RESTRAINTS

MIGUEL.
"Good god, her intoxicating beauty just weakens me. She sits there at her favorite table here in the Coffee Shop, reading the papers, stirring her coffee and taking a sip slowly.  Damn it, everything she does exudes such sensuality. I wonder how the mug feels when it touches her lips. Here I am, seated 3 tables away, choking on my lust, desiring her. I want to touch her lush brown hair with subtle curls on its ends; caress that glowing bronze, velvety skin; trace my fingers down her neck; bury my face in those full breasts; spread those long shapely legs and thrust my cock deep inside her and fuck her till I am completely drained. I want her so bad it is practically driving me insane."


Miguel shifts on his seat subtly adjusting his crotch as his hard on was making him uneasy. Absent-mindedly, he stroked the silver band on his right ring finger. He sighs, deeply, almost mournfully.
It's been close to two months when Miguel first laid eyes on Kamilla at the Coffee Shop. He was drawn to her the instant he laid eyes on her. She was leaving the shop and was using her back to open the door, given the armful of things she carried with a take-away coffee paper cup. He held the door for her as he was going inside. She smiled at him, warmly and to what sounded to him like a whiskey soda voice, she said "Thank you", then turned and walked briskly away. He caught a whiff of her scent. Fresh, sweet with a little hint of musk. He could hardly breath with the speed of his heart's beating. Since that day, Miguel had stealthily stalked Kamilla. He researched just about everything he could find out about her and has not missed a single day to be at the Coffee shop whenever she is. Several times their eyes would meet. He noticed that slight smile in those captivating pale auburn eyes. One late afternoon she had smiled broadly at him, almost a grin. She dropped her fork and in an instant, Miguel handed her a fresh replacement.
Miguel knows he is treading on very risky grounds. He is very much married and has two young sons. But not unlike all addictions, he couldn't help himself. His mind is filled with images of Kamilla. He makes love to her in his fantasies. Even on occasions he dutifully fucks his wife, he thinks of her and groans her name in his mind. A full-grown adult, he has started habitually jerking off, sometimes twice a day; imagining her nakedness while he feasts on her body.
Once Kamilla strutted into the shop wearing a really short and tight skirt. Miguel strategically chose a table across hers. She seemed too casual and relaxed, confident that her legs were tucked under the table she was sitting with her legs apart. Miguel peeked and nearly choked on his own breath when he saw clearly her pink and bald pussy; commando. His dick jumped in excitement but his erection was now full he rushed out to jerk off in his car like a sexually preoccupied 14 year old boy.  It was torture for him. He can smell her in his waking hours, taste her juices while he works, feel the heat from her soft walls as he drives home. Miguel is aware he is losing it but he allowed himself to wallow in his obsession,
Today Miguel resolved to act. Now would be the best time or never. He moved deliberately to her table. She looked up at him, her lips moist and half-open. It took him all his conscious will to stop himself from ravaging her and ramming his cock inside her sexy mouth that very moment. She smiles. Miguel decided to throw all his restraints.

KAMILLA.
"Exactly how long will it take this delicious man to actually make a move on me? It's not like I am stupid not be aware that he has been following me  like a lost dog for several weeks now. But good lord, look at those hands and arms, they look so strong and tough. Those drop-dead deep set eyes, magnificent jaw line, it's a perfect match to his long thighs that extends from that tight butt. And does he know his crotch is always bulging? His jeans seem to be unable to contain his cock. Hmm... boxers, sexy. Damn, I have played with myself too many times imagining that hard dick inside me, it would kill me not to have it for real. Oh my God, is this real? He is finally coming over to my table? Alright, easy now Kamilla, don't drop to your knees to unzip him and suck on his dick. Relax. Breathe. Smile."


Kamilla has frequented hanging out alone in the Coffee Shop since she and her long-time beau Paolo have mutually agreed that their relationship was pointless.  It has not been easy for her since she worked hard to do whatever it took to keep it going. Eventually she accepted her efforts were futile. In one of those dreary, "alone" days she saw him! Architect Miguel Lobregat. 
Kamilla was a gawky 11 year old girl in braces when she fell madly infatuated with this gorgeous soccer player from her brother's University. Miguel was 19 then, a senior jock, he had all the young  girls swooning and worshipping the ground he walked on. Kamilla was part of the groupies. Over the years, she had outgrown this crush until that fateful day. And he opened the door for her! 
Kamilla saw that Miguel has become more manly and sinfully sexier when he aged. She recalls having heard that very soon after college that he had married and must have young kids by now. However, she has totally relapsed back into her pubescent fantasies and has begun constantly day and night dreaming of becoming his lover. By some sordid twist of fate, why would she see him again and again? And each time she was in the Coffee Shop, he managed to be there too. Miguel has become a fixture in Kamilla's mind. 
Once, feeling naughty, she decided to test him and give him a cock tease. She wore this awfully short skirt, commando all the way and wilfully flashed him. She knew he was looking but it must have too upfront because he scurried away. She decided to play it sweet and demure.  One boring weekend, she relented to peer pressure and finally went out on a date. While she and her date started making out, she unconsciously started moaning Miguel's name. The date ended quickly, after all the guy's name was Joseph.
On her way to the Coffee Shop today, Kamilla planned to initiate some small talk with Miguel. She toyed with the idea on building on her brother's link and being a soccer fan. She's just had too many bath tub soaks each night playing with herself and calling out his name. She visualized his tongue playing on her clit, licking her tits, feeling his length and hardness inside her, being wrapped in his arm, resting her head on that wide, solid chest. She is fully aware that to desire someone this badly and do something about it under the circumstances would mean crossing a line. But the possibility and the idea increases her carnal need for this man she had grown up fantasizing about. How else does one logically explain when each time she thinks of him she gets herself soaking wet? Kamilla resolves not to allow herself to be held back by anything. Absolutely no restraints.

SANDRA. A Short Story.

She squeezes her eyes shut.  Yet she manages to keep up with her fake moans and groans. She prays in her heart to get it over and done with. She feels him pumping faster now and with a loud howl and grunt  something warm oozes in and out of her. She sighs as he slides out and slumps beside her making the bed rock from side to side.

She stands swiftly and grabs her bathrobe covering herself. She hears him chuckle.

Sandra looks back and coyly smiles, “I just have to pee baby.”

He says, “I find it so cute when you drape yourself decently like that after we just fucked.”

She ignores that remark and walks briskly to the bathroom. That last image repulsed her; the plump, pimpled midget of a husband naked lying in their bed. 

