The Voluptuous Correspondence of Lady X, Installment Twelve

My dearest Richard,

You promised me delights as repayment for my performance before Sir　Walter, but things turned out rather different than what you‘d planned, didn’t they? Still, I think we turned the situation to our advantage and perhaps scored a victory in the process. I’ll explain below what I couldn’t quite put into words at the salon itself, being, as I was at the time, too close to what had happened to me to evaluate it with a cool head.


When we first entered the salon, a woman escorted me into a side chamber. She introduced herself to me as Lady Anne Ridgeton, the widow of that old scoundrel, Bansford. His lordship had a roving eye but little with which to make good on his promises of seduction. His cock’s many failures made for ribald jokes among our set, and now his widow takes her revenge, as well as her pleasure, at gatherings such as the one we attended.


She exhibits great pride in introducing new female visitors to what they may expect in Sir　Walter‘s salons, and she did no less for me. First, she instructed that I should keep as much of my clothing on as I wished but, if I were to truly enjoy myself, I should remove any barrier that covered my sex. She explained that I’d likely encounter multiple opportunities to couple and I’d want my cunny to be immediately accessible to penetration by any male member that intrigued me.


I pondered for a moment over how much to take off, and eventually I settled on removing my gown and petticoats and leaving my shift and corset in place. Full nakedness seemed too much at first. Besides, the whalebone of the stays pressed my breast upward, making them feel full and stimulating the nipples. When Lady Anne went to her knees to remove my drawers, I rested my hand on her head for balance and lifted one foot after the other so that she could finally toss the garment to the side.


What I hadn’t expected was for her to remain kneeling and then to part my legs so that she could burrow her nose into the hairs of my pussy. I pulled back in shock. Not disapproving, of course, but in surprise. I’d imagined I’d dally for a while, finding my bearings among strangers, before indulging. But then, I had met her once before, and no stranger had ever seemed quite so eager to treat me to the ultimate kiss.


She didn’t release me, but grasped my hips and pulled me forward as she gazed up at me with a lascivious grin on her face. “You must let me taste you, dear X. I’ve always wanted to, you know.”


“Sweet Anne,” I answered. “You never told me.”


“I didn’t realize you shared my lusty nature. Imagine how pleased I was to find your name on the invitation list. I declared to myself that I’d certainly take the opportunity to do this.”


Without another word, she dove beneath my shift and placed her mouth over my pussy. She quickly found my pearl with her tongue and began an assault on my senses that had me reeling. The hem of my shift slipped from my fingers, allowing the cotton to fall over her. I stood there with a dowager countess hidden beneath a tent of my small clothes as she gamahuched me as though she’d done it for years and knew exactly how to lap at me for maximum pleasure.


Oh, it felt good, my darling. Such a wicked secret to be kept from the dozens of people in the other rooms. While they enjoyed their play out in the open where the rest could see, I had a private audience with desire. No more than I and the lady whose mouth worked such magic on my clitoris. Stroke followed by stroke. Hot and wet. Now flicking against the tip. Through eyes half-closed with arousal, I glanced around me at the trappings of luxury. All very proper, except for the pile of my clothing.


After several minutes of oral sex performed by an expert, I was overcome with an urgent need to climax. It
built inside me like the currents of a river, pulling everything in its wake. Lady Anne took no pity on me, though, but ended the good services of her mouth, resting back on her heels. I whimpered and reached for her head to guide it back between my thighs, but she would have none of it.


“Now then, X, you’ve got yourself into quite a state, haven’t you?” she said.


“I have? Surely you have made me this way.” My misery clearly showed in my voice. She’d brought me so close to spending I could scarcely speak.


“Your initiation is almost complete.” She pulled something from her bodice. A garment consisting mostly of straps. She must have had it there the entire time. She helped me to step into it, for surely, my knees wouldn’t have held me otherwise. Once she had the loops around my legs, she tugged it up underneath my shift and fastened it around my hips.


Now, its purpose became clear. The only solid patch of material pressed against my clitoris without covering the entrance to my chamber. The cloth felt soft enough, but an ointment on it created a tingle on the exact spot Lady Anne had just stimulated, causing my need to nearly spiral out of my control. The fiend knew what she’d done, as she showed by sitting there smiling at me as if she’d had some great victory in arousing me so completely without satisfying me. Initiation, indeed.


“Now, then,” she said. “If you can get yourself out of this room and back into the main salon, a man will be waiting to satisfy you with his rod. I dare you to see if you can get that far without spending.”


Given a challenge like that, I straightened my back and lifted my chin. Though my body felt on fire and ready to burst into a thousand pieces, I turned and walked on unsteady legs toward the door. She laughed behind me, and I had to pause with my hand on the door knob and bite down on my lip to regain some control. With each step, the cloth between my legs had slid against my pearl, depositing more of the ointment. I wanted to scream with frustration but wouldn’t give Lady Anne the satisfaction. Instead, I took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped over the threshold.


