He pulled back the furs covering my trembling body. I trembled all the harder from a combination of cold and nerves.
What did he have in mind?
Pulling off his boots and stripping away his trousers, he turned to me, completely naked in the firelight.
My eyes widened, and I had to resist the urge to pull the furs back up to my chin. His blue eyes were hungry for me, his wide shoulders giving way to a flat abdomen sporting a six-pack, then there were his slender hips and long powerful legs. His groin – oh, his delicious black hairy groin – caused my temperature to accelerate. He was hard, his cock standing up proud and erect from a mound of curly hair. I blinked for, truly, in my entire life I had never seen a cock so large: ten inches long and so thick that it would be impossible to close my fingers around its tip.
He undressed me, his fingers warm against my cool flesh. I shivered more from anticipation than actual fear, for my pussy was wet, the moisture clinging uncomfortably between my legs. I wanted his hard cock in me, I wanted this prehistoric man to fuck me.
No ceremony here, no cute foreplay to get me aroused; when I was naked he grunted with satisfaction and pushed me back against the furs. Pushing my thighs apart with one large hand, grabbing my breast with the other, he moved over me. For a moment I felt the furriness of him against my thigh; then he was entering me and there was nothing gentle about it.
I gasped and cried out, my fingernails digging into his back, while he gripped my butt and moved back and forth over me, plunging into me time and time again, with a force that rocked my world. In no time my body was soaked with perspiration. He was rough and hard.
And I loved it!
With a cry I arched up against him, pushing his cock hard against the tender back wall of my pussy; then I climaxed, my thighs throbbing as wave after wave of sweet fiery emotion touched every cell in my body. He continued to move over and in me, his breath fanning across my face, now and again a glimpse of blue eyes in the darkness; then, withdrawing his cock, he turned me around so that I was facing the floor, the fluffy furs tickling my nose. He parted my thighs, lay over me so that his weight was pushing me down hard against the ground, and then . . .
Hell! My cell phone rang, interrupting my train of thought just as my fantasy was getting interesting. I pulled my hand from my panties and reached for the slim flip phone in my handbag.
“Oh, hi, Mum.”
“Have you settled in yet?”
“I just got here.”
“Have you unpacked?”
I looked around at my stuff still in the cartons. “Yeah.” There was a rat-a-tat-tat on the outside door. “Wait, Mum, I’ll call you back, okay? Someone’s at the door.”
I snapped the phone, and the most devastating sight I’d seen in a long time greeted me. Devastating for what? My libido, that’s what! Six feet two inches of prime male flesh filled my doorway. Maths had never been my strong point but I clocked him at around thirty-two, give or take a couple of years. Certainly not much older than me.
“Hi.” The dark haired man extended his hand. “I’m Blake and you must be Heather?” At my nod, he smiled warmly. Perfect white teeth flashed, and the soft skin around his eyes crinkled. Damn and blast that he was wearing sunglasses, for I couldn’t see their colour. “I just wanted to let you know that sometime this evening, and possibly tomorrow as well, the power will be out in your building.”
My skin tingled; his sexy deep Scottish accent washed over my body like a caress. I cursed that I didn’t have one; then, having been born in London to a Scottish mother and English father, there was fat chance of that.
When I looked up, he was grinning. I blinked but, nope, he was still grinning.
“What?”
He smiled warmly “I just said, it’s probably a good idea to get a flashlight.”
I nodded. If the power was going to be out, it certainly made sense.
“Hello, Earth calling pretty lady in the doorway.”
“Sorry.” I blinked again. “I was away in my own little world. What did you say?”
“I said, don’t leave it too late. The lights will be going off around eight – and, the next time you decide to touch yourself, make sure you’ve closed the curtains properly.”
I flushed scarlet to the ears. “You saw that? I mean, you saw me . . .”
“Lady, I saw everything.”
Shit. I closed my eyes and raised my head to the ceiling, praying for inspiration. What must this guy think of me?
“Don’t be embarrassed. We all do it.”
