tagBDSMA Masterful Seduction by the Book

A Masterful Seduction by the Book

It had been forever since I had time to spend an afternoon wandering through a bookstore. I could have downloaded a book with a push of a button, but there was something I really missed about thumbing through pages and trying to decide what I was going to take home to read. Plus, I needed to get out of the house even if I didn't have any intention of interacting with anyone except for the college kid doing his homework behind the checkout counter.

The bookstore was empty, or at least it felt empty. It gave me the courage to linger a little bit longer than I planned in the erotica section. I didn't want anything that was patently smutty. I didn't want anything about college girls gone wild or housewives in heat. I wanted a story about a strong, intelligent woman with a deep understanding of her sexual desires.

A collection of poetry by Sappho? No. Too challenging. Too encrypted. I wanted something that flowed much easier on the eyes and the brain.

"Lady Chatterley's Lover"? Hmm ... now this had some scandal about it for decades. And it involved a woman of privilege involved with a man not of her stature. "The Story of O"? Now this had a bit more of an edge but still involved a proper female protagonist who willingly gave herself up to high class sexual slavery.

I scanned through the prologues of each book and debated which one I would take back with me to spend the night. I got so wrapped up in trying to make my selection that I was taken aback by a low, gravely and velvety voice behind me say, "Don't turn around, but tell me what you're reading."

My casual lean went straight and rigid. I held my breath in fright. I should have been completely creeped out but there was something about this man's presence that intrigued me, even though I couldn't figure out what it was.

"'Lady Chatterley's Lover' and 'The Story of O'," I said in a soft voice clipped with trepidation.

"Both lovely reads," he said. "Intelligent choices."

"Thank you," I said.

"Lovely reads." "Intelligent choices." Those were unusual combination of words to describe books of questionable morals meant to fulfill secret sexually savory appetites, and here I was being exposed and prodded by some man who was a stranger who wouldn't let me see him.

"You should read 'The Story of O' first," he said.

Really? Who was he to decide what I should read? But there was something in his voice that was extremely confident, intelligent, and well-spoken.

"I would love the chance to discuss the book with you some time," he said.

"You've read this?" I asked.

I was about to turn around to have a more in-depth face-to-face conversation with him until I heard him say, "Don't turn around."

Woah. This was getting a bit scary. My breathing came to almost a complete halt until he put his hand to my side and gave it a few gentle calming strokes. I should have felt more scared to have a strange man I didn't know and couldn't see touch me like that, even for a brief moment , but there was something calming and reassuring about his touch.

"To answer your question, yes, I've read the book," he said. "It's a favorite of mine. I'm getting the feeling it's one you need to read."

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

He hesitated for a good, long moment before he finally said, "Do you trust me enough to hand over your phone to me?"

Did I trust him enough to hand over a $200 phone? Not really, but I was curious to see what he was up to.

I dug into the black hole of my shoulder bag and pulled it out just by feeling for it so I could keep my eyes open and focused around the periphery to make sure my surroundings were safe. I handed my phone to him and I could hear him punch in some buttons.

He handed the phone back to me along with a $20 bill, and said, "I don't want you to turn around or try to look for me for 60 seconds. I want you to buy this book with the money I gave you and call me as soon as you get to your car."

I stood there probably longer than the 60 seconds partly because I felt strangely compelled to follow his direction and partly because I was too scared to move. I didn't move until the gruff looking hipster kid from behind the counter came up to me and asked, "Are you OK, miss?"

"I'm fine," I said, not knowing how to really respond.

"You weren't hurt or bothered in any way, were you?" he pressed. "I have him on video if you need to file a police report."

"No," I said. "It's OK."

I should have asked to see the video. I wanted to get a look at this guy. But part of me was intrigued with the mystery of what just happened. I've had men I didn't know buy me drinks, but this man bought me a book. Hell, most men I met in random social situations didn't even read books.

I paid for the book and walked out to my car to see what he typed into my phone. There was a new entry in my contacts: Sir George with a telephone number.

Sir George? I doubted he was some kind of British nobility; his accent was much more local and his voice sounded like a man closer to my age. Maybe he was just some arrogant prick who liked to toy around with people. Maybe he was just playing off his choice in my reading material.

I was curious enough to call but smart enough to block my number to see what this guy was all about. Hell, I had nothing better to do on a Saturday afternoon. He picked up right away.

"Hi, this is Patrice from the bookstore," I said.

"It's nice to have a name with the lovely woman I saw today," he said.

Lovely. There was that word again. How many men use that word these days? I found that strangely romantic considering how he approached me.

"Are you normally in the habit of taking women by surprise like that?" I had to ask.

"Never like that," he said. "It was the first time I ever did anything like that, but I am full of surprises."

"How so?" I asked.

"Would you like to find out?" he asked.

Of course I wanted to find out. This man amped up my curiosity at least a hundred times since he left me at the bookstore the way he did.

"Who are you? Why did you approach me like that? Why didn't you want me to see you? You couldn't possibly have approached me the way that you did if you weren't some kind of sick and twisted fuck," I said.

"You're very direct," he said.

"You're not," I said. "You're avoiding my questions."

"I just paid you a compliment," he said.

"Thank you, I think," I said.

He still didn't answer my questions, but he said, "You're an attractive woman in a rather cerebral way based on the particular shelves I saw you browsing through. You don't seem to be the type of woman I'd see in a bar, but then again, I don't hang out in bars looking to meet women. To be honest, I wasn't looking to meet anyone, but you captured my attention."

"Thank you, but you left me at quite a disadvantage," I said. "I have no idea what you look like. I have no idea what your game is. I don't even know why I called you."

"Yet you did call me," he said.

He had a point, and I was playing into his hand. Willingly.

"I'll tell you what," he said to break my pause. "I think we should continue this conversation in person in a public place. I'm pretty sure you won't be disappointed. Are you free right now?"

"Umm ... yeah, I can be," I said.

"How about the coffee shop on Main and Second?" he suggested." Bring your book and take a seat on the sofa facing the rear wall. What would you like to drink?"

"An iced tea would be fine," I said. "With lemon."

"An iced tea with lemon it will be then," he said. "I'll see you in a few."

I was five minutes from the coffee shop but it took me 10 minutes to find an open parking spot. I walked into the shop and figured I'd see him sitting on the sofa where he told me to sit, but there wasn't anyone there. The only other men in the shop were two guys playing chess at a table up front and the barista who looked a bit waifish to have a deep voice like Sir George.

Sir George? Did he really expect me to call him that?

After about ten minutes, I was beginning to wonder why I came out here. Maybe this guy was just taking me for a ride to see what kind of crazy nut would come out to meet him after the way he approached me. He was probably standing outside looking in the coffee shop and laughing his ass off. I figured I'd give him another five minutes. If he didn't show up, it would be game over.

As soon as I opened my book, a hand holding an iced tea came from over my shoulder. I was just about to turn around, and he said, "Don't turn around."

I was just about to turn around to tell him to tell him I didn't appreciate his game until he said, "I said I wanted to continue to continue our conversation in a public place. I didn't say anything about revealing my physical identity."

"It would be nice if you did," I said.

"Why?" he asked. "Are looks that important?"

I heard him pull up a chair behind me. I'd let this go for the time being, but there was no way I would let this go indefinitely.

"Yes," I said. "And don't try to pull that double standard crap on me. You chose to approach me based on my looks. Besides, this is embarrassing and silly to carry on a conversation like this in public. I'm going to leave."

I got up off of the sofa and caught a glimpse of him as I started to pass by.