She needed him. He was her ticket to freedom; her only gateway to liberate herself from the clutches of her insane mother. Her mother had not always been like that. She was 8 years old when her father left never to be heard of or seen again. Sandra’s mother kept her hopes and her faith that someday he would be back. Even then as a young girl she knew she would never see her father again; but her mother believed otherwise.

Each day her mother lived her life for the next 15 years, that her husband would be home for dinner. One day she decided that it was safer and less painful to stay in her dream land and she completely lost it.  It has been most difficult for Sandra to keep up with her mother’s fantasies. When she met Marco she did not care if he looked worse than a cursed Leprechaun, she married him. He was foul and grotesque but he was above all, rich and stupid. She has been married to him three years but as days turned into weeks and months into years, it has become more and more unbearable.

She basks herself under the warm shower and cried softly. 

She hears an urgent knocking. “Babylove?” she heard his scratchy voice screech as she choked on her tears and with practiced enthusiasm, “I’ll be there in a few seconds baby.”

As she opened the bathroom, he was standing there fully dressed. She honestly looked surprised.

“I have to leave urgently babylove, there are a few documents I need to pick up in the Office and I need them for my meeting in Florida” Marco continued, “Lucille called from the Office. I have to run and I think it is best I just leave my car in the Office Lot and have the Company driver take me to the airport.  Oh come now …  my sweet babylove” he says as she tried to put on a hurt scowl on her face.

“I thought you and I can spend more time and you…” Sandra was cut short as Marco grabbed and squeezed her ass from under the towel slowly groping up to her breasts she stopped breathing and gasped.

“I know babylove, you can’t resist me. Look I left some cash on the dresser so just buy everything you want babylove and try not to miss me so much”  Marco added and as he brushed his crotch on her she tried her best not to squirm.

Sandra grabs both his hands from her breasts and kisses them; he cranes to kiss her on the lips.  She bends down and kisses his forehead instead. He rushes out of the house dragging his suitcase. His car has hardly left the garage and she is halfway dressed up to go out.

She didn’t think of going to the Shopping Mall but here she was, aimlessly looking and moving around. She saw a Shoe Boutique with a wide array of leather boots. As she walked in, she was delightfully surprised to notice the man behind the sales counter. His hands, they look strong and powerful. His body looked magnificent behind that tight shirt. She felt a wild stirring inside her and a dampness that excited her. She tries to stop looking and looks at the shoe display. A few moments later, she felt his warm breathing behind her.

“Have you seen anything you fancy, Miss?” a very manly, husky voice asked.

“Oh I’m so sorry am I taking too long? What time do you have to close?” she asked him turning her head towards the voice but barely turning around.

“The shop closes when I want it to,” he said, almost like a whisper.

The Shoe Storeroom reeked of glue and leather and was stuffy. But Sandra didn’t care. She scratched his back, screamed and moaned with total abandon as he repeatedly nailed her on the wall. Her orgasm was unshackled she was vaguely aware she was squirting all over his thighs. She didn’t hold back, she didn’t pretend. He was huge and skilful with everything.

As he put on his shirt, he asked, “Will I see you again?”

Sandra continued fixing herself and without looking at him she replied casually, “No. You are damn good I must say, and I could crave for you, but no.” 

She left her panties on the floor and walked out of the room.

Inside her car she started sobbing. Her eyes blurred with tears she decided to keep the engine running but had no idea where to go next. 

An image quickly flashed through her mind. The bartender, the hunk she occasionally had casual sex with who owned one of the bars she used to hang out in whenever Marco was out. He had her initials tattooed in his chest. He’s sweet. Great looks.  Wild tongue. It’s been awhile.

She suddenly stopped crying. She checks herself out in the mirror. With a new resolve she knew where she would like to spend the night. It was Friday and Marco won’t be back till Tuesday. She was smiling as she sped out of the Mall’s parking lot.

Sex In The City - The Shower

It was crazy how Marcus could make me cum and climax through my jeans.  If you missed this part, check here. The Hotel  Well I had been on the verge of exploding since the cab ride.  


He has gone to the bathroom, I can hear the water running in the tub.  I badly need to take a shower as I am feeling so hot and sticky, but there he is.  Stripped down, proudly bouncing off his hard on.  We walk into the bathroom together.
The tub was half-filled so I decided to go  straight to the shower cubicle and turned the water on.  As warm water splashed on my skin, I wasn't a bit surprised that Marcus has crept behind me and started fondling my breasts.  His hot body on my back,  I can feel his hard cock against the crack of my butt.  I lean towards him pressing his cock, moving my wet body to caress his cock with my back.  I moan as he slides one of his hands down to my excited, throbbing clit and his fingers start rubbing it vigorously. He kisses my back, my shoulders and the back of my ears, I feel his hot breathing when he whispered, "How do I pleasure you Trickie?"
I turn around to kiss him torridly on the lips, my hands already stroking his hard shaft.  I stop breathlessly, and cooed, "I want to feed myself first" and I went down on his twitching cock.
I begin to suck, gently at the head, then I slid my tongue all around the rim.  I slowly started to lick his shaft, up and down and around.  I kept my right hand busy stroking the hard vein under his balls leading into his butt hole.
I raise my eyes to him as I slowly slide his whole dick into my mouth.  He closes his eyes and groans.  I kept my hand on the base of his dick, stroking it, as I sucked on him, noisily, like feeding on melted ice cream on a cone.  I started slow and began moving and jerking him off fast.  
I feel him turn off the shower as he moves to lean on the shower wall.  I taste his salty-sweet pre-cum as it mixes with my saliva.  His dick is now a rosy, veiny pink.  His body shakes and both his hands grab my hair as he thrusts his dick into me, fucking my mouth.  I start gagging but I kept on. I could feel him shuddering, and just like he did well at teasing me, I stop sucking his dick and I stand up.  
He looks at me with a frown, then pushes me to the wall.
"I am going to have you now, Trickie, stop teasing."  He growled.
My pussy gushed wetness, his finger slides inside me first, I see him grin.  