I looked at him, and saw my mortified reflection reflected back in his dark shades. “Yeah but not in public.”
“I enjoyed it.”
His voice was low and sultry and sent shivers down my spine. He turned on his heel, but not before I’d seen that he was aroused; his tight-fitting jeans hid nothing.
Out of breath and panting, I was struggling up the stairs of my building shortly before eight, with a bag of shopping in one hand and a new torch in the other. The blasted elevator wasn’t working again, but when did it ever? There was a crack, a low hum and then the lights went out. I was left alone in complete darkness, my heart accelerating out of control, a half-eaten packet of potato crisps my only companion.
In a moment of inspiration, it came to me that I had my brand new flashy torch, thanks to sexy worker guy, complete with batteries. All I had to do was get the little things in the torch and Bob’s your uncle. Rummaging in the bag until I found the necessary, I placed the torch on the step. A cat screeched; swirling around, my foot collided with it. I could only stand there breathing hard, cursing the cat as the torch clunked and clicked away down the stairs.
There was no point retrieving the torch; I reasoned it would probably be lying in a thousand pieces somewhere. The bottom of my shopping bag split open just as I stepped onto the next step. My foot squashed in what could only have been yogurt and, with a crash, I fell. Sitting alone in complete darkness, in sticky cold yogurt, I felt like crying. Out of nowhere a strong, long-fingered, firm hand grasped my own, pulling me to my feet.
I gasped and fell against a brick-hard chest. Something about the whole thing was so familiar yet different. It came to me that the man reminded me of my prehistoric fantasy.
Suddenly I was aroused and hotter than an inferno.
Gently he steered me along the corridor in the direction of my doorway. How could he know where I lived? I wondered, but I was far too horny to give it adequate thought. If I didn’t take my chance now I would lose it. I stepped away from him. His breathing in the darkness slowed. It was a moment before he reached for me and, when he did, his hand collided with my breast; quickly he jerked it back.
I bit back the sigh in my throat and waited. This time, when his hand reached out it encountered my face. Turning my head into his palm, I kissed the sensitive skin there and ran my tongue along his middle finger before taking it fully into my mouth.
He gasped but didn’t say anything.
Good! My prehistoric man never spoke, nor should he if the moment was going to be perfect.
With a grunt he pushed me up against the wall, his hands eagerly exploring every part of my body. I shut my eyes; in my head I was in a different place, a cave in an icy, untamed land.
His hands tugged at the front of my zipper. Pulling my hair back, he kissed me hard on the mouth; then, grabbing my butt, he pulled me against his erection.
I tried not to whimper, not to speak – it was so much sexier – but I was wet and horny for him, there was no denying that.
With a grunt, he pulled down my jeans, jerked his fingers in my panties and ripped them in half. As easily as if they were made of paper rather than lace. Breathing hard, he rubbed his hand through my pubic hair. I never shaved and, judging by the grunts coming from him, he seemed to appreciate that fact. One hand stroked up beneath my jumper and cupped my breast through my bra, while the other parted the lips of my pussy and slid a finger inside my warm creamy centre.
Giving into desire, I gasped and pulled him firmly towards me; tangling my tongue with his, I melted in his kiss. I never kissed my prehistoric lover in my fantasy but then, this was a real living, breathing man before me, and I had to have . . . all of him.
As if sensing this, he slivered his tongue down my neck and buried it in the sweet flesh of my pussy. I felt my pussy contract when he pushed his tongue inside me. His tongue was hot and hard as it drove in and out. I gasped and bucked against his mouth.
Even in the darkness I could feel his cocky grin as he took me deeper into his mouth and tenderly sucked and nipped my horny little mound. I was dying, swimming in a sea of pure erotic sensations, then suddenly his mouth was back on mine, his cock freed from his jeans, warm and hard, resting against the soft skin of my stomach.
Before I could think, he grabbed my buttocks and, using the wall for support, plunged his hard shaft into me.
Ah, pure bliss, having him there in me so hard and strong. I felt as if I would burst from the sheer size of him.
And yet I didn’t!