Actually, I didn't continue to pass by. I stopped in my tracks to check him out. He smiled back at me in both a smug and contented way.

He was attractive. Very attractive. Bald with glasses and a hefty, muscular build. Well dressed for a Saturday afternoon – a tribal print button-front short-sleeved shirt, a neat pair of cargo shorts, and a pair of leather sandals.

"You're embarrassed, huh?" he asked. "Uncomfortable?"

"Before I leave, I want to know what the point of this whole exercise you've been in control of all this time is about," I said.

He walked me back to the sofa and sat down next to me.

"There are things I look for in a woman," he said. "First of all, you're gorgeous, a stunner. Secondly, I was intrigued with your book selections – cerebral and carnal. Third, you asked good questions and I was taken by your curiosity and by how far you came along with me on this. Fourth, you take direction well."

"Take direction?" I asked. "Really? I'm so out of here."

I started to get up, but he grabbed my wrist that I was using to brace my weight on in order to get up off of the couch, and said, "Please don't take offense. I meant that in the nicest way. You won't have to get far into the book to know what I mean."

I settled back down into the sofa. Now I really wanted to know what I had gotten myself into.

"Well, since I haven't read the book, tell me what you mean," I said.

"You obviously aren't familiar with Dominance and submission," he said.

"No, but I'm curious," I said.

"Good," he said. "All of those traits I tried to compliment you on, even the one about taking direction, well, are all what I find ideal in a submissive."

"But you're forgetting about me being rather direct," I said.

"I haven't forgotten at all," he said. "It will make it all that more interesting to challenge and get to know you and temper you. If you weren't the way you are, I wouldn't be able to be as creative as I'd like to be. Besides, I don't want a doormat and I don't want a woman who gives of herself too willingly."

"What you want?" I asked. "Never once did you ask me what I want."

A devilish grin broke out on his face.

"I know that you want to find out what this is all about," he said.

Damn. He was right, and he was intelligent, well-mannered, and gorgeous, too.

"Tell you what," he said. "Go home and start reading the book. Give me your email and I'll send you a list of questions so I'll know your sexual interests and turn offs. I'll call you later in the week to set up another time for us to meet."

He handed me his phone so I could enter my email and phone number. He made it a point of telling me that I'd have to trust him with my phone number and not block it.

He got up, kissed me on the cheek, and said he was looking forward seeing me again.

"By the way," I said as he started to step away, "What made you think you could approach me the way that you did? I could have kneed you in the nuts, made a scene, or called the cops on you."

"Because, my dear, it's all about taking risks," he said. "Even for me."

I went home and poured into the book until two in the morning and most of the next day. It was absolutely perverse and fascinating, especially considering it was written by a woman in the middle of the chokehold sexually repressive 1950's.

I got Sir George's email the next day. It was 10-page of questions about my BDSM likes, dislikes and "Willing to trys" along with room to write in specific experiences. Cuffs? Definitely yes. Rope bondage and restraints? I'd certainly be willing to try. Spanking? Sure. A little swat on the ass was hot every once in a while. Paddles, floggers, crops and canes? I'd give them a try but I wasn't too sure about canes. Visions of cruel and unusual punishment came to mind when it came to canes. Exhibitionism? Definitely. My ex-boyfriend was totally into that, and it was hot – giving him a blow job in a coat room of a fancy restaurant, sneaking off to a bedroom at someone's house during a party for a quickie, getting fucked from behind with my tits pressed against the window of a hotel that my ex and I stayed on vacation one time. Oh, yeah. Bisexual or homosexual sex? I always thought about what it might be like to have sex with a woman, but only as a one-time deal. I took a big leap of faith in marking the "Willing to try" button. Sex with multiple partners? I typed in an "X" between "Yes" and "No" and wrote the question: "Does having sex in the same room with another couple count?" Humiliation? No. Welts? Absolutely no. Scat play? Golden showers? Absolutely fuck no! I spent three hours filling out the form and sent it back to Sir George.

He called me Wednesday night and said he was pleased that I got the questionnaire back to him so quickly. I expressed some concern to him that I really wanted to get to know him better first. I didn't even know his last name or if George was really his first name. I had no idea what he did for a living. He said his name really was George and said he'd email me the link to his bio on his company's website. He asked me what I did for a living and told him I was a regional editor for a national online news service. He seemed impressed.

"As for the other things you may want to know, I think that's better left to time we can talk in person," he said. "Are you free Friday night?"

I told him I was.

"Good, I'll give you two choices," he said. "We can meet for a cocktail in a public place and talk or we can meet at my place. I have this outstanding bottle of Australian Shiraz I've been wanting to crack open and share with someone, but I want you to feel that you are absolutely safe. If you want to come over, you can call a friend and let him or her know where you are, but I assure you that you'll be in safe hands."

Going out for a cocktail would be nice, but I didn't know how privately we could talk, especially if it got noisy. Oh, what the hell. I'll roll the dice and meet him at his house.

"I was hoping that you'd say that," he said. "For that matter, let's make it dinner. I'll cook. I'm pretty good. I promise that I have nothing untoward or dangerous planned, and I will not have sex with you.

"Oh, and one more thing. I'd like you to wear a skirt. Something pretty and feminine."

I showed up on Friday promptly at 7. He said to bring nothing but myself although I picked up a couple of wedges of cheese, crackers and some grapes. It was just the good guest thing in me that had been engrained in me since I was a kid. And I actually managed to run out and get a girly-looking sundress. I rarely wore them and the few skirts and dresses that I had were quite tailored that I had were mostly reserved for the big wigs came in from corporate.

There was a Post-It Note on the front door that said, "Come in!"

His house was gorgeous – an Arts & Crafts bungalow that was beautifully restored and was furnished in mix of period Shaker furniture with some arty and modern touches. The man certainly had good taste.

Sir George was pretty easy to find. He was in the kitchen from where all the good smells were coming.

Dinner was wonderful – pork tenderloin in a dried cherry marinade, blue cheese scalloped potatoes, and haricot verts. As for that bottle of wine he was so eager to share, it was superb.

We talked about our lives, our families, our work. We found out that we had a few friends and acquaintances in common and that we both liked cooking, reading, and had the very similar views on politics and social issues. It was all like a very normal first date.

He showed me around the house and all of the work he had done, mostly himself, including the landscaping and the woodwork that had mostly been painted several times over the years that he stripped and refinished. He saved showing me his bedroom for last, but kept me at the door in an attempt to be a gentleman. I had to admit, the way things were going and for as charming as he was, I could have easily fallen into that bed with him.

We went out to the back screened-in porch to finish the wine and have some cheese. But before we sat down, he asked me to hold out my hands.

He picked up two plastic lock ties from a side table and put them around my wrists.

"This isn't normally what I consider bondage, but I just want to give you a very tame introduction to what you might expect," he said as he secured them.

He sat me down in a comfortable padded wicker rocker and fed me a sip of wine.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Actually, pretty turned on," I said. "This is sexy."

"Even though I haven't touched you and said I would not have sex with you tonight?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Good," he said.

He pulled out a stack of papers and pulled out a photograph of a nude woman kneeling on the floor with leather cuffs secured around her wrists behind her back.

"She looks beautiful, serene," I said.

"Even though you can't see her face?" he asked.

"It's her body language," I said.

He rifled through the papers and came across my questionnaire.

"You say that you've played with cuffs," he said. "What happened?"