He raises my leg up, guides his dick and rams inside me.  I feel him expand my walls and he lunges himself into me forcefully.  His movements make squishy sounds as my pussy drips. He places one hand on my boobs and sucks on my nipple, playing it between his teeth.
I feel tingly and completely aroused as his hard banging hits my g-spot.  I moaned loudly but his groans were much louder, or so I think.
I raise his head to kiss me in the mouth and our tongues twist and fence.  He stops kissing and looks at me straight in the eyes and started talking dirty.  I completely lose it and I screeched, "Fuck me harder, Marcus, I want all of you inside me!"
His balls slam my pussy walls and I start quivering as a huge electrical, orgasmic wave overwhelms me.  I scream.  I could hear his voice, "Don't hold back, squeeze me!"
My walls squeeze and tighten around his dick and I feel his warm load filling me up.  He grunts and cusses but he kept on banging.  I grip his dick with my pussy to empty it, his body trembled.
He slowly pulls out, stares at my face looking completely blown away, while catching his breath.
I stare back at him, "Tub time?"
I grab his hand and lead him to the tub.  
He lies on the tub and I slide on top of him.  Our hands start groping and touching, and he starts kissing different parts of my face, my neck ... our body heat steaming up the bathroom mirrors.  I feel his cock getting hard again between our bodies.
I pull my head away and asked sweetly, "Are you hungry?"
He smiles wickedly.  I feel his hand on my pussy and he murmured, "My turn to feed."  My pussy smiles.

Sex In The City 2: Interactive Sex Blog

He has left a voice mail.  He is early.  Marcus' Post 

Marcus is a just a couple of meters away from me now.  His voice gentle, it is almost unimaginable to think he is the same guy that tortures me with all that carnal and earthy tempting words.  I close my eyes as I listen to his voice.  I can practically imagine the taste of his cock and cum in my mouth.  My throat gets dry and the shivers in my spine make my entire skin so tingly.  I have to get a grip of myself my knees and hands are starting to shake.  
Crap!  I have to send a message to Rocky to call off any dinner plans.  Did I ask her to  arrange that?  My brain goes on overdrive.  I have been too busy thinking about what Marcus and I will do with each other, that my information data bank is just about ready to crash.  I fumble with my Blackberry and it slipped and fell from my hands.
I heard a voice from somewhere.  I mumbled some thanks and stuttered, "I'm so sorry, were you saying something?"  I take my phone from the hands of the man beside me.
"That's alright, you look pretty occupied in your thoughts.   I was asking whether this is a business trip to New York?  My name is Stephen," the green eyed stud beside me spoke.  Very clear, masculine voice yet no discernible accent.  Strange.
"I'm sorry, I was trying to retrieve a message.  Well yes and no.  I do come around the city for work, but not this time.  I am here for a strictly pleasure" I manage a small, friendly smile.  
I give him a once-over and realized he is an extremely attractive man.  He could be in his early 30's or maybe even late 20's; not bad looking at all; no ring or visible tan ring line.  Very tall and lean, but muscular and taut.  Tight jeans, white tee shirt and a dark jacket.
"Hi, I'm Trickie" and offer him my hand and he squeezes it gently, twice.  Double-squeezer.
He is staring at me and I hold his stare back.  
I broke the moment, "Since you have been so nice and helpful, can you grab my small suitcase from the overhead bin when you get your stuff?  Just be careful please, my laptop is in it?"
"Of course, absolutely, Trickie. Is that with an -ie or a -y?" he asks, trying to be charming.
I try hard not to charm back, "Depends on who is asking" I say, holding back on fluttering my eyelashes.  It is not the time to flirt, your preening juices are on an all-time high (I hear my inner voice nagging me).
The plane finally quiets down and the lights went on.  In a couple of seconds, faster than a blink, the aisle is filled with people inching, scrambling their way to the exit.  Fucking New Yorkers!
Stephen gets my leather all-around large bag.  He slings his own leather bag pack on his right shoulder.  Must be a local.
I say thanks and smile.   He suddenly speaks again, "Listen Trickie, if you have not made any plans, can I take my chances and ask if you would like to join me for a cup of coffee?" His eyes slide down from my eyes, lips and blouse.  I instantly became aware my top barely covers my breasts.  Instinctively, I fix it and saw him attempt to stop staring but failing awkwardly.
I mutter, "Oh, excuse me," he cuts in abruptly, "Oh no, don't say that.  They're gorgeous."
Cheeky.  
I decide to get even.  I retort back, "Free coffee is a tempting invitation Stephen, but my lover is waiting at the airport bar right this minute.  I just really flew in because I promised to fuck his brains out this weekend."
A nano-second passed then he laughed, still chuckling he says, "Sexy hot and funny too, I like that."
I look him in the eye and as solemnly as I can, "Maybe on my next trip back, I will give you a chance to understand that I am not trying to humor you.  I don't make threats, just promises."  I take out a business card and hand it to the stunned hot dude.  "Nice to know you Stephen" and I walk past him but I look back and catch him swallowing hard, checking out my butt and staring back at my card.  Men.  So little time.

I move to the aisle and my mind tunes back to Marcus.  My head hums his words and I feel a sudden flush rise to my face and that incessant throbbing between my thighs.  I am so painfully aching for sex. I feel the dryness in my throat again.

My mind is filled with the thoughts of having my face between your soft thighs.  I am burning with the need to explore your soft feminine fold with my tongue, my lips and my fingers.  I want to see you laid out on a bed in front of me with your legs spread wide, inviting me to pleasure you; to lick you from your puckered little hole to your hard little nub.  I thirst to taste you, to feel the silkiness of your skin as I suck one of your tender lips into my mouth and savor it.  I cover your mound with my mouth and suck you, slithering my tongue over you.  I want to feel your fingers in my hair, encouraging me to go further.  I will slip my tongue inside you and pinch your hard clit in my fingers.  I need to hear you moan, calling my name in your heated desire for me.  I will take my time, torturing you with prolonged pleasure, exhausting you to the point of unconsciousness by sucking orgasm after orgasm out of your hot flowing pussy.  There you will be, helplessly draped over the bed, hardly able to move.  That is when I will mount you and take my pleasure from you, over and over again.  I will plunge deep inside you and drill that hot cunt, filling you several times before collapsing on top of you, spent. 

I finally made my way out of the plane feeling my whole body aching to be touched.  The queue moved fast enough and since I traveled very light, I thought I would practically be naked for the next 48 hours anyway, my over-night carry on didn't need to be checked in.  I do a detour to the loo.  I retouched my face, dabbed some lip gloss, and unbuttoned my top again.  I would like to make Marcus feel welcome.  I spray my favorite scent.  I'm totally ready.
I slowly walk along the airport's Arrival Lounge and found my way checking out the coffee shop and bar crowd.  Oh my god, that's him!  My heart skipped a beat as a man walked towards me.  I can imagine him naked, good god! My spine shivers again.
"Trickie?" he called.  I smile and wait for him to walk to where I stood.  I couldn't move.