Not just one man but four stood there with the fronts of their trousers open and their erect members in their hands. All very well endowed and all obviously eager to thrust themselves into me. More of my initiation, no doubt. They must have seen me enter the chamber and decided to offer their services when I emerged.
I wouldn’t indulge them, though. I’d come with you, and I’d find you. These people didn’t own me, and I wasn’t ready to surrender sovereignty over my body to them. But each step created more rubbing against my pearl and more torment. And I couldn’t find you among the crowd. They’d all stopped what they’d been doing to watch me as I progressed into the main room. All the faces blurred as I scanned them for your dear features.


I stopped finally, unable to endure another moment. A man’s arm went around my waist. So gently that it seemed to offer comfort, and I allowed him to hold me. And when he placed my hand on his erect staff, I knew he was offering me relief. Dimensions much like yours, my darling. Exactly what I needed to give me the orgasm my body had craved for so long. He was long and very thick, and my cunny released a trickle of need. How wonderful he’d feel inside me. I nodded my agreement.


He led me to the nearest chair and draped me over it. After taking his place behind me, he lifted my shift to expose my pussy. When he pressed the tip against my entrance, I arched my back to encourage him.
In no more than a second, he’d impaled me fully. I hadn’t imagined his girth, and the way he stretched me only added to my pleasure. For now, all frustration ended, replaced by a fucking made all the more glorious by my earlier agony of waiting. He did such a marvelous job of it, each thrust more forceful than the last until he nearly toppled the two of us and the chair over into a heap. I would hardly have noticed, as the orgasm I’d been denied for so long finally came upon me.


The force grabbed me, threatening to crush me with its power. For a moment, every wisp of breath left my body so that when the convulsions started, I had no power even to cry out. I came and came and came, my pussy going wild around the cock inside me. That trigged his own climax, and he plunged deep into me and stayed there, his body shaking behind mine. We’d truly reached a new sexual peak together, a place few couples could ever hope to aspire to.


As I returned to consciousness, the voices of the others in the room came to me in a jumble.


“Good show,” one man said.


“I don’t know how she did it,” a woman added. “I never made it out of the other room.”


“And his performance…” A tinge of jealously colored the second woman’s words.


“Amazing effort all around.”


“Well done, both of you.”


By now, some strength had returned to my legs, so I stood and turned to thank my partner. Imagine my delight, my darling, when I discovered you standing there and smiling at me as though I were the greatest treasure on Earth. At that moment, I could believe I truly was.


Humble in my awe of you, I remain,
Your devoted X

http://www.alicegaines.blogspot.com/

authoralicegaines@yahoo.com

Pool Side

Content Advisory: Contains scenes of explicit m/f sex.

Adam’s strong arms cut through the clear blue of the water, his powerful thighs kicking a beat, driving him on.

His fingertips made contact with the edge of the pool and, in one swift movement, he flipped himself over and pushed off the side with his feet.

Adam was alone in the pool, though his trainer stood on the side timing his lengths and shouting instructions. He’d been there since five that morning. He was now two hours into his training schedule which consisted of five hours in the pool and two in the gym.

His Olympic dreams were strong and steadfast. He couldn’t imagine someone trying to achieve Olympic greatness without being one hundred percent focused on the job.

At least this particular pool was open air. The California sky and the warm sun climbing into the blue certainly made this part of his day more enjoyable.

Just as Adam finished his lap, the door of the women’s locker room swung open. He pulled off his goggles and shook water off his buzzed short hair.

A brunette with shoulder-length, bouncy hair walked out. Her bare brown legs were topped with a pair of tiny cotton shorts. A tight little waist nipped in above her rounded hips and a white cotton polo shirt barely covered her midriff, her breasts positively straining to burst from the top.

“Who’s that?” he asked Mike.

“New physiotherapist,” the older man replied.

“What happened to Tony?”

“Broke his leg falling off a ladder. He’ll be out for six weeks.”

“Is that supposed to be ironic?” Adam said, an eyebrow cocked. “The physio broke his leg?”

Mike snorted but didn’t answer. Instead, he raised a hand in greeting to the new arrival.

The young woman gave a smile, squinting in the bright sunlight, and headed over to them.

The muscles of Adam’s back and shoulders bunched together as he folded his arms beneath his chin, supporting himself on the side of the pool. He caught the new arrival eyeing his body—but perhaps she was simply assessing him for professional reasons.

“Adam Chaste,” said Mike, “this is Leah Devlin.”

She squatted down and held out her hand. Now it was his turn to squint up at her, the bright sun directly behind her body, but he wrapped his large, wet hand around her slim fingers.