I felt awkward talking about my sex life with a former boyfriend, especially in explicit detail. It wasn't a BDSM situation. It was just for kicks, but I had to admit that not being able to move or touch him while he went down on me and drilled me like an oil rig really intensified my orgasm.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about," he said. "It's important for me to know where you've been and at what level I can start with you. And just to let you know, if I do restrain you, it won't always be about giving you mind-blowing orgasms. It might be because I'll just find you beautiful that way. Or because you'll need to be taught a lesson."

I was glad that I started reading "The Story of O" and some discussion boards online about what BDSM relationships are all about. Had I not, I would have said something like, "Are you fucking nuts?" Instead, I was extremely curious about his interest in restraints. He said he had quite an extensive collection of tools in his dungeon.

"Dungeon?" I asked. "For real?"

"Yes, and I'm quite proud of it," he said.

"I'd like to see it," I said.

He looked as if he was completely unprepared for my response and my reaction. I thought perhaps I that I caught his bluff about being a Dom, especially when he said, "I wasn't prepared to show it to you tonight, especially since I'd really like for us to get to know each other better and I promised you that I would not have sex with you."

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tagSci-Fi & FantasyProject 621310

Project 621310

She had run the length of the beach up and back five times with Milton following closely at her bare heels when she finally broke focus and noticed the jeep parked at the gate. She saw him sitting in the driver's seat, watching her, giving a little wave, and she stopped running.

"How long have you been sitting there?" she shouted, working to catch her breath.

"I just got here," the man in the jeep called back to her. He slid out of the seat and walked toward her. "Somehow, I knew I'd find you here. Hello, Milton."

The golden retriever wagged its tail laconically and approached the stout, bearded fellow for a head-rub. The woman wiped the sweat from her brow and smiled. "They haven't thrown me out yet."

The man carried a large, bulky brown grocery bag and a large, bulky brown envelope, which he held up for her to see.

"I brought you a present."

"Jesus," she said. "My entire career in the space program, and it all fits in one envelope. Did you watch it?"

The man shook his head.

"Sure you didn't." She looked down at a beer bottle cap in the sand, caught it between her toes, flicked it up and deftly kicked it at him. "What do you think?"

"I thought you looked great," he said. "You just make a lot of goofy noises when you're screwing."

"That's not what I meant," she said. "How bad is it?"

"Pretty bad. You realize that everyone has seen it."

She nodded. "Everyone has seen it, and I'm fucked."

"You're not fucked."

"Matthew, I am so absolutely fucked. I've been approached by every tabloid TV show on the planet, and by every shit-rag gossip magazine ever printed."

"Are they offering money?"

She thought it was the funniest thing in the world. They had planned the flight to ensure that she would not be on her period. Millions and millions of dollars spent on this project, and it could all fall apart if they didn't time her cycle correctly. Jesus.

They had each been given little foil packages of tablets to take, one each shortly before each of the times they would have sex together. Little blue pills of sildenafil citrate, just to be sure that he would get hard and that she'd be charged up and ready to go. Incredible stuff, she thought, but no need. They had made love in her apartment, in her bed, and no artificial stimulants had been necessary.

She discovered that he loved oral sex, giving it and getting it, and she found that they could lay in bed for hours, slowly pleasuring one another, their bodies next to each other, or her small, strong body on his, or his carefully poised above hers. His tongue was a gift from God. He knew all of her soft spots. He knew when to go like hell and when to just work around the edges. She also knew the exact moment when she had gone just far enough with the gentle licking and biting and sucking, and it was time to lay back, legs apart, inviting him on top of her; or when she would hold him down and grab his cock, diving down onto it with her pussy and fucking him like crazy; or those times when she knew it was the exact moment, and just one more gentle motion pushed him over the edge, and he would come in her mouth as she rubbed her pussy against his hard-working tongue.

She looked daggers through him.

"Matthew, money doesn't buy dignity."

"Screw dignity, Kick. You can fight it and bitch about all you want, but you're famous."

The woman clenched her jaw, then relaxed and shook her head.

"I don't want to be famous. I don't want to be the answer to a trivia question twenty years from now."

"You already were."

"No," she said. "Nobody remembers astronauts these days. It's not a big deal any more."

"Only if you do what you did," the man said. "Or if your rocket blows up."

"That is so unfunny."

"But so true." He tossed her the envelope, then dug into the grocery bag. "And that isn't the present I brought you." He pulled a slim brown bottle from the bag and handed it toward her. "Have a beer. I had a buddy of mine drag a sixer up from Key West especially for you."

She took the frosty bottle of Sunset Ale from him, then waited as he fished his keys from his pocket.

"Hang on. I've got an opener in here somewhere."

"You can get this in Orlando now," she said.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Katherine Mary," he bellowed. "Quit the god-damned bitching. I try to be a god-damned friend, bring you your favorite god-damned beer, meet you all the way out here on some fucking nowhere beach, and all you do is fucking bitch! Why don't you cut me some slack?"

When they first explained it, she thought it was a joke. Then she felt mildly indignant that they'd even ask. They offered money. They offered a drop-dead guarantee of silence. They said, "If Jeff agreed, would you?" She got up and walked out.

That night, they worked out together and went back to his place for a shower to cool off, and then they were in bed, their bodies strong and fitting well together. She had him in her mouth, turning her head slowly from side to side as she moved up and down him.

"Jesus, Kick," he whispered. "Sweet Jesus."

And then, as he gasped for breath, she turned him loose and moved on top of him, sweeping her warm, wet pussy down to where his solid cock stood waiting, and then feeling it hunt for the gentle opening, soft pressure, coming down on him, slowing, back up, pausing, down softly, then up, then the slow plunge until their bodies met at the point where they were fully engulfed in each other.

He rolled her over and felt her legs rise off the bed and wrap around him as he slowly stroked in and out of her delicately clutching pussy. "Sweet Jesus," he whispered, his hands on her firm, tanned breasts. She moved in a strong rocking motion beneath him, clenching her muscles around him, then letting him go, then grabbing him again. She gasped and bit her lip and began to come, letting it go for thirty seconds, a minute, feeling it ebb through her thighs, out through her fingers and her toes. She opened her eyes and smiled at him.

In a minute it came back again, the gentle waves building; this time she leaned back hard on the mattress and wrapped her arms around him tight, keeping his cock buried deep inside her as it came. He could feel her pussy flutter and quiver and he lost it in a second; she turned him loose and let him go wild on top of her, stroking hard three, four times until he plunged in and gasped and let go.

Afterwards, they sat on the living room floor, him in his shorts, her in his T-shirt, and she told him what they wanted. He laughed, embarrassed as a school boy.

"Sweet Jesus," he said. "Do you want to do it?"

She held the beer out for him to pop off the cap.

"Jesus Christ, woman." He shook his head.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, and then she took a sip from the bottle. "I really do appreciate this."

"My absolute pleasure," the stout man said, holding his bottle out for her to clink in a toast. "Here's to you."

"Thanks. Where'd you get the tape?"

"Hell, where can't you get it? Every guy at the entire Space Center has a copy by now."

She closed her eyes. "That's not very reassuring."

"Kick, I already told you: you can love it, or you can hate it, but you're going to have to learn live with it."

"I don't want to deal with this."

"You made your bed," he said. "Now you've got to lie down in it."

More clichés. She flicked her bottle toward him, splashing him with beer.

"Hey, watch it!" he cried, smiling, dancing out of the way.

"You're not funny," she said.

"Listen, McCormick: didn't you think that something like this could happen? Did you really think that you'd be the first broad to get laid in outer space, and that no one would ever find out?"

She shook her head and looked at her bottle.

