You are currently browsing the monthly archive for January 2011.
“There’s a wild, wild whisper
blowin’ in the wind
callin’ out my name
like a long lost friend.”
~~American Honey
she stood in the doorway, all sex and lace.
His gaze, strong on her frame.
Heat and lust and yearning.
Desire… so strong in the air it crippled them.
Their self imposed prisons were stifling.
Yet, they would not waver.
They had strong convictions… both.
Obligations and commitments.
The cravings, desires and yes… needs, they shared
would break some.
But, not them… no.. not them.
They knew that ultimately… eventually
they would be together.
The anticipation was almost unbearable… but….
they were strong, these two.
Yes…
Strong.
They could hold on…
carry out…
move forward…
until the time was right.
For them.. in their hearts…
they knew.
It
would
be.
*
a request
*
” … and when you are 90 and I am 60, we’ll swap stories…”
*
*
“That Studebaker sure looks good sitting in my driveway, Elmer.”
Jeri was envisioning herself as the hood ornament and she shot Elmer a bold red lipsticked smile.
The inspection of his new dual tone grey 1949 hardtop coupe was completely forgotten as a familiar twinge grabbed Elmer directly in the center of his trousers.
He couldn’t help but grin back at her, “Come over here, Sweetheart… I’ll show you what looks good parked in your driveway.” He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her back and squeezing her tight against his body. Tight enough that she could feel the firm bulge occupying the crotch of his pants.
“Elmer,” Jeri exhaled, her peppermint whisper brushing his cheek like a feather.
“I want you right now, Doll.” Elmer breathed hotly in her ear sending tingles shimmying down her spine as his hips rocked into hers.
“GERALDINE!” The demanding shriek crossed the yard like a runaway freight train and crashed into the embracing couple standing in the driveway.
“Oh, shit.. Mother is calling.” Jeri pulled reluctantly from Elmer’s arms and turned towards the house. “Will I see you later?” she called glancing over her shoulder.
“You bet, Sweetheart, I’ll be back at 7 to pick you up. Dress for adventure, if you know what I mean.” His sideways, quirky smile could not disguise his malevolent intent; she knew EXACTLY what he meant.
Seven o’clock sharp, Elmer rolled into Jeri’s drive, gravel crunching under white walled tires. She jumped down from the porch and ran to his car. Elmer got out, crossing his arms over his broad chest and admired Jeri’s long tan legs boldly jutting out of her tight blue shorts.
She nearly knocked him off balance as she raced to his embrace. He grabbed the silk kerchief she had tied around her neck and pulled her in for a long, passionate kiss.
“Perfect accessory, Sweetheart,” he smirked, fingering the gaily colored fabric and eyeing the bright red beaded earrings clipped onto Jeri’s lobes.
“Thank you, Elmer,” she giggled as they walked to the passenger side of the car.
Always the gentleman, Elmer held the door open for Jeri until she slid in, taking one more glance at her legs before closing it. Shaking his head and sauntering around the Studebaker’s hood to the drivers side, Elmer slid behind the wheel. “Damn woman, those are some great gams you’ve got.” He surreptitiously adjusted his expanding family jewels.
Cranking the key, Elmer tilted his blonde curls west. “Thought we’d go right down to the park tonight. There’s a spot under the roller coaster where we can picnic.”
Goosebumps rose on Jeri’s arms as she nodded her agreement, not trusting her voice. She knew what kind of picnic Elmer had in mind and her pussy clenched in anticipation.
~~~~
Walking hand in hand through the grove of trees; Elmer burdened with a large wicker basket, Jeri carrying the red and white checkerboard tablecloth, they looked every bit the part of the two star struck lovers they were. They strode past the carousel and ventured towards the roller coaster as Jeri’s stomach did flip-flops. She didn’t know why she was so nervous, but she felt an electricity in the air, like something amazing was about to happen and it was making the hair on her arms stand on end.
Just past the skee ball, Elmer pulled Jeri off the path and led her under the sturdy wood structure of the roller coaster. He put the basket down and lifting the hinged lid, pulled a thick grey wool army blanket from its nest of wicker and snapped it open, letting it float fully to the ground. It fit perfectly between the wood struts of the coaster that were rooted firmly in the dark brown earth.
“That looks quite the 4-poster bed Elmer, don’t you think?” Jeri’s comment drew a soft chuckle from Elmer as he took the checkered tablecloth from her arms and snapped it into place on top of the grey blanket. Then gallantly extending his hand, he helped her to sit on the makeshift bed.
He was on his knees, spanning her hips in an instant. His mouth, insistent on hers as he lowered her gently on to her back. “God, you’re delicious Sweetheart… you taste like oranges and cranberry.”