“Good to meet you,” he said. “I hear you’re going to be taking care of me for the next six weeks.”

“I sure hope so,” she said with a smile.

Leah stood and he took in her strong, slender thighs. Leah Devlin did some working out of her own.

“Right, no time for chatting,” said Mike. “We’ve got work to do.” He gave Adam a sharp nod toward the pool, a motion that meant, ‘get back out there!’

Adam continued to push himself, even more so now that he knew the new physio’s eyes were taking in his every move. He was a strong swimmer, to say the least, but he suddenly became more aware of his physique, of how every muscle in his body contracted and relaxed as he pushed himself through the water.

Finally the session was over and Adam pulled himself out of the pool, water trickling down his hard, tanned chest. Leah handed him a sports drink, her eyes trained on his defined abs.

“Thanks,” he said and cracked open the lid, downing the vitamin-rich liquid.

“Right,” said Mike. “I’ll leave you youngsters to it. I’ve got somewhere to be.” He gave Adam another nod. “Same time tomorrow?” His trainer phrased it as a question but they both knew he’d be there.

“Sure.”

Leah grinned at him. “My turn,” she said, her head tilted on one side, her hair brushing her shoulders. “I’ve been looking forward to getting my hands on you.”

Adam’s heart picked up a notch. Was she flirting with him?

“Great,” he said, trying not to blush. “We’ve got the pool for another forty-five minutes until it opens to the public.”

“That’s plenty of time. Now I want you on your back.”

“Wow,” he said, trying to hide his nerves with a little flirting of his own. “And you’ve not even bought me dinner.”

Leah laughed and her tits jiggled beneath her shirt.

Holy shit, this girl was sexy.

She rolled out a blue exercise mat. “On your back,” she instructed.

The skintight, extremely short shorts he swam in left little to the imagination as he got to the ground and reclined on the spongy material. If she touched him in just the right—or wrong!—way, she’d notice the effect she was having on him in an instant.

Adam filled his mind with non-erotic thoughts—his mother; emptying the trash; cutting his toenails—anything to get his mind off the extremely attractive woman now on her knees at his feet.

The sun blazed down, drying his skin and hair. Leah ran him through a number of stretches, her soft hands holding his foot and pushing back firmly, increasing his stretch for him.

“I noticed you’re favoring your right side,” she said. “Are you getting pain on the left?”

“You’re perceptive. But it’s not pain, just a little stiffness.”

“Come here then,” she said, motioning for him to sit up.

Adam did as he was told and Leah scooted up behind him. Her talented hands kneaded the muscles of his back, up to his neck. From behind, she took the sides of his face between her palms and gave his head a swift wrench to one side. Something in his neck cracked, the sound scarily loud in the otherwise quiet pool, but instantly the tight side of his body relaxed.

Adam rolled his shoulders a couple of times. “That’s amazing.”

“I’m not done with you yet,” she said, pressing him back down to lie on his stomach.

Her hands trailed back down his shoulders, her warm skin and firm, insistent fingers massaging their way down his back. Her thumbs worked his lats—the muscles on either side of his spine. She worked lower, her hands skimming the curve of his buttocks, before she dropped right down, massaging his glutes.

Adam suppressed a groan. He was glad to be on his front right now, with her hands so close to his ass. The whole of his anus, perineum and balls tingled and tightened as her hands sent nerves firing in that direction. She worked the back of one of his thighs with both hands, her thumbs creeping higher until she finally brushed his balls. Adam’s whole body stiffened, the contact sending blood rushing to his cock.

“Oh, sorry!” she exclaimed.

“No, it’s fine, really.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” she said.

He turned his head over his shoulder to get a look at her. “Don’t be.”

“Maybe we should leave it for today,” she said, moving to get to her feet.

Forgetting himself, Adam twisted himself around to catch her arm, preventing her from rising.

Her eyes widened as his barely restrained erection poked from the top of his shorts. “Oh!” she gasped.

It was his turn to be embarrassed, heat flushing his cheeks. He was about to flip himself back over and die of shame, when Leah dropped back to her knees. Her expression changed; her lips suddenly slack and full, her eyes hooded and heavy.

“You really enjoyed the massage, huh?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper. Her eyes still trained on his erection.

Adam nodded, too scared to move in case he somehow broke whatever magic was happening in that instant.

The smooth, mushroom head of his dick poked from the waistline of his swim shorts. Leah placed her hands on each thigh, rising over the top of him, her breath heating his sensitive skin. With a little dart of her tongue, she licked the clear bead of pre-cum from the slit of his cock.

Adam gasped.

She reached up and pulled down the top of his shorts, allowing his huge erection to spring free. He propped himself up on his elbows, wanting to watch this sudden turn of events.