Sex In The City: An Interactive Sex Blog

Preface:
I will start this Blog Post and I will link it to the Blogger who will reply to my fantasy. It is a tale of two people (we can make it three or more if you care to join) as we try to live out our wildest sexual dreams virtually and move towards to making fiction, real.  It is the first time we will do this and we will let all of you watch as Marcus and I sex each other up.  Hang on for the wildest ride of your life.  I have linked him automatically.

Meeting Marcus 

 The Trip to New York.
It's just a three hour flight but I was getting severely edgy.  Graphic imagery cloud my mind and I feel myself soaking my jeans as I throb with very lewd thoughts.  My female glands are over reacting and the man next to me might unwittingly pick up my sexual scent.  His words just keep going on in my head.

I need you my goddess - come and let me worship you with my body and passion.  Let me show you how you inspire my flesh and inflame my soul.  Nothing in life can be more important than those blissful moments of thrusting and moaning.  I want to feel you laying beneath me with your legs spread wide around my hips; feel you hands on my back and ass pulling me into you deeper with every thrust.  Open yourself up to me and fuck me deeply. Let me spread your thighs and suck and lick that sweet pussy of yours.  Show me your passion, let me feel it and hear it.  My cock is so very hard for you, come and get it, climb on top of me so we can take each other to oblivion.

Fuck!  He did.  Right now this green-eyed dude is busy checking out my half unbuttoned blouse and lusting at something he's not going to get.  I pretend to relax my head on the headrest and keep my shades on so I can watch this man drool.  Not really bad looking, nice thighs.  The poor guy, his eyeballs just might pop out. I bend a bit to move pretending to shuffle the magazines and my shoulder bag under the seat to give him a better view of my skin.  Lust up and enjoy my mounds and pink nipples!  ... and now he fixes his crotch.  This is going to be one hell of hot trip for you.  After all that heated exchange of lustiness with Marcus, every fibre in my body is electrified.  
My business meetings in Miami are temporarily suspended, not until mid-week next.  I grabbed this chance to steal away from work and finally, finally, have a taste of everything he promised to make me feel.  Rocky (aka Racquel), my favourite cousin and wannabe "guardian" in New York had made the necessary reservations for me.  She practically screamed, "A double?  Since when are you expecting Company?  Is he with you?"
I laughed and giggled on the phone and told Rocky, "No my sweet Mama, "he" is in Italy and I am out to Sex in the City."
I could hear her heavy sigh on the phone, truthfully, I am not even half as wild as Rocky during her "swinging" days.  That has all changed since she met and fell in love with that Jamaican dude, Derrick, and she's been behaving like an overprotective Nanny.  She eventually ends up doing everything I ask so I love her like my own big sister.
I feel myself throb again.  The thought of Marcus tongue in me makes me want to touch myself even before the plane takes off.  My nipples react to my brain waves, and the man beside me stares at it like he is looking at a piece of chocolate decadent cake after 10 years of being on a no-sugar diet.
I take off my glasses and look at him abruptly. "Excuse me, but I really need to go to the loo."
Shocked and pale at my sudden short conversation, he stands up to let me pass.  I naughtily brush his crotch with my ass while I pass him.  Can't help it, he is such an easy prey when I am lusting like this.  I'm a bad girl.
Back on my seat now, I close my eyes, squeeze myself tight and imagine all these words in my head. I move my body nearer the arm rest and the man besides me pretends to lean unwittingly towards me, too.  His arm relaxed, I allow my nipples to be stroked by his arm.  I am loving this and he is getting a nasty boner. I'm horny as a deprived rabbit in heat.

I want your nipples to be very hard.  I want you to reach inside your shirt and pinch one of your nipples while imagining it is me biting it.  I want you to cup your hand over your crotch and squeeze your mound, rub it. I want you to get yourself so turned on thinking about me licking you, about you climbing on top of me, sliding my cock into you and fucking me long and hard.

A few moments later, the plane taxies into JFK.  I peered into the guy beside me, his boner is uncomfortably huge under his jeans by now it saddens me to make it go to waste.  But I straighten up and I get my Blackberry to turn it on.  I have 27 unread messages, and 5 missed calls.
One call from Rocky and one other call, with a voice mail from him.  My pulses and throbbing switches a notch higher.  Marcus.  

Ooops. (True Confessions)

It was one of those dreary weekends and all I really wanted to do was stay in bed and sleep.  Marie, my crime partner and BFF (also a professed "nagger"), is all set to meet up with hunky new squeeze, Bobby.  Bobby is bringing a friend along, Rico, said to be dying to meet me.  My mobile's constant buzzing is so annoying I forced to drag myself out of bed.  I took a long tub soak and decided to go along with Marie's plan to meet up at a Club.

I wore a an acid washed low rise jeans, cream wedge espadrilles, white cropped off-shoulder tube top.  I was too lazy to fix up, I kept my hair down, added some blush, lip gloss, grabbed my pouch and drove to the Club.
Bobby and Rico looked fresh out of a GQ cover shoot.  Marie scowled when she saw me.  I smirked and hissed, "Well at least, I'm here."
The Margaritas were delightfully refreshing and the guacamole dip was divine so I was having a sweet, relaxing time.
Bobby and Marie shamelessly 'PDA''-ed (Public Display of Affection) as we drank.  Rico tried his best not to stare at my nipples or check out my thongs.  It was cute.  He was funny in a nerdy way but he isn't going to get any tonight, not from me.  The 6th pitcher of Margarita came with a fresh batch of chips and dip.  The tequila starting to kick in in our party of four, and Rico was getting rather frisky.  I was toying with the idea of a French escape when a couple struts towards our table.  Marie squealed, "OMG, Karen, you are soooo late, we are on our sixth round!"  I sneaked a sharp look at Marie, she knows that Karen hates me for reasons only her deluded mind understands, and I also find her company too loud.  It was mutual.
A piping, nasal voice said, "Well Jake here took forever to convince to come with me, so let's party!" Karen announced as her arms wrap around the waist of the "certified hot hunk" beside her.
Introductions ensued.  Our table was just for four, but it had to do given the weekend crowd at the Club.  Rico stood to go to the john, Jake, Karen's boy-toy, sat right beside me.  Sulkily, Karen sat on his left side.  Next to me was the wall.  He looked at me and I felt a jolt in my spine.  Dark brown hair and hazel eyes, bronze skin, chiseled face and eyelashes to die for. Where the hell does Karen pick up this men? I looked back and checked him out the same way he was checking me out.  His toned muscles bulged under his shirt and jeans.  Rugged.  Fierce.

