V The Second Part Of The Story Of Isabel
HIS SECOND interview with Isabel was more satisfying, but none the less affecting and mystical than the first, though in the beginning, to his no small surprise, it was far more strange and embarrassing.
As before, Isabel herself admitted him into the farm-house, and spoke no word to him till they were both seated in the room of the double casement, she suddenly turned, and fully confronted Pierre with all the wonderfulness of her most surprising face.
Pierre pulled Isabel into his arms, crushing her mouth in a powerful kiss. His tongue thrust aggressively into her mouth. Isabel hung in his arms, submitting to and then becoming caught up in his passion. She began to duel shyly with his tongue. He moved up the settee and settled his mouth over hers, thrusting his tongue between her moistly parted lips. His arms crushed her briefly in an involuntary spasm, and then he again took possession of her mouth, exploring her with erotic skill. A moment later, his hot lips and nibbling teeth began to explore her neck and then moved to her shell-like ear, thrusting his tongue inside. Her head fell back, her eyes gazed blindly at the star-studded night sky, and she creamed her pantalettes. “Oh God,” she panted. “Please stop. We mustn’t,” she pleaded unconvincingly, His cock kicked against his trousers, demanding attention. “Right now, I’m so hard that it hurts. I’d like you to help me find satisfaction,
“Oh Pierre I can’t afford any sort of scandal.” She whispered. “Believe me I am a virgin”
“Isabel, my sweet, I shall not take your maidenhead. None but your husband will have that honor.” He assured her. “The ways that I teach you will leave Society as ignorant as a child. You will not lose your virginity, nor will you become pregnant.”
“Is it possible dear?” she asked with her heart beating wildly.
“Yes, I want you to take my cock into your mouth and suck on it. Lick it with your tongue.”
From the folds of his pants, Pierre pulled out a long, hard shaft, the tip swollen almost to the size of a plum. The thick shaft pulsed in his hand. Pierre slid his hand slowly, cupping the large head in his palm. Isabel watched hypnotized, her eyes all over the large member, seeing a single pearly drop of fluid well up from the open slit in the top and then hang trembling on the plum-like top. Dreamily, Isabel reached out and caught it on her fingertip, brought it to her mouth and tasted his essence. She was oblivious to the gasp and lurch of Pierre’s body as her nailtip gently scraped his urethral slit. He watched her savor the salty taste of his precum, her eyes closed as she concentrated. When she opened them again, she blushed to find him watching her. Pierre’s eyes were hot, and the planes and angles of his face clenched with the effort to restrain him.
“Isabel,” he growled. The tone raised chills on her back. “Suck my cock.” For some reason, the demanding way that he spoke was very erotic to her. Without thought, she leaned forward and kissed the tip of his hard shaft, feeling drops of pearly fluid escaping from the slit in the top as she kissed him. “Take it in your mouth,” he ordered.
Obediently, her eyes closing, Isabel opened her mouth widely to engulf the thick tip of his cock in her heated mouth. “Watch your teeth, darling,” Pierre warned tensely. “A man’s cock is very…” he hissed at the feel of her tongue licking all around the tip inside her mouth, “sensitive.” He finished somewhat raggedly.
Isabel seemed to have a natural affinity for cock-sucking. Within moments, half of his cock was swallowed into her mouth, laved with saliva as she swept her tongue around it. Even the occasional touches of teeth were erotic rather than painful. Isabel listened happily to his groans and hisses of pleasure. Pierre raised both hands to her head, guiding her mouth into a rhythm that would lead to a swift conclusion. By his calculations, they had less than ten minutes to reach her home. But at some future point he would have her take at least an hour just to suck his cock into her talented throat.
“Isabel, I’m about to orgasm.” Pierre struggled to keep his voice steady. “When I do, a lot of juice is going to shoot out of my cock and into your mouth. I want you to swallow it all darling.”
At seven Pierre changed his dress; and at half-past eight went below to meet his mother at the breakfast table.
Mrs. Glendinning kept her fixed eye on Pierre, who, unmindful that the breakfast was not yet entirely ready, seating himself at the table, began helping himself – though but nervously enough – to the cream and sugar. The moment the door closed on Dates, the mother sprang to her feet, and threw her arms around her son; but in that embrace, Pierre miserably felt that their two hearts beat not together in such unison as before.
“What haggard thing possesses thee, my son? Speak, this is incomprehensible! Lucy; – fie! – not she? – no love-quarrel there; – speak, speak, my darling boy!”
“My dear sister,” began Pierre.
“Sister me not, now, Pierre; – I am thy mother.”
“Well, then, dear mother, thou art quite as incomprehensible to me as I to– "
“Talk faster, Pierre – this calmness freezes me. Tell me; for, by my soul, something most wonderful must have happened to thee. Thou art my son, and I command thee. It is not Lucy; it is something else. Tell me.”
“My dear mother,” said Pierre, impulsively moving his chair backward from the table, “there is nothin to tell thee.”
“Not in the slightest degree, Pierre. Have you seen Lucy lately?”
“I have not, my mother.”
Mrs. Glendinning slowly rose to her feet, and her full stature of womanly beauty and majesty stood imposingly over him.
“Tempt me no more, Pierre. I will ask no secret from thee; all shall be voluntary between us, as it ever has been, until very lately, or all shall be nothing between us. Beware of me, Pierre. There lives not that being in the world of whom thou hast more reason to beware, so you continue but a little longer to act thus with me.”
She reseated herself, and spoke no more. Pierre kept silence; and after snatching a few mouthfuls of he knew not what, silently quitted the table, and the room, and the mansion.
She was not risen yet. So, the strange imperious instantaneousness in him, impelled him to go straight to her chamber-door, and in a voice of mild invincibleness, demand immediate audience, for the matter pressed.
Already namelessly concerned and alarmed for her lover, now eight-and-forty hours absent on some mysterious and undisclosable affair; Lucy, at this surprising summons was overwhelmed with sudden terror; and in oblivion of all ordinary proprieties, responded to Pierre’s call, by an immediate assent.
Opening the door, he advanced slowly and deliberately toward her; and as Lucy caught his pale determined figure, she gave a cry of groping misery, which knew not the pang that caused it, and lifted herself trembling in her bed; but without uttering one word.
Pierre sat down on the bedside; and his set eyes met her terrified and virgin aspect.
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“Decked in snow-white, and pale of cheek, thou indeed art fitted for the altar; but not that one of which thy fond heart didst dream: – so fair a victim!”
“Pierre!”
" Tis the last cruelty of tyrants to make their enemies slay each other."
“My heart! my heart!”
