Miss Ellie Swings - Part One

Eleanor sat on the sofa, fidgeting as minute after minute ticked by on the clock. She cast a nervous glance around the room. Not a thing out of place. Unsurprising when she considered the entire day had been spent straightening, dusting, vacuuming and making sure the house was spotless.

After lunch, her husband Robbie had helped her pick out the sexiest bits in her lingerie drawer and an outfit designed to entice but not give the appearance of being a tart. She’d taken extra time fussing over her long, russet curls. The heavy mass now hung down her back and over her shoulders in near perfect ringlets.

Tucking a curl behind her ear, Ellie rose and walked through the lower level of the house for the fifth time since putting the children to bed an hour earlier. Not a sound came from the upstairs. She breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door to her bedroom.

Soft light glowed from the bedside lamps and the faint scents of coconut and vanilla perfumed the room. The bed was turned down, her best sheets covering the thick pillow top mattress with their five hundred thread count luxuriousness. A box of condoms sat between a book and her favorite lotion on the table by her side of the bed. The left table, Robbie’s, was bare but for the lamp.

Ellie smiled, leaving the door open as she exited the room. She looked at the pictures of her family on the walls while she walked back to the kitchen. Robbie’s handsome, trusting face smiled back at her and she blew a kiss at the frame displaying their wedding photo before continuing down the hall.

Large windows faced out over the driveway. No vehicle sat there, yet. Black asphalt gleamed back at her under the glow of the streetlight. Rain had fallen earlier and the outline of Robbie’s Mazda had left a square of dry pavement. Soon, another vehicle would fill the empty spot.

A shudder of anticipation raced through her to chase the nervous edge away for a moment. Ellie reached up into the cupboard, selecting two of the coffee mugs they reserved for guests. Snippets of conversations between herself and Franco over the last two weeks replayed in her mind. She recalled the early greetings that came in via text message at the exact same time her alarm sounded each morning. Her smile widened a touch. Bella mia, he called her.

Eleanor scanned the street. None of the neighbors were out due to the intermittent rain and chill in the air. Most of the houses had their drapes drawn. At this hour, her neighborhood settled down to watch television or read a book before bed. She and Robbie, both in their mid-thirties, were the youngest couple on the block.

If only their neighbors knew what happened behind the red brick facade of their two story bungalow, she thought. How scandalized her stodgy, upper-middle class neighbors would be.
Miss Ellie, the woman who had taught all of their children in kindergarten, was waiting for a man who wasn’t her husband to come and share her bed for the evening. A man she and Robbie had met at a swingers club.

After years of swinging together as a couple, Robbie had finally given the green light for Eleanor to have fun on her own. When they’d met the Italian at their usual hangout, she’d felt an instant attraction to him that had been clearly reciprocated. Of course, Robbie had thoroughly vetted him before giving the all clear for Franco to visit the house while he went out with friends that night.

Lights flashed in the windows and she glanced up to see a sleek, black Infinity turn into the driveway. The vehicle covered the footprint left by Robbie’s car and came to a full stop. Ellie waited, her breathing frozen in anticipation as butterflies took up residence in her stomach.

A moment later, the driver’s side door opened and Franco stepped out into the moonlight. Eleanor released the breath she’d been holding back. Tall, dark and just as handsome as she remembered. Franco flashed a smile as he spotted her in the window and she wiggled her fingers at him in greeting.

Franco started up the walkway and Ellie hurried to answer the door. By agreement, he wouldn’t ring the bell and risk waking the children. She would need to let him in before a neighbor peeked out and glimpsed the dark stranger standing on her doorstep.

Pulling the door open, she smiled up at her lover for the evening and silently ushered him into the house. She took his jacket, hung it on the coat tree by the bottom of the stairs and turned back to him.

Instantly, Ellie found herself wrapped up in strong arms and cuddled against Franco’s broad chest. She returned the embrace with a squeeze of her own. He smelled better than she recalled. Warm vanilla with a hint of spice. A wave of desire warmed her and moisture formed between her thighs.