Instead, something magical happened in the darkness on that deserted stairway, as his cock continued to plunge deeply into me and his balls gyrated against my thighs. The pain was extreme and immense, like nothing I had encountered from smaller cocks before, but then suddenly it gave way to such mind-blowing pleasure.
For I had two options in that moment while I was rammed up hard against the cool wall and he thrust into me. They were give up the pain and enjoy it or suffer.
I gave up the pain.
A moment later, I was coming, my hairy little mound tightening around his hard shaft. With a cry from his parted lips, I felt his seed warm and infinitely sticky enter and fill my pussy, my womanhood. But then something totally unprecedented happened. I was coming again; wave after wave of pleasure coursed through my body until I believed I would die from it. I came again!
Burying my head and my grin in his neck, I laughed. Multiple orgasms really did exist – they weren’t just conjured up by fairies for good little girls or a figment of a man’s imagination.
Was I happy?
Yes – and, a lot more, for the first time in my life I was fulfilled.
When I had come back to myself, he gently helped me dress and then escorted me back to my doorway.
Strangers in the night, we tenderly kissed; then he was gone, his footfalls quieter, his feet taking him further away from me.
I showered, but not between my legs, however; unconsciously, I wanted to leave his salty aftermath there. Just as I stepped out of the shower, there was for the second time a rat-a-tat-tat on the outside door. Tucking a towel around my breasts, I went to answer it.
When I looked into the bright corridor – for the lights had come back on – no one was there. I still do not know what prompted me to look down, but when I did I saw my shopping neatly collected in a pile on my doormat along with my torch, a little worse the wear but still functional.
Next day, as I chomped on a piece of burned toast, another overcast day greeted me, the tall Glasgow tenements seeming as grey and oppressive as the weather. The little yellow-coated workers were still there, but to my disappointment sexy guy was nowhere to be seen.
Fifteen minutes later, I was walking through the persistent drizzle, a cup of Starbucks coffee from Union Street in one hand and a newspaper in the other. When I pulled up short, the man before me did the same. When I looked up, my eyes encountered a pair of dark sunshades. Man, was the guy egoistic, was my first thought; my second was he had a right to be, for he was as gorgeous as the first time that I had met him – better, even, in the light of the day, if that was possible.
I tipped my cup. “Hi.”
Blake tipped his cup – also from Starbucks – and, pulling the collar of his yellow worker’s jacket up, walked on by.
In that second I wanted a thunderbolt from God to incinerate him; then in the next I remembered how gorgeous his fingers had looked clasped around the plastic cup. In the third I wanted those very same fingers to probe me. In the fourth I feared that I was losing my head. In the fifth I wanted him to fuck me and I knew I was.
He hadn’t shown any interest in me; in fact his cool rebuff told me all that I needed to know. Pulling up my hood – due to the drizzle which had became a downpour – I sipped at my coffee and considered the facts. He was a hunk, and what did that mean? He probably had a long-legged, busty, blue-eyed blonde girlfriend and therefore no interest in me.
I was blonde but, at five foot two, certainly not long-legged; nor was I busty.
That night, around eight, the lights went off. My palms were sticky and my pulse rate sporadic. Should I?
There was only one way to find out. The corridor was as dark and as empty as the night before. Would he come? I hoped and prayed with my whole heart that he would.
And still I waited.
Then I thought I heard footfalls on the stairway. I couldn’t see through the darkness. My pulse rate accelerated. Had I imagined it?
Suddenly, strong hands encircled my waist and pushed me up against the door. My scream was cut off by a warm probing tongue.
I smiled and wrapped my arms around the large man’s neck, for I recognized that tongue. It was my lover of the night before. While his lips devoured mine, I reached behind and pushed open the door. This time, I wanted to have him naked, gliding over me, just like my prehistoric man in the cave; I wanted to feel every piece of his flesh.
The apartment was dark, but the light coming from the street lamps below allowed me to make out the shapes of the furniture easily enough.
