buttons, I needed to feel his body, not just through the skirt, but the warmth of his skin against mine. Opening it wide I let my hands run up and down that torso I could have licked all night. I continued to run my hands over that body, take in all I had before me. So young and with a perfect muscular tone, it was a body so delicious and horny it excited me just to look at it, knowing that it was all mine for the taking.

My wandering hands couldn’t resist slipping down to feel the bulge I knew would be waiting for me below his belt. Sure enough, his cock was rigid to the touch sending the perfect thrill to my head. Our bodies naturally locked so closely I felt his hands begin to feel their way up my body, pulling my skirt hem higher searching for my skin below. At that moment when he touched the spare flesh just above my stocking tops, I felt a shudder course its way into my pussy, which began to pulse with need. I loved how his hand could set me alive and with that my mouth let out its first groan of pleasure. As I threw back my head, he planted his mouth up and around my neck again. His hand began to sculpt my shape, taking in the roundness of my bottom before slipping his hand firmly between my thighs and squeezing with want. Ah, the intense sweet delight knowing his hand was moving ever more into my body, burning at my senses.

He moved his hands in such a manner that aroused me so deeply, his fingers rubbing and massaging my pussy until finally that sweetest of all pleasures rang through my body as his fingers began to search into my wetness, circling and pressing to fulfil my craving. Ah, I couldn’t resist and began to lower my body deeper onto his hand, hungering for more of him to penetrate my body. I widened my legs and let the moans start to evade the quiet, arching my body as I did against the wall. He was relentless with his mission as his fingers worked my swelling pussy, the wetness coating his fingers. I squeezed my breasts and endured the sweet agony as he sought my orgasm from deep within, and I came hard, clutching his arm as I struggled to keep upright, the muscular spasms penetrating out into my body.

Searching for his cock I wanted to explore his body while my pussy still pulsed with the aftermath of my pleasure. Working down his body, I released his cock, solid and bouncy, and before my very eyes as I crouched to suck him with such desire. There was something so arousing, sucking the length of his hard erection, knowing his mind was focused on just me and wanting to show him how much I wanted him. As I licked up his solid member, I knew his eyes were intently watching me devour and swallow all I could, my tongue active and wet.

In the darkness I felt him reaching for me, lifting my chin up to be taken by him. His cock taking no time in searching for that wet sweet spot of mine. Bracing my leg in his arm, he pushed deep into me in a motion that took my breath away. Constant, repetitive, rhythmic, pulsing his body taking over and over pounding deeper into me while we grabbed hold onto each other for all we could, standing as we were in the dark shadows of this small room, his cock beating further and deeper. We kissed, we touched, we groped, we fucked for all we could, moving in whichever manner allowed each of us to feel the other more. Slipping down onto the floor my dress hitched high over my scarlet red suspenders I lowered myself to rock on that hard cock once more. We continued to fuck like this for what seemed like some time, but I knew it was but a fleeting meet. We had to be so careful someone else never evaded those precious moments.

There we were two naughty lovers driven by desire snatching the moment to give each other a pleasure that was worth all the danger. Every time we met there was a danger, we shouldn’t have been there, I shouldn’t have been with him, I shouldn’t have let him penetrate my body and have me as he did. But that was not what I cared about during those few minutes of our illicit encounter before I had to return once more to the dreariness of the cocktail party next door.

THE END

Continue reading..

LOVERS CHAIR

Posted by: Simon - 11-18-2025, 07:52 PM - No Replies

It had been a long week, and I missed him so much. I hadn’t seen him for over two weeks, this business trip he was on had been longer than the others. Only more day until I would see him again, and I couldn’t wait to get him naked. I was insanely frustrated and wanted to have him in my bed, with his hands all over me, his fingers inside me. I missed his touch, the way he trails his fingers down my thigh in the mornings to wake me up.

Walking through the door to our home, I dropped my keys and handbag on the hallway table I kicked off my shoes and padded through the carpeted corridor to the bedroom. Having had dinner with some friends before coming home I wanted to settle in my favourite chair. I had received an anonymous package in the post a few days ago and inside was a hot and steamy erotic novel.

There was no message inside, and I didn’t have any idea as to who had sent it to me, but I was enjoying it immensely. I had spent the last three nights falling asleep with a smile on my face. The husband-wife sex scenes and hotwife sex had helped me come more than once and aided my ease into sleep. I sent a grateful thank out into the universe to whoever had sent the book. I was hooked and wanted to finish reading it this evening.