“Bella mia,” he greeted her. His voice, a deep, husky rumble vibrated against the ear she had pressed to Franco’s chest.

Eleanor pulled back, a smile curving her lips. “Hey, babe.” She pulled back from his embrace, one hand slipping easily into his. “Take your shoes off and come with me.”

He acquiesced, placing his shoes on the plastic mat beside the door before letting her lead him to the kitchen. Reluctantly releasing his hand, she moved to pour coffee into the navy blue mugs lined up on the counter beside the sugar bowl and creamer.

Franco’s hand covered hers as Ellie reached for the carafe. His breath warmed the back of her neck through her hair and the hard line of his body pressed into the soft curves of her back.

“Leave it, Bella.” he whispered against her ear. “I didn’t come for coffee. I came for you.”

His soft Italian accent and the desire flavoring his words forced a shudder of need through Ellie. She turned in his arms, her own lifting to circle his neck; no easy task for a woman over a foot shorter than her counterpart.

After fifteen years with Robbie, she’d forgotten how much bigger he was than her. This new man, Franco, reminded Eleanor of how truly petite she was and the feelings he stirred up inside of her awakened Ellie’s inner vixen. None of the men she’d been with over the last few years had ever done that with a few simple words, looks and touches.

Without a word or second thought, Ellie led him toward her bedroom. She pulled him inside, shutting the door behind them to keep any sounds they might make from filtering upstairs. Explaining Franco to the neighbors was one thing. The kids wouldn’t be so easy to fool. A strange man in mom’s bedroom wasn’t something they’d ignore with the promise of a few cookies or a new toy.

Franco derailed her train of thought by lifting Eleanor’s hair and placing a gentle kiss on the back of her neck. He released her curls to slide his large hands over her ribs. She arched into his palms, her head coming to rest on Franco’s chest as he cupped her breasts and squeezed gently.

“Perfect,” he murmured. “Just as I remember them.”

Ellie sighed with pleasure. “Yes.”

He chuckled, his thumbs brushing over her peaked nipples through the thin material of her top and the sheer bra beneath.

“Cute,” he whispered against her throat. “And sexy.”

Franco stepped back and Ellie instantly regretted the loss of heat against her back. She turned and the seductive smile he gave her caused more moisture to flow between her thighs. He sat on the bench at the end of her bed, braced his elbows on the duvet behind him and grinned.

“Strip for me, Ellie.” He commanded. “Let me see you.”

Eleanor chuckled softly. She kicked off her simple black flats, the shoes thudding quietly against the carpet by the door to her walk-in closet. Hips swaying slowly, Ellie undid the fly of her sexiest jeans. The button popped easily and then the zipper slid down with a soft rasp of metal on metal. She’d chosen the pants specifically because of the way Robbie always admired her ass in them and the way they made her legs appear much longer than they were.

Pushing the denim down over her hips, Ellie considered Franco from beneath her lashes. Lust flashed in his eyes as her panties came into view. Black satin with rhinestones and bows detailed along the peak-a-boo lace trim. Eleanor stepped out of her jeans and turned, bending slightly to give Franco a view of what the skimpy thong didn’t cover.

A soft groan sounded from behind her.

“That ass, Bella,” Franco said in a strangled voice. “You could tempt a saint.”

She smirked, straightened and tossed him a coy look over her shoulder. Ellie dropped the jeans on her dresser and danced a little more for him. Her hands traced over the slight curve of her stomach, skating over her ribs to finally cup the full round of a breast in each palm.

“Are you tempted?” she asked, watching his reaction to her touching. “Do you want this?”

His eyes darkened, the chocolate depths turned black with desire for her. Ellie’s confidence soared. That reaction was all for her, and her alone. Not for another man or woman who might be in the room—for Ellie.

Franco nodded. “Take the rest off, Bella mia. I want to see it all.”

