by Pia Tremayne
They sipped their wine, saying nothing, as though each were waiting for the other to be the first to break the silence.
“So,” he said finally, “what did you think of the library?”
She gave him a quick suspicious glance.
“What did you want me to think of it?” she replied.
“I was hoping The Thousand and One Nights would inspire you,” he responded, acknowledging her clever implication that he had deliberately placed the sexual material in the library where she couldn’t miss it.
“The truth?”
“Please.”
“I liked the version I read as a child. The unabridged version didn’t thrill me as much.”
“Even though you’re no longer a child?”
“Precisely because I’m no longer a child. Now that I’m older I can make up my own stories and I like them better than those in The Thousand and One Nights.”
“Good. I’m glad you feel that way because tonight, I want you to tell me another story, one I couldn’t possibly have ever heard before. I don’t care what it is, as long as it entertains me.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then I shall have to entertain myself with you in some other way. But I must tell you, in all honesty, even if I find your story entertaining, I cannot promise that I will not seek that other diversion in any event.”
At his thinly veiled sexual warning a little waterfall of desire cascaded hotly from her belly and steamed down to bathe her groin.
He watched her, observing the pulse renew its fluttering in her throat, the temptation to press his mouth to it killing him.
“So either way, I may still lose.”
“Think positively. Either way, you will still win.”
“In that case, for me it may be a Pyrrhic victory,” she declared.
Her green eyes held a defiant gleam. He threw his head back and laughed. “Very good, Nicola,” he said appreciatively. “I like a woman who thinks on her feet or at least”— his eyes wandered provocatively over her—“at least, thinks, even though she might not be on her feet. And I consider myself challenged to prove to you, before I leave you tonight, that the price of your victory was not too high, but rather, was unparalleled pleasure.” The implication was unmistakable and he smiled inwardly, noting her immediate flush as she grasped his meaning. He had just removed any doubt from the matter. Whatever the outcome of her story, he was going to have sex with her tonight.
“Now,” he said, “let us not waste any more time. Have you thought of a story?”
“Yes,” she said. “I have. It’s another one of my fantasies.”
“Good. Your fantasies excite me. Begin.”
She leaned over and switched off the lamp nearest to her, plunging her side of the divan into semidarkness. A prickle of awareness singed his scalp.
“I’ve returned home after being away for a long time, she began. I’m anxious to ride my horse again. I go to the stables and the groom, a man called Bennett, is there. He welcomes me back, but this time, I observe that in spite of his deferential tone there is something in his eyes, an expression that makes me feel he is stripping away all my clothing, picturing what I look like when I am naked.”
“What does he look like?”
“He is big, strong, powerful arms and legs. His body is well developed. He usually wears cutoffs and a vest, since it is always so hot.”
“Have you ever seen him naked?”
“I have never seen him naked,” she said, integrating her answer to his question into her story, “but suddenly I want to.
“He tells me my horse is all saddled up and ready and leads him out of the stall. He cups his hand, and I step into it and throw my other leg over the saddle. Just as it occurs to me that he is taking his time releasing my foot, his hand wanders up my calf and back down to the top of my paddock boot, his thumb pressing provocatively into my flesh. Reacting instinctively, I strike him sharply over the shoulder with my riding crop. Our eyes meet in silent acknowledgement that we have always been sexually attracted to each other and that his touching me and my lashing out were merely foreplay to the inevitable fulfillment of our mutual pent up desire.
“My eyes travel over him, liking what I see. He is wearing a skimpy black vest that stretches like a rag over his massive chest. His upper body is beautifully developed. His shoulders and arms are muscled and thick curling black hair forms the beginnings of a T on his chest. His jeans are tight on his hips, which are in perfect proportion to the rest of his body. His jeans are cut off at the knees, and I see that his legs are strong, his calves elongated. His feet are clean and without imperfections. He is wearing comfortable black sandals. My mind tells me that here is a perfect specimen of a human being.
“I envision his enormous shaft, how it is nestling in the mass of curly hair hidden in his jeans and feel my knees growing weak, as if the bones in my legs are melting. My eyes take note of the bulge in his crotch and I want to reach down and caress it. I know that my face is flushed and my panties are damp, as though he has already touched me there.”
“Do you think he knows how you are feeling, what you are thinking when you look at him?” he asked softly, his cock beginning to stiffen and ache in protest.