Changing from my restrictive work clothes of a tight pencil skirt and crisp white blouse, I threw on a t-shirt, keeping my panties and digging out some oversized socks to put on. Walking across to the chair, I picked up the book and found the bookmarked page and read on. The characters were coming home from work themselves and were unable to wait until they were inside the apartment to make love.

The male character had his lady up against the wall and was thrusting up into her, hard. I was imagining her head thrown back in ecstasy as they let out their mutual orgasms.

I felt the cushion dip next to me. I was so absorbed with the lust and passion of the sex scene I had just read I had not heard that someone else was in our apartment with me. I felt the tips of four fingers trail their way down my exposed thigh and to my knee. By the time his fingers had reached the back of my knee my eyes were closed and I breathed in a lung full of air and smelt the familiar aftershave of my lover.

As he settled next to me not uttering a word I opened my eyes and looked straight into his baby blues. He raised his eyebrow and nodded towards my book for me to keep reading. I didn’t say a word and stared at him for a few more seconds and smiled shyly but dragged my eyes back the pages. I shifted slightly on the chair that was big enough for the two of us. The scene in the lift had gotten me a little hot and bothered and I knew that I was flushed and wet. Reading about a cock thrusting hard into a pussy had me squirming in my seat, and I longed for a real cock to be repeatedly thrusting into me.

I longed to feel the heat spread across my body as I approached my climax.

Stretching my bare legs across his I felt the warmth from his skin seep into mine. His hairy legs were a reminder to me of his masculinity and the familiar tickle on my legs. I tried to read the book but lost my concentration several times and had to re-read the same paragraph which was particularly hot and was not aiding my focus.

As he placed the flat of his palm of his hand on the side of my knee and slowly smoothed up my leg, I knew that I would not be reading any more of the book tonight. He was in my home, and I wanted him inside me and soon. I turned to look into his soft blue eyes and saw lust gleam back at me. He wanted me too, he leaned in and hovered over my mouth for a second and then kissed me passionately. He searched my mouth, exploring and teasing my tongue, that first touch sent a shiver straight between my legs and made my pussy sing. Pussy licking me into oblivion. That instant throb that I felt when his warm wet tongue touched mine was blissful. As he pulled me tighter into his arms and kissed me harder, I began to whimper and shifted in the chair. I needed to feel his touch, and I told him. He pressed a finger to my lips to silence me and told me with his eyes that he knew what I wanted.

We both watched as his finger left my mouth and trailed its way down to my stomach between my thighs. Slipping my hand into his half-open shirt, I smoothed a finger over his nipple, waking it to a pinpoint. One more rub of his nipple accelerated the advance of his hand to my pussy, and he stroked the crease of my lips through my panties.

I bit my lip to keep from yelling out. I was already wet from reading the erotic story of lovers and his touch nearly sent me over the edge, but I held myself back. Sliding my panties to the side, he traced his fingers over my bare pussy lips. Up and down he dragged his index finger, each sweep of his finger pushing further into my wetness. He avoided my clitoris at first, teasing me slowly.

Widening my legs I urged and invited him to plunge his fingers into me, I wanted to feel the thrust of him even it I had to make do with two or three fingers sliding in and out of me. Holding onto the collar of his shirt, I began to moan quietly as he played with me without making me come. It was heavenly to feel his touch.

He removed his hand from my lips and sat up in front of my legs and stared down at me. My heart beat faster, I knew what that look meant. It was time for my panties to come off. The thrill of that feeling made my pussy throb repeatedly. He was going to fuck me, and I couldn’t wait. I watched as he hooked his fingers into the side of my panties and slowly dragged them down my thighs, over my knees and down to my ankles and onto the floor.

I was naked from the waist down, and I felt wanton and exposed. Widening my thighs, I tilted my hips towards him as an invitation to come and have a taste. He wasted no time at all, placing his hands on my inner thighs spreading me wider and dropped his head to my pussy lips and licked.

The flat of his tongue swept up my outer lips once, and I let out a cry of pleasure, this encouraged him further, his magical tongue pushing inside me and then up to my clitoris. Circling around and around, he used the tip of his tongue to tease me to climax. As I felt myself build, I mourned the loss of his mouth on me, he removed his face from between my thighs just as I was about to tip over. Looking down, I saw that he was staring up at me, and our eyes locked. He dared me to look away as his head descended again. I watched as his tongue came out of his mouth and plunge inside of me. It turned me on something terrible, I quivered out the start of my orgasm, the muscles in my thighs and stomach tightening as I reached higher and higher.

