AMATEUR XXX STORIES
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ALPHABETICAL SEX STORY LISTINGS:
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G -
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I -
J -
K -
L -
M -
N -
O -
P -
Q -
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T -
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W -
X -
Y -
Z
Masterpiece
Masterpiece
Deanna and I had been at the party for about thirty minutes when I
caught sight of the stunning, dark-haired beauty in the halter-top black
dress. From that moment on, I couldn't tear my eyes away from her.
Eventually, through ebb and flow of the evening, we wound up standing
next to one another. She leaned sideways toward me and whispered.
"You're staring at me." Her voice, what I could hear of it, was low and
very soft with a lilt of an accent..
"I am," I admitted. "I can't take my eyes off you. You've enchanted me
all evening."
"It makes me a little uncomfortable," she confided.
"Please," I begged her, "don't be.
"Your accent," I continued. "Are you British?"
"New Zealand," she smiled. "Stop staring."
"It's something I can't help. I appreciate a woman the way others
appreciate art," I told her. "You are a masterpiece. If I'm staring, it's
because I want to take in every element, every feature, each light, shadow
and brush-stroke."
"Most masterpieces I've seen are and somewhat wrinkled," she said,
her voice just above a whisper, but still soft and low, with a humorous
tinge.
"That's why you're marvelous," I said, smiling. "You're obviously
vibrant and very alive."
"You are a flatterer," she said, her dark eyes looking straight into
mine.
"Not so," I defended myself. "I speak only the truth."
"Then, please," she demanded with quiet urgency, "tell me the truth."
"Your eyes are dark and warm, yet sparkle with all the stars of a
country night. Your hair forms the frame for your face, a face for the
ages, the definition of classical beauty. Your voice is warm and low, like
soft, sweet chocolate."
"You're very good at this," she said, her eyes dropping to my lips.
"Do you expect to find the indicator of truth where you're looking?" I
asked. "The eyes, remember, tell much more of truth or lies than the lips
can ever speak."
Her eyes flickered over my face, then back to make contact with my own.
"Your lips," I continued, "hold the promise of softness and passion.
Each little crevice begs to be explored, tested, tasted."
"Oh, my!" she said, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.
"That sounds so very sensual."
I nodded. "It is taking every iota of my self-control not to touch
you," I confided. "The contrast of skin on your naked shoulder to the dark
of your dress screams to me for exploration. You're naked there;
intentionally exposed and inviting."
"But," she said, "I have a husband."
"And I, a wife," I nodded in Deanna's direction, my eyes never leaving
hers.
"The blonde? Tall, in the blue?" she asked.
I nodded. "Deanna."
"She is lovely," she said.
"Indeed. She has a unique appeal. As do you."
"What is hers?" she wanted to know.
"Fun, excitement, new territory," I answered. "She seeks constant
diversion."
"And mine?"
"You are more serious. Your passion is more eloquent. She is a
brilliant fire. You are smoldering embers yearning to break into flame."
"Tell me more," she whispered.
"Not here. On the deck, through the patio. I'll wait for you there."
Her eyes shifted to mine, then quickly looked away. She smiled the Mona
Lisa smile of a knowing woman.
I eased my way through the crowd, picking up another flute of champagne
as I went, nodding, grinning, an occasional wave to an acquaintance. With
unhurried steps I wandered toward the French doors leading to the patio.
Once outside, the air, damp with a recent rain, but fresh and cool, rested
lightly on my skin. Tiki lanterns were carefully placed along the borders
of the patio, then on either side of the three or four stairs leading to
the deck. Tastefully strung Japanese lanterns outlined the deck, currently
occupied by only three or four couples. A large shrub, or small tree, was
potted close to the French doors providing a small amount of cover for
anyone wishing to lurk unobserved. Various glasses balanced on the rail,
the white napkins beneath them virtually glowed in the semi-darkness.
With no small effort I looked across the yard, deliberately denying
myself a healthy stare at those French doors. A tinge of doubt assailed me
as I waited. Would she, the center of so much well-deserved attention,
throw it over to join me in the half-lit, partially private arena of this
deck? My mind said she could not resist, but my reason interjected excuse
after excuse.
The slightest noise from the direction of the doors drew my attention. I
watched transfixed as she emerged from the golden lights of the main room
into the subdued lighting of the exterior areas. She looked neither left
nor right, but strode purposefully toward the stairs. I could even hear
the rustle of her stockinged thighs as they swept past each other with
every step. I watched appreciatively as her perfectly formed legs peeked
through the slit on her skirt as she carefully negotiated the stairs. She
stopped momentarily at the top, her eyes searching. Once she'd spotted me,
she came directly toward me, her heels beating a delicate but deliberate
tap-tap-tap as she stepped carefully across the decking, her left arm held
strangely half-aloft.