She wrapped her arms around his thick neck, pulling him closer. But Elmer reached for her wrists and clasping them in one hand, extended her arms above her head. A wicked thrill rushed Jeri’s senses and a gasp escaped her ruby red lips as Elmer expertly loosened her neckerchief with his other hand.
“This should keep those hands out of trouble,” Elmer declared, flashing his mischievous sideways grin as he tied the scarf around her wrists and pulled it into a tight knot. Reaching across Jeri’s body and over to the picnic basket, Elmer retrieved a length of rope and looped it through her restrained wrists.
Scooting on his knees, crotch dangling above Jeri’s face, Elmer stretched to fasten the rope to one of the coaster struts. Jeri tried to lift her head and playfully bite Elmer between his legs, but he had deftly finished his task and was hovering over her body once again.
“Boy Scout, were we?” Jeri teased.
“You bet, Sweetheart. You couldn’t get out of that knot if you wanted to.”
Jeri didn’t even try.
“Oh, Miss Fink… are you out there?” Elmer called into the air.
Jeri quizzically turned her head in the direction of rustling leaves. “Larue? What on earth are you doing here?”
Larue knelt beside Jeri and touched her softly on the cheek. “You flush such a beautiful shade of pink, Sweetheart,” she said, bending down to kiss her lips. Jeri hesitated for merely a second before responding to the woman’s soft mouth on hers.
Elmer’s farm roughened hands slid under Jeri’s blouse and fondled her hardened bra clad nipples. Moans rumbling into Larue’s warm mouth, Jeri arched her back, straining for greater contact. Her stretched and bound arms were the only thing stopping her from undoing her buttons and revealing her breasts to Elmer’s touch.
Larue lifted her mouth from Jeri’s, pausing to look into her sky blue eyes before she focused on unbuttoning Jeri’s top. Elmer claimed her mouth immediately, tasting the fire of Larue’s kiss on Jeri’s lips. His tongue circled hers with a fervor normally reserved for between her legs, but Jeri wasn’t about to complain. She was enthralled with the situation she was in. It had always been a fantasy of hers to be in a ménage à trois. And here she was… with the most popular man in their crowd and the most sought after woman in town.
Elmer paused in his kisses to remove one of Jeri’s clip-on earrings. “Here, Larue… snap this on Sweetheart’s nipple.”
“My pleasure Elmer,” Larue purred, taking the beaded piece of jewelry from his hand.
Jeri hissed at the searing pain that shot through her as Larue obliged Elmer’s instruction. But the immediate touch of Larue’s hot lips on Jeri’s breast soon pushed her pain into pleasure.
Jeri wriggled against her bonds as Elmer and Larue caressed her body with their hands, lips and tongues. It was soon more than Jeri could handle and the heat of passion flooded her panties. She cried out as a shuddering climax soared through her body and she strained her wrists against the cutting ropes, pain and pleasure again mixing.
She had never experienced an orgasm without her cunt being stimulated and she was thrilled by the fact it happened. She looked up into Elmer’s dark eyes.
“Feel good, Sweetheart?”
“Mmmm, yes… it did.”
Larue crawled up Jeri’s body and nestled under her chin, nudging Elmer to the side. “Just wait, Sweetheart… this is only the beginning,” she whispered as she slowly slid back down her body, taking Jeri’s shorts and panties with her.
Elmer grasped one of Jeri’s ankles firmly, spreading her legs wide. He was already reaching back into the picnic basket for more rope as Larue settled her face between Jeri’s sexy legs.
*
*
Sweetheart’s Usual
3 ounces Vodka
Orange Juice
Cranberry Juice
Fill a tall glass with ice. Add vodka. Pour orange juice until glass is 3/4 full. Top with cranberry juice. Stir well.
Enjoy!
*
*
*
I have to tell you… my readers are the BEST!!
You know I thrive on your feedback, whether public or private… well… in my inbox one day, I found this extremely flattering piece of fan mail. One of my readers wrote me a story. Not just any old story, mind you… but an erotic fantasy… about me! Talk about an ego stroke… and we all know how much I love being stroked…
Thank you, Trip X for allowing me to share your fantasy with everyone else.
I give you…
*
*
*
My Own Private Happy Hour
by Trip X
I met Penny
in what is becoming the “usual” way nowadays, through the internet. I had been writing rough stories, erotic in my mind, but still very immature in my style. After a couple of years of poking around on Yahoo’s Flickr and losing my stories due to groups being deleted, I stumbled upon WordPress.com.