“Nay; – Lucy, I am married.”
The girl was no more pale, but white as any leper; the bedclothes trembled to the concealed shudderings of all her limbs; one moment she sat looking vacantly into the blank eyes of Pierre, and then fell over toward him in a swoon.
Swift madness mounted into the brain of Pierre; all the past seemed as a dream, and all the present an unintelligible horror. He lifted her, and extended her motionless form upon the bed, and stamped for succor. The maid Martha came running into the room, and beholding those two inexplicable figures, shrieked, and turned in terror. But Pierre’s repeated cry rallied Martha from this, and darting out of the chamber, she returned with a sharp restorative, which at length brought Lucy back to life.
“Martha! Martha!” now murmured Lucy, in a scarce audible whispering, and shuddering in the maid’s own shuddering arms, “quick, quick; come to me – drive it away! wake me! wake me!”
“Nay, pray God to sleep again,” cried Martha, bending over her and embracing her, and half turning upon Pierre with a glance of loathing indignation. “In God’s holy name, sir, what may this be? How came you here; accursed!”
“Accursed? – it is well. Is she herself again, Martha?”
“Thou hast somehow murdered her; how then be herself again? My sweet mistress! oh, my young mistress! Tell me! tell me!” and she bent low over her.
Pierre now advanced toward the bed, making a gesture for the maid to leave them; but soon as Lucy re-caught his haggard form, she whisperingly wailed again, “Martha! Martha! drive it away! – there – there! him – him!” and shut her eyes convulsively, with arms abhorrently outstretched.
“Monster! incomprehensible fiend!” cried the anew terror-smitten maid – “depart! See! she dies away at the sight of thee – begone! Wouldst thou murder her afresh? Begone!”
Starched and frozen by his own emotion, Pierre silently turned and quitted the chamber; and heavily descending the stairs, tramped heavily – as a man slowly bearing a great burden – through a long, narrow passage leading to a wing in the rear of the cottage, and knocking at Mrs. Llanyllyn’s door, summoned her to Lucy, who, he briefly said, had fainted. Then, without waiting for any response, left the house, and went directly to the mansion.
“Is my mother up yet?” said he to Dates, whom he met in the hall.
“Not yet, sir; – heavens, sir! are you sick?”
“To death! Let me pass.”
Ascending toward his mother’s chamber, he heard a coming step, and met her on the great middle landing of the stairs, where in an ample niche, a marble group of the temple-polluting Laocoon and his two innocent children, caught in inextricable snarls of snakes, writhed in eternal torments.
“Mother, go back with me to thy chamber.”
She eyed his sudden presence with a dark but repressed foreboding; drew herself up haughtily and repellingly, and with a quivering lip, said, “Pierre, thou thyself hast denied me thy confidence, and thou shalt not force me back to it so easily. Speak! what is that now between thee and me?”
“I am married, mother.”
“Great God! To whom?”
“Not to Lucy Tartan, mother.”
“That thou merely sayest ’tis not Lucy, without saying who indeed it is, this is good proof she is something vile. Does Lucy know thy marriage?”
“I am but just from Lucy’s.”
Thus far Mrs. Glendinning’s rigidity had been slowly relaxing. Now she clutched the baluster, bent over, and trembled, for a moment. Then erected all her haughtiness again, and stood before Pierre in incurious, unappeasable grief and scorn for him.
“My dark soul prophesied something dark. If already thou hast not found other lodgment, and other table than this house supplies, then seek it straight. Beneath my roof, and at my table, he who was once Pierre Glendinning no more puts himself.”
She turned from him, and with a tottering step climbed the winding stairs, and disappeared from him; while In the baluster he held, Pierre seemed to feel the sudden thrill running down to him from his mother’s convulsive grasp.
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VI The Unprecedented Final Resolution Of Pierre
When the full sun was well up the heavens, Pierre drew near the farm-house of the Ulvers, he descried Isabel, standing without the little dairy-wing, occupied in vertically arranging numerous glittering shield-like milk-pans on a long shelf, where they might purifyingly meet the sun. Her back was toward him. As Pierre passed through the open wicket and crossed the short, soft, green sward, he unconsciously muffled his footsteps, and now standing close behind his sister, touched her shoulder and stood still.
She started, trembled, turned upon him swiftly, made a low, strange cry, and then gazed rivetedly and imploringly upon him.
“I look rather queerish, sweet Isabel, do I not?” said Pierre at last with a writhed and painful smile.
“My brother, my blessed brother! – speak – tell me – what has happened – what hast thou done? Oh! Oh! I should have warned thee before, Pierre, Pierre; it is my fault – mine, mine!”
“What is thy fault, sweet Isabel?”
‘Thou hast revealed Isabel to thy mother, Pierre."
“I have not, Isabel. Mrs. Glendinning knows not thy secret at all.”
They passed into the room of the double casement. He was turning from her, when Isabel sprang forward to him, caught him with both her arms round him, and held him so convulsively, that her hair sideways swept over him, and half concealed him.
“Pierre, if indeed my soul hath cast on thee the same black shadow that my hair now flings on thee; if thou hast lost aught for me; then eternally is Isabel lost to Isabel, and Isabel will not outlive this night. If I am indeed an accursing thing, I will not act the given part, but cheat the air, and die from it. See; I let thee go, lest some poison I know not of distill upon thee from me.”
She slowly drooped, and trembled from him. But Pierre caught her, and supported her. she bent over him toward him; his mouth wet her ear; he whispered it.
“Foolish, foolish one. Behold, in the very bodily act of loosing hold of me, thou dost reel and fall; – unanswerable emblem of the indispensable heart-stay, I am to thee, my sweet, sweet Isabel! Prate not then of parting.”
He kissed her hotly while skillfully loosening the ties, tapes and fastenings to her dress and petticoats. When the kiss ended, he leaned back a little and watched with satisfaction as the front of Isabel’s outfit fell forward, completely exposing her succulent breasts to his view. Before she could be overcome by modesty, Pierre swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her down on top of the covers. He stood back for a moment; admiring the beautiful sight of Isabel spread before him, breasts heaving with her quickened breaths, skin a fiery red with shyness. He removed his cravat, wrenching at it with impatient fingers, then swiftly undid the fastenings to his waistcoat and vest. Dropping them carelessly on the floor, Pierre joined Isabel on the bed, bending immediately to take the hardened, sensitive tip of one succulent breast into his mouth.