"This is so very dangerous," she said, taking the glass from me, and
sipping its contents, while she handed over one of the skewered, smoked
oysters held in her left hand. Her eyes fixed firmly on mine as she
delicately removed the treat between her teeth.
"Then why are you here," I asked, "bearing aphrodisiacs?"
Her eyes flickered to the side, focusing out into the night. "Because,"
she said. "Because there's a ball of something throbbing away deep down in
here." She pressed her hand against her abdomen. "And I like it."
"I'm certain you've been approached before. You are a beautiful woman.
This should be nothing new to you."
She nodded, the torchlight sparkling in her eyes. "Except that tonight
I made a choice."
"Why this time?" I asked her.
She smiled. "So many reasons. So many circumstances. The time seems
right. The will is there. What you've said. What I know."
"What do you know? Do you know something I don't?"
"Many things. I know many things you don't." Her eyes locked on mine.
"I want you to touch me. Touch me here," her chin indicating her shoulder,
"here, where you said. Where I am intentionally exposed to you."
My hand stretched toward her shoulder. The soft, warm skin felt like
molten velvet. I grasped it gently. Her head fell in that direction and
her cheek caressed my hand.
"Who would believe that a single touch in so innocent a place could
cause such arousal," she mused dreamily.
"It's because you want it to be so."
"That," she whispered, turning her head and planting mark on the
base of my thumb with her lips, "is the truth. I want it to be."
Two hours later Deanna and I were seated in the spacious living room of
the Carson residence. Our freshly made drinks came in glasses etched with
a monogram and glinting with condensation The widely separated seating
wasn't exactly conducive to intimate conversation. Rather it provided a
pseudo theater-in-the-round atmosphere for our host to perform.
Nick stood in the middle of the room; glass in hand, pontificating on
his own intelligence and cunning. I found him pompous. Deanna, on the
other hand, was enthralled. As a corporate VP for some marketing firm,
Nick claimed galore of misdeeds and miscalculations, all of which
had been committed by his predecessors and superiors leading to his
eventual meteoric rise. The oozed power. That was, it seemed to me,
Deanna's primary attraction to him.
Nick was robust, to say the least. He stood nearly six-feet,
two-inches, and weighed close to 220 pounds. His hair, obviously styled
and colored, was perfectly coifed. He had that tanned look of those who
take vacations for weeks in the tropics, and his face virtually gleamed
with good health. He was straight out of Gentleman's Quarterly, the
middle-aged version. In his late thirties, Nick looked and spoke like
everyman's candidate for the U.S. Senate.
The element of his personality that I noticed as he blustered along was
his complete lack of compassion. It was obvious he reveled in the
misfortune of his particular target. I wondered if his personal
relationships were as devoid of human empathy as his professional
associations. I tore my eyes away from the blustering braggart to gauge
the reactions of his wife.
I was shocked to find Samantha staring, not at her husband, as I had
supposed. Her eyes were fixed on me. As much I was interested in her
perception of Nick's performance, Sam was apparently measuring mine. I
smiled thinly toward her, and then dropped my eyes to my drink. I swirled
it momentarily with my fingertip, then took a swallow. The ice-cold liquor
burned down my throat, my eyes suffused with tears that threatened to spill
over and run down my cheeks. I looked again at Sam, who had apparently
never taken her eyes off me. Her look was focused; neither vacant, nor
glassy, or incidental. She was, indeed, checking out my perception of her
husband.
Once more, I smiled wanly toward her as sympathetically as I could
manage, struck by the sadness of the situation. In return, Sam gave me a
glittering grin and actually managed a quick wink. We had connected on
another level.
"Put on some music," Sam ordered her husband when he paused momentarily
for breath. "I want to dance."
Nick looked toward his wife. He shrugged. "Sure, sure," he said with
his typical bombast, heading toward the stack of stereo components against
one of the walls. He adroitly pressed a series of switches and a gentle
jazz tune filled the room. "There," he said. He turned toward Deanna.
"You like that?"
"Nice," Deanna told him. "You've got good taste in music, too."
Too? I thought. In addition to what, I wondered. I hadn't seen
particularly good taste in much. Except for his taste in women, his own
and mine. But still, the music was nice.
"Come on, William," Sam was saying to me. "Come dance with me."
How could I refuse? The appeal of this woman hadn't declined and iota
over the course of the hours. She was still elegantly alluring. The
exposed flesh of her shoulders beckoned to me. Deanna was already on her
feet heading toward Nick's outstretched arms. I took it as a signal that
my would have no qualms about my holding this enigmatic dark-haired
beauty.