Soon after getting there, I found Happy Hour and Penny. I’m not a big drinker, but I have been known to get drunk a few times. I waited until I was well into my thirties before imbibing to the point of inebriation. I do rather enjoy having a few drinks and watching those around me get totally wasted; that’s when the real fun begins.
Getting back to Penny; she seemed different. Something about her said, “I’m real; I don’t pull punches and somewhere below this façade is a real live, living, breathing, person with feelings.”
I found this out to be oh so true when she stated on her blog that there had been a tragedy in her life and that she would be absent for a few weeks.
I immediately reached out to her in compassion and relayed that I was available if she needed an ear to bend. We live quite possibly within five to six hours of each other and I would not hesitate to visit her if she needed me to.
We’ve managed to maintain a blogger’s relationship through WordPress via comments, questions and answers. We’re both adults, I’ve seen her pictures and I have only posted one of mine. I would consider her to be a fine catch for anyone; she’s quite built, very easy on the eyes and very attractive. I can also see in her eyes an intelligence that makes her all the sexier.
I am rooted in reality and know that our current relationship is exactly what it is, an online flirtation meant to stroke our egos, and entice our minds. But sometimes I want more.
Her writings make me want to try new things, including her tasty alcoholic concoctions. But what I’d rather taste is the concoction that she herself makes.
One day, I found myself in her “neck of the woods” on business. I have a lawn service and I was picking up a piece of equipment from an online seller. I had told her of my impending trip and she invited me to have a drink or two with her, you guessed it, at Happy Hour.
I noticed her straightaway as I entered the bar, you guessed it again, Happy Hour. I joined her at her table after we exchanged a hand shake and a quick friendly hug.
She was wearing a tank top and jeans, a cowboy hat and boots, looking the picture of erotic sexiness. In spite of my nervousness, my cock was at full attention.
She ordered the first round and as we nursed our drinks, we got better acquainted. I still couldn’t believe I was here, sitting with her, talking to her, my wife none the wiser.
She knows I’m married, I’ve been clear about it, but I won’t tell if she won’t. Besides, I’m not there to have sex with her, at least not yet.
Something about the drinks has loosened my tongue, uncharacteristic for me, but still fun. I begin to tell Penny what I like in bed. She already knows about my desire to feast on a girl, but I share with her this other piece, one that a few know, but might not be full public knowledge, “If I had a choice between feasting on a fine pussy, and having intercourse with it, I will always choose the feast. It is more intimate and I know she’ll get off.”
She asks me, “Well, do you think Bill Clinton cheated on Hillary with Monica?”
I know what she is driving at; do I consider oral sex as cheating. I answered her truthfully, “No, Bill didn’t cheat; he just got a blow job.”
Penny took my hand and said, “Then this is your lucky night.”
We walked hand in hand to my truck. I opened the back door for her and she stepped into the Suburban, its lush blue seats inviting her to sit.
I could smell her scent as her ass was in my face upon entering the truck. As I entered behind her and closed the door, she was already wriggling out of her jeans. I assisted her and soon I was lying on the same blue cushions with one of her legs thrown over the seat back and the other on the floor.
Her panties were barely covering her soaking wet slit as I began to kiss the inside of her right knee. My lips trailed down her thigh until I could smell nothing but the sweet scent of her sodden pussy. I tasted her wet panties and sucked on her juices.
Taking a finger and sliding the fabric aside, I soon tickled her labia with the tip of my tongue. She was delicious and delirious with the expectation of orgasm. I teased her lips with my tongue, avoiding her clit until she raised her hips and grabbed my hair, forcing me to contact her clit.
The ensuing explosion of ecstasy created a deluge on my seat as she came hard. I tried in vain to consume her passionate pussy and its copious fluids. After a short hour between her sweet thighs, I met her face to face, kissed her on the lips and thanked her for allowing me to enjoy my own private Happy Hour.
*
*
*
Passionate Pussy
1 1/2 ounces Baileys Irish Cream
1 ounce Cointreau
2 ounces Light Cream
Add ingredients to an ice filled cocktail shaker. Shake until frosted. Strain into a chilled martini glass.
Enjoy!
*
*
The steadily increasing burden
on her most sensitive of buttons, drew her slowly from slumber. Her heartbeat quickened, but she lay perfectly still.
Where will you go with this, I wonder? Will you continue until I stir? Or will you abandon your quest if I fail to respond?
She marked time. The constant compression lingered, but still she did not move. Seconds turned to minutes as she waited. The pressure was steadfast.
Becoming impatient with the obvious lack of initiative, she stretched her body, rubbing her hip bone up against a wrist. Ahh… there it is! The inert weight morphed into slow gyrations maneuvered by thick fingers. The clasping of her labia between them wrought a contented sigh from her now parted lips.