Ellie grasped the silky bottom of her top and began to tug the thin material upward. With each inch of bared skin she sensed his eyes devouring her, searing hot with need. She pulled the shirt off, her breasts bouncing in the flimsy bra as they were freed from the tight material.

Opening her eyes, she looked at Franco as she tossed her shirt onto the dresser with her pants. Her gaze travelled down from his face, over the wide expanse of his chest down to the obvious bulge in his pants. Soon, she thought. Soon I’ll have that inside me. In my mouth, in my pussy...everywhere.

With each roll of her hips Ellie moved closer until she stood before Franco. She straddled his thick thighs, gyrating until her backside was planted firmly in his lap and her breasts pressed against his pecs. Franco leaned forward. His lips pressed to the shallow dip above her collarbone as his hands slid up her legs.

“Beautiful,” he murmured against her skin.

His thumbs slowly massaged the crease of each thigh, probing for entry beneath the thin material covering her. He slipped one under, inching toward her slit and the small bundle of nerves at its apex.

“Yes,” she panted and then caught his mouth in a hot, hungry kiss. Her tongue danced with his, darting in and out of each other’s mouths, mimicking the act they would soon complete. Franco found her clit with his thumb. He traced small circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves and she whimpered with need for him with each pass.

Franco moved one hand up to palm her right breast. His thumb brushed back and forth over the peak. Her nipple puckered instantly, pebbling to a hard point as her breasts grew heavy with need.

“Franco,” she begged. “Please.”

Ellie’s body was on fire. The anticipation building since she’d woken up that morning came to a head, heat snaking out from low in her belly to sear along her senses and drive her wild. She rocked against his hand, eagerly pursuing the release he held back.

Stroke by stroke, Ellie’s body tensed. Her thighs locked around Franco’s hips, back arched to press her breasts tight against the solid wall of his chest. Low, keening pleas slipped from her with increasing frequency as the coil of heat in Eleanor’s belly expanded, threatening to explode with the next touch, the next whisper of breath against her skin.

“Come, Bella mia,” Franco demanded, his thumb pressing hard and fast over her clit. He inserted two fingers inside of her, the thick digits filling Ellie and tipping her over the edge. She bucked hard against him, her hands gripping his shoulders as she cried out and came for him. Every muscle in her body, every nerve screaming as her world rocked on its axis for a moment and then righted itself.

Franco freed his hands from between them and lifted her. He turned, gently depositing Ellie on the bed before he stepped back and undressed. She watched him, her gaze travelling over each ridge of muscle as he revealed them. The soft light from the bedside lamps burnished his olive toned skin, casting shadows beneath the thick slabs of his pectorals. His biceps bulged as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it onto the bench they’d vacated.

Sitting up, Ellie crooked a finger at him as he reached for his belt.

“Let me,” she asked. “I want to discover what’s behind that for myself.”

He grinned and held his hands out to his side. Ellie scooted closer, her legs dangling off the edge of the bed as he stood still for her. She slid the thick leather from the clasp, her teeth nervously working at her lower lip as she reached for the button holding his jeans closed. Her fingers brushed against his abdomen, the skin pebbling with goosebumps beneath her touch.

“Nervous?” she chuckled at the reaction.

His soft laugh ruffled the hair on top of her head. “Yes. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Ellie glanced up at him. “You aren’t.” She popped the button on his pants and slid the zipper down. Her hand slid inside the warm confines and caressed the hardness she found there. “Definitely not disappointing in the least.”

He groaned, catching Ellie by surprise as he pushed her down and caught her mouth in a fierce, needy kiss. Ellie brought her legs up, wrapping them around the small of his back as Franco kicked free of his jeans. He pressed into her, the thickness of his erection pressed against the soft fabric of her panties. She ground against him, enjoying the way he surged against her heat.

“You’ve got...” he asked.

She nodded, quickly flicking a hand toward her bedside table. “Over there.”