She was unprepared for the shafts of delight that went directly from her breast to her already moist cunny. The thought that he would suckle her like a babe was too delicious to bear. Isabel arched her back, offering herself more fully to whatever he would do with her. For long, breathless moments Pierre suckled and pulled at her nipples, bringing them to such a state of erection that they protruded nearly an inch from her breasts. He ran one hand over the other breast, teasing her nipple without actually touching it. The other hand grasped both Isabel’s hands holding them above her head. The bombardment of erotic feelings caused her love juice to trickle wetly between her nether lips.
Isabel laid with her head arched back, neck submissively bared to him. Pierre felt several spurts of male-juice drench the front of his trousers. His cock pushed forward against his trousers and threatened to burst from the friction of the cloth rubbing over its head.
Pierre discretely shifted his bone-hard cock, trying to find a more comfortable position. He wanted Isabel naked and writhing on the bed before he removed the rest of his clothing. The sensation of vulnerability she would feel, naked while he was clothed, would arouse her almost as much as his caresses. Pierre began to remove articles of her clothing, stopping frequently to suckle her breasts whenever he felt her flinch with maidenly shyness.
Finally, she lay completely naked save for garters. Pierre stood beside the bed a moment, one hand pinching and twisting her sensitive nipple while his eyes roamed over her body. Soft curls the same color as her hair covered Isabel’s mound sparsely. Droplets of moisture had dampened the curls slightly. The sweet, musky odor of her arousal hung in the air. Pierre breathed it in, his eyes closed to savor the heady aroma of virgin cunt. Isabel’s soft moans grew louder, and Pierre realized he was savagely pinching her nipple. But far from a moan of pain, Pierre observed with some amazement that this tender young virgin had actually grown more aroused at his unwittingly cruel grip. Her thighs rubbed together, and her head twisted on the coverlet.
“Isabel,” Pierre spoke commandingly, “open your legs for me.” He nodded as she slowly opened her eyes to look at him, shaking her head half-heartedly. “Yes, Isabel. Obey me. Open your legs.”
Slowly, her legs inched apart.
“More, Isabel. Open them all the way. Until your legs cannot open any further. Do it! Or I will do it for you.” Isabel shuddered at the commanding words, another rush of wetness sliding down to make her nether lips rub wetly together. She spread her legs open, crying out as Pierre rewarded her with another hard pinch to her nipple.
“Now, reach down and open your cunny for me. I want to see inside that virgin cunny. Do it, Isabel. You know you want to. I can see how wet you are from here.”
Blushing hotly, Isabel complied. She had never touched herself in such a way, and couldn’t believe the naughty sensations. Her eyes were closed tightly, bright sparkling lights on the inside of her eyelids as she used one finger from both hands and parted the lips of her cunt.
“That’s it, darling. That luscious cunt of yours is just aching to be filled and reamed by a hard cock, isn’t it? Isn’t it?” he insisted more loudly.
“Oooh, yes,” Isabel moaned, not really understanding the implications of his question, responding instead to his tone of voice.
“Well, that’s too bad. You will have to wait for your future husband to tear through your hymen. I’m after a different virginity, darling.” This last was drawled between firm pinches to both nipples. Then, moving one hand down to the vee of her thighs, “That doesn’t mean that I won’t play with your sweet pearl, darling. I see that it needs some attention. Why, it is swollen almost as large as your nipples. Open your eyes and look, Isabel. Watch as I massage your tender bud.” He suited action to his words, firmly massaging, rubbing and finally pinching her swollen, aching pearl. Isabel’s hips arched up off the bed and she gave a small scream. Pierre watched fascinated as a small spray of her wetness covered his hand and her inner thighs. Isabel’s hips hung in the air for long moments, and Pierre was able to see the mouth of her virgin cunny pulsing, sucking hungrily at the air. Finally she collapsed back onto the bed, covered in a fine layer of sweat, panting.
“We are not finished, sweetheart,” Pierre informed her imperturbably as he began to remove the remainder of his clothes.
Isabel’s eyes felt weighted by lead, but she slowly managed to look at him. What she saw shocked her awake. Pierre stood there naked and proudly erect. His shaft was larger than she remembered, pulsing an angry red, rising up from a bush of honey-colored hair that clustered thickly around the base. Isabel didn’t even realize that she was studying him so intently until Pierre cleared his throat politely. “Will I do?” he asked her semi-seriously. He didn’t see any fear in her eyes. Then again, she didn’t know where his cock was going to go, so she had no cause for fear - yet.
“What more will we do? Would you like me to take you in my mouth again?” her voice was little more than a whisper of sound.
He smiled. “No, darling, there is no need for you to take me in your mouth right now. Although, we will need quite a bit of moisture for this,” he announced cryptically. Briefly turning away from Isabel, he went to the small bedside table and opened a drawer, making a satisfied sound at what he found.
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Pierre brought out a small glass flask with a cork in it, filled with an almost clear liquid. He set that on top of the table, and next removed several other items. There were gloves, several cloths and some strips of black velvet, about 3 inches wide and several feet long. Isabel watched with wide, wondering eyes as all of these items were laid out neatly on the tabletop. Pierre’s demeanor had changed with the advent of these mysterious items. No longer the teasing, urbane lover of moments before, his features had hardened and become fiercer, more purposeful.
Isabel had no idea what had caused this change in Pierre, but it sent a thrill through her nonetheless. At his command, she rolled over on the bed and lifted herself up to allow Pierre to place several cloths on the bedspread beneath her pelvis, wondering what they were for.
It was time for the final act, the taking of her bottom’s virginity. This would require some patience, some force, and a certain disregard for protests once the insertion began. The first few moments were often uncomfortable, but the unguent in the flask would assure entry for even the tightest of bottom-mouths and the stoutest of weapons.
“Turn over on your belly,” Pierre commanded. She obeyed.
“Raise your hands above your head, and raise up your bottom half, bringing your knees up closer to your chest.” Isabel hesitated for a moment, but complied with a small squeak when Pierre smacked her naked bottom cheek. Taking two of the velvet strips, he tied one around each wrist and fastened the other ends to the bedposts above her head. He took another velvet strip and tied it around Isabel’s head to blindfold her. A fourth strip unexpectedly came around her head and was settled firmly in her mouth. She gave a muffled protest, feeling some trepidation about why he would want to prevent her from speaking.
“Isabel, this will increase your pleasure. It will also help you to relax and comply with my commands, as I have removed your ability to make decisions about what will happen. However, if you find that you are unable to bear the pain or the pleasure of my caresses, raise the index finger of both hands and I will unbind you.”
The explanation was growled hotly into her ear, raising goosebumps along her back. Isabel moaned deeply, unsure whether to be scared or excited at the mention of pain and pleasure together, settling herself into the position he had demanded. “Raise your fingers to show that you understand.”