"We have not met," his voice was low but kind, "I met Marie a couple of weeks ago."
I knew Karen was straining to listen to the conversation, so I spoke loud enough to be heard above the Club music and noise, "We girls go a long way, too long," I chortled.  He just stared and I felt awfully uneasy. I can't do much about my nips all of a sudden standing in attention.
Rico returned.  Jake ignored him.  Karen slid to another seat, but Jake stayed beside me.  Rico ended seated between them.
I looked at Rico and shrugged, he smiled shyly.  Jake turned to look at him briefly then turned back to face me and chit chat.
Karen crossed her arms and leered.  
The seventh and eight pitched of Margarita arrived.  Jake had a beer instead.  We continued talking and drinking and laughing.  Jake ignored Karen's motions and chose to subtly sit rather close to me, too close, that our bodies were touching and our thighs connected.  Each time he moved, his arms would brush my breasts.  I did not flinch at all.  I was getting totally turned on and feeling sticky and wet where it shouldn't be.
While the drinking went on, I noticed his breathing getting uneven, his body heat rising I can almost choke on his cologne.  The look on Karen's suspicious face was priceless though.
Under the table, I felt his hand stroke my inner thigh, I gasped.  I discreetly tried to take his hand off, but he held my hand and squeezed it.  I felt a knot twitch inside me and my eyes widened that Marie noticed it.
"Are you okay Tricia?  Can you still drive?" she asked with concern on her voice.
I twisted my hand away from his, I almost stuttered, "Of course I can, silly!  I'm not even woozy."
Jake suddenly turned to me, "No, you're not driving Patricia.  I am taking you home."
WHAT??? We all protested simultaneously.  When the 'buts' and the noise of disagreements died down, it was pointless.  Even Rico kept quiet.  Karen was fuming in the ears.
I decided one last attempt, "Look, we can drive in a convoy."
Jake's face turned dark and serious, "I am taking you home.  My driver will bring your car to your place.  It's settled and final. And we are leaving."  He took my hand, publicly now and I looked at the group.  They were just as stunned as I was.  We said our quick goodbyes, Jake motioned to one of the waiters and paid the bill.
We walked out of the Club, he held my hand like a father held his little daughter and led me through the crowd. He flicked his mobile while we walked and phoned someone.  When we got outside, he turned to me and asked for my valet ticket.  A man in a gray uniform came up to us and Jake handed him the valet ticket.  His SUV was waiting and the minute he shut his door, I rattled, "Dude, what's your thing huh?  I did not want to make a scene inside the bar but you're such an ass, and you dumped your date!"
He leaned towards me and held my face with both hands and kissed me.  I blinked.  His lips were soft, wet, and hot. I tried, weakly, to push him away, yet I found myself kissing him back and our tongues played.  He placed his right hand under my tube blouse and touched me.  I hear myself moan.  I opened my eyes and push him away this time.
My throat dry, I rasped, "Please take me home."
He started the truck and fixed his crotch.  My eyeballs nearly popped out when I saw the huge boner he had making his jeans too tight.  I felt myself pulsing.
He drove and we casually engaged in conversation, he touched my cheek every time he can.  He is not dating Karen, they met through common friends and Karen had been asking him to go out since.  Tonight he finally said yes, but they came in separate cars.  He asked if I lived alone, I told him my parents would have arrived for their weekend visit.
Just as abruptly as I said that, he swerved the car and drove to another direction.  We stopped after a few minutes in a vacant parking lot of what looked like a Clubhouse, under large, old trees shading the night sky.

He quickly unfastened his seat belt and mine and he reclined his seat.  He asked if I would recline mine, I hesitated a bit but I did anyway.  His Escalade was quite roomy.  I was barely reclined when he attacked me with kisses, on my lips, ears, down my neck.  He was ravaging me and I just let him.  He savagely took off his shirt.
He pulled my tube top down and my breasts bounced freely.  He gazed at them like a hungry hyena about to eat fresh meat.  My nips stood out in excitement.  He cupped them both and alternately sucked noisily, kissing and licking.  He murmured, "You're driving me crazy."  I giggled.   He stopped and stared at me intently, "You have no idea how wickedly sexy you are, do you?"  I fluttered my eyes.  He smiled, he had a little dimple indenting his right cheek, I touched it. "Even when you play silly Patricia, you are sinfully delicious to eat."

He opened his jeans and displayed his huge manhood with all the micro-veins dilated and ready to burst.  How hot can that be?  He was commando and just waiting to be taken.  He was jaw-dropping BIG!  He grins, "Wanna ride?"
I wriggled out of my jeans and pulled down my thongs and threw my tube somewhere.  He watched me and he got even bigger.  He held me from my waist and hoisted me over him.

I teased him by sliding my wet pussy over his shaft, up and down.  I placed his hand on my pussy and he went straight rubbing my clit vigorously.  I squealed with so much pleasure.  I kept sliding, he kept rubbing, as I toyed with my nips and let him watch.  Our body heat completely fogged the van, we were scorching.  I felt his breathing get heavier so I continued cock teasing him and held on to his dick circling it around my pussy.  He lifted me up and pushed me down as I slowly guided him inside him.  He moved his hips to pump me, slow at first, then increasing in speed, fast, and then hard.  His girth and length stretch me good, hitting me in all the right spots I came after a few pumps.  I was making yowling, whimpering sounds insanely and he kept on pumping, it made my throbbing and pulsing and squirting going endless.  He started cursing and calling my name so I moved against his thrusts and squeezed him.  He grunted and growled, loudly as I felt him throb in me, he continued pumping wildly, his hardness never faltered, warm fluids were now flowing into our thighs.  I kept ramming against him, and squeezing tightly, he was howling.   Neither of us wanted to stop.
Suddenly, we were both startled by loud tapping on the drivers' window and our eyes squinted as a bright light moved over our sweaty bodies, exposing my naked butt and breasts in all its glory.
COPS!!!

Being THE OTHER Man - Final Chapter

Mark showered and got dressed.  He walked out of his room and saw Catherine seated at the dining table.  She had made coffee, for two, but she just held her mug in both hands, looking down and staring at it.  He got the other coffee-filled mug and took a seat right across her.
Mark spoke calmly this time, "Look Catherine, it is foolish for me to lie about how I really feel about you.  I never stopped loving you, perhaps I never will.  But I am tired of our silly games, playing hide-and-seek.  I am damn too proud to live the rest of my life as your sex pet, wagging my tail at your beck and call.  I want to be able to move on with my life.  But I want you in it.  If I ever start to see other women, there is absolutely no way in hell I can see you dealing with that well.  I know you.  But I can't see how this ... whatever this is that we have, is ever going to change.  Not now or even in the future.  At least not on these ridiculous terms.  Jesus, we have been doing this for almost four years and..." He stops abruptly as Catherine looks up at him, her tears already streaming down her face.