The heated, wetness of her mouth enclosed his cock and he inhaled as pleasure made his head swim. His fingers laced in her hair and he had to resist pushing her head down, impaling her on his full length. But Leah didn’t need much encouragement; she pushed down deep so his head brushed the smooth, soft skin at the back of her throat.

Now Adam groaned as she bobbed back and forth, her lips creating a tight seal around his girth, creating friction as she moved on his dick. The pleasure was exquisite but he didn’t want to come in her mouth. He wanted more of her.

“My turn,” he said, gently pressing back on her shoulder.

Leah lifted her head, his cock slipping from between her lips. Adam pulled her down to the mat and then got to his knees, scooting down. He tugged off her tennis shoes and popped the button of her shorts. Peeling them down her thighs, he exposed her simple cotton panties. She was stretched out before him, her breasts heaving beneath her shirt. Adam wanted to get his tongue inside her, but he couldn’t miss feasting on those gorgeous tits.

Moving back up her body, he pushed the material of her shirt up, exposing her flat, tanned stomach. He dropped a kiss on the smooth skin of her belly, before nuzzling his way up.

Leah helped him out by sitting up slightly and pulling her shirt over her head, dropping the garment on the ground beside her.

“I’m guessing you want this one off as well,” she said, slipping her bra-straps from her shoulders.

“Absolutely.”

He groaned at the sight—luscious creamy globes, big, dark nipples at the center of each. Leah lay back down again and Adam dipped his head, taking her right nipple, already hard and elongated, into his mouth. Her nipple was big enough to really feel like a mouth full and he sucked it up to the roof of his mouth, his tongue swirling the crinkled areola.

His cock was so hard, he thought he might come over her there and then. Her hand reached for him, circling his erection in her hot little palm and gently pumping him as he suckled, first on one nipple, before moving to the next.

But he wanted to taste her sweet nectar, bury his face in her snatch before driving his cock into her center and fucking her hard.

Reluctantly, he lifted his mouth from her breast. Her hand fell away from his cock as he kissed his way down, over the soft dip of her belly, down to where a small strip of hair led down to her clit. Adam pressed her thighs apart and climbed between them.

Using two fingers, he splayed the lips of her pussy, causing the engorged nubbin to pop forward, pink and wet. He hardened his tongue to a point and gave her clit a flick. Leah inhaled sharply, her body rigid beneath him. She lifted her hips to him, inviting him to continue.

Adam didn’t need any more encouragement. Flattening his tongue to a paddle, he dipped down, dragging his tongue up her slit, from her base back up to her clit. The heady aroma of her arousal filled his nostrils, the musky tang of her lubrication coating his taste buds.

Leah moaned, her fingers brushing the back of his head as she squirmed beneath his attention. Wanting to bring her on even further, Adam slipped a finger into her tight channel, his saliva and her natural lube making the passage easy. Her inner muscles clamped down around his digit and he slicked it back and forth before adding a second. He focused his oral attention back to her clit, alternating fast flicks with sucks.

“Oh God,” Leah cried out, her internal muscles pulsing and rippling around his fingers. Moisture drenched his hand as she came hard against him.

“Oh God,” she said again, but this time with a different tone. Her breasts heaved beautifully as she caught her breath. She looked down at him, grinning up from between her thighs. “I hope you’re going to fuck me now.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

He rose above her and she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, pulling his head down to hers. Her kiss was hard and deep, and the idea that she tasted her own juices on his lips turned him on even more.

His cock was as hard as iron as he positioned against her soft folds and drove deep into her wet, swollen flesh. Her slim thighs caught his hips, her legs twining around him, her heels pressing into the flexing muscles of his ass.

As his thrusting grew harder, his balls tightened, slapping against her ass. The heat and tingling tightened deep at his core. He buried his face in her neck as his orgasm mounted over him, his cock swelling to the point of explosion.

“Oh shit, I’m coming again,” she moaned, her pussy tightening and contracting around the hard length of his cock, milking him.

He fired within her, held himself deep as he jerked inside her, shooting streams of cum.

Exhausted, Adam collapsed beside her. Her cheeks and chest were flushed, her curls mussed. Their chests heaved in exertion.

Finally able to speak again, Adam rolled to his side and grinned. “As amazing as that massage was, I’m not sure it was the most professional thing to be doing on your first day.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “So are you going to get me fired?”

“Are you kidding? And anyway, I was hardly professional myself. I’m already dreading your six weeks being up.”

The door to the men’s bathroom opened and the pool manager walked out. He saw them, still half naked, lying on the floor and his eyes widened.

“Oh, sorry, Mr. Chaste. I thought you were already done.”

“We are now, thanks,” he said, giving Leah another grin. She smiled back, clutching her clothes to her body.

“Well… I’ll just give you a minute,” he said, backing out of the pool.

“No problem,” called Adam to his retreating figure.