"Nobody paid any attention any more," she said. "It was not a big deal. It wasn't supposed to be a big deal."

"It was for 'science.' "

She looked up at him.

"Yeah, it was."

They had condoms. The government insisted on them; "Safety first," they said. There would be sensors to attach to their bodies. The cameras would capture everything. Houston would shut off the video feed to the outside world. Two biologists, a man and a woman, would be allowed to watch the event live as it was beamed back to Earth.

The rest of the crew knew what was happening. They handled it professionally, without a single crude comment, and made sure that Jeff and Kick knew that they were treating it the same as they would any other experiment. As the time approached, Kick bathed herself and took one of the pills. Ten minutes later, they went to the small compartment where the experiment would be carried out. Jeff sealed the hatch and paused to look at her.

"The lights are kind of bright," she said. He nodded.

"Are you ready?" He nodded again.

She took off her booties and slipped out of her jumpsuit, struggling against zero gravity. "Houston," he said, "are you reading us?"

"We're go," came the reply.

He took off his booties and his jumpsuit, and they floated into the space where the cameras could see them. They were still in their underwear, still trying to get into the space comfortably, when Houston broke in.

"Go ahead, Houston."

"Do you have your protection?" the voice came back.

Kick smiled and grabbed for her jumpsuit, peeling a Velcro pocket open to retrieve a foil-covered, NASA-issued packet containing One Each Condom, Lubricated, Spermicidal. "Safety first," Kick smiled. Jeff couldn't keep from smiling, too.

The red lights on the three cameras glowed. Kick slipped out of her white cotton bra, figuring that she'd leave her panties on until Jeff was ready to take them off for her. The sildenafil citrate was working fine; she felt the warmth and the wetness begin to build. The pills were working for Jeff, too: before his shorts came off, she saw he was beginning to get hard. She floated in to touch his cock, and before she realized what she was doing, she had put her lips around it and had sucked him up and down twice before he whispered her name and she looked up at him.

She furrowed her brow. It was no big thing. They were on the mission to have sex with each other, and this was part of it. She sucked up and down slowly, wetly, five more times until his body jumped. Their bodies floated softly in the compartment as he reached for her hips and stripped away her panties. He let them float out of his hands as they skimmed past her feet, and then he moved between her legs and parted her snatch with his tongue. Kick grabbed the railing on the wall and let her hips come up in mid-air as he licked at her clit, and then he held her legs and rose up until their bodies came together.

Kick continued to hold the railing with one hand as she held the condom packet out for him to take, then wrapped her legs around his back as he tore open the packet and withdrew the oily rubber sheath. He smiled as he struggled to get it on his tall-standing prick, rolling it down, and then he was ready. Kick braced herself as he pushed in close and found the folds of her pussy, nuzzling once, finding the angle, then going in all the way inside her in a long, slow, single motion.

They balanced against each other, and then he felt her hips begin to rock. "Sweet Jesus," he thought. They held each other and made love awkwardly, clutching for hand-holds and toe-holds against each other and the walls of the compartment. Jeff held her hips as she reached over her head to clutch the railing, letting her push and pull her pussy in a quick, sweeping glide up and down his prick. The sildenafil citrate was a dream, he thought, not with the cameras, not with everyone watching us. His cock felt painfully hard; he reached forward to rub Kick's breasts. Her eyes were slits; she was biting her lip hard as she worked her body. It was coming, and coming fast. "God," she moaned, "oh God," and then it hit: first a single wave (her eyes opened), and then another and another, and then she closed her eyes and clenched her pussy and heard "Sweet Jesus" and felt Jeff's fingers grabbing her roughly, slamming his hips forward as his bodied buckled. She tangled her ankles around his hips — he would not get free — and let it come. Shit, the sildenafil citrate was good.

Katherine Mary McCormick grew up in Mountain View, in the shadow of the blimp hangars at Moffett Field. Her father was a research chemist who tried to get his only child interested in what he did; it didn't happen. As a child, she was taller and prettier than the other girls in her classes, and better than any of them at sports. She had a friendly personality and, even in the first grade, all the boys fell in love with her instantly.

Her parents enrolled her in pee-wee soccer just after her fifth birthday, and she excelled. By the time she had reached the under-eights, no one on the field was her equal. By her twelfth birthday, she had led her team to two statewide championships. In high school, she scored three goals in a game seven different times, and her teams won the state title three times.

In her senior year of high school, the college scouts came calling: Santa Clara, North Carolina, Stanford. She had excellent grades, a knack for biology and science, and wanted to stay close to home. She chose Stanford and a full-ride soccer scholarship.

Once in college, she realized that she'd never make a good living playing soccer, and chose to concentrate her studies on developmental biology. As part of her coursework, she spent a summer interning at the NASA Ames Research Center at Moffett, working on an experiment in cell development that would be conducted on a space shuttle mission. She was bright, vibrant, a lot of fun, and caught the eye of every man she worked with, each of whom fell in love with her instantly.

One of those who fell for her was the project leader, Ken Reilly, who mentioned her at length to his supervisors at NASA, and they liked what they heard. She was kept under careful watch for nearly two months while every aspect of her life was investigated, and then she was approached.

On the Thursday before her internship was to end, Reilly called her into a meeting in his office. She assumed that he would offer her the opportunity to stay on at Ames as a paid researcher, and was only slightly surprised when she found two other people waiting in Reilly's office. They were introduced as members of the mission specialist recruiting team from NASA. Katherine McCormick's eyebrows raised involuntarily.

She finished her senior year at Stanford knowing that she was being fast-tracked into the space program. She took flying lessons to get over her fear of high places, enrolled in post-graduate courses, played soccer on the weekends, and worked her ass off in between. By 23, she was well known at the Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral, the Dryden Flight Research Center at Edwards Air Force Base, and at the Johnson Space Flight Center in Houston, where she was being force-fed everything she needed to know to become a mission specialist.

While in Florida, she found she had to discourage the advances of several male members of her team, each of whom sought to gain her companionship. She didn't want the distraction of being romantically involved with a member of her crew. Her resolve remained firm until she met Jeffrey Siebern, an Air Force fighter pilot who had been moved into the program and placed on her crew.

He was a soft-spoken but self-assured young man with deep blue eyes and a gentle smile, who had been a star high school quarterback in Texas, and then a top student at the Air Force Academy. He was destined to be an officer in the Air Force, but found that he loved the thrill of flying jets more than being a desk jockey. While at a weekend fly-in at Eglin Air Force Base in Florida, through one coincidence, and then another, he suddenly found himself a candidate for the astronaut training program, and within months had been placed on a shuttle crew.

After the mission, she was offered several jobs in the private sector, boring lab jobs, desk jobs, 9-to-5 jobs that she would have died for before joining the program. Now it would take something more. She moved in with Jeff and they began making plans. He wanted to stay in the Air Force. She thought about going back to school. They made love morning, noon and night and soon found it was all they had in common. Jeff would travel around the country, meeting young people interested in applying to the Air Force Academy. She'd spend her days driving down the coast with their dog, Milton, and laying on the beach. He'd fly back on the weekends and they'd go out for their meals and then come back to the condo to lay by the pool or climb all over each other in bed.

The sex was good, but she was growing bored with her life. Jeff was back in Texas, recruiting. She found herself flirting with a couple of college guys she met at a bar and found that the only thing stopping her was not being sure which one she would take home. She settled on the dark-haired guy because he was the most unlike Jeff. She took him back to the condo and was met at the door by Milton, who wagged his tail until he realized that the man wasn't who he thought he was.