Deliberately turning her head and opening her eyes, she looked directly into smokey blue greys watching her dreamily. Apparently, this action was the nonverbal permission slip he was looking for and a subdued voice rumbled out his desires. “Bring that ass over here,” he said, gripping her hips with wide palms and dragging her sideways until their limbs entwined and his cock was positioned where the memory of his fingers lingered.
Slow pumps of steady, gentle thrusts across her clit turned his semi rigid member extraordinarily hard and she reached out, grasping his penis to press it earnestly on her now swollen and tender nub.
They slow danced leisurely like this, rocking and breathing together, time nonexistent. He running hands over her legs, belly and breasts. She gliding fingertips over the satin smooth skin of his erection.
His abrupt and unexpected pull from her hand and push into her slick cunt shot flares of sudden irritation through her heated core. We’ll have none of that lover, she thought as she repossessed his member, halting the stabbing assault and once more positioned it over her throbbing clit.
Slipping instantly from her grasp, he pulled back and hastily forced himself inside her again. And like before, she removed him, but this time with a compulsion she didn’t quite understand.
“C’mon, let me …one in… one out.” His whiny version of a compromise combined with his insistent attempts to enter her against her wishes, unearthed a profound feeling of annoyance and something tripped in her brain.
“… No… “ This time she maintained her hold and her determination. “Don’t you dare come… and don’t you get soft either.” Her ominous, yet tempered tone affirming that this was not a request but a demand, surprised them both and they lay stock still in awe of her newly discovered domineering quality.
His docile whisper seeped into the pregnant silence. “You are in control.” And even though this submissive confession floated on a diaphanous breath, it resonated around the room like a bell toll and settled on her ears like a celebrated concerto.
“Yes … I … Am,” she confirmed with deliberate articulation, her tongue wetting the mischievous smile drawing slowly across her glistening lips.
Glancing into her lovers eyes, she pulled on his waist until he lay on his side facing her. She lay leisurely on her back, then scooted in to nestle her ass cheeks solidly against his hips, slinging her legs over him as if he was a bolster pillow.
She captured his thickened staff, positioned it between the V in her legs and used the head of his penis to massage her inflamed clitoris, objectifying him completely. This cock was here for her pleasure, it was her tool and she would use it as such. She cared nothing of his feelings, her focus was only the satisfaction of her sexual cravings.
The impossible hardness of her lover both amused and astonished her, as she presumed his arousal would most assuredly diminish with her demands. She was elated to know that he was proving her suspicions wrong.
“What are you doing to me down there?” He panted into the increasingly balmy bedroom air, the steamy smell of sex inundating their nostrils. “It feels so good.”
As if he hadn’t spoken a word, she kept silent and continued to rub vigorously, pushing past boundaries of flesh, feeling only the increasing ache of her need and the exhilarating sovereignty of control. She was grinding herself raw and relishing this new experience immensely.
The tingling pulses of climax started on her bruised clit, ran up through her belly and into her breasts, hardening her nipples. Heat ignited her skin and perspiration bloomed on her body as she growled out her long, low release.
Feral flesh temporarily satisfied, she allowed him to enter her scorching cunt. “Now… you may come.”
In three frenzied strokes, he unceremoniously grunted his way to salvation, then collapsed into an exhausted heap. “Thank you, Ma’am,” he blurted with devout gratitude that threatened to reignite the still glowing embers of her lust.
“You are welcome… pet.” The words tumbled from her upturned mouth as naturally as if she’d been saying them all of her life and she realized, she had just been baptized with the wicked, decadent, seductive orgasm of power.
*
*
*
Vanilla Twist
6 ounces Vanilla Vodka
1 ounce Cointreau
1 ounce Dry Vermouth
Vanilla Bean
Combine Vodka, Cointreau and Vermouth in a cocktail shaker filled with cracked ice. Shake well. Strain into chilled martini glass. Garnish with vanilla bean.
Enjoy!
*
*
*
*
A Real Man
A real man is a woman’s best friend.
He will never stand her up and never let her down.
He will reassure her when she feels insecure
and comfort her after a bad day.
and comfort her after a bad day.
He will inspire her to do things she never thought she could do;
to live without fear
and forget regret.
He will enable her to
express her deepest emotions
and give in to
her most intimate desires.
He will make sure she always feels as though she’s the most
beautiful woman in the room
and will enable her to be the most confident, sexy,
seductive and invincible person she can be.
No wait…
sorry…
I’m thinking of wine.
It’s wine that does all that…
Never mind.
– author unknown
*
*
*
He Said...She Said...