Sensuous Stories (5 page)

He thrust against her harder and nuzzled her
neck. “I haven’t done this since I was sixteen. I’d forgotten how
much fun it was.”

“
More for me than you I
think,” she gasped, as he sped up his thrusts. Her whole body was
wrapped around him now, rubbing and straining for release. He
propped himself on his elbows and pushed harder against
her.

She cried out and thrust up, holding her
body rigid as an explosion of heat and light ripped through her
body. His mouth was on hers again, taking in her sound as he slid
his hand between them, easing his fingers into her cunt. She held
him close and hummed happily into his neck as his fingers stroked
her, smearing wetness all around the folds of her slit.

“
Let me look,” he said and
scooted down between her legs. He pushed her skirt up to her hips
and pushed her legs further apart. “I love the look of a wet, happy
pussy. It is happy isn’t it?”

“
Very,” she said smiling at
his glee.

He put his face close to her lips and gently
pushed his tongue inside her.

“
Mmm. You taste wonderful.
Sort of salty and fruity at the same time.”

His words vibrated against her whole wet
slit and she propped herself up on her elbows so she could watch
him worship her cunt. When he picked up a strawberry and pushed it
inside her, she threw her head back and laughed. He pulled it out
with a soft plopping sound and devoured it.

“
Hey! I need some sustenance
too.”

He grinned evilly and pushed another inside
her then pulled it out and held it to her mouth. He was right, she
did taste sweet and salty.

She munched on the strawberry and watched
him as he knelt before her and slowly undid the zip of his jeans.
His cock sprang out, looking hard and delicious.

“
Mmm. My, oh my.
Dessert.”

She climbed onto her knees and bent over to
take him into her mouth. His cock was hot and pulsed with a strong
throb as she ran her tongue around the head then sucked hard. He
pushed his fingers through her hair, pulling her head closer and
moaned deep in his throat. God how she loved the sound of a man on
the edge!

Verity had had enough. She’d spent hours
being the dutiful daughter, chomping through the bush and listening
to her father exclaim about the glories of nature. She still had a
slight hangover and she wanted a cigarette. When her parents
settled back on their picnic rug for a late afternoon snooze, she
told them she’d just go for a brief wander to see the waterfall.
They’d nodded and smiled looking stuffed with tofu.

As much as her parents drove her mad, they
were good at heart. She picked her way through the bush thinking
she’d miss them when she left. It wasn’t a bad life having parents
who loved you even if they were nuts. She made her way to the
waterfall, thinking she’d take the hard path so if they came
looking for her, she’d have enough warning to put out her
ciggy.

A low moan caught her attention. Damn!
Someone else was here. She stood still and tried to make out where
the sound was coming from. Off to the left. A flash of red through
the leaves. She crept forward feeling a bubble of excitement in her
belly. She recognised that sound. Fin had made the same noise last
night.

She ducked down and carefully peered through
the branches of the banksia in front of her. Boy, oh boy. A dark
haired hunk with his cock down the throat of a red head who looked
like she couldn’t get enough. Verity knew that feeling. Knew the
feel of cock sliding in and out of her mouth, the delicious fear of
gagging, the nutty, yeasty taste of cum.

She watched as the man pulled himself free
of the woman and muttered, “I want to be inside you.”

The woman smiled up at him then looked
around for something. She leaned over and grabbed a bag, rooting
around inside it.

“
They’re here somewhere” she
muttered, sounding increasingly panicked.

“
Ah, here!” she said,
brandishing a packet of condoms.

He laughed while she ripped off the foil of
one and slid it onto his cock.

“
Thank god you’re prepared,”
he said, as she turned her back to him, flipped off her dress and
got down on all fours, tipping her arse toward him. He moaned,
grabbed her hips and thrust home.

“
Ah, you feel wonderful,” he
said, settling in for a good, hard fuck. The woman moaned each time
he thrust. Verity could see the slight swing of her breasts as she
shoved herself back on to his cock.