She offered him a drink and he asked for water. She went to the kitchen and poured him a small glass from the faucet and handed it to him. He drank it down as she stood before him, using one foot and then the other to slip off her shoes.

"Nice place," he said. His name was Ben or Brian. She had only half-heard it over the noise of the bar. There was a room down the hall she thought he might like to see, she said, and she took the glass away from him. Milton followed them back, but she closed the door in his face. "Sorry, boy," she said.

She kept the light on low and they watched each other undress. He had a muscular build but was smallish down below but she figured it would more than make do. She unhooked her bra and watched his face as his eyes stole a look at her breasts; she left her panties on and crawled on the bed, meeting him on her knees as he joined her. They embraced, mouths meeting, fingers searching. She touched his cock; he touched her breasts. She kissed him and pushed him on his back, bringing her mouth down to his cock.

He sat back up and reached for her hips, pulling them toward him, peeling her panties off. She smiled as he lay back down, guiding her hips over his face; she swept her pussy down to his mouth and he licked hungrily at it, smelling the sweet warmth, letting his tongue tickle through her tendril lips. She went back to work on his cock, sucking him slowly, then letting the speed and the pressure and the delirium-inducing little scrapes with her teeth and tongue make him shudder and writhe on the sheets. He held her hips tight, her pussy mashing against his lips.

He hit the spot, bang, and she stopped sucking his cock, raising her body up on her arms, fucking his tongue roughly as she closed her eyes and felt it begin to come. As the first wave struck, her body quivered and she pried herself loose, crawling off him on her hands and knees.

"Come on," she whispered. "Come on." He stumbled onto his knees behind her, her hips gently undulating; he held her with one hand and clutched his prick with the other as she looked back at him. "Come on," she whispered. He teased her asshole with his throbbing cock and she said "No, no, come on." He moved closer and blindly searched with the tip of his prick between their bodies and felt the hot, sticky wetness. There it was. She arched her hips, giving him the angle. There it was. He slipped in and began fucking her, holding her hips, looking down to see his prick gliding slowly in and out, seeing her tiny asshole; he looked up to see her glancing sideways across the room. She could see their reflection in the mirror on the dresser. She watched her body move in short, jerky thrusts as he fucked her. "Come on," she whispered.

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Cosmos 44 Most Ridiculous Sex Tips

A fond look back on years of outrageous, impractical, and just plain bad sex advice from Cosmo.

Throughout my long tenure writing Ridiculous Tips For A Miserable Sex Life, I've taken aim at various targets, but one publication stands out as a bastion of weird and wacky sex advice — always chipper, always in a numbered list, and always ill-advised. Cosmo remains the ne plus ultra of usually implausible, occasionally unfathomable, and invariably hilarious sexy tips for sexy sex, and this month, I've chosen to anthologize them for you. Read on, friends.

On Handjobs

###At its core, Cosmo is just a girl, standing in front of a boy, trying to figure what to do with his penis. Or, as they put it, trying to figure out how to “throw his disco stick a party he'll never forget."

1. "To achieve sex-goddess status, you have to truly master his man bits."
"Master" in both senses: the complicated way, like a Master's degree, and the mean way. Like Mistress Lavender.

2. "Hold his penis in one hand and lightly slap it with the other… you can tap it back and forth like you're volleying a tennis ball and lightly pinch the skin on his shaft and testicles. Many women make the mistake of being too gentle."
Second opinion: make the mistake of being too gentle. At least until you ask.

3. "Think of his shaft… like the outer curve of your breast. …Take his shaft between your open palms and tap it back and forth, almost like you're volleying a tennis ball. The quick movements are a fun way to wake up his nerves."
First, do women like their breasts to be “volleyed” like tennis balls? Also: stop hitting me.

4."Firmly hold the bottom of his shaft in one hand and slowly push it towards the base. (Imagine you're pushing his penis into his body)."
If — unbelievably — this doesn’t work, you're doing it wrong, you shameful, unable-to-please-a-man woman. The only logical step from here is to initiate something insanely complicated.

5. "Alternate between swiveling both wrists in opposite directions and stroking your hands upward, twisting your wrists when you reach his head as though you are turning a doorknob. Rub your thumb in a tiny figure-eight pattern over his frenelum… Or try the windshield-wiper move; glide your thumb from side to side along the rim where his head begins, then move your thumb up and over the top of the head several times."
If, at any point during this oddly elaborate ritual, he looks confused, toss him a heated stare and say, "I crave you" — you know, to clear things up.

On the Art of Fellatio, or Level II: Occupy Ball Street.

6. "34 percent of guys say they wish a girl would surprise them with oral when they walk in the door."
The other two-thirds might think it's alarmingly precalculated, but that's a risk worth taking. Go on, "ambush him."

7. "Fifty-six percent of unmarried men prefer receiving head while lying down as opposed to standing up, while the numbers are exactly reversed for married men."
I think that means you are one married man and two standard deviations from overthinking foreplay.

8. "Chew a small piece of mango… then take him in your mouth. You can use whatever fruit you have, just don't try anything too acidic, as it can burn him."
Non-acidic fruit won't burn… but it will probably feel just as weird and pulpy as it sounds.

9. “Go hot and cold. During oral, suck in air as you go down and blow it out as you go up.”
And don’t worry if you burp.

10. “As you’re going down on him, shake your head from side to side, letting your tongue follow the same pattern on the extra sensitive underside of his penis.”

11. "As you move your mouth up and down his shaft, rotate your hand in a corkscrew motion while spiraling your tongue in the opposite direction."
And remember ladies, never forget to smile!

"We rounded up a bunch of super-sexy tricks just for [your breasts]. If these don't skyrocket your pleasure (and have him drowning in drool), we don't know what will."
I pride myself on keeping up with the international register of erotic terminology, but somehow "drowning in drool" slipped right by me. However, after Googling it, I did learn that it accounts for 23% of nocturnal deaths among St. Bernards.

12. "Tickle his feet with your nipples: climb on top of him in reverse cowgirl position, then bend over until your nipples reach the tops of his feet. …Yowzah."
When this sounds spicy, you have hit new heights of erotic boredom.

13. "Receive a butterfly kiss… of your breasts. To do: he bats his eyelids against the supersensitive underside of your breasts."
He might have to insert his head into your chest cavity, forehead up, but give it a shot.

14. "It's time to introduce your breasts to your favorite vibrator… (how rude of your vadge to have hogged it all these years)."
Your vadge is a hog, women. A hoggy, hoggy vadge. God, that's sexy.

15. "Dip your breasts in edible body paint, and use them to 'sponge paint' his entire body. Then lick it off."
How big a bucket of edible body paint would you need to dip your breasts in it? And what sort of weirdly dexterous breasts allow for painting? Doesn't this just involve lunging at him like a brightly-colored walrus?

16. "Draw an attention-grabbing circle around your nipples using rhinestones and body glue for a special night in."
Definitely wait for a special night. Nothing’s sadder than body-gluing rhinestones around your nipples on a Tuesday. What is this, the Midwest?

17. "Cook dinner topless, apply a little tomato sauce to your nipple," and ask your man to lick it off."
Just don’t attempt #16 and #17 on the same night — your man might choke on a rhinestone.

When Things Get Boring

Now that we’ve entered fully into the sexual universe, we need a contingency plan. This is the "potpourri" section — a grab bag of ludicrous suggestions that range from the gustatory to the cinematic.