My moans and cries were more audible as he worked faster and applied more pressure to my clitoris. As I tripped over the edge of my climax, he plunged his tongue into my channel and licked up my juices that slipped out of me. Once he had licked every wet drop that has escaped, he crawled up behind me. He kissed me thoroughly and I could taste my flavour on his lips, it was intoxicating.

Positioning himself behind me, he pulled down his boxer briefs and wasted no time at all pushing his cock to my entrance. Leaning my upper body back, I hooked my arm around his neck and kissed him again, and he edged himself into me. The sense of being filled from this position was almost too much. I was still tight from my last orgasm, and he took one of my ass cheeks and lifted it slightly so he could ease himself all the way in. I could feel every inch of him along my pussy walls. He felt heavenly. As I looked back at him and cradled his neck in my hand, he started to explore my breasts. Moulding his hand to them and massaging my already erect nipples. It was just not as painful as he played with them. I leaned forward away from him so he could take me deeper, I was ready to come again and wanted to feel the full thrust of his cock inside me. I had just read about two fictional characters enjoy the sensation of being fucked, and now I wanted that too.

Concentrating on feeling him slowly slide in and out of me, I looked back as he moved to lift himself over me. My goodness, it was deep this way, he hit my sweet spot perfectly and it was almost too much for me to cope with. He knew what he was doing, and I saw the mischievous grin on his lips and couldn’t help but smile back. He was going to fuck me hard and deep. It was amazing to watch his face turn serious as he concentrated on fucking me, holding my hip in place as he continued his thrusts. I felt myself build again, a flash of heat spread over my body from my stomach. It felt like my entire body was blushing. Keeping still, I felt the tip of his cock hit the core of me over and over again. I relaxed into my second orgasm, relishing in the strangling throbs over his cock as I sent out wave after wave of muscles. He still hadn’t come, and I was determined to make him come.

He pulled out of me and I felt the instant loss of contact, the fullness of his cock inside me and watched as his bobbing cock stood erect before my eyes. The glistened-up and wet shaft of his cock from my juices was inches away from me. I looked up into his eyes and licked my lips, I wanted to devour him. Holding onto the base of his shaft I took him not my mouth and sucked hard, long and slow. Circling my tongue around his shaft and licking my juices off him. Pulling back until he was almost out of my mouth and easing him back in, at the same time pumping his shaft. With my eyes closed, I absorbed the feeling of having him in my mouth, at my mercy. To be in control of his pleasure was empowering, and I wanted to make it last as long as possible.

After a few more times of thrusting my mouth down his shaft, he pulled out of me and stood before me at the chair. My hand dropped to my pussy, and I stroked myself while keeping my eyes knocked on his face. He hadn’t come yet, and I wanted him to have the same pleasure as me. If I had to taunt him with pleasuring myself then I would do it.

It didn’t take more than thirty seconds before he lifted me off the chair, and he sat down in my place with me on his lap facing away. He positioned his cock at my entrance again and slowly dropped me down, impaling me on his hard length. I stretched my arms back as he came around to hold onto my breasts. Spreading my legs wide again, he thrust up into me, the feeling of him pushing all the way inside me, filling me right to the top was deliciously tight. I had come twice and didn’t think I had it in me to come again. He had other ideas, he wanted me to come again. Who was I to argue with a third orgasm. I bounced as he thrust upwards, and I felt him grow as his pace quickened.

Three more thrusts and he came, hard, spilling into me. I felt the warmth of his seed explode inside me, it made me even wetter. He slowed his thrusts down, and he slid in and out with ease, he was still semi-hard.

I looked into his eyes to see the contented smile of the man I adored.

“Hello husband of mine, I’m glad you came home early,” I said and grinned down at him.

THE END

Continue reading..

MORNING MOTEL

Posted by: Simon - 11-18-2025, 07:50 PM - No Replies

It all comes back to me as I wake…

Last night, a trendy bar with amber lighting, fancy crystal glasses containing fancier cocktails laden with herbs, fruit and baubles of ice. I was there with friends celebrating my divorce. He was drinking alone, scotch maybe, or perhaps bourbon. I saw him before he saw me, but as I excused myself to go to the bathroom, I made a point of striding through the place like I owned it… and our eyes met.

All those memories came crashing back, at least for me. George was the first man I loved. The first man to make me come. The first to show me real passion. Alas, it never lasted.