I took his hand to lead him through to the bedroom. He had other ideas; sweeping me up in his arms, he dumped me on the sofa in front of the window. Sitting there, I had to watch him undress, the orange glow from the lamps reflecting off of his muscular skin. It was extremely erotic; sliding my fingers under my skirt, I began to fondle myself; slipping my fingers in and out of my wet pussy, becoming hotter and hotter with each piece of his clothing that fell to the floor. When he turned, I caught a glimpse of his cock and almost climaxed right there. For it was huge and thick: another thing this man had in common with my prehistoric lover. I hungered to touch it, to feel it. I got my wish; stepping up to me, he tangled his fingers in my hair, tipped my head back and pressed his huge cock into my mouth.
My lips parted, but this was no mere blow-job; the man was actually fucking my mouth. Using it as if it were a pussy, he pushed his cock in and out, quickening the pace.
I was wetter than ever before in my life. He had taken all control away from me and I loved it. I shoved several fingers into my pussy and my left hand cupped his buttocks. I sighed, feeling the strong muscles bunch and contract with each of his thrusts under my palm.
It was heavenly.
He withdrew his cock from my mouth, and my tongue followed it. Hungry for more, I placed my lips against his groin and kissed the furriness there. He bent before me and kissed my lips, oh, so tenderly. His tongue gently probed my mouth; I thought that my heart would break. Then he pulled my jumper off and pulled down my skirt and pants until I was sitting there naked before him. He parted my thighs and slithered his tongue from my hip down my right leg to my pussy, while his other hand squeezed and kneaded my breasts.
A moment later, I gasped when he buried his face between my thighs. Expertly he slithered his tongue in long languid strokes down the length of my pussy and back again. He nibbled on first one lip then the other, before pulling them wide open, plunging his tongue deeply into my warm creamy centre. I gasped as I felt his tongue wiggling and moving deep within me. The little guttural sounds he was making deep from the back of his throat got me as horny as hell. Sliding his tongue a few times over my clitoris, he parted my lips and plunged his cock into me.<
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He was hard, his stroke powerful; I gasped.
In fact, I was making so much noise the neighbours could probably hear but I wasn’t in any state to think about that just then.
He continued to thrust into me. With each thrust I was pushed further against the back of the sofa until, in the end, he was standing, gyrating into me, supporting my parted legs high up around his waist.
My breasts were bouncing wildly out of control. Slipping a hand down, I cupped his jingling balls and gently squeezed, then I fiddled madly with my breasts. My clit was swollen and poking between my lips; I could feel it rub against him.
Watching his magnificent muscular body, I climaxed, my milky come exploding over his balls, down my thighs and onto the floor.
He shuddered and, with an animalistic groan of male satisfaction, delivered his seed into me.
I still hadn’t come properly back down to earth when the door closed softly a moment later with a gentle click.
Next evening, I knew from the clock on the wall that it was eight. The lights hadn’t gone off and they probably wouldn’t either. The little yellow-coated workers were gone and that could only mean they had fixed the problem. Pushing the crossword I hadn’t been able to get into to the side. I paced the room. I flicked off the lights, and unbolted the front door; naked, with a bottle of red wine in one hand, I sat down to wait.
The tick, tick of the clock was maddening. Pouring myself another glass, I strained to see through the darkness. There was a flash of light from the corridor behind, a glimpse of a tall man, and then darkness again.
I could hear his breath. I stood up, hands out before me; I came to his chest. He stood there silently as I slowly undressed him. When he was naked, I swirled my tongue around the tip of his cock, smelling his desire that was salty and something altogether man.
Pulling me to my feet, he kissed me then with a thoroughness that left me shaking; then, flipping my legs out from beneath me – for he was so strong and I like a doll in his arms – he lay me down on the floor. Taking my glass he poured droplets of wine into my mouth.
I gulped, while his hands rubbed the wine running down my chin, over my shoulders and breasts. Then he plunged a finger into my pussy, the lips opening easy for him while he dribbled wine over my breasts.
The Mammoth Book of Women's Erotic Fantasies Page 40