18. “Take a few of your favorite erotically appealing flavor combinations, like peanut butter and honey or whipped cream and chocolate sauce, and mix up yummy treats all over his body."
There's a variation on this mainstay of the Cosmo canon in almost every issue. Successfully incorporating food into sex — based on my life experiences and casual surveys — is not a real thing. It’s sticky, wrecks the sheets, and, if done frequently, will give you Type II diabetes. Here, it’s made more grotesque than usual by context: on the previous page, they advocate turning off the AC because a made-up-sounding chemical in your sweat boosts arousal.

19. "Keep a spray bottle filled with ice water next to the bed, and give each other a strategic spritz to extend the encounter… Aim for the nerve-packed, thin-skinned areas on each other's body, such as the nipples."
On an unrelated note, this is also a great way to train your cat not to pee on the rug.

20. "Mix a few flavors [of lube] to create new combos, like strawberry-banana."
The paucity of flavors of personal lubricants is the most pressing crisis facing America right now. Obamaaaaaaaa!

21. "Use silicone-based lube to give each other pre-nooky rubdowns."
Bonus: it’s water-resistant, so it’ll never come off!

22. "Mix one tablespoon of saliva (the kind deep in your throat works best — its viscosity makes it a good substitute for lube) with one tablespoon of water to stretch the spit."
They don't really explain if you're supposed to whisk it together in a bowl in the kitchen, or if you should just hock a loogie onto his pre-moistened junk, but I trust your judgment.

23. "Feed each other ice cream [in the dark]. Not being able to see means more spilling, which means more licking up the mess."
This is proof positive that no one ever tries these things.

24. “Dab some peppermint oil on your neck and between your breasts. Studies found that the smell of mint has a revitalizing effect. Bonus: your boobs will smell extra fresh."
This also works if your breasts have just eaten something garlicky.

25. "Wear a cinnamony lotion or perfume. The smell of cinnamon buns increases men's blood flow 'down there.'"
Good hard science from Cosmo's resident M.D./Cinnabon lobbyist.

26. Use "your electric toothbrush" or "your iPhone [when your vibrator is out of batteries]."
To which I’ll just say, have you ever tried to lie to the Genius at the Apple Store who’s fixing your phone? It never works.

27. [When you’ve got an annoying roommate] "Rent a horror movie and play it while you have sex. If they hear any screams, they'll assume it's the movie."
This will also create a relaxed ambiance.

28. [On film selection] "Avoid anything that'll cause hearty belly laughs, like Superbad — a jiggly tummy won't make you feel good."
That just makes me sad.

### Not to be cliché, but if you’re going to commit this very tacky and not-nearly-as-subtle-as-Cosmo-thinks-it-is maneuver, pick a more flattering metaphor. A roll of Sacagaweas, perhaps?

30. "Slide your hands down the front of his pants and graze his goods when you can tell he's had a hellish day… He really doesn't want to answer questions like, 'Are you okay?'… but your caress still sends the message that you're picking up his vibe."
Translation: for those of you too shy for the stealth rub 'n tug, you can still just mutely paw his junk. It's a guaranteed way to feel like a sexbot without having to whisper anything about coins.

31. “Slip your hand into his back pocket and lightly stroke his ass… since it’s totally private and hidden from everyone else, it conveys that you’re feeling especially attracted to him.”
Totally hidden. Yup.

33. "When he's on his way home from work, start giving yourself some solo pleasure and 'accidentally' dial him up. All those breathy ooohs and aaahs will be motivation for him to get to you in time to join in on the action.”
This sounds like something that would happen in American Pie 7: Stifler's Revenge, only it wouldn't lead to steamy intercourse — it would lead to a YouTube video.

34. "Record your voice on your cell the next time you have a solo session. Then, send him the audio file in the middle of the day, with just the text, 'Wanna hear me do this tonight?'"
In the middle of the day. Best time. Right when he’s at work. No way that could go wrong.

35. "As you're eating dinner together, say something X-rated like, 'See how I'm devouring this piece of meat? That's how I'm going to devour you.'"
Then, later, during oral sex, pause and say, “OM NOM NOM NOM.”

36. "Hide your turned-on vibrator in his sock drawer. When he figures out where the buzzing is coming from, tell him he gets to experience its pleasure power."
This makes me think of two really cute nerds who like to role-play. One of them is a handsome space cowboy and the other is a rapey space robot who says “Now you will experience the pleasure power.” But that game’s not for everyone.

37. "Give him a beer facial — the combination of the egg white and the yeast in the hops hydrates and improves skin elasticity… but you can just tell him that your lips can't resist his delicious, beer-flavored face."
In fact, please say exactly that: "My lips can't resist your delicious beer-flavored face." Just so I can know that somewhere, someone actually said it.

Another classic, basic premise. If your boyfriend is doing anything remotely different — often in a good way — he’s cheating. So don’t relax!

38. "If your guy is suddenly going around all happy and whistling, then you need to find out why."

39. "Be especially careful if he is neat, well-groomed or spending more time at the gym."

40. "If his wardrobe is constantly changing, watch out!"
41. "Not ecofriendly? It could be a sign that he'll trash your relationship too."
42. "Keep your eye on a guy who loves to social network — he may need constant attention."

If any of these things happen (or, you know, you have actual legitimate, non-Facebook related reasons to doubt his fidelity), you could sit him down for a serious talk. Or, just skip straight to dousing yourself in chocolate syrup.

On Apologizing

43. "Reach over and grab his knee while you're both sitting."
Details really are key here, lest you confuse a simple knee-grab with "sweep the leg." The secret success of the move stems from the fact that, by reaching down, you are "bowing" slightly, to show you're "contrite." Also, the knee is "neutral territory." (Which is to say, it's unlike Palestine, the Falklands, or his penis.)

44. "Grasp his hands and coax them into a prayer position, then position hands over his… Your words [will] become more persuasive to him, though he won't know why."
Aside from the fact that it requires standing like a pair of coupling monks, the great thing about this suggestion is that it's utterly impossible to tell who it makes look dumber: you, or your now-bewildered mate.

Well. There you have it — forty-four tips that represent the screaming nadir of Cosmo's sex advice. Be sure to tune in next month, when I'll be covering things from the other side of the aisle and collecting the best of the worst of men's magazine's sex tips. And always remember the sage words of Cosmo: "Lick his eyelids, and then blow on your saliva."

As true today as when it was written.

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Tuesday October 23, 2018

Butterfly Dance - Electrical Impulses Function/Massager

38 reward points

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Great for muscle stimulation, neural stimulation and an all-over relaxing electro massager that sends a gentle jolt of electrical current to stimulate your lover's nerves and muscles all over their body for muscle relaxation and sexual arousal. Enhance your sexual life with your lover.

It helps ease tension in stiff muscles and enhance arousal in erogenous zones! It has everything you need to start experimenting with electro stimulation, making it perfect for beginners and even intermediate users.

- Effectively massages and increases sensitivity, enhancing orgasm
- Easy to clean
- Hi-tech LED indicator
- 6 Electrical Impulses Function
- Pick one sensitive zone of your body to stimulate

  • Shipping Weight: 0.3 Kgs


Nutribullet Leaking

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Selasa, 23 Juli 2013

Pump It Up!

Speaking of toys men like to use to get their rocks off... Pumps are pretty popular, too. There are so many available out there - it's enough to make your head spin. The original purpose was to help post-prostate surgical men achieve erections; though available over the counter in a pharmacy, they would be prescribed by the surgeon (or urologist). Somewhere along the line, guys noticed the difference in the length and girth of their cocks right after pumping up. Most guys do use them to make their cocks bigger - it's a temporary gain unless used repeatedly for many, many months.

