Content Advisory: m/f sex, oral sex
When we last left Peter, he’d received quite a surprise from the Sherwood Forest fairies, but still hadn’t captured his wayward wife, Pumpkin.
The trees thinned and Peter stepped out of the forest and into the late afternoon sun. He closed his eyes. The rays warmed his face and as he inhaled, the hazy effect of the pixie dust burned away. Clarity, sweet clarity—he’d never wanted anything so badly in all his life. He opened his eyes and smiled.
“The Ol’ King Cole Hotel and Casino—All you can eat buffet.”
The neon sign winked at him with the few remaining bulbs that worked, drawing him with the promise of food, a shower, and a bed. As if in reply his stomach rumbled. He patted his back pocket, instantly relieved by the bulge of his wallet. How he’d managed to hold onto his cash during today’s escapades was a mystery.
Exhaustion crept into his bones and propelled him across the two-lane road separating him from comfort and a full stomach. Loose gravel crunched under his feet as smells from the smorgasbord invaded his nostrils, making his mouth water.
Pumpkin skittered through his mind. Maybe she was here, but at this point, he didn’t think he could handle the sight of her getting jiggy with some leprechaun or worse, going round two with that bastard, Hansel. Peter shook his head against the imagery. Call him old fashioned, but he didn’t like the idea of his wife being the county come dumpster.
Darkness engulfed him as he entered the building through the casino. Bells and the thud of the slot machine wheels echoed around him as he blinked several times, trying to adjust to the low light. The place smelled of smoke, stale beer, and a mysterious blend of floral scents that didn’t exist in nature.
Lights from the Blazing Sevens machine lit the face of a little old lady hunched over her Max Bet button. She had tall, pink hair and an exceptionally long cigarette locked between two boney fingers. A bright blue drink the size of the Eiffel Tower
Peter skirted her stool and then started when she slammed the betting button down with surprising force.
“Come ooooon sevens! Mama needs to buy her poor dog a bone.”
The woman squinted and leaned so close her nose pressed against the glass of her slot machine. Peter tiptoed past her, not wanting to take any chances if Frisky Fairy Dust circulated through the ventilation system. Being jumped by a geriatric nympho was not Peter’s idea of a good time.
He entered the Royal Court Buffet, paid the man at the cash register, and headed for the entrees. Forget the salad bar, he needed man-food.
Settling into a table, he started at one side of his plate and shoveled forkful after forkful into his mouth, barely allowing a breath between each bit.
A perky waitress with a bouncy blond ponytail made her rounds with a pitcher. “Would you like some water, sir?”
Peter shoved his glass across the table and swallowed a pasty lump of bread. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She turned to leave and then stopped. “Say, you didn’t happen to help out at that explosion over in Pixie Falls
To say he’d helped out was a stretch. “Uh, yeah, I was there.”
He took another bite in hopes of halting their chat. All he wanted was to eat in peace. If he ignored her, maybe she’d get the hint. Peter’s fork froze halfway to his mouth as the waitress leaned over the table and swept her finger across his shoulder.
She sniffed the sparkling white dust and her gaze slid to his. Before he could stop her, she stuck the tip of her finger in her mouth and sucked it clean.
Her pupils dilated and her nipples hardened, pressing against the thin white cotton of her blouse. Peter knew that look and he didn’t like it.
Sidling around the table, she perched her tight ass on the corner, blocking him from the view of the other patrons. Peter set his fork down and leaned back, his appetite now gone.
“What do you think about me and you taking a trip into the employees’ bathroom?” she cooed.
Picking up his hand, she placed it on her thigh, and slid it underneath her black skirt. The tips of his fingers met the flesh of her mound—no panties. For any other man this would have been equal to the mating call of a drunken prom date.
Extricating his fingers, he wiped his hand on a napkin, and stood. “Sorry ma’am, but I’m on duty.” He gave her a smile he didn’t feel. “But thanks for the offer.”
Her lips formed a pout. “Ah, come on. I promise it will be worth your while.”
Peter pulled a fiver out of his wallet and tossed it on the table. “Of that, I have no doubt.”
Without a backwards glance, he left the restaurant and headed for the hotel’s reception desk. A young man waited behind the counter. Well, at least Peter thought he was a young man. The guy wore more lip gloss and mascara than most women.
“Good evening, sir. May I help you?”
Peter eyed the man’s nametag. “Yes Jack, I’d like a room.”
“Absolutely.” Jack’s nimble fingers flew across the keyboard. “How many nights?”
“Just one.”
Tap-tap-tap “Name?”