As Sam entered my embrace she seemed to melt into me. She kept no
proper, discreet distance between us. Sam pressed herself into me, her
arms snaking around my waist, her head burrowing into my shoulder. My own
hands pressed into the smooth, soft skin of her back. I tried a few
tentative steps in an effort to actually dance with Sam. She resisted.
"It's not the dancing that's important," she whispered. "It's being
close."
We settled for a slow rocking motion only occasionally accented by a
small step or two.
Deanna, I saw, had joined Nick. She had her forearms pressed against
his chest. Her hips were molded into his. Her hands caressed his face,
her head back to look at him, smiling dreamily as they swayed in loose time
to the beat of the music.
"Remember what you said about being dangerous?" I asked Sam softly. I
felt her head nod against my neck and shoulder. "Does this qualify? And,
that?" I added, nodding in the direction of her husband and my wife.
"If not for that," she murmured, "this would. The danger passed when
they found each other, too."
"She's enchanted with his power," I observed. "She perceives him a
of action."
Sam chuckled. "She won't be disappointed then. But, she's missed the
point."
"How so?"
"His power is external, brought about by scheming, plotting, executing
plans and designs. His power is achieved through fear and retribution. It
is an ugly power.
"You have the power of commitment, the internal power that comes from
strength of character, self-confidence, and self-awareness. Your power
exists as an element of your being rather than an accoutrement of your
actions. It's a power that commands respect instead of demanding it."
"You're good for my ego," I smiled at her. Her face was serious.
"Its not empty flattery," she told me. "I watched you tonight. I saw
your self-confidence. Even now, with your a willing sacrifice to his
bravado, you are serene."
"If I am serene it is because I hold in my arms a treasure well worth
the ambiguity of her momentary affection."
"There is no ambiguity, William," she said in her low, soft voice. "He
will have her."
"And she will go with him," I conceded, "willingly."
"And, in return?" she posed.
"In return I am granted my own liberty," I told her.
"But there is a price," she whispered.
"Open arms and a welcoming heart when she decides to return," I agreed.
"And gratitude for whatever hours of liberty were granted."
"Therein lies your strength of character," she said. "Not everyone
would be so accommodating."
"As is she, remember. Besides, it could be either a sign of strength or
weakness. It depends on your perspective."
"I choose strength," she said.
"And what of you?" I asked her. "You apparently have a similar
arrangement."
"An accommodation," she said simply. "It is in his nature to." she
paused, "explore. This way, he doesn't have to sneak. I find that
repugnant."
"Some would find your `accommodation' repugnant."
"It's none of their business," she said. "Do you?"
"Your accommodation is my opportunity," I observed. "I intend to
cherish it."
"Thank you," she whispered, her arms tightening infinitesimally around
me.
Nick and Deanna had disappeared. As Sam and I swayed, eyes closed,
wrapped in our embrace they had apparently retired to one of the upstairs
bedrooms. When I opened my eyes after the conclusion of a tune, I noticed
their absence.
"They're gone," I whispered softly to Sam. She partially released her
hold on me and looked around the room.
"They've left us alone," she commented. "How gracious." She tilted her
face toward me.
When our lips met for the first time it was like sinking into warm
quicksilver. There was motion, like small waves in a warm pool, but I felt
myself sinking deep into the warm, moist cushion of her lips. When I felt
her tongue press flatly against my lips I literally groaned with the
sensation. I opened my mouth and applied gentle suction to draw her into
me. She allowed herself to be pulled into me, and my own tongue pressed
against hers, yearning for the sensation of complete contact.
"We will be downstairs in the master bedroom," she murmured. "Shall we
go?"
"Please," I said.
Sam led me to the room. It was massive. At the center, against a wall,
stood a king-sized bed with a maroon comforter. The dark-wood bureau
stretched the full length of the opposing wall. I could see three doors in
addition to the entrance. Two closets, I assumed, and a bath.
"There's a spa," Sam said, "for later. It's already running so it
should be nice an warm."
I smiled and nodded.
"And the tree?' I asked, indicating what was apparently a banana tree
along one wall. "You have a tree in your bedroom."
Sam chuckled. "A hint of the jungle," she said, "for those occasions
when only wild abandon will suffice."
"What do you do with it?"
"It's just an image, William," she told me. "It sets a mood. That's
all. Now, help me turn back the bed," she directed, walking to the far
side of the room.
We folded the comforter back to the foot, then turned down the sheet and
blanket. We met again at the foot of the bed. I took her in my arms and
kissed her with all the warmth I could muster. In the process, Sam pushed
my jacket off my shoulders and began working at the buttons on my shirt.
As she twisted each one through the fabric I kissed her forehead, her
temples, her cheeks and her neck. I shrugged out of my jacket and let it
fall to the floor.
