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Sexual Solstice (First Class Woman)

Page 16

by Tracey B. Bradley


  “Don’t cry sweetie,” came a voice from behind. It was Spokes bandaging his hand. “You’re all right now.”

  “I must look a wreck.”

  “You are a sight for sore eyes. These sore eyes.”

  “What now? More police stuff?”

  The most you have to worry about is whether I get the reward for you being found, or you take Edgar to the cleaners. I’m fine with either, as long as I get you.”

  Gillian broke down and wept openly. She had been surrounded by so many who had treated her so gently in the last few days. It was hard to believe she had coped with Edgar’s shut down demeanour for so long. How did she survive without love, unless it was with hope?

  Spokes took her face in his big hands, “Promise me that tomorrow we continue that journey. The one we started years ago.”

  That night Gillian and Spokes spent most of the evening at the police station under debriefing, and were then taken to a nearby hotel along the beach, under police surveillance and accompaniment. Gillian and Spokes kissed goodnight and spent the rest of the night in separate rooms. South Beach life went on below them while the two slept. In the morning news came that Edgar had been apprehended. They were free to go. No more hoodlums to try to cash in on anything.

  Soon the last of Miami’s finest left the hotel, and Gillian and Spokes were in each other’s arms in a second. Spokes, still in his boxers and a hotel robe, brought her to his bed and laid her gently down. Gillian yielded, kissing Spokes with a passion she hadn’t expressed for years. There, with the seagulls crying and the sound of the surf, Spokes couldn’t restrain himself any longer, he let the robe drop to the floor, and then fumbled to get his erection out of his boxers and gently slipped his thick cock up between Gillian’s legs, touching her inner thighs all the way, knowing it would make her that much more welcoming. He felt the warmth as he entered her and started to pump, long and easily, as Gillian took him in. He kissed her neck, her hands, her breasts. “I have to kiss everything,” he whispered. “I have to kiss you all over.”

  “I know you do.” Gillian’s hands moved across Spokes’s body, and she let herself touch his face, as if she wanted to remember as much about him, absorb as much as she could too, and to never forget this moment when they were free to celebrate their love for each other.

  They ate breakfast on a terrace overlooking the boardwalk, Gillian sipped her coffee and took her time again with her survey of Spokes. She let her eyes wander over the rugged face, the small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. The splash of grey on his sideburns. She took in the girth of his shoulders, his fingers as he took slices of orange to his mouth, his lips as he puckered to suck the juice from the fruit. “Do you think we can make the afternoon flight?” she asked.

  “To?”

  “Barbados. I finally have someone I want to share it with.”

  “Too many memories?”

  “Not enough. None, in fact. I would like to fill that void.”

  “That I can do.”

  And on the flight to Barbados, where he still couldn’t restrain himself, he took her to the washroom, where Gillian enacted her earliest and most pent-up fantasies. There was still something arousing about being somewhere that you shouldn’t be, doing something forbidden. “At least we aren’t smoking, then there would be hell to pay.”

  “I’m smoking, in fact I’m on fire right now. I can’t keep my hands off you, my darling.” And it was true, as if Spokes needed to touch Gillian to know that she was real, and safe, and his. He touched her ears, her breasts, ran his thick fingers over her soft white skin.

  And she responded by wrapping her thighs around Spokes, and once again he was rock hard inside her and she was transported––her mind spun, and she saw the stars high above them, and she could hear nothing but Spokes’s gentle and sudden breaths. Again Gillian let her body absorb his touch, let her nipples and breasts feel the freedom of touch, let her body be full of his manly warmth, and soon he tightened, and throbbed, his body arced and then relaxed into her. Breathing along her neck, as he kissed her, he licked the moisture from her skin. Gillian felt herself relax too, entirely into his arms. Part of her wanted to cry, but she was taken by laughter and the sheer joy of the moment. Back at their seats, nodding off on each other’s shoulders, playing footsie, and seeing how far they could extend their hands and fingers onto the other’s lap with out being seen soon gave way to the spell of the warm and fragrant Caribbean air that was filtering through the air vents, as the plane gently descended, and visions of turquoise and sand shoreline passed beyond the wingtip outside the window.

  Sandy Lane was familiar to Gillian, and even some of the staff recognized her from the years before. But none of them had ever seen her in love, or happy, and consequently some barely recognized her. “God, they must have seen me as a real bitch,” she said, giggling. “And I was. No wrinkles, no joy, no sorrow, no nothing.”

  Spokes looked at her. “I’ll protect you now,” he said. “I watched it unfold for twenty years. It killed me. I’ll protect you from that past forever.”

  And, my dear Spokes,” she continued, as they were escorted to their beachside room, “that’s all I’ll have to say on the subject ever again. Ever.”

  The porter opened the door and Spokes swept Gillian up in his arms and took her across the threshold into the room where she and Spokes spent their days languishing in bed, where Spokes would take her fingers and toes in his hands and kiss them until Gillian could bear it no longer. He’d tickle her thighs up and up and up until she couldn’t restrain herself. “Take me,” she said. “Take me, fuck me. Take your hard cock and put it inside me, gently and slowly. But do it now. Your touch is driving me wild. I can’t bear your touch. I can’t bear your fingers inside me. I am so sensitive. Please release me with your thick cock in me. Please release me. Please make me whole.”

  In the afternoon they bobbed in the warm gentle swells of the Caribbean, while the hotel patrons snoozed under umbrellas. Spokes held Gillian tight, and she put her arms around his solid shoulders as he gently shoved his cock inside of her. There, with their toes on the sandy bottom and the water splashing around their shoulders, he’d fuck her slowly for what seemed like, and very probably was, hours, while his hands played with her nipples and the sensitive underside of her breasts, and they gazed into each other’s eyes.

  At night, after a bottle of bubbly on their private terrace, after watching the sunset and before going to dinner, Gillian took a shower and Spokes would watch, naked, with a growing presence, until he had to join her, from behind, cup her breast in one hand and place his other hand on her belly. He teased her with his cock, touching her bottom, venturing into the crack, sliding between her legs where she would touch the head of his cock, making her skin tingle. Spokes would go to his knees and kiss her behind, lick the water from the backs of her knees and trail up the backs of her thighs, where he would nuzzle his face between her soft cheeks and let his tongue touch the softer skin. Gillian would reach skyward, feel like the goddess that she was. Feel the physical awakening that belonged to her. And soon he’d be inside of her again, as if he could read her mind that they both had to make up for all of those lost years.

  And at dinner, she’d look into his eyes and smile at the adventure, smile at the things she had learned about men, some men, and how they loved to use their mouths to worship women. How some of them sucked others, how some liked to be prodded and handled, all to put on the most sensuous show for her benefit, to drive her wild, to please her and because they were drunk on desire for her. She looked into Spokes’s eyes and wondered if this man would like to be tied up––to her––for a while. They both knew what they loved, they both knew each other’s worlds. They had both spent so much silent time in each other’s presence.

  The End

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One - Once upon a Chauffeur

  Chapter Two - Romping at the Savoy

  Chapter Three - Falling for Cliff

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sp; Chapter Four - Flying High in the Cockpit

  Chapter Five - Room Service at the Mandarin Oriental

  Chapter Six - Ballet Bums and Bulges

  Chapter Seven - Handcuffs and Billyclubs

  Chapter Eight - Waylaid in Old Westbury

  Chapter Nine - Coming Clean with the Kidnappers

  Chapter Two – Romping at the Savoy

 

 

 


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