“Peter Vine.”
The receptionist’s fingers hovered in mid tap. “Oh,” he said, his glossed lips forming a perfect circle.
“Is there a problem?” Peter held his breath. What now?
“Oh no, no problem—it’s just…” Jack scanned the lobby as if looking for somebody. Then dropping his voice to a whisper, he said, “Your wife has already secured a room.”
Peter leaned into the counter. “My wife?”
The young man followed suit and leaned in too. “Yes. She told me to give you a key if you arrived.” Long, manicured nails slid a black key-card toward Peter.
“My wife—she’s here—in this hotel?”
“Yes, room 305.”
Peter picked up the card and looked at it. How did she know he’d come? And what was waiting for him inside the room. “Did she seem—normal?”
Jack straightened and smiled. “She seemed perfectly fine.”
“Was she dressed?”
“Dressed sir?”
“Wearing clothes. Was my wife covered or showing her girly bits to the world?”
Jack’s eyebrows lifted and disappeared under his straight-cut bangs. “She was dressed, Mr. Vine, perfectly respectable.”
Peter sighed and then scowled. “How did she pay for the room?”
A flush crept up the young man’s neck. “The room was complementary, sir.”
Peter leaned into the desk again and glared. “Why?”
“Why what?” Jack swallowed, his Adams apple bobbing like a cork in the water.
“Why was the room comped?” Peter’s voice rose at the thought of his wife servicing yet another man. “Did she trade a bang for a bed?”
Jack’s eyes rounded, his hand pressing against his chest as if he’d been struck. “What? No! How could you even suggest such thing?”
“Listen, after the day I’ve had, I could suggest just about anything.” Peter eyed the front desk clerk. Hmm, he did seem genuinely disgusted by Peter’s accusation. “Sorry man” Peter said. “But I need to know how she got the room?”
With a huff, Jack opened a drawer near his stomach and pulled out a little gold bag.
“Dust?” Peter asked.
“Ssshhh,” Jack hissed. “We bartered. A deluxe suite for her and a little bag of magic for me.” Before Peter could snatch the pouch, Jack dropped it and slammed the drawer. “It’s a fair trade.”
Peter shook his head. “Be careful with that stuff or you may end up doing something you’ll regret.”
“Not possible,” the desk clerk chirped. “Now, room 305 is up the elevator to the third floor, turn right, and down the hall to the very end.”
The elevator’s trek dragged upward. What waited for Peter inside the room? Was Pumpkin alone or would there be a crowd to contend with? He slid the key into the lock and when the light blinked green, he pushed against the door.
At first glance, Peter saw the room was empty. With quick steps he passed through the bedroom—nobody. Only one room left. He smelled the bubbles before he saw his wife. Pumpkin lounged neck deep in a huge tub surrounded by foam, low lights, and a bottle of merlot. Thank God, she was alone.
“Hi honey,” she said. “How was your day?”
Peter stepped into the room and walked to the edge of the tub. Sitting, he scooped up a handful of bubbles and blew.
“Let me see. How was my day? Well, I thought my wife had been blown up, but was relieved then horrified to find her very much alive with three men draped across her like plastic wrap. I chased her across two counties, was violated by a horde of fairies, felt up by a troll, and don’t even ask about the randy satyr I ran into about an hour ago.”
Pumpkin arched a delicate eyebrow. “Sounds like you had a hard day.” Leaning forward, she poured a second glass of wine.
Peter watched her auburn curls float in the water and the pink tips of her nipples bob just below the surface. His cock stirred at the sight of his wife’s naked breasts—breasts he had seen a thousand times but only now looked so enticing.
She handed him the wine. “Why don’t you join me?” Scooting back, she made room for him in the bath.
The events of the day evaporated as Peter stripped down and stepped into the steaming tub. Hot water rushed over his sensitive skin and washed away his aches and exhaustion.
“Ahhh, I’ve been looking forward to this.”
He sipped his wine and gazed across the water at Pumpkin. She was beautiful and suddenly he didn’t want to know who had touched her, didn’t want to imagine another man’s hands on her.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered
Pumpkin smiled. “So do you.” Setting her wine on the edge of the tub, her expression turned serious. “I love you, Peter. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, I know you do, and I love you.”
Those were the only words they needed to exchange. Standing, Peter held out his hand and drew her up from the water. She looked like a goddess with her rounded hips, full breast, and desire-filled expression. Lowering his head, he brushed his lips against hers, soft like velvet—warm like sunshine—sweet like honey.