"What are you saying Mark?  Did I do anything wrong?  Was it something I said? Do I not make you happy anymore?" her sad green eyes sought his.  "Have you found someone else?" her voice quivered.
"Catherine, you should know that I was not even looking.  What do you want from me?  What else can I give you that I have not already given?  I have suffered more than enough.  The day you left me and the day you married Brad, I died.  But having you like this; stealing time to be with you, lying to my family, my friends, even to myself, why do we need to love this way?  I asked you before, several times, how could we go on like this?  It hurts you and it hurts me more."  Mark stood from where he sat and moved towards Catherine.
Her hands were shaking so badly he had to take her coffee mug and rest it on the table.  He cupped Catherine's hands with his, he squatted in front of her and looked searchingly into her eyes.
"I know you can't leave Brad.  You would have if you wanted to, a long time ago.  I don't have to know the reasons why to accept them, and respect them."  Mark tenderly said.
Catherine broke down into uncontrollable sobs.    Her whole body convulsively trembled.  Mark squeezed her hands tighter.
He spoke evenly.  "Catherine you have no clue how much this is killing me, again.  I love you so much.  But I also love you enough to let you go and rebuild your marriage, your family.  I know you want to, badly.  We could have stopped ourselves earlier, but we didn't.  We can't.  I still don't want to, but I have to.  I need to."
A long quiet pause.
She breathed out a reply, hardly audible, "Are you saying goodbye?  Are you telling me we're over?"
Mark's voice cracked as he replied with a punishing sad smile, "There is no "WE", Catherine.  There was once,  but no, for a long time now.  It is not "We" or "US", it's been you and I."
He slowly stood up and pulled Catherine up to him.  They hugged.  Tightly.  She still wobbled but Mark held her close.  Quiet tears now rolled down on Mark's face.  They stood there for a long time, holding each other close.
It was Catherine who pulled away, she looked at him, gingerly, her eyes were swollen but fresh tears just kept on pouring; she was about to say something but she kissed him instead on the lips.  
She kissed him with all her heart and soul and in that kiss she re-lived piercingly all her pain, her misery, her loss.  Kissing him this way unlocked all the beautiful moments they shared.
Mark kissed her back with the same intensity and force, he felt his heart being squeezed and eventually breaking into small fragments.  Their tears trickled down their lips as they kissed while the world stopped turning.
And just like that, Catherine broke away from the embrace, without saying anything, she grabbed her purse and walked out of Mark's door for the last time.
He stood there where she had left him, unable to breathe, unable to move.  He watched her walked away without turning around.  He stared at her back until she disappeared.  Then he heard the sound of a car speeding away, the tires friction on the road ringing in his ears.
Finally, Mark slumped down on the chair, he covered his face with his hands.  He realized her fragrance had left an imprint when they held hands, he breathed in deeply, burrowing unto the scent to remember her.
Suddenly a loud, earthly grating sound erupted from his throat.  He bent his knees and folded them up on the seat in a foetal position.  And started sobbing like a baby.

Being THE OTHER Man - The Second Chapter

Mark looks at his watch.  It's half past 4am and he is still wide awake.  His mind is a cluttered mix of patterns and images.  He realizes he is still in love with Catherine but perhaps he is also deluded to expect that whatever he shared with her is logical and acceptable in every one's terms.  He badly wants to move on with his life, with her in it.  Certainly there are days when he can not help feel that he's just a piece of meat.  Although he completely understands and respects Catherine's duties, each passing day makes him feel more and more vulnerable, weak.
In a few hours it will be Saturday morning.  Saturdays are Catherine "days", they can spend a couple more hours for themselves.  He reached a resolve that they need to have a discussion and impose on her to make a life decision.  His thoughts wander as he thinks of her, he thinks of her smell, her taste, her touch; and he feels himself stir.  He wishes she didn't have that suffocating hold on him.  She makes it too easy to satisfy him, his wildest and most raw worldly fantasies and desires.  He gets annoyingly stiff.  He gets out of bed, walks to his bathroom and jerks off in the shower.  He curses himself as he does, but his desire for her is too strong.  He reasons with himself that he can really get prettier women, and single, desirable and wanting him; and yet here he is, a grown mature man ... he finally explodes.  Feeling a little light-headedness, he goes back to bed.  The minute his head touches the pillow, he snores.  

He awoke with an electrical jolt shooting through his nerves, something soft and hot on his dick.  Good god, it's Catherine!  Wearing only a smile, she was nibbling and licking on his morning hardness. She naughtily raises her eyes to him and murmurs, "Hey baby" and continues sucking.  With all humanly possible strength Mark could muster, he struggles to sit up, but she misreads this as readiness, so she jumps on to him and straddles him. He could not focus his eyes well, he was half-awake and the stimulation and sensation he was feeling was making his mind go foggy.  She rides him fast, she was slushy, and went faster, her perky breasts flailing on his face.  She starts making noises, raspy scraping sounds.  Mark tries to pull her towards him to kiss her, she pushes him down and continues to ride him, gyrating her hips, moaning and screeching.  She arches her back, she shrieks and curses as she goes through spasmodic twitching.  She grabs her breasts and mashes them.  She trembles and shakes, sweat beads rolling down from her neck.  Mark watched her through half-opened eyes.  She lets out what sounded like a high pitched howl and finally collapses on Mark's chest.  She mumbles softly, "Did I wake you Marky, I'm so sorry baby, I didn't mean to."
Mark looks at her sweaty body on him and said, "It's alright Catherine, it didn't look like you needed any help from me."
She sat up abruptly, scowled at him and said, "Well are we in a sour mood today" then gently, she reaches out to touch the morning stubble on his face; "You always liked surprises Marky, I though you would like that."

Without any warning, Mark this time, pushes Catherine down on her back, grabs her legs and spreads it, V-shaped, with both hands on each of her ankles, he lifts her up and brusquely rams into her.  
Catherine squeals but he started getting rough, and gruff, his eyes looked glassy.  He continued pumping and drilling her that Catherine nervously tried to kick herself away, but his hands clutched at her tighter, harsher.
She whimpered, "Mark, please -you're hurting me."
He looked cold and detached, he closed his eyes, his muscles tensed and then he growled, like a wild bear snarling at his prey, and he let go and yet kept on pumping, callously draining himself in her.
Finally his eyes open, she was sobbing like a little girl, and he spoke, more like, he barked; "Let's talk."
Still in tears, Catherine managed to say, "That felt like an assault Mark, I never thought -"
Mark rudely cuts her, and in a roaring voice said; "You never thought what?  That I had it in me to behave like a bastard?  To be an ass?  What do you fucking want from me huh?  What do you want from me?"  He stands and puts on his boxers.  He sees Catherine's coat on the floor and he imagined she came to his place wearing nothing but her coat. She comes to my place with one goal.  She was asking for it.  Mark muses to himself.  He picks up the coat and places this on the bed.  
"Put something on, we can't have a decent conversation with you romping around butt naked in my house," and Marks moves to his bathroom.