Once they were alone again, Leah set about tugging her clothes back on. She ran her fingers through her hair and said, “Same time tomorrow?”

Adam grinned back. “You bet.”

~*~

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M.K. Elliott

Romance and Erotica with an edge...

Escape ~ Deadly Beauty ~ Some Love it Hot! ~ Rescued

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Copyright © 2011 M.K. Elliott

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.

Christmas Male

Content Advisory: Contain explicit scene of m/f intercourse.

Erica placed the last of the presents under the tree and stepped back to admire her work. Trying to avoid tackiness, she’d dressed the tree with only gold and red, and had favoured draping beads instead of tinsel. White fairy lights glittered and sparkled in the late afternoon light. The heady scent of pine filled her home. She always bought a real tree—the fake ones simply didn’t feel like Christmas, even if they did create less mess. In her fireplace, an open fire sparked and crackled. She had central heating—and used it in most of the house—but loved the ambiance of a real fire.

But one present was still missing—her daughter’s bike. She’d been an idiot for ordering it so late, but they’d promised delivery before the big day. Now it was Christmas Eve and they literally couldn’t get any closer to the line. Unless the store planned on sending their delivery guy down the chimney later that night, of course.

Not that her daughter, Milly, would be here to see the bike’s arrival. It was her father’s turn to have her for Christmas Eve. They alternated years so they each got the chance to spend time with her on that all important Christmas morning. This year Paul would drop Milly off just after lunch so the rest of the day would be theirs. Still, Erica couldn’t help feeling like she should be able to have all of the Christmas mornings. Paul had his own family now, with a boy and a girl a couple of years younger than Milly. He’d get to do that fun Christmas morning thing even if Milly wasn’t there. Erica would wake up Christmas morning on her own. Could anything be more depressing?

Erica went to her kitchen and opened a bottle of Baileys. She wasn’t one for afternoon drinking, but screw it. It was Christmas after all. Some of her friends had invited her out that evening but she’d declined the offer. The last thing she wanted was to spend the evening surrounded by happy, gorgeous young-things. Though she was only thirty-two, being a single, divorced mother made her feel so much older.

She took a sip of her drink, the ice clinking in the glass. Creamy, coffee flavoured alcohol slipped across her tongue and warmed her throat.

Mmm... Tasted good.

Erica took another couple of large sips, the alcohol loosening her body. If she kept up at this rate, she’d be happily sozzled and asleep in bed by nine p.m. That sounded like the perfect evening right now.

Except Milly’s damn bike still hadn’t shown up. She glanced at her watch again. Almost quarter past four. She doubted many people would be working much later. She needed to get onto the company and start swearing at someone. Not that it would do much good. If the bike wasn’t going to get here on time, what exactly could she do about it?

Erica chewed at her lower lip. How was she going to explain to Milly that Santa hadn’t delivered the one present she’d asked for that year? Even worse, she bet Paul would have organized Christmas in November—or at least his new, perfect wife would have. If Erica and Paul were still married, he’d been shaking his head at her right now and telling her how she should stop leaving everything to the last minute.

She sighed. Perhaps he was right.

Still, she needed someone to shout at. Even though most of her frustrations had nothing to do with a missing bike, she’d give whatever telesales person she got on the end of the line a piece of her mind.

Picking up the bottle and glass, Erica stalked back into her living room to her phone. As she lifted the handset, the shrill ring of her doorbell cut through the air.

Her shoulders sagged with relief. Thank God. That had to be the bike. Who else would be ringing her door bell this late on Christmas Eve?

Erica gritted her teeth and headed to the door. She planned on making sure the delivery guy at least understood the stress she’d been under all day.

She swung open her front door and a gust of cold, sleet-driven air blasted in. Broad shoulders, hunched against the frigid air, met her gaze. A beanie hat was pulled down over his ears, but blond curls licked from beneath. At his feet sat a large cardboard box—about two feet by three feet. The box was large, but not large enough to hold a bike.

He turned to face her, his cheeks and nose red against the cold.

Erica raised her eyebrows. “Please don’t tell me that’s my bike?”

He grinned, revealing straight white teeth. “Well, you don’t look like the type to be into Hello Kitty and I think it might be a bit small for you.”

“If it fits in that box, it’ll be too small for my six year old as well.”

He glanced down at the offending item and then lifted his gaze to meet hers. His blue eyes focusing on hers sent a spark through her, like an actual shock that sent her mind spinning.

Holy crap, this guy was cute.

“I’m afraid you need to put it together yourself.”

Erica ran a hand through her straight dark hair and gave a growl of annoyance. “So you’re telling me, not only is my bike arriving three days after the promised delivery date, I’m also supposed to build the thing myself?”