This was more like the kind of eighteenth
birthday she wanted. She carefully lowered herself to the ground
trying not to make a sound. She watched as the man’s thrusts became
harder and faster and the woman’s groans became more feverish. They
looked wonderful. Not just because they were fucking, although that
was fantastic, but because they were having fun. There was nothing
hidden or furtive about them. That was what she wanted. No hiding
or pretending she was something she wasn’t.

She slid a hand down into her trousers and
felt for her clit. Her cunt was wet and throbbing. She rubbed and
watched, wondering what the dark haired man’s cock would feel like
inside her and how the sharp tips of the woman’s nipples would feel
against her tongue.

Gina tipped her arse higher and groaned.

“
Yeah, that’s it! God, your
cock feels so good!” Adam’s grunts and the press of his fingers
into her hips made her want to push back hard, make his cock slam
into her. He seemed to pick up on her need and thrust hard into
her. Gina hoped their audience appreciated the show.

She’d notice some movement in the bush when
she was rooting around for a condom. Not ever having fucked in
front of a total stranger, she thought about telling Adam, but
changed her mind. She liked the idea of being on show. She
wondered, when she wasn’t in the complete zone of fucking, of
feeling the in and out of Adam’s cock and the shock of him hitting
just the right spot in her cunt, whether the watcher was even now,
bringing herself to orgasm. Gina was almost certain the watcher was
a woman. She’s seen the swish of a braid as the watcher had ducked
out of sight.

Gina could feel Adam about to come. He sped
up his thrusts and with a mighty groan, slammed one last time into
her and let go. She peered into the bushes hoping the watcher liked
what she saw.

Verity rubbed fast and harder. Small,
mewling noises came from her throat as she watched the man throw
back his head and with one final thrust, let himself go inside the
red head. She clamped her lips together to stop her mewling noises
turning into a guttural groan. Her pussy spasmed and she saw stars.
When she gently let out her breath and came back into her body, she
saw the couple slumped on the picnic rug. The man covered the
woman’s body, nuzzling her neck and looking as though he was about
to drift into a post coital snooze. The woman was smiling. Then she
lifted her head and looked directly at Verity.

Shit.

Verity stood on wobbly legs and heard a
distant call from her mother. She turned to go but hesitated.
Stepping from behind the banksia, she watched as the woman twisted
herself around under the man to cradle his now slumbering head
between her breasts. They looked happy and contented curled up on
the rug. Verity stood listening to the waterfall and feeling the
purple twilight around her. The woman smiled at her again and
curled herself closer to the man. Verity blew her a kiss and turned
toward her mother’s voice.

Six months later…

Adam stood at the arrivals gate, peering
over head and checking his watch. Why was it taking so long? The
plane touched down an hour ago.

There, there she is!

He strode through the crowds and scooped her
up, sending bags flying. He kissed her wide, generous mouth. For
three months he’d not had that mouth against his, not been able to
taste sunshine and strawberries. She laughed has he spun her around
and kissed her some more.

“
Wait. Let me get my
breath,” she gasped. “You look good. I’ve never seen you in a
suit.”

Adam grinned as lust spiked through him,
knowing all too well what she was thinking. As soon as he got her
back to his flat, she’d have him mussed up and tousled, creasing
his shirt, rubbing her wet pussy against his trousers and using his
tie to tantalise his balls. He could hardly wait.

“
Come on. Let’s get going,”
he said.

“
Hang on. Ah, there she is.”
Gina waved at a young woman with a long dark braid and a backpack,
who was weaving her way through the crowd to the tube station. She
waved back at Gina, let out a whoop of joy, then disappeared in the
crowd.

“
Someone you
know?”

“
Not exactly. We met on the
plane, although I’d seen her around Katoomba.”

“
Yeah? Does she need a lift?
Would she like to join us?”