What they do is draw more blood into the cavernosum, stretching and bloating them to maximum extent.

Alone, or with a buddy or two, they can be a lot of fun - I've had a couple in the past, just to play with and pump one out from time to time.

I think an equal number of men just like using them to play and jack off. Guys should be cautioned when playing with these things though... They have been known to cause damage to the dick if not used with the proper care. The Tunica can tear; if not enough lube is used, the skin of the shaft or foreskin can tear.

Go for it if you enjoy it but, as always, The Whackman asks you to play safe!

Yes, ladies, it's perfectly fine to add them into play with your guy ... as long as you never, never, ever have made any comments about the size of his cock.

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tagSci-Fi & FantasyKiss of the Moon

Kiss of the Moon

Authors note: I hope you enjoy Earth Day in whatever part of the world you share

Sunnie smiled gloriously, taking in deep delicious breaths. The scent of rich, damp earth teased her nostrils, and in her mind she visualised the tender green shoots that would eventually rise, reaching toward the wide, blue sky.

Her long golden mane tumbled down her back, the silky tips brushing against her bottom as she strode through the valley nestled in a protective circle of mountains. With Spring tendering the earth, the last vestiges of Winter were being swept away as the valley slowly come to life again.

The image of the magnificent golden globe that hovered just below the crest of the mountains drifted through her consciousness and she gazed upwards. Tentative fingers of blues and pinks stretched across the sky, and laughter bubbled from her throat. Now was her time to glory in this beautiful world, showering it with her affection. She would not let it vex her that her lover was jealous of the love she shared so freely.

Long ago Sunnie had stopped trying to convince him with words. Her love for him was clear for him to see if he should only look. It was there in the sparkle of the stars, lighting his way through the long, lonely hours of the night until he reached her side again.

Sunnie reached the tiny waterfall spilling gently over a tumble of smooth rocks into a wide, shallow stream. The crystal water was cool and delicious against her skin as she waded into its welcoming depths. Her nipples tightened as the water weaved between her thighs, lapping at her flesh like tiny tongues.

The wind rose up, brushing over her golden skin and raising goose pebbles in its path. She held out her hands before her, feeling Wind curl teasingly around her fingers, and she laughed. "Flirt," she cried, but her musical voice was swallowed up by a sudden gust of wind.

She rose from the stream, moving toward where her lover waited, hidden in the shadows of the mountains. She gloried in the feel of the solid warmth beneath her toes, of the crisp fresh air filling her lungs. Wind tugged at the thatch of curls between her thighs, gliding teasingly over the tender flesh there.

Her hands rose, gently cupping her full breasts then smoothing down over her belly and hips in anticipation. Her skin was soft and supple, unmarked by time, eager to be touched and caressed as only Moon knew how. She imagined the feel of his tongue and lips and hands caressing her, and a trickle of moisture seeped between her thighs.

She followed the familiar path rising toward a tiny oval plateau nestled in the side of the mountain, Wind gently buffing at her skin. Eventually her footsteps led her to the mouth of their secluded bower.

Sunnie's skin glistened and her breasts rose and fell as she gazed about her in delight. Her love bloomed freely here regardless of the season, in a glorious riot of colour and scents. A small alcove was carved from the side of the mountain, and flowers tumbled from its every niche and crevice.

Heat shimmered through her as she spied her lover laying on a bed of soft grass, his arm thrown casually across his eyes. As she approached his arm shifted, and he half rose to watch her as she moved toward him, her hips swaying with a seductive grace.

Silvery grey eyes flickered over her golden nudity, taking in the rise and fall of her breasts with their budding pinky-brown tips, the tiny waist and generous hips, the long, firm thighs. Sunnie halted several paces from where he lay, her hand settling on her hip as she gazed at him challengingly with eyes as deep and clear as a blue summer sky.

A devilish smile curled the edges of his lips as his eyes rose to lock with her eyes. He rose to his feet with a fluid grace and covered the distance between them. He was tall with broad shoulders and a muscular chest that she loved to run her hands over. His finely sculpted features framed by inky black hair was worthy of any marble statute she had spied in her travels. Yet it was his changeable eyes that lured her, clear grey one moment, dark silver orbs the next, hinting at dark secrets. Powerful and coldly seductive, he sent a shiver racing down her spine.

Moon came to a halt before her, his height forcing her to tilt her head back. His hand lifted, the fingers straightening to reveal a tiny white perfect flower. Her favourite. She caught his hand in hers, and gently brought the tips of his fingers to her lips. She kissed his cold fingers, her soft mouth parting as she tasted him. His eyes darkened, and she dropped his hand before stepping into his waiting arms, the flower floating unheeded to the soft earth.

Time seemed to come to a standstill as she pressed her face against his chest and breathed in the cool male scent of him. His strong arms wrapped tightly around her, crushing her breasts against him and drawing her up against the hardness rising between his thighs. Fingers brushed the long silky strands over her shoulders as lips caressed and nibbled her smooth shoulder.

For all his possessive jealously and male pride, she knew she would always come back to him. Nothing compared to the feel of his arms around her, holding her as though she was the most beautiful, delicate flower.

A hand slid down and cupped her bottom, drawing her even harder up against the evidence of his desire for her. She laughed musically and wiggled from his grasp, gazing teasingly at him over her shoulder as she walked toward the edge of the plateau.

Her breath caught in her throat as she gazed below her, and she knew she could never tire of this sight. Light stole across the sweeping valley spread out before her in all its lush glory, casting long shadows. Happiness bubbled up inside of her.

She smiled as cool hands stole around her waist and she leaned back against him, lost in the magic of golden light slowly banishing the darkness from the earth.

Even in her delight she sensed the sadness moving through him. She turned in his arms, and on tip-toe, pressed her mouth to his. He mouth was still beneath hers as her lips moved tenderly over his, and she gazed at him in amusement as pride and stubbornness warred in those deep grey eyes.

Then his lips parted, as though a melting of the sea of ice, and he was kissing her back, forcefully, demandingly. Her hands slipped up over his shoulders as she clung to him, her breasts crushed against his chest as his passion washed over her in cool waves.

She melted beneath his cold onslaught, quivers shooting between her thighs as he ground his mouth against hers. A cool muscular thigh wedged between hers, forcing her heat to ride him. Her hand slipped down between their bodies to press against his hardness, and again marvelled at the long smooth perfection of him throbbing against her palm, ice against heat.

Moon groaned against her lips and gripped her waist, lifting her up against him as he strode toward the dais of soft grass scattered with white petals. She wrapped her long legs around his muscular thighs, kissing him, until he fell to his knees and gently laid her down before him. She smiled up at him invitingly, her arms widespread, her tawny and silky.

"I worship you," Moon whispered. His thighs nestled between hers as he leaned down to kiss her navel, running the tip of his tongue around the tiny hollow. She squirmed beneath him, laughing, and he smacked her lightly on the thigh. "Be still." Her breath caught as his lips captured a budding nipple between his lips, suckling her.

Her amusement quickly fled as her knees were pushed up and apart as a cool hand glided down her inner thigh.

"Moon," she whispered. Her back arched as his cold mouth tugged teasingly on her nipple. Her fingers tangled in his silky black mane, seeking to draw his face to hers, yet he resisted. His head lowered, and tingles of pleasure shot between her thighs as his tongue flicked out to tease her golden belly. Fingers ruffled through the thatch of golden curls between her thighs, and her breath caught.