He winced at her outburst. “I’m sorry about the delay—we’ve been crazy busy. And the bike really is simple to put together. It’s just a case of screwing a few pieces of the frame together.”

She spread her hands out either side of her petite, five foot two frame. “Do I look like I’m any good at DIY?”

He smiled, another nervous, crooked grin, and she almost felt sorry for making him feel bad. “Couldn’t you get your husband to fix the bike together?”

Erica’s stomach flipped at the word ‘husband’. “Divorced,” she said, her cheeks colouring at both her admitting of her failure and her relationship status. “I don’t think I even have a screwdriver in the house.”

He glanced back at his van and Erica stomach sank. This hot, young guy was clearly trying to make his getaway.

“Look, I’ve got some tools in the van—nothing high-tech—but I’m sure I can rummage up a screwdriver. You’re my last delivery for the day so why don’t I give you a hand?”

Inside, she melted. “Are you sure?”

He gave a shrug and another cute half-smile, one corner of his full lips turning up. “Sure.”

The delivery guy turned his back on her and, stooped against the cold, he jogged back to his van. Within a minute, he was back again.

He walked in and placed the big box on the rug in front of the fire, his presence filling the room. From the back pocket of his jeans, he pulled a screwdriver with a removable head, the different options for other head shapes and sizes plugged around the top of the handle. Erica’s attention wasn’t on the tool, but the way his soft, denim jeans moulded to his ass.

Two peaches in a handkerchief.

Heat flared to her cheeks once again and she forced herself to look away.

Jeez, what the hell was wrong with her—he must be twenty-four at the most. She was an old married woman—okay maybe not married any more, but she was a damn site older than him.

As though he knew her thoughts and was trying to wind her up, he tugged off his waterproof jacket and then pulled his sweater over his head. She stared as his t-shirt beneath accidently rucked up with his sweater, exposing a narrow waist and ridges of washboard abs.

Erica gulped and her pussy tightened in a strong, pleasurable throb.

He caught her watching and gave an almost apologetic smile before nodding at the fireplace. “It’s hot in here.”

“Oh, sure,” she gave herself a mental shake. The guy had just offered to fix up a bike for her; not give her a strip show and then bend her over the couch to take her from behind.

She almost gasped at her thoughts and the images sprung in her head. Holy-hell, where the heck had that come from?

He bent to the box and started to tear strips of tape from the flaps. The muscles of his back and arms flexed as he tore and pulled, opening the box and lifting out the frame, handle bars, seat and wheels of the bike.

With swift, expert movements, he slotted pieces of metal into corresponding holes, tightening and fixing things in place until the item resembled a complete bike.

He stood straight, his blond curls tousled. “There you go. Told you it wouldn’t take me long.”

She was disappointed he was done so quickly, she’d been enjoying the view. Her nipples tightened beneath her cream, cashmere sweater. His gaze flicked down her front and then lifted back to her face. Her breath quickened, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Thanks so much,” she said, her voice coming out an octave higher than she’d anticipated. “How can I ever thank you?”

His eyes flicked to the bottle of Baileys sitting on her coffee table. “I’ll take one of those if there’s one going?”

“Really? You like Baileys? I’d have taken you as more of a beer guy.”

He grinned and gave a shrug. “Hey, it’s Christmas.”

Nerves fluttered in her stomach as she headed out to the kitchen and grabbed two fresh glasses and filled them with ice from the freezer. She took them back to the living room to find him sat on her couch, one ankle rested on a thick, denim clad thigh. He leaned back against the cushions, arm slung over the back. Considering he was her delivery guy, he looked awful comfortable and she wondered briefly if she should be annoyed. But then he lifted his blue eyes to her, his full lips turning up in a smile, and any thoughts of irritation vanished.

He half-rose and took the glasses from her. “Here, allow me.”

Erica slid onto the couch beside him, all too aware of the proximity of his leg next to hers. “Thanks.”

He twisted the bottle open and tipped a decent glug into each glass. She watched the muscles flexing in his strong forearms, a fine layer of soft, blond hair covering the skin. Firelight reflected off the hairs, glinting in a soft, golden hue.

He handed her the drink and then held his own glass up in a salute.

She paused, “I don’t even know your name.

He grinned. “Scott.”

“I’m Erica,” she said.

“I know.” She frowned and he hurried on. “It’s on your delivery order.”

“Oh, right. So don’t you have anywhere better you need to be, Scott? You’re a young guy, after all. Shouldn’t you be getting ready for some big party or to go out on the town?”

He focused on her with those piercing, blue eyes and something inside her quivered, tightening her nipples once more, causing her pussy to pulse. Heat rose from her chest, flushing up her throat.

Erica cringed. He must have noticed the effect he was having on her. How embarrassing. He’d probably go out later that night and tell his friends about the middle-aged, horny housewife he had practically coming in her panties.