After confirming that she understood the signal, Pierre took additional strips and tied them just behind her knees, pulling the long strips up and binding them both behind her neck, thus trussing her securely in position. He donned one of the gloves and uncorked the flask, held it above the taut split of her buttocks, and tipped it over two outstretched gloved fingers. He watched as the oil slid over his gloved fingers, some dripping down to land in the valley between her ass cheeks and sliding down over Isabel’s tightly clenched amber rosebud. She flinched at the touch of the liquid on so sensitive a place, then flinched again when his drenched fingers touched her bum, smearing the liquid sensuously. Pierre set the flask down for a moment, and used that hand to further spread her cheeks, allowing better access. He began to rub the two fingers more firmly against her clenched anus, sensuously spreading the unguent in ever-decreasing circles until his fingers were centered on the small bud. He watched with fascination, his hard cock dripping precum on the covers.
Isabel was gasping for breath, eager to feel the strange pleasure of his finger entering her behind, and hugely aroused by the helpless position. She was unable to move, to avoid his caresses. Why the oil, she wondered innocently? He hadn’t needed it before. Such thoughts were stopped as one finger slid deeply into her bottom mouth, involuntary contractions trying to push him back out but only drawing him in more deeply.
“That’s it, my hot little cunt, that’s it. Suck on my finger. Feel how it spreads you open, tickles your rectum. God, you are so tight!” Pierre’s voice was fractured with lust as his eyes hotly devoured the sight of his finger thrusting in and out of Isabel’s tightly grasping anus. He continued so for a few moments, feeling the ease with which he pushed in and out as the oil did its work. Almost before she had become accustomed to the sensation Pierre removed that finger. Isabel moaned a protest at the loss of sensation, but suddenly his finger was back. Only this time, it was accompanied by another finger, and both slid smoothly inside her tight bottom.
Isabel’s back ached at the incredible sense of fullness in her passage. She thrust her ass involuntarily up into the air. The liberal application of oil had eased the entrance so that even the stretching of her rosebud was pleasurable. Moans and cries escaped the velvet gag, and a spurt of wetness trickled down her inner thighs, dripping onto the covers. He smiled painfully at the sight. Rarely had he come across a woman as passionate as this one. The carnal sensations of his fingers steadily, rhythmically spearing in and out of her bottom mouth consumed the young miss. Her head tossed back and forth, moans steadily growing louder. Pierre removed the hand that had been spreading open her bottom cheeks, and reached around to caress her neglected clitoris.
Through the gag, he could hear Isabel moaning. Even through the velvet gag, he understood her muffled request to “flick my pearl, Oh God, yes, flick my pearl.” He complied, and she came immediately, rectum clenching and rippling around his embedded fingers.
Pierre breathed in hard, preventing his own climax with effort. He kept his fingers inserted deeply in her rectum, beginning to spear them gently open and closed inside her even before the orgasmic tremors had died away. He needed to stretch her anus as much as possible. He also admitted to himself how much he liked to watch her rosebud wink open and closed as his fingers scissored inside her.
Isabel had barely caught her breath from the incredible orgasm before he began to arouse her again. She was moaning weakly into her gag, the velvet soaked with her saliva. She bent her head down, resting it on the bed. The movement caused her knees to pull forward even more, further opening her to Pierre’s lustful gaze and erotic caresses.
Pierre again took up the flask, but this time he stripped off the soiled glove and dripped the fluid instead onto his heavily engorged cock. Isabel would have cried out in alarm had she been able to see his thick, pulsing cock, the head a deep red, drooling male-juice almost continuously as it approached her still extremely tight bottom mouth. His two fingers were no match for the thickness of his cockhead.
His hot, hugely swollen cockhead nudged against her rosebud, sending shivers down Pierre’s back. He could feel small flutterings from her bottom mouth, almost mouthing the tip of his shaft. His oiled shaft slid pleasurably through his fingers as he positioned himself firmly against her. He braced himself, holding one of her hips with his free hand, crouched on his knees behind her upturned ass, and took a deep breath. Then he thrust forward.
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The first thrust opened up her anus and slid the head of his cock inside. Isabel’s head jerked up, her mouth open in a soundless scream as her bottom mouth snapped closed on the thinner portion of his cock behind the head. Pierre was two inches inside her rectum. He stared down in awe at the sight of his cock, extending out from her hugely stretched anus. The light amber ring around her rosebud had been stretched into a thin band. He threw his head back, taking deep breaths to control the urge to thrust fully inside her. Pierre knew that he must wait for her to grow accustomed to the invasion of her bottom before entering any further. He wanted her to enjoy sodomy, though the beginning part might be somewhat painful.
Isabel finally was able to voice a muffled scream at the sensation of something large stretching open her bottom. It was much larger than his fingers. She felt a burning pain! She finally realized what Pierre had meant, when he said in the carriage that he wanted to put other things besides a finger in her bottom. As Pierre remained unmoving inside her, though, the first stinging pain was transformed into a strange achy pleasure. It felt so odd, having something go in where things had only come out in the past. She panicked for a moment, feeling the urge to expel his cock and afraid that she would lose control of her bowels. In the midst of this panic, Pierre leaned forward, carefully holding his cock steady, and breathed into her ear, “Relax, darling Isabel, relax your bottom mouth. Push out as though you are going to the bathroom.”
Isabel tried to follow his directions. The thought of calling a halt by their pre-arranged signal never entered her mind, she would later realize. The sensations, while somewhat painful, were also too pleasurable to give up. She felt an itching inside her bottom, and suddenly desired him to push inside her more deeply. Remembering how long and thick he was, she wondered if he would try to push the whole shaft into her. She also wondered how she would survive such a thing.
Pierre felt the slight relaxing of her bottom’s tense grip, and pushed forward immediately. He gained another inch, then stopped and waited again, murmuring soothingly to her all the while. Again, he pushed forward and watched as another inch of his cock entered into her tight, hot rectum. Then another. At that point, Isabel cried out in protest, and he instantly stilled, waiting for her to grow accustomed to something this deeply inside her. He was past the point where his fingers had touched previously. Pierre pulled out slightly, hearing a sharp gasp from Isabel, then pushed forward again to his previous position. He repeated that motion, but when he pushed back in, he kept going and slid another inch into her rectum. Only two inches remained outside her tightly-packed ass, and he was determined to feed them to her before he exploded. His balls had long since drawn up tightly in his scrotum, and Pierre could tell that he would positively flood her ass when he finally allowed himself to cum. But not just yet. He slowly stroked in and out, assuring Isabel in a husky voice that the discomfort would pass, that soon she would feel nothing but pleasure. He constantly reminded her to push out with her muscles.