“I am certain he knows what is in my mind, because there is a glint in his eyes. But he does not say anything. He takes a step back and advises me that the horse should probably not be kept out for more than an hour. I thank him for his advice because I know he is knowledgeable about horses and I ride off.
“It is a glorious afternoon, as always. I am riding along the beach. The sunlight is dancing on the water, and the wind is whipping up an embroidery of frilly little white waves over the ocean. The wind caresses my face. I feel as though I could ride forever, bouncing up and down, feeling the tingle as the rocking of my body presses my clit into the saddle. Thirty minutes later I am ready to go back. In my heart I know that I am hurrying back to Bennett because all along my mind has been picturing him lying over me, taking my breasts in his mouth and nibbling on my nipples as his hard shaft penetrates me and begins stoking the fire in my belly.
“As I arrive at the stables he appears immediately and when the horse comes to a stop, he cups his hands for me to climb down out of the saddle. I rest my foot in his hands and as I descend my groin brushes against the bulge in his trousers. Before my feet can touch the ground he catches me on my downward slide and clasps my body tightly against his. I make no attempt to free myself. Instead, I wrap my legs around him and bear down until my sex connects heatedly with his erection and excitement quickens in my belly.
“He tenses his buttocks and moves a little so that his swollen cock presses into me, hard and direct. It is deliberate and unmistakably suggestive and I respond instantly, jamming my sex into his bulge as my body flushes with heat. I tighten my legs around him and we begin to grind against each other, frantically fucking one another through our clothes. Except that the heat welding our groins is so intense it feels as though we are wearing nothing at all.
“I can hear the turbulence in my blood as it whooshes past my ears. We know we are cut from the same cloth and uniquely capable of satisfying each other sexually. That is why we are instinctively attracted to one another, like animals who have scented each other from early on. We are enveloped in each other’s musk, our fused together so hot and tight we are helpless to draw away.”
He watched her face intently, aware of something new happening inside him at her frank admission and acceptance of her sexuality, a kind of happiness that the woman with whom he now knew he was irrevocably in love was his kind of woman—one who wasn’t coy about her sexuality, unafraid to admit she enjoyed and wanted sex for the sheer bliss and adventure of it.
“He finally finds the strength to pull away and sets me on my feet. His face is suffused, darkened with excitement. I do not want us to stop. I want more. I want to feel his thick, hard cock inside me, filling me to capacity. Like a creature in heat I rub myse
lf up against him and massage the bulge in his trousers invitingly. Instantly he palms my sex and begins to stroke me, touching my clitoris through my clothing so directly it is as though nothing stands between me and his caressing fingers. Lust courses through me and I press down hard on his hand so he might feel the moisture that has soaked through my panties to dampen my jodhpurs.
“All at once he rips apart the fastenings of my jodhpurs and thrusts his hand inside my panties. His big thick middle finger slips inside me, stroking in and out while his roughened palm moves back and forth, massaging my sex and rasping sweetly over my nub. My stomach tightens against the onslaught of my arousal, and I strain against his hand, feeling as though my body is being stripped inside. I have an orgasm, a powerful one that makes me scream as it ploughs through me. When it is over, he removes his hand from my sex and licks my fluids off his finger.”
At the reminder of her scent, how she tasted, Anthony’s jaw clenched convulsively. He released a soft breath as she continued with the fantasy.
“He picks me up and carries me to an empty stall laid with fresh sweet smelling hay and I know it is the bed he has prepared for us. He sets me down and I am suddenly insatiable. I fall to my knees, my hands reaching for the enormous bulge in his jeans and he chuckles deep in his throat.
“‘Easy, Miss Nicola,’ he says, ‘it’s all yours, whenever and wherever you want it, you know that. Let me put Sailor in his stall and I’ll be right back.’
“As he walks away I watch his buttocks, high and firm in his jeans, with unconcealed lust. He is back in seconds. He stands in front of me, his legs planted apart. His stomach muscles ripple as I unzip him and take his cock in my hand. It is pulsing strongly and a drop of liquid hangs at the tip. I bend my head and lick it off before taking him into my mouth. He moans and the sound excites me. It makes me feel powerful.