You’re only thirty-two; hardly middle-aged...

She realized he’d said something and her humiliation deepened. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, sometimes it’s easy to get tired of those parties. Sometimes it’s nice to actually sit down and have a conversation with someone... one-on-one.”

The way he said, ‘one on one’, with a deliberate hesitation made her wonder. Was he coming onto her?

“So your daughter isn’t here at the moment?” he enquired.

“She’s at her father’s until tomorrow lunchtime.”

“With your ex-husband?”

“Yes, we alternate Christmases.”

“I can’t image any guy wanting to give up Christmas with you.”

She wasn’t imaging things. He was definitely flirting with her. But despite the excitement fluttering in her belly, her sensible, parent-head remained on her shoulders. She was a grown-up. She didn’t play games.

Erica sat back. “Listen, I’m not in the habit of getting it on with the delivery guy, I want you to know that. I’m not the type for some young guy to come in for a quick screw and then go out and brag to all his friends.

He leaned in closer. Suddenly his lower lip seemed fuller than before, a slight crease down the middle, bite-ably so. What would it feel like to run the tip of her tongue down that crease?

“It’s not like that, Erica,” he said, his eyes searching hers.

“No?” Her voice came out husky. “What is it like?”

“Let me show you.”

He leaned in and hesitated once again, waiting to judge her response. The couple of drinks she’d had gave her some courage and though her heart pounded in her chest and every nerve screamed this was nuts, she didn’t pull away, but instead closed the gap.

His mouth pressed against hers, hot and soft. She parted her lips, tasting coffee and alcohol as her tongue eagerly delved in his mouth. Fire raced inside her and she found herself crawling across the couch, deepening the kiss. Her body seemed to act of its own accord and her thigh stretched across the thickness of his, straddling him.

Her fingers laced in the soft curls at the name of his neck. Their tongues touched and danced, exploring each other’s mouths with sudden hunger.

Where had this come from?

Erica ground down on him, the ridge beneath his jeans pressing against the thin material of her black pants. The contact fitted perfectly between her pussy-lips, and she felt her juices wet the lace of her panties, soaking right down to her pants, leaving a damp patch. She rocked her hips, the pressure against her swollen clit sending sparks racing up through her core, tightening deep in her uterus. Her fingers slid from the back of his neck, traced down over his broad, hard chest, until they hooked beneath the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

With a slightly awkward movement, she pulled the shirt up over his head, exposing his young, lean body. She paused, drinking him in. Her ex-husband was in his early forties now and had developed a certain thickness to his torso. This guy was pure muscle, as though his skin had been glued straight on.

But he was too good just to look at; the ripped muscle and smooth skin begging to be touched.

The pads of her fingers trailed over his chest, her thumb brushing the hardened nub of his nipple. The sensation created a fire in his eyes and it was his turn to lace his fingers in her hair, bringing her in for another kiss. His hands left her hair, skimming down her back to grab the bottom of her sweater and pull the clothing over her head.

The soft material being tugged over her head forced the kiss to break, but when he discarded her sweater on the floor she didn’t seek out his mouth. Instead, she lowered her lips to his chest, her tongue sneaking out and trailing a wet line down to his nipple. He inhaled and squirmed as her tongue circled the peak, grating her teeth over the sensitive flesh.

Erica moved lower, sliding from the couch, to the floor between his thighs. She looked up at him, focusing his gaze, and popped the button of his soft, blue jeans. The bulge of his erection created an impressive lump and she wasted no time pulling down the zipper, freeing him.

His cock sprung out to meet her eager mouth; his erection hard, the head smooth and purple. She snuck out her tongue and tasted him—the salty fluid leaking from the tip. His scent filled her nostril—no aftershave or deodorant, but a musky and definite scent of man.

Her mouth engulfed him and she stretched her jaw wide around its girth. She swirled her tongue over the head and then sank lower, drawing more of him in, wanting to take him deep. She maintained eye-contact, loving the expression in his eyes as he struggled to control his urge to give in and fuck her face. Instead he held back with impressive restraint, allowing her to slide her lips up and down the length of his dick, keeping her lips tight to create friction while sucking with just the right amount of pressure. Her tongue ran down the underside of his dick as she moved back and forth.

Scott’s hips began to jerk, his cock swelling in her mouth. Not wanting him to come, she gave the base of his cock a firm squeeze and released the suction on his cock with a wet pop.

“Fuck,” Scott muttered above her, though she didn’t know if the swear word was due to pleasure or frustration.

Erica stood, still wearing her black lace bra, slacks and panties beneath. With his eyes locked on her, she reached behind her back and unclipped her bra, dropping it to the floor. She was pleased she kept up her three times a week gym visits and her small but round tits had managed to avoid gravity. If she’d not been confident about her body, there would be no way in hell she’d be doing this right now.