Isabel knelt on the bed in a welter of pleasurable pain. Her mouth hung open around the gag, and she took huge breaths through her flaring nostrils. With her eyes covered, she was completely focused on the sensations of feel and smell. The musky scent of sex in the room; her wet cunny dripping her juices on the bed; the herbal odor from the unguent; Pierre’s sweat dripping onto her gleaming back - all were far more intense without sight. Her stretched-open rectum, full of thick, hard cock, burned and throbbed as muscles involuntarily spasmed around his embedded shaft. She felt the head flex deep inside her, growing larger for a moment and dragging a gasping moan from Isabel. Pierre heard her and did it again.
“Oh, God, Isabel, your ass is so tight! It feels so incredible, almost like your rectum is sucking on my cock. God, you are so hot. Do you like this? I think you must, the way your cunny is dripping all over the bed. How does this feel?” He pushed forward slightly, sliding an additional half-inch inside her. “How about this?” He slid his hips in very small circles, stretching her bottom mouth even more. “And this?” He pulled back, sliding his cock out until the head began to emerge, watching as her rectum clung to his flesh on the outstroke. Then, he pushed all the way back in one long thrust. This time only an inch remained outside her aching bottom. After another two mins of haevy thrusting he came and collapsed down saying “That’s was good Isabel , wonder when can we do it again” and then falls asleep .
The End
Beautiful Creatures
It was a warm night so I crossed my room to open the big French windows before I settled down for the night. My black silk negligee fluttered around the tops of my legs as a slight breeze entered the room, my nipples hardening against the material tight against them. I crawled into bed, the black material feeling cool and sensual on my smooth skin, bathed in the pale moonlight. I turned my head to look at the window, I had a peculiar feeling I was being watched, I couldn’t see anything which made sense as I was on the 3rd floor.
Something fluttered from a nearby tree and my mind eased knowing it was just some sort of bird. I smiled to my self and rested my head back onto the big soft pillows as my body slid down into my bed, my hair fanned out around my head like a black halo. The cool material felt so good on my warm skin, and I could feel my nipples hardening even more against it. I slid my hand over my nipple, gently pinching it, causing me to moan in pleasure. My pussy started to tingle in anticipation as I slid my hand down my body, the other hand still caressing my erect nipples. My fingers quickly found my clit, and I rubbed it slowly, enjoying the sensations that flooded my body, “Mmm, yes” I moaned. My hands started to move faster and faster, as my orgasm quickly built inside me, God I needed a man, I began to fantasise about some tall, dark stranger coming to my room, and fucking me mercilessly as I plunged two fingers deep inside myself. I came hard, my pussy flooding around my hand. I smiled, satisfied, and drifted easily into sleep.
A few hours later I awoke, again feeling I was being watched, but I felt no unease. I sat up, my hair cascading down my back, contrasting against my creamy skin, glowing in the beautiful moonlight that was filling my room with shadows. From the dark corner I heard movement, footsteps but still I was not scared. He came out, and stood at the end of my bed, and I gasped at what I saw, he was the definition of beauty, his skin was paler than mine, and his jet black hair shone. It was long almost to the shoulder of his long red coat. His body looked gorgeous, and his face even more so, his eyes shone a brilliant green, so captivating I found it hard to break away from his stare. He had full red lips that seemed to call to me; he parted them and licked them slowly, his teeth flashing a brilliant white, the canines growing into long pointed fangs as he parted his mouth wider.
“Come to me.” The voice seemed to echo in my head even though he had voiced no words. I rose onto my knees on the bed, as he moved around the side seeming to glide across the floor. He bent down as I turned up my face to kiss his luscious lips. His kiss was gentle but firm and I melted inside. Her pulled away and turned my head, my hair parted leaving my bare neck exposed, the left strap of my nightdress falling to reveal my breast. He cupped it squeezing the erect pink nipple as he opened his mouth wide.
I felt his fangs pierce the soft warm flesh of my neck as he drank my life-blood, the dark red liquid running down my white skin. I felt no pain only bliss, and at that moment I became his forever. He stopped as I began to weaken, opening a vain in his wrist for me to take him into me, I drank, the metallic tasting fluid burned through me, never had anything ever tasted so good, I felt truly awake and alive.
“Yes…drink my love…I will show you a new world, one where we shall be together for eternity,” he whispered in my ear.
I drank, until my body collapsed back onto the bed writhing as I began to turn, to start a new life as a vampire, something I had dreamt of for so long. I had longed to become one of those beautiful creatures, forever young, elegant, and now it was finally happening. My body died, and my new eyes opened drinking everything in, looking into the face of my creator, my master, my lover, my soulmate.
He slowly slid his hand down the soft skin of my face, pushing my dark hair out of the way. I could feel his beautiful eyes boring into mine, seeing right into my soul with a deep animal lust.
“You are beautiful,” He almost growled, his voice deep thick with desire, “and now you are mine.” He pushed me back roughly, and I could feel my want for him pulsing through my veins instead of the warm blood, that used to give me life.
“I have watched you my love, watched you try to find us, and I have waited until you are ready, I have wanted you for so long, and now I have got you. You are so beautiful, I wanted you so badly earlier.” I looked up at him questioningly, then realised it had been him at the window.
Knowing he had secretly watched me as I played with myself, made my pussy flood. He seemed to know this, and grinned down at me, canines flashing. “Tell me what you want, my love.” He said, removing his coat.
“Oh, please…take me…” I mumbled, too frustrated to talk.
“You’ll have to do better than that I’m afraid.” He laughed at the frustration in my face.
I sat up, moved close to his face, and whispered in his ear, “Fuck me…now…truly make me yours…I give myself to you.” With that he was suddenly naked, pushing me back, kissing me hard on the mouth. I thrust my hips up to meet his trying desperately to get some friction on my aching pussy. He laughed and moved his hips away from mine and kissed my neck, gently biting me, almost but not quite piercing my delicate white skin.
His kisses moved slowly down my body, as he kissed and sucked my nipples through the thin material of my negligee. I pushed my head back and groaned, my body felt like it was on fire, I needed him to fuck me, taste me, anything, but I needed it bad. My desire had never felt this strong before. He seemed to sense this and his kisses went further down still. His hands pushed my nightdress up above my hips, as he pushed his face between my legs. I cried out as I felt his wet tongue swirl around my clitoris, my hands raked through his hair, it felt so good. His tongue licked up and down my pussy, and my need to be fucked increased tenfold.