Franco gave her a hard kiss that curled her toes and left her panting with desire. He slipped from between her thighs and moved closer to the other side of the bed to pick up the box of condoms. Ellie watched as he pulled a dark blue packet from inside and tore it open. He leaned back, the thick length of his erection jutting from a thatch of trimmed ebony curls.

“Let me,” Ellie said as she scooted to sit up. She held her hand out and he placed the condom in her palm. Carefully, Ellie placed the latex on the tip of Franco’s cock and rolled the cylinder down until it sheathed him completely. She peered up at him and the intensity of his expression caused her pussy to clench.

Gently, Franco pushed her back against the pillows. He bent low, kissing down her belly as his hands skimmed over her hips and pulled her panties off. The silky material slid down her thighs. The soft brush of Franco’s fingers exciting her senses with a promise of more to come as he pulled the undergarment free and moved back up to kiss her again.

Ellie arched into him and Franco took advantage of the position to unsnap her bra. Her breasts sprang free as the front clasp released the voluptuous curves.

“Fuck,” he murmured against her lips. “You’re so beautiful. I don’t think I’ll last.”

Chuckling softly, Ellie shrugged free of her bra and tossed it to the floor. “You will,” she replied. “Now shush.”

He smiled against her skin, nudged her thighs further apart and settled between them. The weight of his lower body over hers pressed Ellie into the softness of the pillow top mattress. Lifting her hips, she rocked her core slowly over the rock hard length of his shaft. The head of his cock pushed against her clit and Ellie bit her lip to keep from crying out as sparks of ecstasy flew through her veins. She closed her eyes, savoring the friction between them.

“Ellie,” Franco groaned. He palmed her left breast again and, when the heat of his mouth enveloped her nipple, Ellie’s eyes flew open. She gazed down at him, lust winging through her with every suckle, every flick of his tongue.

Eleanor rocked her hips again, the hard ridge of him sliding over her eager flesh on the upstroke and impaling her smoothly on the downstroke. She held her breath, eyes wide as she waited for his reaction to suddenly being inside of her. Franco released her nipple, an expression of pure ecstasy stamped on his handsome features. Now that, she thought, is how a man should look when he’s inside a woman.

Franco was not more endowed than her Robbie, and yet, Ellie stretched more than ever before. She tested the waters with a slow tilt of her hips. The first subtle movement led to a second, more confident one, and then Ellie was lost as Franco took over, his hips pumping slow and steady against her.

Heat pooled in her belly again, less frantic than before but demanding all the same. She kissed Franco greedily, her lips claiming his between gasps for breath and moans of pleasure. Ellie held tight, her nails leaving small crescents in the thick muscles of Franco’s biceps as their bodies undulated together.

She lost her grip on his arms as Franco leaned back. He slid his hands beneath her knees, lifting Ellie’s legs and crossing them at the ankles against his chest. The new angle tilted her up further and the change revved up the heat burning through Ellie. Franco never stopped as they rearranged. He pumped harder, faster, driving her wild as he mastered her body with his own.

The new position opened her wide, leaving her swollen clit exposed, begging for attention. Ellie reached down, her fingertips finding the bundle of nerves easily. She pinched it between her fingers, fluttering them quickly.

“Oh...God,” she cried out. “I’m... gonna...”

Between one thrust and the next, Ellie went wild. Her free hand clutched at the duvet, while she rocked frantically against Franco. He clutched her hips, holding tight as he fucked her hard and dove over the precipice with her.

Arched tight as a bowstring, Ellie bit her lip to stifle her cry. Stars burst behind her eyelids, an explosion of fireworks echoing the ecstasy coursing through her every fiber.

“Fuck,” he groaned, grinding against her. “Ellie... Fuck.”

Ellie collapsed onto the bed, her body loose and completely spent. She licked her lips, gave him a small, satisfied smirk and nodded. “Yes,” she panted. “Ellie has been fucked. Very, very well.”

Franco chuckled softly and kissed her hard before dropping down to lie beside her. She rolled to her side, admiring the way his chest heaved as he fought for breath. He lazily lifted a hand, tweaking one of her elongated nipples.