Yet as we caught one another’s eye, even for just a moment, I knew it wasn’t for a lack of passion we went our separate ways. His lips parted and he blinked twice, loosened his tie and mouthed my name. My nipples instantly hardened and even though I hadn’t put on underwear that night, hoping to screw some random bloke mindlessly, I tossed that notion out of the window. Perhaps I would jump headfirst back into something deep and meaningful again.

George followed me into the corridor leading to the bathrooms and I couldn’t breathe for thinking of what it might be like to be together again. Have his hands on me, his tongue, his cock…

“Toni, is it you?” he demanded.

“It’s me, you fool.”

I turned around and wanted to hurt him, but I couldn’t. Not only did he look wounded, but he looked sad, too. We came together for another sort of violence, grasping and clawing at one another, tongues duelling.

Somehow, we found a closet to topple into. Dark, we could hardly see one another let alone what we were contending with. As he bit into my lip and shoved a hand into the top of my electric-blue dress, I almost put my foot in what seemed like a bucket.

“Toni, Toni, Toni…” he repeated.

I slid down the side zip on my dress and he devoured my breasts, his ruthless sucking and licking making me so wet I began to coat the insides of my thighs. We crashed around the room, my hands on the front of his trousers, his digging under my skirt to find I didn’t have on knickers, either. The dark really was dark but eventually we discerned a counter which he lifted me onto.

In that sanitary-smelling room, in near pitch-black, he took to his knees and lifted my dress, drinking from my pussy with the thirst of a man who’d been crossing the desert for three days without a drop. I had to slap two very determined hands across my mouth to muffle my screams as I came, rapidly, one after another after another, his tongue unrelenting… inside me, then lashing my clit, back inside me… licking the length of me. His thick fingers joined in now and again.

I lost myself as he reminded me what passion was, and when he finally had drunk enough of my nectar, he speared me open with the power of a machine until I needed his hands over my mouth too, or else I’d have surely drawn the attention of staff or other revellers… wondering if I was okay.

Sweaty, streaming with cum and dishevelled, I didn’t return to the bar. We escaped out of the back door, jumped in a cab and came here, to his hotel room. I made some excuse via text to my friends, none of whom know anything about George – nor will they ever know anything. I’m not sharing this man. This will be my hotel sex story.

I can only describe our proper reunion once we got back to the room as like two creatures who’ve lived among aliens for so long, finally reuniting with a familiar, someone recognisable. Thus, we were spurred on to be our entire, true selves, like we’d never been before.

He drank the leavings of himself from my body and didn’t let up for an hour, my body naked as his remained clothed. I was thrown around the bed so he could drink and suck and lick me from all angles, his hands urgent on my body as he plied me over and over again.

The fucking was relentless and wild. It went on forever, and like a dream, we floated for hours and hours. A delirium like no other. That scent of his, woody and salty. The firmness of his body against mine. The perfect way he’d kissed me then, still the same now.

He devoured my rosebud before filling me with lube. He plastered the front of my body to the hotel-room window while he fucked me up the bum, for anyone to see as he hammered into me like I was his perfect slut. I was constantly drenched all night, and I would sleep for a minute or two before he’d slip his fingers into me again, his lazy explorations, his lazier kisses demanding that I eventually explode and scream for him, loudly.

Having dealt with the initial frenzy last night, something different remains this morning as I wake. I find it funny how he looks so different in sleep, so much less the animal he was just a few hours ago. All I wake with are loving thoughts, not so much the carnal, irrepressible sexual yearnings that I had last night – to be broken open, eaten alive, devoured and made to feel like I didn’t even belong to myself anymore. No, this morning, things are different for some reason.

Nearly thirteen years ago, he ended it with me and broke my heart. He thought I should go and find someone more suitable – and the notion he didn’t want me enough to overcome any hurdle was too much for me to bear.

I let him go, too.

Never again, however.

This morning I wake feeling reborn, rejuvenated and alive. I never want this feeling to end. I will do everything in my power to keep him, love him, secure him.

Starting with showing him just how much I want him, need him, have to have him.

***

The day seems to dawn all at once, but as I open my eyes slightly, I realise she’s awake and just opened the curtains. I catch sight of her silhouette and smile to myself. It wasn’t all a dream. My cock and balls ache from fucking longer and harder than I ever did before. It really happened, she’s really here, and yeah, I fucking love her.

I’m not sure what’s happening at first as I continue to regain myself, but the sudden sensation of her silken hair tickling my thighs sends a bunch of signals to my brain, telling me to prepare for more of the same. Yet I find my senses completely fried the moment she hoovers my awakening dick into her mouth. How does she do this to me?