“Yes…please…mmm…more, fuck me, I need you to make me cum…” I moaned. His fingers roughly pushed inside me, as he continued to lick, slowly and gently sucking on my clit. It was too much for me, and my orgasm came crashing through me, I screamed out, almost whimpering until it finally subsided. He crawled back up my body, kissing me gently, and I could taste my juices faintly on his lips.
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His kisses became harder, more urgent as his hips pressed down onto me. I could feel his erection hard against my stomach. I reached down desperately trying to reach for his cock. He pushed my hand away.
“No, my love, not yet, I need to be inside you.” I moved my hands to his back and scratched my nails along his soft skin making him moan. He grasped his hard cock, and began stroking my wet pussy with the tip. I threw my head back gasping, I didn’t know how much more of his teasing I would be able to take. I screamed in pleasure as he suddenly thrust deep inside me, nothing had ever felt like this. He was so deep inside me, I felt so full. I moaned again as he pulled almost completely out of me then thrust back in hard. He kept doing this, pushing me to the edge, then stopping before I was taken over. I could feel another orgasm building deep inside me already, no-one had ever made me cum so much, but everything he did felt incredible, his skin felt like fire against mine as we moved. He just seemed to know exactly how I felt at every moment.
“Shall I stop, am I too much for you to take?” he grinned down at me and his green eyes flashed as he teased me.
“No, No…please…don’t ever stop…I’d do anything for you. It all feels so good. You feel so good inside me.” He looked at me lying there beneath him, and stopped moving, smiling. I groaned my disapproval, thrusting my hips up, trying to get him moving. “Please…please…please my love…fuck me, I need to cum, I need to feel you cum, deep inside me” I begged and pleaded him.
He moved suddenly, flipping us over so I was now on top of him, his cock still buried inside me. I moaned and arched my back, he felt so fucking deep. I began to ride him, slow at first then picking up speed as my climax came closer. I screamed and shuddered as my body exploded in orgasm. I leant down to kiss him, but he grabbed my long hair, and pulled my head back, arching my back into an almost impossible curve, and began to thrust upwards; I came again, my pussy flooding around him.
After I got my breath back I continued rocking back and forth grinding down hard on to him. I could feel my clit rubbing against the base of his stomach, and every ridge of his cock as began to move up and down, riding him even harder. He let go of my hair, and tore my negligee over my head, throwing it to the floor. He grabbed my hips, moving me faster, and began to groan. One hand slid up my body to my nipple, and he pulled it gently, “Mmm, yes that feels so good.” I whisper, as I rake my nails down his chest. God he looked so beautiful. He lifted his head to my nipple and began to suck; I could feel his sharp teeth graze over the surface.
“Bite me…” I whispered. He did as I asked, gently biting and I felt his teeth pierce my soft flesh, I groaned and threw my head back in ecstasy, he began to suck harder, tasting me, drinking my sweet blood. He stopped and laid back, his mouth coated with blood, my nipple dripping rubies to his chest. I leant down and carried on fucking him as I licked up my spilt blood, smearing it across his perfect skin. My own canines begin to grow and a deep hunger awakened in me as I moved up and kissed him hard on the lips, tasting more of my blood.
“Soon, my precious love, you will feast.” He soothed me. My pace quickened as I was filled with urgency, partly to cum and partly to feed. He grabbed my ass; his long nails digging into my flesh. He moved faster too, matching my rhythm until we were fucking hard and fast, our sweat covered bodies glistening in the soft glow of the moon.
We rolled over, so he was on top of me once again, his cock pistoning in and out of me. His thighs tensed and I knew he was about to cum. Knowing this tipped me over the edge and I came again. As my pussy tensed around him he came hard, shooting his cum inside me. I felt so happy, and like I finally belonged. He collapsed onto me and we lay there awhile, until I couldn’t stand the hunger in me any longer.
“Come my love, we shall feed, we have much to do and the sun shall be up soon, let us leave this place.” He gathered me up in a beautiful cloak that had been in the corner, and took me to the window. We soared off into the black night.
The End
What Nice Girls Can Do
Another night alone in his hotel room, Roger picked up the latest issue of Maximum PC to get some reading done. As an IT guy he needed to stay on top of the newest technology. “I know what I’d really like to stay on top of,” he thought and then blushed. His mind had been full of the woman he met last month.
Eleanor was an old college friend of one of his coworkers from home. “She’s really nice and wouldn’t mind showing you around New York while you’re there,” Sam had told him. Nice was the kiss of death, a not so subtle code for fat or ugly. “And she has a nice rack,” Sam had to throw that last part in. Now Roger was sure she was fat. But he was going to be in New York for 6 months and didn’t know a soul. He agreed to meet with Eleanor since all he needed was a tour guide. He already had a girlfriend.
Roger had been dating Angela for about a year. She was nice (kiss of death), a little older than he, but nice. They didn’t have much in common. He was a computer nerd who went to sci-fi conventions and she was a data entry operator who had never seen an episode of Star Trek before they met. What they lacked in conversation, they made up for with sex. With Roger on the road so much they silently agreed that whenever they did see each other they didn’t waste time on small talk. Lately, they hadn’t spent much time on foreplay either. Roger knew they were just going through the motions. And still, he was starting to contemplate marrying Angela.
He was getting old, almost 40. Most of his friends were married and settled down. Settled down, that’s a clever double entente. Most people seem to accept less than they want just so they don’t end up alone. He was starting to understand why. At least Angela was nice, boring but nice. But she wasn’t Eleanor.
It took a week for them to find an evening when they could meet. Roger waited patiently at the bar of a restaurant recommended by the hotel concierge. He texted the address to Eleanor who wrote back that she was running a little late but would get there. He was on his second martini when he looked over at the entrance to see a woman walk in. Bundled up against the January cold, Roger could still make out a small frame and a pretty face behind the puffy brown coat and wool scarf. He was actually relieved to see that she didn’t fit the “nice” stereotype.
“You must be Roger,” Eleanor addressed him, proffering her gloved hand.
“Yes,” Roger stammered, “how did you know?”
“Sam sent me a picture of you so I could find you in New York,” she said as she pulled up a chair next to him and signaled to the bartender.
She began unwrapping herself while she waited for her drink. Roger took a few surreptitious glances to assess the situation. At 5'6" with an athletic figure, Eleanor was not unattractive. Her clothes were rather plain, jeans and an oversized sweater, not doing much to accentuate her features. Roger wondered if Sam had been lying about the rack.
“So, how are you holding up alone in the big city?” Eleanor got the ball rolling on the small talk
“Oh, it’s getting better,” he replied. In a short time Roger realized that he was conversing quite freely and casually with Eleanor. It seems that they were both big fans of science fiction books and movies. They even had a long, heated debate on the merits of Captain Kirk versus Captain Picard as the best Star Trek captain ever.