Her thighs quivered as fingers deftly parted her lush pink folds glistening with dew.

She struggled up onto her elbows to gaze down upon him where he eased himself between her thighs. Anticipation curled through her as he gazed intently upon the molten core of her. Dark, swirling silver eyes rose to capture hers as his head lowered. His tongue darted out, slowing licking the pink channel from her dewy gate to circle her throbbing pink nub. Her head fell back and her lips parted on a soft moan as he lashed at her with his tongue.

His hands held her thighs wide apart as she quivered and writhed against his mouth, her breath coming in shallow, uneven pants. Honey flowed between her thighs, and his tongue sought out every last drop.

She moaned as fingers pressed against her dewy gate, before sliding up between her slick tight walls. Her body clenched around the thrusting digits as his mouth sucked and nibbled on her nub. Heat scorched through her as tension coiled tighter and tighter between her thighs.

She whimpered as the fingers withdrew, and offered no resistance as a cool palm pressed between her breasts until she collapsed back onto the soft grass. Hands gripped her bottom, lifting her to his mouth.

Sunnie screamed as the forceful strength of his tongue thrust up inside of her. Pleasure erupted through her, a pulsing, burning ball that burst between her thighs and sent shudders racing through her.

Slowly she came back down to earth, sprawled on the soft earth as Moon's tongue gently lapped at her honey. Her fingers tugged lightly on his silky hair, and he shifted to lay alongside of her, his head propped on his hand.

Moon's gaze moved possessively over her tawny curves. He loved her like this, soft and lax from his lovemaking, the playfulness replaced by a deeper shared intimacy. Their time together was always short, and he carried these moments with him through the dark hours. She was everything he was not: warm, affectionate and delightfully reckless. Yet despite their differences he was drawn irresistibly to her side, unable to get his fill of her. Moon felt the throbbing in his loins, and the growing light at his back, and everything but the thought of spilling his seed in her welcoming heat disappeared. His fingers caught her chin as his mouth settled over hers, letting her taste her own passion as his tongue explored her mouth.

Sunnie kissed him back, a tingling beginning low in her belly as the kiss grew more urgent. His mouth ground itself against hers, devouring, seeking, demanding. Heat shimmered through her as his hand closed around her breast, teasing the aching tip.

She sensed the moment he shifted to cover her, and she pushed against him until he lay flat on his back. She rose above him, laughter filling her warm blue eyes at the frustration in his.

Sunnie's fingers trailed down over the smooth muscled coolness of his chest. Her head lowered, and her lips closed over a tiny male nipple. Laughter bubbled through her at his slight wince as she nipped hm playfully with her teeth.

Her hair feathered across his skin as her lips trailed down his chest, and she felt him suck in his breath as her hand closed around him firmly.

She lay her head on his belly, gazing down at the hard, throbbing shaft rising from a nest of black curls in delight. Her fingers stroked and caressed him, exploring him, and he groaned.

"You are like a young seedling straining toward the sky, yearning to feel the caress of the sun on your head," she teased.

"A trunk," he ground out as her tongue feathered over the glistening tip of him. "A thick, massive oak."

She laughed, the sensation vibrating through him as she suckled on a satiny globe. Slowly she licked up the underside of him, before her mouth parted over the head of him, her eyes locked teasingly with his dark ones.

His fingers tangled in her hair as she sunk down over him. A groan escaped him at the exquisite feel of her warm mouth closing over him. An all consuming heat burned through him as her mouth moved along his shaft, coaxing him, teasing him. His buttocks clenched and rose from the ground, meeting the downward plunge of her mouth as his fingers clenched around her head. His breathing laboured, Moon new he was dangerously close. Yet he would not be denied the pleasure of her thighs wrapped around him as he drove into her fiery heat. He drew her off of him, and she released him with a mournful pout. When he reached for her, Sunnie evaded him and climbed gracefully to her feet. She darted away from him, laughter floating over his shoulder.

Moon struggled to his feet and gave chase, intent on catching his teasing lover. The sight of her delicious bottom jiggling as she ran made him groan. His long legs ate up the distance, until he had her cornered her against a wall of rock smoothed over the eons by the passage of water.

She turned, gazing at him from beneath lowered lashes. She darted to one side, then turned and raced in the other direction, but Moon long knew her games and caught her in his arms. Her musical laughter filled his ears as he drove her backwards, pinning her against the wall.

Moon gazed down at her with dark silvery eyes, and pleasure whispered through her as light and shadows flickered across his face. Above them the clouds glowed with the softest shades of pinks, blues and purples as slowly night turned to day.

Sunnie offered no resistance as his hands captured hers, pinning them against the wall with one hand as he pressed himself against her. Anticipation shivered through her at the dark intent in those wickedly seductive eyes. She wiggled against him teasingly, rubbing him, inciting him until he groaned. He smacked her thigh with a delightful strength.

"Tell me you want me. This," he commanded. He caught her knee up and rubbed himself against her slippery pink channel, drawing a whimper from her. His hand released hers to glide down over her, smoothing over her belly and delving between her thighs. She arched against him as he found the pink nub nestled between the lush pink folds. His fingers coaxed her pink nub until her trembling legs nearly gave. She clung to him, her breath coming in uneven pants as she felt that coiling, twisting tension low in her belly.

"Moon, please..." she begged, aching to feel him surging up inside of her, filling her. Her honey coated his shaft resting between her thighs as his fingers toyed with her, keeping her on edge but never allowing her to peak. "I need you. Now."

He kissed her hard as he angled himself against her, probing her dewy gate with the thick head of him. She whimpered as he pushed against her, the full thickness of him wedging in her tiny entrance, stretching her deliciously. "Oh," she moaned as slowly he began to slide up between her tight walls, forcing them to part as he forged ahead, until he was lodged deep inside of her burning heat to the hilt.

She cried out at the exquisite friction as he eased out of her, before driving up deep inside of her with powerful thrusts. He took her hard against the wall, his hands planted on either side of her. Her thigh curved around his and her fingers dug into his shoulders as he rammed into her, driving the icy cold burning length of him up hard inside of her.

"Hell," he ground out as his strokes increased, forging a burning path between her thighs to her very core as his harsh breathing filled her ears. He lunged up inside of her as the day grew, more and more light casting its shadow over the valley behind him. She whimpered as he took her with long, powerful thrusts, her body yielding to his fierce possession, her honeyed channel melting around him.

"Moon," she whispered, her whole body arching upon the burning coolness of him thrusting into her molten heat. Each driving thrust seared her, branded her as he took her against the wall with relentless determination.

He cried out as pleasure seized him, his seed filling her womb as he took her with sharp, jerky thrusts.

She bit his shoulder to keep from crying out as the icy cold sensation deep inside of her made her sheath flutter and quiver around him. She shuddered and squirmed on him as ecstasy tore through her, her nails digging into his shoulders.

Slowly they came back down to earth, his lips tenderly kissing her eyelids, his hand brushing back the damp tendrils from her forehead. She whimpered as he eased himself from her tender channel and stepped away, her arms falling to her sides.

When finally her breathing eased, golden light bathed her, caressing her limbs with its gentle warmth. Her lashes fluttered open and blue sky greeted her, banishing the darkness and her lover. Delight bubbled up inside of her as the earth came fully awake before her eyes. For the day was hers.

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by maddict03/02/15

I thought of...

"Break on thru to the other side" The Doors 1967
"Day destroys the night, Night divides the day," Your story was much more elegant and erotic than Jim Morrison's was.
A nice tale of two or four loversmore...

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