Gina smiled and kissed him. He saw the blue
sky in her eyes and smelt eucalyptus and fig in her hair. His heart
relaxed.

“
No, I don’t think so. She’s
not much of a joiner. She likes to watch.”

Pleasure of the Text

Ellen stood outside the carved oak door and
waited. Alfred O’Toole was her last customer of the day and she
looked forward to seeing him. It surprised her, but Alfred was
different. A gentleman of the old school, he always treated her
with care and consideration, concerned about her well being and
worried about her comfort.

Two years ago, when she first entered his
apartment, she thought he’d be a lonely, elderly man looking for an
occasional moment of sexual release. Men like him were her ideal
clients. Usually pathetically grateful and sometimes impotent, they
often wanted to talk or just caress her breasts, recalling their
sexual conquests of yesteryears.

Her breasts were her draw card. Large, firm
and round. Porn queen breasts. No surgical enhancements, they were
all her own, the legacy of good genes from her grandmother. Her
nipples were dark and pointed, surrounded by wide brown
aureoles.

She expected to see Alfred’s excitement when
he first saw them, after she’d removed her lacy scarlet bra. He
exclaimed and purred, stretching out his hands to cup them,
stopping just millimetres from her skin. He’d closed his eyes and
kept his hands hovering over her breasts, the bulge in his soft
trousers straining for release. She’d been surprised at the warmth
she felt from his skin and even more surprised at how much she
wanted him to touch her, to rub her nipples with the palm of his
hands. That he didn’t made her realise there was more to him that
just the stereotype of a lonely old man.

He was small, round and full of the joy of
life. Always dressed impeccably in a smoking jacket as if he’d just
stepped out of a nineteen thirties drawing room comedy, he seemed
interested in everything - her life, her clients, politics, gossip
about the rich and famous, even the details of her shopping
expeditions. But mostly he loved books and reading. This, she
found, took up most of his time. Every wall in his apartment was
lined from floor to ceiling with books. First editions with
calf-skin binding smelling of leather, to tatty paperback westerns
and old romances.

That first time, after he explained to her
what he wanted, she’d laughed and blessed whoever had told Alfred
about her. Easy money. And it was. But now it was much more. As she
stood listening for Alfred to open the door, she realised her time
with him had become time she treasured, time where she felt at
ease, with no stress and no need to please. Not that she didn’t
want to please Alfred, but her breasts did that with no effort.

In return he not only paid her, but stroked
and soothed her with his glorious, dark velvet voice. Just thinking
about his voice as he held a book in his hand, made her cunt wet
and achy. It was the voice of every dark, sexy man that women
dreamed about in their Hollywood fantasies. She wasn’t surprised to
find out he did voice-overs for television and radio. At almost
eighty, he still made a good living from his golden vocal
cords.

The door opened and she smiled at him. He
beamed in return.

“
Ellen, come in. You’re
looking very beautiful today, my dear. That peacock blue looks
stunning against your dark hair. Do you know if you have any gypsy
ancestry? I’ve often thought you’d be right at home in an exotic
caravan winding around Eastern Europe spinning tales and driving
men wild.”

He chattered on, drawing her further into
the apartment, making her laugh at his silly stories. She loved
this moment, when she could truly relax and let him direct his own
pleasure.

He took her, as usual, into his library,
where he threw back the heavy drapes and let the late afternoon sun
stream in. It was a room designed for comfort and dreaming. Two
comfortable couches, a desk with an intricate wood inlay design,
lamps that provided both soft and more direct light when needed,
and everywhere framed photographs and nick nacks collected over a
life time.

“
I thought I’d give us both
a treat today. After finishing last week’s book, which I must admit
was rather heavy going, I though we could start something more
romantic this week.”

“
It was heavy going, but I
enjoyed it. And the way you read it made it even better,” she said,
undoing the buttons of her shirt. “I always thought Shakespeare
boring, but it was thrilling. Poor Othello. What are you going to
read this time?”