"Help me, please," Sam said, urgency tingeing her voice. "I can't seem
to get these."
"It's all right," I said. "I'll finish them." I quickly unbuttoned the
rest of my shirt, then twisted the cufflinks out. I slid them in my
trouser pocket and pulled off the shirt.
Sam stepped back and reached behind her neck. She unsnapped or unhooked
the neck of her dress then pulled it down in front revealing her to
me. The nipples were slightly erect at the center of brown areolas. Her
breasts were full, with only a very slight sag, wonderfully rounded and
soft.
Each of us raced to remove the remainder of our clothing. I stripped
off my T-shirt then attacked the buckle of my belt, at the same time
shucking my shoes. I sat on the bed and yank off my black socks, then
stood to unclasp my trousers.
Sam had slipped off her dress. She stood in black and a black
garter belt attached to her dark nylons. She looked questioningly at me.
"All of it," I said. "I want there to be nothing between us."
Sam unsnapped each of the four catches, then slid the garter belt and
her down her legs. Her along remained. Her dark pubic
hair was trimmed close and neatly. A thin white line on her otherwise
almond skin betrayed the use of a thong in sunbathing. She peeled the
stockings down her legs as I shed my boxers. Then, as if embarrassed by
our nakedness, we clutched each others bodies to our own.
"I want this," Sam said, holding me to her. "I want this so badly."
"And I have wanted you since I laid eyes on you," I confirmed.
Sam led me to the bed. She sat down, then scooted backwards. I
followed her. My eyes were full of her glorious frame. I drank down the
sight of her, then leaned in to kiss her again. Our joining this time was
more urgent. Her arms wrapped around my neck and pulled me hard into her.
As our tongues parried and thrust against each other, her hands traveled
into my hair, not pulling, but simply tousling and caressing.
When we released, I gazed into her eyes. I could see the glowing embers
of that inner fire waiting to be stoked into a full blaze. A small light
in the corner allowed me the luxury of soaking in the view of her beauty.
Her sensuality overwhelmed me, flooding our space with an aroma like a
freshly cut lawn. I picked out a point on her face, the outside corner of
her eye and aimed my lips there. I kissed her softly for a second or two,
pulling back and selecting a new site. As my lips traveled down her warm,
firm body, various reactions emanated from my new lover.
At first, I heard a gentle sigh, a sign of relaxation, perhaps of
surrender to the moment. When I kissed the join between her neck and
shoulder, there was a sharper intake of breath, a tightening of her grip on
me, and a general shift of her body position. While my lips traveled
across to her shoulder, my hand caressed her waist and slid effortlessly
down to the top of her hip. Her own hand covered mine.
"These are the shoulders," I told her softly, "that have enticed me so,
all evening long." I kissed one softly, my finger tracing the outline, then
the ridge of the collarbone underneath her resilient, smooth flesh.
"You know what shoulders are?" I asked her, as I continued to caress the
rounded area.
"What?" she whispered, with obvious anticipation.
"They're indicators, sign-posts, portents of these," I said, my hand
cupping the curve of her from underneath. Sam pushed her
into my hand, arching her back with another sharp gasp as my fingers slid
across the erect tissue of her nipple.
I bent my head down and planted a warm kiss on the dark skin. My tongue
teased the tiny nub gently, moistening it, then lapping up the moisture.
Sam groaned.
"I can't believe this," she moaned.
"Already?" I asked.
"I think so. It felt like it. Just a little one."
"You may have as many as you like," I told her. "Your pleasure is
mine."
"But how?" she asked. "I mean, it's never been so easy before."
"Because you want them," I assured her. "It's all in the mind, dear
one. It's because you will it to happen."
"More," she said. "I want some more."
I was happy to oblige. My lips left her and skidded slowly down
her torso. I kissed each of her ribs, then dragged across the top of her
flat belly. My tongue circled the exterior of her navel. She pressed her
hips upward. I closed my lips around the circle I'd made, then pushed my
tongue deep into her navel. My hand, resting on her hip, felt the twitch
and thrust as she pushed against me. She moaned lowly as my tongue flicked
and probed at her belly.
"Goddam you," she growled. "You can't do this."
"What?" I asked, pulling back for a moment.
"You can't make me come tonguing my navel," she said.
"I can," I answered, "and I will." I resumed my probing of the delicate
depression, flicking, and swabbing the area with my tongue.
Sam groaned again, making an "nnnnhhh" sound as she fought either for or
against the sensation. She shook her head from side to side, her hand
clasping in my hair. Sam's hips thrust upward three or four times, causing
her to grunt with the exertion. I felt her body tense under mine, the
muscles of her belly becoming taut.