TO BE CONTINUED

Being THE OTHER Man - The First Chapter

"Oh come on Mark, how long has it been? 3? 4 years? Dude, so many women, so little time." Dennis was talking seriously.  "Its not like the women don't throw themselves at your feet.  Why don't you just give it a shot?  Look, say Jenny, man, she's a goddess!  She's been trying to get your attention.  Or Keira?  Hot-ness!  Or Leslie? Geesh, if I am the single guy here, I would have jumped these ladies like a horny rabbit!"
"You're sick man, just sick.  You need to see a professional" Mark replied sarcastically.
"I'm sick?  You think I'm sick?  Fuck you!  I'm not the guy obsessing about some bitch who is already married and has a kid from another man!" Dennis piped back.
"She is not a bitch!  Don't you ever call her a bitch, again, ya hear?" Mark hissed and slammed his glass on the bar top.
A couple of guys drinking nearby stopped talking.
Dennis moved closer to Mark and back-pedalled, "Hey chill dude, easy now, I'm on your side here; man, we've been friends since first grade, okay?  I'm sorry, I was being an ass, but it's just that ..."
Mark cuts him in mid-sentence, "No worries man, I know, you're just being an asshole" and jabs at Dennis shoulders.  They exchange shadow jabs and punches and start laughing.  "Forget it bro, I'm good, really.  If it happens, then it happens.  Besides I have too much going on in my work now I am just too busy to get preoccupied with other things."
They both stare at the bar display.  It was Mark who broke the silence, "And we're here to drink!  Here's to "the man", hopefully this time you did it right and will have a boy.  So he can grow up to kick his old man's ass when he needs to.  For my best bud and a great Dad!  Cheers!" They raise, clink and downed their double shots.
Dennis thoughtfully shakes his head, "You just worry me bro, y'know.  See here I am on my 2nd kid and between us, I always thought you would make the better family guy.  Ashley came into my life and I didn't waste a heartbeat.  All the guys we hang out with are either married or getting a divorce, but since Catherine," Dennis pauses and breathes deeply; "Dude it's like you just stopped living."

Dennis words echoed in Mark's head over and over as he tried to sleep.  He knows Dennis is right.  He 'died' the day Catherine walked the aisle.   Except he couldn't really tell his best buddy what happened soon after that.  Barely 3 months from her wedding day Catherine had called him.  She was hysterical, sobbing on the phone and begged to see him to talk.  He jumped to his car to meet her.  They did talk.  After the talk however, they ended up fucking each other crazy.  She was frisky, fiery, hungry.  She left gash scars on his back when she practically clawed him each time she climaxed. That first time after her marriage was followed by another, and another and more days when they met and had wild, passionate sex.  They can't stop, they won't.  They became lovers.  Even when she was pregnant, she became needy and exceptionally horny.  She would call him at odd hours and they would have sex everywhere: in his truck, in her car, at a parking lot, by the lake, in a motel, the theater ... 
It was Mark who wanted they get a new start, but Catherine won't have a divorce.  She wanted to just run away.  Mark insisted that they cut clean but each time they discussed this they ended up fighting that led to fantastic make-up sex.  It's been almost four years of illicit love and Mark is feeling disheartened about the lying and hiding.


It was just one foolish night of indiscretion.  Mark and his work buddies were partying on a Friday night after an Ad campaign has been approved.  He had too much to drink and Leslie who always eyed Mark knew exactly when to get him and would be unable to resist her. One stupid night, a drunk man, a couple of weeds, a sinfully attractive woman, and a night of hard core banging.  Mark woke up feeling brain dead, dick-impaled and dirty.  It didn't take long for Catherine to know what happened.  
She was frothing at the mouth and furious during their confrontation.  She called off their engagement, and out of a whim, hardly six months after that night, on a desperate and senseless rebound decision, she married Brad, an ardent suitor from childhood who had the personality of a driftwood.  Although wealthy, with a Harvard degree and a practicing repugnant lawyer, Catherine is his childhood conquest.  However, when they finally married, he looks at Catherine as wife and mother to his kid and future children.  Brad is not beastly looking but he isn't fetching either.  He is rather plain and boring.
Mark on the one hand, is a drop dead gorgeous guy in his early 30's.  Catherine had always considered being Mark's beau as a source of great smug-ness, an envy of all warm blooded women.  But she is far from being a ravishing beauty.  She has an athletic physique borne out of her gymnast days but rather comely.  She makes up for this with confidence, bearing and intelligence.  Plus the magic of make-up.  Back in the days when she and Mark were dating, they generally fought about how her insecurities got in the way.  She was always jealous of every woman who would ever come near Mark, even if this was an honest and innocent conversation.  In spite of her insecurities, Catherine knew in her gut she would always have Mark.  Truly, she has an overpowering influence on him.

TO BE CONTINUED

Victoria's Secret

Victoria surveys herself in the full length vanity mirror.  Dark burgundy long hair, faint plum lip gloss, sexy thong, 5-inch heels gold sandals, skin glistening with a bronzer; who could ever guess her real age?  Her body would make anyone half her age weep with envy.  She checks her face and stretches her jaw, hardly any visible lines or sagging skin there either. 
She smugly grins and does the pageant quarter-turns and chortles with delight.  She looks at her round butt cheeks and happy with it, decides to unhook her bra and throws this on the bed.  Her breasts, from a B cup, now a delectable Cup D stands firm and proud.  She walks to the dresser and searches inside her Black Birkin Hermes bag and gets a small bottle of Eau de Parfum.  She opens it and dabs a bit on her wrists, her neck, behind her ears, her decollete and on the back of her knees.  She inhales deeply.
She looks into her bag again, finds her Blackberry and turns it off.  She dims the room lights and walks over to open the drapes revealing the night sky and the city lights below. 
Victoria likes this 5-star hotel.  They are totally respectful of her privacy and her being a regular client has its rewards.  She chuckles as she thinks about the other members of the Board where she sits as a voting Director.  They will never guess in a million years her deepest, darkest secret.