Slowly, Roger began to realize something. He had never had such an easy time talking to a woman before. And she even liked the same geeky things he did. He was so relaxed he even told her how shocked he was that he was so relaxed. She threw her head back when she laughed, releasing the most splendid, warm sound Roger had ever heard.
“You need to get out more,” she said. From anyone else Roger would have been offended but he knew she was only teasing him. He began to look more closely at her face. Her alabaster skin seemed flawless even sitting this close. She wore no make up. And her eyes changed color from deep blue to steely grey almost at random. She wore a green scarf around her head but one brown curl had escaped near her right ear. Roger resisted the urge to touch that curl which stood so dark against her perfect skin. He couldn’t help but wonder what her hair really looked like.
They met again a few days later and hit the Museum of Natural History, upping Eleanor’s geek “cred” status even higher. Seeing her in the daylight, Roger was struck again by her perfect skin and changing eyes. Still, her hair was tied up in a scarf.
“I’m having a bad hair month,” Eleanor joked when he asked about it. Roger found it intriguing.
They had met up several times over the month for dinner or a movie or a quick lunch in the afternoon. The last time they met, they ended up in his hotel room watching Heroes on TV and eating the complimentary chocolate they left on his pillow each day. Each time he saw her he became more enthralled. He didn’t know what it was that he found so attractive about her. She didn’t wear make up, her clothes were neither tight nor revealing, and she still had her hair bound up. But her eyes sparkled and her hands danced while she spoke. She was so animate in everything she did that he couldn’t help but watch her. Even during the show, he found himself watching her instead of the TV. The simple way she slid a piece of chocolate into her mouth, first rubbing it on her lower lip then gently nibbling a corner, was riveting. He had never met anyone so sure, so truly themselves before. She was breathtaking. Seeing her so at ease, Roger decided that tonight would be the night he kissed her.
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Eleanor always hugged him goodbye when she left. In her enthusiastic manner, she pressed her body against his as if it were the most natural thing. Her arms were strong as she pulled him close. And just as Roger relaxed into her embrace, she would break off and bound away with a wave and a smile. Tonight, instead of letting her go, Roger was determined to take control of the situation. He would let her start the hug and immediately kiss her. Yes, damn it, that’s what he would do.
But something happened. When she went to hug him, it wasn’t her usual embrace. With no coat on, she reached around his waste to pull him in close to her. He could feel her breasts sliding against his chest through the thin layers of their shirts, her hands sliding up his back. He froze, realizing simultaneously that this hug was different and that he had a hard on. Suddenly he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to kiss her, and unless he was completely misreading this, she wanted the same thing. He debated with himself if he should hug her back or just move in for the kiss. He was still debating when her mouth found his and the gentlest kiss was planted there. Her second caress came quickly on the heels of the first, this time with more force. She brought her hand around to his head to steady him there while her tongue began to probe his lips.
In a state of complete panic, Roger didn’t react. It was as if he were watching himself on TV. His mind was screaming, “Open your mouth, you idiot,” but his body was stone deaf to his pleas. Eleanor pulled away from him, not having gotten the response she hoped for. She graciously smiled, said goodbye and headed out the door.
Roger stood in shock for a full two minutes. “What just happened here?” He said this out loud to the empty room. She hugged him, then kissed him, and he… stood perfectly still. And then he let her walk out. What the fuck was that? He had to fix this.
He spent the next 2 hours trying to compose an email to explain what happened. He eventually settled on explaining that he’s not good with women, that he finds her attractive and he just froze and please forgive him, and blah blah blah. It had a tone of desperation but he decided that that would just have to do, since he was, in fact, desperate to fix this.
She didn’t respond.
He tried calling her but only got her voice mail. He couldn’t think of anything to say so he just hung up.
Now a week had passed ad Roger was certain that he blew it. Eleanor wasn’t going to speak to him again let alone kiss him after his reaction. He couldn’t blame her. If he’d kissed her and she completely didn’t respond he would be so hurt. It’s so hard to pluck up the courage to show your feelings like that. And he just let her leave.
So Roger resigned himself to his fate: alone in a hotel room with nothing but the Info Porn column in Wired for company. He’ll be going home in a few days. His house will be there. Angela will be there. That will help put thoughts of Eleanor out of his mind. Roger fell asleep hoping that would be true.
Suddenly awake, Roger started up from the chair he had fallen asleep in, dropping the copy of Wired to the floor. A quick look at the clock told him it was 1:30 am but not why he was awake. Then he heard it, a soft tapping at his door. He wasn’t sure at first if that was just his heart beating in alarm but he went to the door just to be sure. Without checking to see who it might be, he flung open the door to see the Eleanor standing there, startled.
“Oh,” she gasped, hand flying to her chest, “you scared the crap out of me.”
“I’m sorry,” Roger blurted out as she spoke. “Not about that. I mean, I am sorry about that, but I mean I’m sorry about last week. I don’t know what came over me. You caught me by surprise. And I really wanted to kiss you. I mean, I had been planning on kissing you I was going to but then-”
She cut him off there with a hand over his mouth.
“Shhh. You’ll wake the neighbors,” she whispered into his ear as she pushed him back into his room. With one hand over his mouth and the other on his chest, Eleanor slammed Roger into the wall as she kicked the door shut behind her.
“You’re a jerk,” she said, still holding her hand over his mouth. “Do you think I came here tonight to hear your lame excuses?”
“Hmpf hmmnph,” he tried to reply through her surprisingly strong hand.
“Did I say you could talk? No? Then don’t.”
Roger was so surprised by her aggression that he immediately fell in line. He stared at her fiery eyes, a deep sapphire blue, and recognized passion there. His cock was instantly erect.
Just then Eleanor’s eyes shifted down to see Roger’s cock bulging in his pants.
“Come here,” she growled as she grabbed him by the shirt. Sitting him on the bed roughly, she brought her face close to his, “is that what you like? You like a woman to take control? I should have known.”
Eleanor untied the scarf from around her head. A cascade of soft, brown curls spilled down her back. Her beauty was magnified tenfold by this glorious mane of hair that Roger couldn’t control himself.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he sighed, forgetting her earlier reprimand. Immediately, Eleanor pushed him onto his back.
With a forceful hand on his chest she whispered, “What did I say about talking?”
Roger drew in a breath to apologize but caught himself just in time. Eleanor smirked at him.
“Better.” She straddled Roger, grinding her hips slowly as she spoke. “You did a very mean thing last week, leaving me hanging like that. I think you need to be taught some manners.” She bound his hands together above his head with her scarf and tied them to the headboard.