"Oh, goddam you!" she grunted. "You're a bastard!"
I smiled. "Me?" I asked innocently.
"Please," she begged. "I am aching down there. Please!"
"Down here?" I asked, then slid my tongue deep into her slit,
encountering an amazing amount of damp, slick juices.
"Yes, there!" Sam almost screamed, her hips rising again to force my
tongue into her.
I backed away, quickly.
"Not yet," I said firmly, reveling in my control. "There's so much more
of you to enjoy first."
"What? Where?" she asked plaintively. "Please! Do me there."
"One more time," I assented, "then on to new territory." I dipped my
tongue back into her steaming center, flicked two or three times at the
entrance to her vagina, then pulled away. "Now roll over, my darling," I
order her.
Sam froze. "What are you going to do?" she asked.
"Trust me, Sam," I said as softly as I could. "I promise I won't do
anything that will you. I swear it."
She didn't exactly melt, but I could sense a decision being made within
her. She rolled herself over onto her belly. I knelt beside her, then
straddled her left leg, my right leg between her and pressing gently on her
sex. I leaned over and planted several soft kisses on her shoulder blades.
Sam seemed to shrug, then placed her hands beside her head.
I put my hands on her shoulders and began a gentle rubbing motions. It
wasn't deep or powerful enough to be a massage. It was simply a caress
over her shoulders and down her back.
"That's nice," she whispered.
When I exchanged the caress of my palms for the gentle scratching of my
nails, Sam gasped at the sensation.
"Oh, dear!" she said.
"It's all right," I told her softly. "You see?" I resumed the palm-open
caressing of her back.
For each four or five strokes of the open-handed caress I'd throw in a
single light scraping of her skin. Each time I scraped, Sam would sharply
inhale and twitch. I alternated the strokes in the same pattern for
several minutes. Gradually I increased the ratio, scraping more often.
Sam's hips began to press down on my leg. She found that as I scraped she
could rub herself against my thigh. The frequency and intensity of that
rubbing increased. Eventually, I centered the attention of my hands to
small ovals just inside the base of her shoulder blades. As I caressed,
then scraped, circled and scraped, Sam's hip motion became regular and
intense.
"You son-of-a-bitch," she growled, her sex pushing against my thigh with
some real force. Sam twitched her hips, then groaned, "Oh, goddam!" as her
body slammed through another orgasm.
"How do you do that?" she asked. "How do you make me come like that?"
"I didn't, Sam," I admitted. "You did it. Remember? You were humping
yourself on my thigh."
"But my back," Sam protested. "You knew right where to go. Exactly
what to do."
"I did," I agreed. "But you were pressing yourself against my thigh."
Sam pulled herself up and swung around to face me. "Which goes to show
that thighs really is important."
"If you thay tho," I joked back, settling back on my knees.
"What now?" she asked.
"There's more," I said, "but you'll have to lay back down."
"Are you going to fuck me now?" she said with a matter of fact tone.
"Well, I was going to try to entertain you more," I admitted.
"Uh-uh," she shook her head. "I want to be fucked. I want your cock
inside me." She leaned toward me and pushed, hard. I fell backwards on the
huge bed. Before I could move, Sam had straddled me. On all fours, Sam
crawled up my body and planted her lips on mine. She released me. "We're
going to fuck, now, William," she ordered.
Sam reached behind her and took my cock in her hand. She placed it at
the entrance to her vagina, then settled down on me. Her insides felt like
hot honey. Sam looked directly into my eyes as she sank down on me. The
fires, I could see, had been kindled.
Her motions were so unlike Deanna's in this position I was amazed.
Usually when Deanna was on top she would bounce and twitch, pound her hips
and wail. With Deanna it was all fast, furious and violent. Sam, on the
other hand was like a cat. Instead of thrashing, Sam slowly
upward, moving me nearly out of her, then sank backward toward my knees.
Her motions were languorous and deliberate, pulling, then pushing,
squeezing and release, all the while moaning and, I swear it, purring. As
she slid her body backward I could hear this low rumble deep in her throat.
The moans emanated from her as she pulled upwards, her muscles clamping on
me, squeezing me as she stretched toward the headboard of the bed.
Time stood still for us. I couldn't tell how long Sam kept up this
motion. She never changed the rhythm, though, until close to the very end.
I noticed a thin sheen of moisture on those incredibly beautiful shoulders.
In moments, her motion changed to the familiar thrust. Sam settled on me
at my deepest penetration, then started thrusting her hips forward and
back. She pushed her hands against my shoulders, looked into my eyes, and
pounded her hips until she groaned a long and low moan, and the clamping on
my cock became a more undisciplined, spasmodic pulsing.
When her orgasm had rolled through her, Sam looked at me and smiled.