“Oh, darling, ohhhh,” I groan, as it dawns on me, she’s found her way to me under the covers and is licking me awake.

I’m filling her mouth in no time because my impulse reaction is to satisfy her. She wants me badly and I want her even more than that. The hungry way she sucks sends my pulse rocketing and the heat of her mouth devours both my body and soul, because it’s her, my love.

Even though I have a thick stem she takes me right back, stretching her hand around the girthy root of me. She appreciates everything about me and I feel the same way about her. Including the way she still seems to want me whenever, wherever. Could it be like this forever?

I hear her swallow down the precum I’m releasing before she sweeps her tongue back over my tip, wanting more. How can a man feel like this, with the same woman he’s known a thousand times before? Even with all the time that has passed?

She was right when she called me a fool last night. I was. But this was our hotel sex story.

“Oh god, you’re amazing, baby,” I say trembling, like a lovesick teenager.

As much as I’m enjoying her tongue, hand and mouth, I need more.

Throwing the covers away, I beckon her to kiss me and I get to look at her eyes and see the same desire she had all those years ago. Fuck, the same! I want to fill her up immediately but she doesn’t want that. She wants to take her time savouring my cock some more because she knows I do enjoy some good pleasure delay. I watch her worshipping me and I see her intent, her message: she doesn’t want it to be over this time. Well baby, neither do I.

When she leaps up and onto me, her kisses make me lose my mind and when she swallows me into her little pussy, it takes everything in me not to come.

In fact, I think it’s even better than before if that’s possible. She’s got a look in her eye I never saw back then. Confidence. She knows what she wants. She’s in the moment this time. Life has taken her on a journey that’s taught her a lot, I would imagine.

Fifteen years ago when we first met, Toni was just a twenty-year-old girl. It lasted two years. Twenty-four months. Barely a day went by back then that we didn’t fuck, but that was never the problem. It was me. I didn’t believe she was mine. I still don’t. I let her go, a girl. Now, she’s a woman – she’s even more incredible than I could have possibly imagined.

Between the epic fuck sessions last night, she told me she recently divorced – and has two young children. I never wanted children, but that wasn’t why we split up. She was young and I was her first love. I thought I didn’t deserve to be her last. I was saving myself the inevitable trauma (or so I thought). Our age difference was so stark then, it didn’t seem right for me to deny her life experience.

She takes her pleasure from me and I take mine from her, sucking her beautiful big titties, even more lovely than before. I love her ass and how wet she is for me, so juicy as she rocks over my big cock, riding me like the little slut she is.

Yet she has the ability to take my breath away, just the way she looks at me sometimes, with all that desire and love, the way she obviously still trusts me… since we’re fucking bareback, even last night, when I filled her teeny ass with ounces of lube and made her scream my name, over and over.

Yet all that kind of pales in comparison to this morning, now we’re sweeter, softer, reconnecting with one another, taking it slower. Making love. I grab hold of her curves and hold her as she kisses me longingly, her chest pressed to mine as we rock tenderly towards one another.

I have always loved making women come, but nobody more so than Toni, just to see her naturally beautiful breasts shiver, feel her tight pussy rhythmically clamp around me, again and again, her juices flowing continuously. I love to see her smile and cry out, say my name and beg for more.

This morning, it’s about her. It’s about her using me, showing me how she can get her rocks off without me pounding her senseless. She’s a mature woman now and so much different, so much a goddess, she knows exactly how to use my cock for her own pleasure. She feels so fucking good, her skin like pristine ivory silk, her curves so bountiful I can hardly hold on. I want to spunk over every inch of her. We’re going to break this bed the way she’s bouncing on me, and I’m going to suck her entire breast into my mouth, trying to devour the beauty of her gorgeous tits.

I know when she’s close and we kiss deeply, grinding together with so little thrusting, her clit rubbing against the base of my cock. My hands are tight around her ass to force myself as deep into her as I can go, stretching her entrance with my girthy base to the point where I’m nearly blacking out, I don’t know about her.

Sitting up with her, Toni’s first big orgasm arrives and she’s shaking like she just got zapped, clutching me nearly to orgasm – but I delay it, because that’s me. I get pleasure out of watching a woman cry out and shake her titties in my face as she rides my thick stem.

When we kiss after her orgasm, it’s loving, intimate. We stare into one another’s eyes, wanting more than just this great fucking. We want to be together. We want to be close and share everything.