Eleanor took this moment while Roger was subdued to take off her coat. She was wearing a green tank top that clung to her rather shapely breasts and a short black skirt that barely covered her ass. Roger could see the top of her thigh high stockings peeking out. He made a mental note to thank Sam for this when he got home. He wasn’t sure if he could contain himself, his desire for her hot body magnifying his need to have her. She climbed on top of him again, high heels and all. Slowly she began to undress him as she spoke.
“It was so rude of you to treat me that way,” his shirt was now open, exposing his chest and nipples to her punishment. She gently stroked his left nipple. “Here I was putting myself out there, taking a chance, hoping you would respond favorably to the idea of kissing me. And what did I get:” She twisted his nipple sharply. “Rejected.”
Roger squirmed and writhed beneath her but Eleanor’s legs grabbed him like a rider on a bucking bronco. He was not getting away from her.
“Oh, did that hurt? As bad as rejection hurts?” She pursed her lips and returned to gently stroking his nipple. Roger couldn’t believe how turned on he was. He could feel his cock throbbing. Eleanor seemed on fire. Her pussy ground against his cock, soaking his pants with her juices.
“I don’t think you realize how much you hurt me,” she said as she climbed off him. Roger tried to sit up but the scarf held him fast to the bed. Eleanor opened his pants and roughly pulled them off. His boxers went next, just as quickly.
Roger’s cock stood tall and hard like the mast of a ship, exposed to the world. With a lascivious grin Eleanor grabbed his balls and yanked on them hard. He squirmed and panted but did not cry out, knowing that he was not permitted to speak.
“Something you don’t know about me, Roger. I don’t ask for much, but when I do, I expect to get it.” Her right hand started to caress his cock, which was now dripping with precum. She ran her palm lightly over the head sending chills through Roger’s body. “All I wanted that night was a long, slow kiss and a little attention paid to my breasts.” At this point, Eleanor’s left hand cupped her left breast, “I had hoped that you would want to touch my breasts.” Eleanor slowly moved her tank top down to reveal an erect, perfectly pink nipple. She squeezed it between her thumb and pointer while mirroring the action on the head of Roger’s cock. “I guess I was wrong,” she stated as she abruptly stopped the ministrations of both hands.
Roger could hardly breathe, his whole body throbbing with desire. A dejected groan escaped his throat.
“Is there something wrong?” Eleanor asked with a look of innocence on her face. “Go ahead, tell me what you want.”
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“I want to fuck you,” Roger blurted out.
“Oh, you want to fuck me,” she says pensively.
“Yes,” he whispers unable to contain himself.
“I see. Well, it’s good to want things.” Eleanor stood over him, pressing her hands into his thighs. “Do you want to slide your big hard cock into my hot wet pussy?”
“Oh God, yes,” Roger never wanted anything more in his life.
“Do you want to feel my pussy squeezing you cock while I cum? Do you want my juices all over your cock? And do you want me to lick them off of it when I’m done having my way with you?” She leaned closer and closer. He could feel her breath on his cock as she spoke these last words
“Please,” he begged, more cum dripping from his cock. She flicked her tongue and caught a few drops.
“I’m going to fuck you because it’s what I want. But you cannot, I repeat, you cannot cum until I say so. If you do not obey me you will be punished. Do you understand?”
Roger agreed to obey her every command as she climbed on to his rock hard cock still fully clothed.
“Fuck me, " she ordered as she rocked her hips plunging his cock deeper and deeper into her hot pussy. She reached under her skirt to rub her clit with her right hand. He could feel how wet she was, her juices were everywhere. She was grinding faster and groaning louder.
“Oh, I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum on your big hard cock.” Roger could feel her pussy tighten round his throbbing cock, “Don’t you dare cum, " she ordered between moans of pleasure. But there was nothing he could do. Her pussy was too much for him. Roger exploded inside her, cumming as she came. He moaned and writhed beneath her alternating his screams between apologies and exclamations of joy.
“God, that’s so good. I’m sorry. Oh, yes. I couldn’t help it. You’re so hot. I’m sorry” Eleanor had collapsed onto his chest. She fully expected he would cum; she hadn’t expected to enjoy the feeling of him inside her so much. She would have been content to let it go but Roger needed to understand that she means what she says.
“You disobeyed me,” she whispered into his ear, nipping at the lobe to emphasize her point.
“I’m sorry, “he panted, “I couldn’t control myself,”
She set to work untying his arms. “On hour hands and knees,” she ordered. What else could he do but obey.
“You’ve been a bad boy, Roger, and bad boys get spanked.” With her bare hand, Eleanor smacked his ass quite hard. The sound was loud and his ass stung where she made contact. A second smack on the other ass cheek and Roger’s cock was hard again. This hadn’t happened to him in a long time.
Suddenly Eleanor smacked his ass repeatedly, a quick succession of slaps landing haphazardly on his ass and thighs. As quickly as it began it stopped. Next, her fingers gently stroked the reddened area. Roger was overwhelmed by the sensations, first pain than pleasure. But he was not prepared for what happened next.
Abruptly, Eleanor spread his ass cheeks to reveal his puckered anus, Slowly her tongue ran circles around and probed into his ass. This was a first for Roger. No one had ever eaten his ass before. He was getting harder by the second. Eleanor replaced her tongue with a finger and probed deeper and deeper seeking out his prostate. She knew she reached it when his whole body shuddered, forcing an unbidden groan from his lips.
“Do you like that?” She asked playfully. “Is it better if I do this?” She reached around and took his cock in her other hand. She began jerking him off while massaging inside him. Roger could no longer speak. His whole body shuddered with the ecstasy of this woman playing with him in ways he never dreamed of.
“Would you like to cum again,” she asked, her sultry voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes please,” he whimpered, barely able to contain himself.
“Cum for me, Roger,” that’s all he needed. She felt his sphincter contract around her finger while she beat his cock faster. His cum shot out while he screamed with pleasure and relief. She milked his cock of every last drop before she let go, still gently stroking his prostate the whole time.
When she knew he was completely spent, she removed her hands from his body and guided him down to lie on his side. He quickly turned over and grabbed her close, kissing her neck and face.
“That was amazing,” he panted still covering her with kisses. “And you’re so beautiful. Your hair, you tits. Why did you keep that from me?”
“I wanted to give you a chance to get to know me. To see if you liked me for me and not just my body.”
“Well it worked. You are the most amazing woman I have ever met.”
“I told you, you have to get out more,” she teased him. “Now how about that kiss?”
The End