"You're good," she said. "That was a good one."
"I had little to do with it, my dear," I reminded her. "I've barely
moved."
Sam sort of chuckled. "Then it's time to get you into the game," she
grinned.
She hooked her legs under mine and threw her weight sideways. We rolled
in the giant bed until I was atop her, still buried deep inside.
"There now," she said matter-of-factly. "Let's get started."
I raised my weight off her, taking it on my arms and knees. I slid
myself nearly out of her and slowly penetrated her once again.
"Oh, that was nice," she said. "Again?"
I repeated the motion.
"Very nice. You are good, aren't you?"
"We aim to please," I smiled at her.
"Doing a good job."
Using those little cues should learn, but don't always, I followed
my lover's unspoken instructions regarding penetration and speed. Her
hands were on my hips giving gentle guidance until they grabbed the flesh,
pulling and pushing with increasing intensity and speed. The subtlety of
her direction disappeared under the demanding insistence of her hands, hips
and legs, pulling, pounding, pushing and pulling again.
Sam's eyes were closed, her brow smooth, but tense with concentration.
Her lips parted and her breathing became audible. As we slammed into each
other she began mouthing then speaking a string of obscenities.
"Oh, fuck!" she moaned. "Oh, yes, fuck! Um-hmm. Fuck, yes! Mmmm,
yes, fuck me just like that," she commanded. "That's it. Fuck. Oh,
fuck!"
Her hips pounded against mine. She hunched them backward on each of my
withdrawals, insuring her clit rubbed against the top of my shaft in the
down and in strokes. When I reached nearly full penetration she hunched
her hips forward, slamming herself against me.
Sam's eyes popped open. I saw a glazed look, and deep inside, the
blazing fire of her passion.
"Oh, fuck, yes!" she cried out, making me concerned that Deanna and Nick
could hear us wherever they were in the house.
Her legs and hands pulled me into her, pinning me at my deepest
penetration. As Sam's muscles clamped on my cock, my own orgasm built
within my balls. I felt my cock swell in preparation for my own release as
Sam virtually screamed.
"Oh, goddam! Fuck! I'm coming!" she bellowed. "I'm coming!" again,
then squeezing on me in rapid-fire convulsions which milked my seed from
deep within me.
In spite of her vise-like grip on my lower body, I managed two powerful
thrusts against her before my come shot up my rod and into her pulsating
cunt.
Sam released her grip on my. She moved her legs upward, releasing them
from my backside and wrapping her thighs around my waist. She rocked
herself gently, moaning and milking my come into her depths. This woman
knew how to make a feel like his seed was needed inside her.
When my spurting subsided, Sam looked into my face. Both of us were
breathing like horses after a race. She took my face in her hands and
pulled me toward her. Her lips burned like coals, her breath was hot vapor
on my cheek.
"See," she said between her panting gasps, "I told you that you were
good."
I hummed a kind of assent, unable to formulate words yet for want of air
in my lungs.
"Too quick," I murmured, when I was able.
"No," she shook her head. "It was perfect for the first time. There's
plenty of time for other stuff."
"It feels like a Cinderella thing," I told her, rolling off her. "Are
you sure I won't change into a muskrat or something at midnight?"
"Seeing that it's past two a.m.," she said, smiling at me, "I doubt
that's going to happen."
"Perhaps if the beautiful princess would kiss me again," I offered, "I
won't turn back into a frog."
Sam giggled and leaned forward to kiss my lips. It had none of
passionate fire I'd felt before, but it was a soft, moist and tender little
kiss. I would interpret it as a kiss of real affection.
"You have a beautiful heart," Sam told me. "I like having you around."
"You have sexy shoulders," I responded. "I like being around you, too."
A soft tap at the door interrupted our little mutual admiration society.
Sam called out gently, "Come in!"
The door cracked and a naked Deanna walked in, followed closely by Nick.
Deanna came and sat on the side of the bed next to me.
"Nick said we could use the spa," Deanna said. Her eyes were shining as
brightly as a kid at Christmas.
It dawned on me that the two women had said virtually nothing to each
other all night long. I took it upon myself to respond.
"That's what I understand. Very gracious of him, isn't it?"
Sam rolled off the opposite side of the massive bed. "I'm going to get
cleaned up, first," she said, heading toward the bathroom. Nick followed
her.
"I'll check the spa," he said, disappearing behind his wife.
"Are you all right?" I asked Deanna when we were alone.
"Sure," she said. "You?"
"Fine."
"He's got a lot of energy," she told me.
"I noticed that. Did he you?"
"Oh, no," she said with emphasis. "Nothing like that. He was just like
the little Energizer bunny, you know."
"So, did you have fun?"