Being married to the Chairman of the Board allowed Victoria the luxury of wealth, except the man that she has been married to for the last 30 years is pushing 80 years old.  He was intellectually stimulating, a charmer.  He is influential and powerful, Victoria believed it was going to be a good ride and fell for him immediately.  She was young, barely out of college and she thought her life was like a fairy tale unfolding into reality.  It wasn't long after that she also found that he shot 'blank bullets.'  Desolate and without child, it moved from bad to worse, then perhaps from daily stress and pressure, he acquired quite a number of illnesses and ailments.  Getting older and sicker, the Chairman thought the "blue" pill would help.  It proved to be contra-indicated to a lot of his other medications.  Possibly a decade and a half had passed, that Victoria has been deprived of honest and awesome sexual satisfaction.   Of course she has resorted to toys and stuff, but she craved for more.  Her hormones were going wild, her urges were becoming more potent that she was finding it more and more difficult to diminish her sex drive.
It was one of those boring weekends at the Spa when she overheard a small group of older women chatting about a friend whose sex habits were a good conversation piece.  Pretending to be asleep under her body mask, she listened intently.  She heard the name, Claudette.  From what she heard, this Claudette woman was a wonderful conduit to make your dreams come true.  And this lady hobnobbed only with the rich and famous clientele.  It didn't take long for Victoria to trace Claudette, and she turned out to be the rich bored housewife's last resort pimp.  Claudette boasts of the best stable of young, hot studs.  And what started of as a look-see, why not try it, one-off experience for Victoria, has become a bi-weekly tryst.  
Victoria ultimately got hooked like a substance abuser.  She also became more conscious of her physical appearance, her wardrobe, and with her disposable money, has invested considerably on body sculpting and lifts.  She comes out of every new treatment like a renewed woman, much to the envy of her peers and colleagues.  Even in the first years of her marriage, Victoria had always enjoyed being the trophy wife.  Ageless and simple.  Nowadays she is happier to hear whispers behind her back about her new "look" and she is tickled pink at every lustful stare a man directs at her.  The Chairman, the astute businessman and investor that he is, is totally wanting in the skills to sense the activities of his wife.  Although there are some gossip going around, Victoria has managed to be extremely discreet and while tongues wag, she ignores them all because she is happier that her sexual fantasies are all being satisfied.  She enjoys seducing her husband's colleagues, flashes them occasionally even during formal meetings, and she knows she is desired.  She giggles about the new attention accorded to her, because while they can all look and gawk and fantasize, she can never be touched.  Not by them.  Odd as it seems, it appears Victoria has never been in sync with her sexuality until she crossed the boundaries given in her marriage.  Her new "vice" has introduced her to a wild and dark side that has probably been lurking for a long time, trying to find a way to surface and control.
It's a sad fact however, that the Chairman is both unable to see her needs and incapable of giving her the pleasure she desires.
It was a perfect crime, until 'he' came along to give Victoria a sexual experience that raised her bar in terms of satisfaction.  Only 'he' was capable of giving her the ultimate and the multiple orgasms she only read about.  'He' goes by the "name" - Dion.
Dion.  It has to be Dion.  For the last three months or so, she demanded for him.  Each day Victoria could not have him drove her insanely lustful.  She can smell him, feel him, taste him. She aches for him.  Her desire to have him gnaws at her very core.  She has never felt she was capable of longing and lusting for a man, whose real name she doesn't even know, with so much intensity and fiery passion.  With Dion, to feel his body on hers, to have him inside her, to taste him, it was raw carnal pleasure and her hunger for him seem insatiable.


Victoria switches the night lamp on and leaves the rest of the room dim.  She walks to the door and unlatches the lock.  She goes to the dresser again and from her bag, flicks open a gold cigarette case and draws out a very slim cigarette.  She lights it with a Louis Vuitton lighter and puffs unconsciously.  She stirs the ice on an unfinished glass of whiskey resting on the table and with one swift gulp, finishes it off.  She drums her fingers on the table and feels a little edginess; and excitement.  She feels herself pulsing, throbbing and her thong gets slightly wet.
Finally, the phone at the bedside rings.  She says,"Let him in, he is my guest.  thank you."  And hangs up.  Her heartbeat moves to crescendo and she starts to feel a burning sensation from her body.  
A light tapping on her door.  She peeks through the peep-hole and opens the door slightly and moves back.  He comes in through the slight opening.  She looks at him in the dark and turns around to sit on the bed.
He notices immediately that she was naked and rather sexy, curvaceous.  His dick moves a bit.  He wasn't really sure but he recognizes her face in the dim light.  It's her.  Again.  He grins in the dark.
"Hello Dion", she says rasping through her whiskey, cigarette voice.  He's tall, possibly a little over 6 feet, around early to mid-20's; perfectly toned body underneath his tight dark blue shirt, acid washed jeans and dark brown loafers.  Victoria can smell his scent, spicy woodsy; her nipples jump.
He smiles back in the dark, "Hello Ma'am."
She replied huskily, almost a murmur, "Please take off your clothes.  All."

He obeys and deliberately displays and flexes his muscles as he took off his clothes.  He knows she likes this and stripping actually excites him too.  He stops leaving only his boxers.  His eyes have somewhat adjusted in the dark and he can see the contours of her face.  Her mouth is open.  He smirks to himself and slowly pulls down his boxers, making sure he touches his cock a bit to stimulate it and it responds.  He hears her catch her breath. Well I am not called Dion, the Stallion for nuthin'.  Dion takes pride with the size of his cock.  There is not much with what is between his ears, but he knows he has a lot to offer with what is between his thighs.  His girth alone can make any woman cry.
Victoria battles her hunger for him as she watches every part of Dion's body; her throat goes dry so she croaked, "Show me how much you got and I will give you anything you ask for."
Dion delivers what he knows best and how.  She screamed and scratched and clawed and wailed and moaned.  He was incredible and he only stopped when she almost collapsed with so much pleasure, completely exhausted.  He had to admit he enjoyed the sex as immensely as she did and she begged him this time to explode inside her, without a rubber.  He thought that a bit strange, but what the hell?  She asked for it, she got it.
When dawn came after a whole night of crazed sex, Dion awoke finding a check on the dresser to buy his dream car, a Porsche Boxster, with some change.  He jumps with joy.
Several miles away, Victoria is quietly having her morning tea in their patio.   She looks around their estate's magnificent landscape.  It's almost spring.  She smiles to herself and rubs her tummy.  "I will always have Dion inside me.   Until next winter, a part of him is mine now."