She tips her head back savouring every moment of this little intermission, our bodies still joined, but only slowly moving together. I focus on the expression on her face rather than the ache in my thighs and butt, the electricity in my balls waiting to be unleashed. I can ride that for her. I can hold on just to see her come again and again.

We try doggy next because she told me last night her husband wasn’t sexual and never did her doggy, though she believes being filled excessively to be one of life’s simplest joys. She’d had to buy herself a dildo with a sucker on it and attach it to the tiled wall in the shower cubicle to be able to replicate it… and even then, it wasn’t the same. That’s why I’m fucking her like this again even though we’re both exhausted and I’m getting sore. I need her to know I’m never going to deny her, no matter what. She clings to me, reaching back for kisses, because she knows just what it is I’m trying to communicate. Getting carried away, I reach around for her clit and feel as she tightens a little, juicing even more.

“Your pussy will never not be wet now,” I mutter in her ear, and she grins, her eyes shining.

I fuck her in long strokes, digging in deep until she comes, her slick even wetter. It’s too good to miss so I withdraw and lean down, licking through her crack, the taste of her so sweet. I remind her of last night by kissing her tight rosebud, licking too, then easing my tongue in just a little. She groans with feral delight and I decide here and now, this is the only woman I want to fuck from this day forward.

She lies flat on her stomach and I fuck her a little more from behind, not so deeply as before, but because she’s so hypersensitive, she takes me so beautifully and it’s so good, I so very nearly come and have to withdraw.

We switch positions because if we don’t, I am going to come, but even missionary, it seems,is making it very hard for me to deny myself. She’s so very wet and trembling around me, we’re kissing so deeply and her soft, supple tits have me wild with desire, pressed so tight to my chest. The way she’s looking at me begs me to come. Eventually I have to withdraw again or I will fucking come and I just want to keep making her scream until she can’t handle it anymore.

Licking her pussy is hardly a hardship but she also said that was something her husband did maybe once or twice a year. What is it with some men? She deserves to be licked at least twice a day.

The taste of her is like peaches and cream, she’s so fucking sweet! I can’t get enough, stabbing my tongue into her entrance, then wildly licking her clit again.

The sight of her naked and splayed for me, playing with her tits, her feminine form sprawled and at my mercy… who wouldn’t sacrifice themselves every single fucking day for this?

The way she lifts herself off the bed to offer her body to me sends me wild with desire, nearly coming as I press my cock into the mattress. I have one finger swirling inside her and my mouth is fastened around her clitoral area, tongue flicking, mouth sucking… until she floods my mouth with her pussy juice, shaking all over.

Legs spread wide for me, even after she’s come, I kiss her cunt like I kiss her mouth and she wriggles her hips, the signal she’s ready for her finale and wants mine, too.

But I still want more. More of this fucking hotel sex story.

We touch each other’s bodies as I fuck her with one of her legs tossed over my shoulder. I flick her clit occasionally, grasp her big titties and kiss her throat. She enjoys one small orgasm after another, her body having reached peak arousal, so she’d keep coming all day if I wanted her to, because she’s got to the point where she’s so sensitive, it’s unstoppable.

“George,” she gasps, and it’s said in such a way, I know she’s ready.

She used to love it when I’d lie nearly all my weight on her and bone her deeply, so that’s what I start doing, forcing all of myself into her tight little pussy, making sure I graze her clit with my public bone at the same time. I also do that thing she used to love – having her neck French kissed – and she begs for me to keep going, panting because she’s ready.

It’s so fucking sweet to hear her release a high-pitched cry as she begins to shake, shudder and clutch around me with multiple fucking rhythmic pulses. Even with my weight on her, she shakes violently as she releases with one, long scream, her body finally finding utter ecstasy, her legs wrapped around me so tight to hold me deep inside her.

I’m concentrating so much throughout I don’t have time for my own delight – but that’s more than okay.

It’s coming.

“Do you wanna see what you do to me, baby?”

She nods, even as she’s still recovering herself.

I fuck her with no thought for her now, just myself, using her slippery wet, hot channel for my engorged, desperate dick to find comfort, riding her with no encumbrance whatsoever.

She begs me with her eyes to come and I withdraw just before I do, so she can see, just how much I still have for her, even after all this time. Just how much an old fool like me can still find just for her. My explosion is so desperate. The relief I find is extraordinary, the release of all the tension in my body coming out through my one tiny hole, spewing like lava.

I give her a kiss of appreciation and she kisses me back, needing me just as much as I need her. She lies languidly as I stroke her body, kiss her nipples and her chest.

She’s mine again.

The End

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