"Yeah, it was fun. Of course, I like it better when you're there, you
know," she said. "It's always more reassuring when I can see you. This
time, it felt like, I don't know, maybe like we were or
something."
"You weren't cheating, Deanna," I said. "I knew where you were and what
you were doing. As long as you had fun."
Nick stuck his head through the partial open door to the bath. "Spa's
ready," he called. "We're waiting for you two."
We walked through the door, past the double vanity and through another
door. The commode was flanked by a bidet. A third door led to the spa,
darker than the other rooms. It was lit by submerged lamps and several
candles. Nick and Sam had poured us flutes of champagne and were already
seated in the spacious tub.
Deanna walked up the stairs to the ledge the ledge and down into the
tub. Nick graciously held her hand as she stepped down. She looked like a
golden goddess as she entered the bubbling water.
"She's quite beautiful, isn't she?" Sam said to her husband.
"Old William here is a real lucky guy," he said, good-naturedly.
"As are you," I told him, choosing to ignore the "old William" comment.
We sat in the tub for about fifteen minutes, chatting and drinking. I
learned that Sam had come to the States from New Zealand after meeting Nick
there. He was doing public relations for some project in Antarctica which
was based out of New Zealand. The more I listened to them, the more I
found their marriage to be one of convenience. I was amazed that he could
be so near this stunning, intelligent and phenomenal woman and not be madly
in love with her. The block to that had to be his own narcissism. He was
too much in love with himself to love anyone else.
What surprised me was the apparent lack of physical contact in that spa.
In spite of the fact that we were all quite naked, there was no
touchy-feely going on that I could detect. It was incomparably civilized.
Deanna was the one who broached the subject of sex as we relaxed in the
pool.
"Are we over, here?" she asked.
Nick smiled at me. I shrugged. "What do you mean, my dear?" Nick
directed to her.
"I mean, are we finished?" Deanna tried again.
"You need more champagne?" Nick asked her.
Deanna breathed a sigh of exasperation. "No. I mean are we going to
fuck some more?"
Sam laughed out loud.
"Deanna!" I reprimanded her.
"No, no!" Sam chortled, touching my arm as if to restrain me. "I'm
delighted with the directness. I was just wondering the same thing. Good
on you, Deanna, for your forthrightness."
"Don't see why we shouldn't," Nick said, chuckling. "If that's okay
with you, William?"
I took a sip of the champagne. "Fine," I said. "I'm certainly not
going to rain on this parade."
"Good," Nick said. "You can stay the whole night, if you want. And all
day tomorrow."
"Frankly," I said, "I'm going to have to shave in a couple of hours.
Deanna and I are both going to need tooth brushes.
Nick held his hand above the water, palm up, toward my wife. She put
hers into his.
"To be honest," our host said, "I've worked up an appetite. Anybody
else hungry?"
"Yeah, I am," Deanna agreed.
"Then, here's a proposal," he offered. "Why don't we all get dressed
and go get some White Castle."
"Nick," Sam said, shaking her head.
"What? It's the only thing open at this hour. Beside, you know I have
a thing for them as a late-night snack. Then, we can stop by one of those
24-hour drug stores for shaving supplies and so forth for our guests. All
right?"
"I like that idea," Deanna agreed. "Let's do it."
She and Nick stood up, leaving Sam and I sitting in the spa.
"Shall we join them?" Sam asked.
"Sure, why not?" I said. We stood together and followed our mates out
of the pool.
Nick handed towels around.
"Thing is," Deanna remarked, "all I've got is that blue gown. I'm not
excited about putting that thing on again."
"That's all right," Sam said. "I'll give you something more casual to
wear. You're a bit taller than I, but we'll find something."
When we walked out of the house, Sam and Deanna were wearing T-shirts,
shorts and sandals. Neither of the women had bras on. Sam observed that
Deanna was too large for any of her bras. My had worn none under her
gown. Sam agreed to go braless so Deanna wouldn't feel conspicuous.
We loaded into Nick's Mercedes, he and Deanna in the front, Sam and I in
the back. Nick suggested we visit the drug store first, then collect the
take out and return to the house. Hearing no objections, he put the car in
gear and we drove away from their neighborhood.
The streets were virtually deserted. Lights flickered through the car
as we made our way down one of the major thoroughfares. The brightly lit
fa ade of the drug store loomed into view and Nick swung the big car
around, backing into a parking slot directly in front of the door.
"For a quick getaway," he said. I thought he was joking.
"Nick, please," Sam said. "Not tonight."
Nick ignored her as he flicked the switch unlocking the doors. I looked
toward Sam inquisitively. She just shook her head.