“Yes,” he agreed. She looked up at him and matched his smile with one of her own. “Come, kiss me, Bella mia. I’m not done with you yet.”

Eleanor laughed softly and complied. She wasn’t done with him either.

~*~

Copyright © 2011 Danielle Gavan

Danielle Gavan
Paranormal and Erotic Romance Author

Ardeur ~ Tarnishes Tiaras ~ Cursed ~ UnWrapped

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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.

Coffee Break

Content Advisory : male/female – fantasy and frustration!

I fantasize about you – mind boggling, wanton fantasies. I guess its not seemly, me being married and all. I’m old enough to know better – old enough to wear the dubious title of “cougar”. But that’s OK, ‘cause I’m not prowling, or cheating – I’m just looking and dreaming. The beauty of dreams is they’re free and no-one can tell you whether they’re wrong or right.

 This is the reason I come here every day. Supposedly, it’s because you make the best coffee in town. But it has nothing to do with the kick of the caffeine and everything to do with the thrill of my own personal daydreams.

The first time I saw you, it took all of my self control not to openly drool. As far as eye-candy went, you made me want to buy the candy store, dress in elasticized trousers and start munching my way towards obesity.

Standing behind the counter, You are perfection. Tall, dark and handsome may be a romantic cliché, but you kick the cliché’s ass and redefine its meaning. Your dark wavy hair and “come-to-bed” eyes would not be out of place on the cover of a bodice-ripper novel. The athletic lines of your body are delectable. You should be modeling underwear on a billboard, rather than fighting the vagaries of a temperamental coffee machine. Not that I am complaining! Who am I to berate fate for throwing you into my path as fodder for my over-active imagination?

As I wait for my opportunity to get close to you, the length of the queue in the coffee shop never bothers me. It gives me time to fall back into the depths of my mind. To go to the happy place, where it’s just you and me and our sexual adventure for the day. Who will I make you today? An Italian Count? A Greek Tycoon? A swarthy pirate? A…

“Your usual?” A nasal voice cuts through my reverie like a rusty razor. Little Miss Yoga-Barbie, the cashier,  looks at me expectantly through her lashes, black and spiked up like startled spiders. She taps her hot pink acrylic fingernail on the counter.

“With extra cream today please”.

It is obvious from her slight moue of distaste, I may as well have asked for extra cyanide, but she writes down my order and takes my money. I slide to the side of the counter, closer to you.

Watching you move gives me goosebumps. You glide with an elegant economy of movement behind the counter; tamping and grinding beans, heating and frothing milk. As you deal with the hissing steam wand and juggle clanking cups and saucers, the muscles in your arms bunch and flex under the thin covering of your tight, white t-shirt.  A sheen of sweat shines your brow. It furrows ever so slightly in concentration, as you put the final sprinkling flourishes on a cappuccino.

The dappled morning light from the window highlights the stubble shadowing the lower half of your chiseled face. The sort of stubble that would chafe anything rubbing against it.

 My vision softens, as I retreat inside my head with you. It is my smooth skin craving the sandpaper feel of your face. I imagine placing feather-light kisses along the line of your jaw. My lips tingle at the rough sensation, as I make my way towards your mouth. Reaching your lips, I snake my tongue over their velvety smoothness, nuzzling you. I press against the seam of your mouth; probing and seeking entry.

Without warning, your hand is fisted in my bobbed hair, pinning me in place as your mouth descends on mine; driving the air from my lungs. I am drowning in your kiss. The force of your passion  bruises my lips, and chafes my cheeks, but I don’t care.  I return the kiss with an intensity to rival yours. My senses are full of you; the spicy notes of your cologne, the minty taste of your mouth and the solid lines of your body pushed up hard against mine.