He nibbled and teased her lower lip, silently asking for entry. And when she opened to him, his tongue found hers, stroking and mating inside her mouth.
His shaft throbbed and pulsed against his stomach as he crushed her soft curves to his body. He couldn’t get enough—he’d never get enough of the woman he loved. His hand palmed her plump breast, kneading her nipples between his thumb and index finger, coaxing and teasing the nub to life. The moan issuing from Pumpkin’s mouth into his was all the encouragement he needed.
Scooping her up, he stepped from the tub and strode into the bedroom. His body covered hers as he lowered Pumpkin to the bed. Why hadn’t it always been like this? Too busy—work—not enough hours in the day? Well, never again if he had his way.
He settled his thighs between Pumpkin’s and kissed her eyelids, cheeks, chin, and neck. Slipping downward, he kissed her shoulders, chest, and lingered at her breast. Tonguing her nipple, he laved each tight bud with hot, moist attention.
She groaned and arched her back, asking for more. Continuing his quest, Peter nipped and licked each rib and every inch of skin until his mouth came to rest above the triangle of auburn curls between her legs.
Her womanly scent called to him, asking Peter to taste the sweet nectar locked inside. Pumpkin’s knees fell outward, spreading her lips for his eyes and mouth.
He drew his tongue along the vertical folds of her soft, pink skin, stopping just shy of the protruding nub. With a quick, delicate motion, he flicked her bud, drawing a moan of pleasure and a press of her mound against his mouth.
Pumpkin’s long fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer to her glistening pussy. “Lick it.”
He licked, but only once.
“Lick it again,” she rasped.
He did, just once, and stopped. He liked his wife begging for his attention. He like being told what to do. One of her hands tightened in his hair as the other plucked and pulled on her nipple.
“Lick my pussy and don’t stop until I scream.”
Peter’s cock thickened against the satin sheets. Reaching down he cupped his balls and gently squeezed. Yeah, that’s what he needed. Running his hand up his shaft, he palmed the head of his dick and massaged. No amount of fairy dust could match the feel of Pumpkin’s wet pussy on his tongue and the joy her cries of ecstasy brought.
He spread her lips with his free hand and pushed his tongue into her canal. Plunging and dipping repeatedly, slipping out to suck and savor her hardened clit, and tease the delicate skin between her nub and hole.
Pumpkin’s body rocked against his mouth. She pressed and gyrated, bounced and rubbed. Pulling him tight to her, she rode his mouth until her cry of release filled the room and her nectar coated his tongue.
“Damn that was hot,” Peter said as he raised his head from between her legs.
Pumpkin smiled and untangled her fingers from his hair. “Yeah, and now it’s your turn.” Rolling to her stomach, she rose on all fours, and offered him her ass and snatch.
Without hesitation, Peter moved behind her. Hot, slick, and tight, that’s what he needed right now. Lining up his cock, he plunged into her tight sheath. Wet muscles gripped and pulled, as he slowly pumped, withdrawing to the tip before slamming back in her.
Closing his eyes, he lost himself in the steady stroke of his cock. Faster and faster he pounded, needing to find his release. He opened his eyes, his gaze and caress following the smooth curves of Pumpkin’s back and the plump globes of her ass.
Licking his thumb, he teased the pink, puckered skin. She groaned. The sight of her tits bouncing with each stoke of his cock drove Peter to the edge. Faster, hotter, wilder, until all he could do was hammer her pussy with driving blows. The base of his cock tingled as the spiraling sensation shot up his shaft and exploded with staggering intensity.
Peter’s body shuddered and quaked as Pumpkin’s pussy milked every drop of come from his rod. Unable to stay upright, he draped his body across her back and they slowly sank to the bed, together.
Wrapped in each other’s arms, Peter’s eyelids fluttered closed. “I love you, Pumpkin,” he murmured. “But if I ever have to chase you again, I’m going to handcuff you to the bed and leave you there.”
Pumpkin’s soft laughter vibrated against his hands. “Is that a threat?”
“No, a promise.”
“Then I’d better never runaway.” She paused. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t still handcuff me to the bed.”
With a slap on her ass, Peter drifted off to sleep, knowing his wife would never escape again.
~Boone Brux~
If you missed any of our previous posts and would like to catch up, you can purchase Everything Erotic - Volume I, Everything Erotic - Volume II, Everything Erotic - Volume III and Everything Erotic Volume IV anthologies as ebooks for only $2.99 each! Want it in print? Everything Erotic - Volume I-III is now available in paperback for $12.95.
Copyright © 2011 Boone Brux
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.
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