His eyes went wide and she undid the button of her pants, letting the material slide from her slim hips, giving a wiggle to pool the pants around her feet. She repeated the motion with her panties and stepped out of the circle.

Standing naked before him, she felt his gaze rove her body. Unconsciously, she sucked in her stomach and pushed out her tits, wanting him to lust over her in the same way she did him.

Scott got to his feet, kicked off his shoes and jeans. His cock jutted out toward her, bobbing with his movement. He held out his hand to her.

“Come here,” he said, his voice rough with desire.

She took his hand and then, as she’d imagined earlier, he turned her around and applied pressure on her lower back, bending her over the couch. She steadied herself with her palms flat on the cushions. He dropped to his knees behind her. His hands nudged her thighs apart, exposing her wet, swollen pussy. Her thighs were already damp with her desire, and she almost felt embarrassed at how wet she was—he had barely touched her! But she didn’t have time to consider her embarrassment. His hot mouth made contact with her labia, his tongue tracing the delicate flesh, causing her internal muscles to pulse. She sucked air in through her teeth and moaned as he hardened his tongue and pushed it inside her tight channel.

She moaned again, her hands bunched in the cushions as pleasure made her head spin. His strong, expert fingers reached around for her clit, and he pressed on the swollen nubbin, raising her pleasure to another level. Erica ground down on his tongue and his finger worked her clit in slow, excruciating circles.

His tongue pulled from her channel and flattened, licking her in long strokes from just below her clit, right to her perineum. Then he kept going and his hot, wet tongue trailed over the tight star of her ass and she let out a squeak of surprise.

His withdrew his mouth from her. “Is this okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she gasped. “Oh yes.”

Needing no more encouragement, he went back to her ass, his tongue hardening to a point, pushing inside her taut ring. She gasped again, her fingers gripping the cushions beneath her as his tongue slipped in and out and tickled her anus.

Just as she was on the brink, he left her ass and kissed his way up her back, hovering over her. His cock replaced his tongue, pressing its length into the crack of her ass. He didn’t penetrate her, but kept up the dual stimulation on her clit and anus. He nuzzled her neck, his mouth sending a rash of goose bumps over her flesh.

Shifting his position, the head of his cock nudged her sopping slit. Erica pushed back on him and he entered her only an inch, her muscles stretching around him. He held his position and her cunt clenched, trying to pull him deeper.

Slowly, he edged inside, and she felt every inch of his dick slide deep. He rocked his hips, fucking her deep and slow as he kept up the circles on her clit. Her tits bounced with every thrust, his rock-hard length sliding between her lips with unbearable pleasure.

But there was too much space between them.

Even though he was deep inside her, she wanted to feel him against her, have the heat of his kin burning against her back, press her face into the musky scent of his throat, push her tongue inside his mouth.

Erica straightened and he wrapped one arm—the one not still playing with her clit—across her chest. He cupped her breast, his fingers teasing and moulding her nipple into a lengthened peak.

With their bodies moulded together, his chest pressed up against her back, his arms wrapped around her, he fucked her with deep, hard thrusts. Pleasure built up inside her and, as he lowered his mouth and nipped at the delicate skin of her throat, she came unravelled, her orgasm powering through her. Her cunt clenched and rippled around him and he cried out, his own peak reached.

Erica’s body jerked and stuttered as the last sparks of pleasure shuddered through her. Scott thrust a couple more times, the last streams of hot cum spurting deep inside her.

They collapsed in a tangle of limbs on the rug. The open fire beside them crackled, sending sparks up the chimney, heating their already flushed bodies. Night had fallen outside and the fairy lights on her tree twinkled and blinked.

Erica caught her breath and twisted to lie on her stomach. She propped herself up on her elbows. He turned to face her, one hand beneath his head, and flashed her a grin.

“Well I wasn’t expecting that,” she said.

“Believe it or not, neither was I.”

“So what are you up to now? Big party on the town?”

He shrugged. “Nah. I’ve got a few invites, but I think I’ve found something better to do.”

Erica smiled. “You can’t be serious?”

He lifted his head and kissed her. She melted into the kiss, edging her body closer to his. But before she got the chance to lose herself again with him, he broke the contact and asked, “Are you throwing me out?”

“No, of course not!”

“In which case, I really hate waking up on my own on Christmas morning.”

Erica leaned in, capturing his mouth once again. It seemed she wouldn’t be alone that Christmas morning after all.

Like what you've read? Want some erotica a little on the dark side? Why not try Deadly Beauty by M.K. Elliott? Just $2.99 from Amazon.


M.K. Elliott

Romance and Erotica with an edge...

Escape ~ Deadly Beauty ~ Some Love it Hot! ~ Rescued

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Copyright © 2011 M.K. Elliott

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.