Deanna and I swiftly found our toiletries and put them in the small
carrying basket. We took more time at the fragrance counter. Sam and
Deanna compared several scents and settled on one for my wife. Then Sam
insisted on selecting an aftershave for me. She picked out an expensive
brand that I would usually not have chosen for myself.
"I like it," she said, simply. "Do you mind?"
"No, not at all," I said. "I've never tried it."
"The fragrance will keep me aroused," she admitted, "as if I'm not
already.
We walked to the front counter where the obviously tired clerk scanned
our purchases. I paid with my credit card, signing the slip and taking the
small, white bag. Nick was already at the car. He unlocked the doors and
we all climbed in.
As we latched ourselves into the seatbelts, Nick turned toward Sam and
held something out to her. It was a pocket-sized spiral-bound notebook.
He grinned, then gunned the car out of the parking lot.
"Oh, for God's sake, Nick," Sam said. "You're such a damned child."
"What?" Nick said. "It's in their budget."
Sam turned to me. "Nick's a bit of a kleptomaniac," she explained.
"He's got this thing about nicking something from these chain stores. It's
not much, usually."
"They put it in their budget," Nick said defensively. "Every one of
them puts in an item for pilferage or shoplifting. Besides, they screw us
on other stuff to make up for it."
"You're a shoplifter?" I asked, with incredulousness.
"I'm not malevolent about it," he said easily. "I just figure, hell,
they can afford it. It gives me a thrill."
"Have you ever gotten caught?" I asked.
"Nah."
I shook my head. He might be gregarious as hell, but the more I was
around this guy, the less I liked him.
We gathered the take-out and drove back to the Carson home. Nick and
Sam broke out the goods in the kitchen and all collected around the
breakfast bar for our early morning snack. When burgers and fries had been
consumed we agreed it was time to call it a night. Nick and Deanna retired
to their upstairs room leaving Sam and I to clean up the clutter.
As we collected the various papers and cardboard from our feast, Sam was
reserved.
"You're troubled by something," I said. "Do you want me to go?"
"I'm embarrassed," she said.
"I don't see why you should be," I told her. "You're not him."
"True,' she admitted, "but I stay."
"Look, Sam," I tried to console her, "we all have to make choices. I
can't begin to understand what your life is like and why you make yours.
And, I'd be the last person to judge you.
"They've gone upstairs again," I continued, "out of our sight and, for
the time being, out of our lives. Let's just be together."
Sam threw the refuse in the trash bin, rinsed her hands in the sink,
then dried them on a paper towel. She crumpled it and tossed it toward the
bucket. Sam turned and faced me.
"You're right," she said with finality. "Let's go to bed."
Deanna and I left at four the next afternoon. We had enjoyed each
other's company time and time again in the early morning hours and
throughout the day.
"Do you know how jealous I am of Deanna?" Sam asked in one of our
quieter moments.
"Really? Because she's sparked Nick's interest?"
"Actually, no. I'm jealous because she gets to go home with you. Do
you suppose she'd be open to a more permanent swap?"
"You're joking, aren't you?" I asked.
"Halfway," she said, stretching beautifully on the massive bed. "Maybe
she'd be inclined toward a part-time arrangement. Say, I get you for six
months and she can have you the other six."
"I don't think that's going to happen," I said.
"I'm willing to share," Sam groused. "What the hell does she want,
anyway?"
"Okay, now you really are joking."
"I suppose so," she said, rolling over to look in my face. "But, I do
like having you around. I feel so serene and comfortable." She kissed my
lips lightly.
"That's just because you know I worship you," I said.
"Do you?"
"You're a masterpiece, remember?"
"That seems so long ago," she whispered.
"I'm sorry you feel so unhappy," I said quietly. "I wish there was
something I could do for you."
"Perhaps there will be," she responded. "The day may come when I will
need you. Will you be there for me?"
"I'll do whatever I can," I promised.
The thirty-minutes it took Deanna and me to drive to our home was
silent. Deanna wore the clothing Sam had loaned her the night before, her
blue gown hung under plastic in the back seat. Sam's loan of the clothes
was an unspoken affirmation of our verbal promises to see each other again.
Still, two weeks passed without a word from Nick or Sam. The telephone
call came through at 7 p.m. on a Tuesday night. It was Sam.
"Can you come to the house?" she asked.
"Of course. Is there something wrong?"
"I'm afraid so." She sounded sad. "I didn't know who else to call,
really. I think I'll need to draw on some of your strength."
"Should I bring Deanna?" I asked.
"Yes, of course," she said. "If you must."
"What's happened, Sam? Can you tell me?"
"It's Nick," she said. "He's been arrested."
"They caught him shoplifting?" I asked her.
"No, darling," she said. "Embezzlement. It's really serious. I think
there going to put him away for a long, long time."