My eyes are shut tight, serving only to heighten my other senses to fever pitch. I throw my head back, in a desperate effort to draw air into my lungs. Bereft of my lips, your potent kisses drift down my neck, towards the swell of my heaving breasts. I don’t need to open my eyes to know the tips are already erect, rasping against the confines of my bra, in a delicious mixture of pleasure and pain. I arch my back in a silent plea for you to release them and draw them into the heat of your mouth.

I cannot control my moan of pleasure, as I feel the warmth of your breath against my skin. With a muffled click, you unsnap the clasp at the front of my bra and my breasts fall into the warmth of your waiting palms. Your dark head dips and pulls one sensitive tip deep into the wet interior of your mouth, circling the areola with your tongue. I push hard against your mouth, wanting more. Not missing a beat, you give it to me; simultaneously suckling hard on one nipple, whilst pinching the other between your forefinger and thumb. Moisture pools between my thighs and I gasp my approval, tension growing deep in my belly.

Stepping away, you deftly deal to the fly on your jeans and your cock is open to my gaze, free from its denim confinement.

“Take me in your mouth.” The huskiness of your tone makes me tingle to my core. I love that I’m turning you on so much. The hand on my breast stops its kneading and moves to my shoulder, gently pushing me down to where you want me; kneeling.  I am face to face with the thick length of your engorged cock. My lungs fill with the musky scent of your arousal. Before I can do anything you grasp yourself with a firm fist and squeeze out a milky drop of pre-come.  My tongue darts out and licks away the little pearl of exotic cream…

“…extra cream,” says a voice from far, far away.

 “Excuse me – I think that’s your order.”

Mr. Beige-Suit beside me taps my shoulder and points to the counter. My fantasy shatters into a million little pieces as the sledgehammer of reality descends.

“Uhhh…thanks,” I mumble, closing my mouth. I wonder if I have been openly panting. My sensible white cotton knickers are soaked and have molded themselves to my inner folds, clinging and stimulating my sensitive flesh. My clit  throbs, pulses, and I am strung so taut that with the slightest touch, I know a tsunami of sensation would overwhelm me. I clench my teeth and my thighs together tight in a supreme effort of self control. But, I look at you over the counter, wearing your tight white t-shirt and your sculpted muscles seem to be mocking me. Perhaps it’s the sexual frustration making me a little crazy, but today, I want something more than imagined scenarios in my head. I want to taste you on my lips, feel the thrust of you deep in my throat. I want you to notice me.

I moisten my lips. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I look you straight in the eye, seizing your gaze and refusing to let it go. You raise a bemused eyebrow at the audacity of my stare and the corners of your luscious mouth turn imperceptibly upwards. Your gaze dips and hovers over my chest. Does my confidence daunt you or are you lost in my cleavage? Oh my God – are you checking out my tits? The thundering of blood in my ears is so loud, I’m sure you can hear it, or see it in the pulse in my neck or in the peaking of my nipples. You lift your eyes, smile and open your mouth to speak.

“Nice necklace,” you say, “the blue matches your eyes.” Your voice is a deep baritone, rich and mellow. Just like the coffee you push toward me. “Mocha, extra cream. Enjoy.”

You turn back to the machine and start on the next coffee.

Nope – not checking me out. You were just being polite, just doing your job. Nothing more, nothing less.

Embarrassment descends like a vulture on my mortified bones, as I turn and flee the store before I make myself look more foolish than I already have.

I plough my way through the steady stream of city workers, who, like me, are struggling their way to the office. I take a quick swallow of my mocha, and my eyes dip in pleasure at the luxury of the extra cream. I have a sudden flashback of your cock, encircled by your fist, leaking proof of your excitement.

 Suddenly I am overcome with giggles at the power of my own imagination. The mind is a powerful thing and today that power short circuited my libido and most of my common sense with it. I may not have blown you, but I certainly blew some cover! I’m not sure if I have the cajones to look you in the face again. As of tomorrow, I’ll be looking for another coffee shop and barista to take care of my furtive fantasies and morning mochas.

***

Please come back on February 15^th, when Greta will be bringing you more hot, original fiction.

Copyright © 2011 Greta Goddard

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.