“He clasps my head between his palms, holding it still as he begins thrusting into my mouth. Pulling his jeans down I grasp his buttocks and urge him closer until his cock touches the back of my throat. It swells even more, until it is so huge I wonder how it fits in my mouth at all. I know he will climax soon and he begins to gasp, thrusting faster and faster. I suck harder and his thick rod shaft pulses as his warm emissions spurt out and fill my mouth.”
God! Anthony’s cock jerked convulsively as her soft voice stripped the veil off yet another of his deepest fantasies and the image of her luscious mouth encircling his pulsing, thrusting cock almost bent him double with the ache of wanting her to do it to him for real.
“I swallow. His semen tastes of nothing I have ever tasted before. There is such a large quantity it spills out of my mouth and dribbles down my chin. I tear open my shirt so that it will fall on my breast and it does, milky and warm. He thrusts and I swallow until he is completely spent.”
The utter sensuality of her voice, her words, in the surreal atmosphere of the room, was bewitching him like a siren song. Again, he experienced a strange envy of the man in her fantasy because she had made him seem almost real.
“We lie down in the hay together, recovering,” she continued. “He begins to stroke my breasts, spreading his ejaculate over them. Then he licks it off. The rasp of his tongue on my nipples, which are very tender, excites me greatly. I reach for him. His shafts is engorged and erect once more and I want to impale myself on it. He encourages me. He places his large hand over mine and works our joined hands up and down. His emissions flow over my hand and make it glide even more slickly over his engorged cock. I succumb to an overwhelming urge to suck him, and when I do so, his cock almost doubles its size. I imagine it will split me in two, and I want to feel it tearing me apart.
“I take all my clothes off because I want nothing to interfere with my enjoyment of him thrusting deep into me. He watches me and I can tell from the excitement in his face that he has fantasized about seeing me naked for a long time. He sits up and pushes me back down to a horizontal position. His eyes glitter as he begins to stroke my sex.
“‘I want to eat your pussy, Miss Nicola,’ he says, moving his fingers in and out of me. ‘Your nice, wet little pussy. I want to bury my face in it, put my tongue deep inside it to drink your juices, and eat you raw, inside out. I will eat you, any time, any place. Just let me know whenever you feel for it.’
“A thrill races through me because I want it. I want to feel Bennett’s tongue and teeth, his whole mouth, devouring my sex.
“‘Now! Now! Now is good!” I gasp out the words and raise one knee.
“‘Sit on my face, Miss Nicola,’ he orders urgently. ‘Or on my cock, whatever you want. Let me give you everything.’
“He is so excited his big stiff cock is perpendicular to his body and I am eager to feel it tearing its way into me. I crouch over him, spread my knees, and lower myself slowly onto it. I cry out as it penetrates slowly and surely to the very center of my belly. He swivels his hips and the root of him grazes my clit with rapid strokes that make my spine tingle. I press down on him shuddering, and we climax almost simultaneously. My body is still vibrating when he lifts me off his powerful shaft and sets me down on his face. His tongue ravages me to another orgasm so powerful I think I will surely die.”
Desire attacked Anthony’s groin with such ferocity he groaned.
“But he is not finished. He licks me gently as my climax subsides, and the feel of his tongue there makes me long for the taste of him. I turn around to lie over him with my knees bent at his sides so that my bottom and my sex are his for the taking. His cock is rampant, prodding my face, begging to be taken into my mouth. As I sweep my tongue along its vibrant length, Bennett’s mouth recaptures my sex, and we begin to feast on each other. The dual stimulation of our mutual pleasuring is beyond imagination and we climax together in one long seemingly unending shudder.”
She felt Anthony’s hands at her waist, tugging down the harem pants.
He had just about reached the limit of his endurance. He had to touch her, bury his face in her, absorb her scent. His fucking head was going ballistic from the overload of images crowding into it.
“Go on with the story,” he told her, his voice smothered. “I want to touch you while I listen to you.”
She stretched out her upraised leg and leaning back on her elbows, lifted her buttocks as he pulled the harem pants down to her knees. He untied her top and, as her breasts sprang free, sucked on one nipple. It was unutterably sensitive, and her hand came down hard in his hair. Her body bucked as his fingers caressed her sex, played between her folds and tantalized her nub. It was a dual assault on her senses that forced her breath out of her mouth in little puffs.
“Go on with the fantasy while I touch you,” he urged.
“He walks me back to the house,” she continued, her words coming out now in little pants as Anthony eased himself lower to tongue fuck her. “We are comfortable with each other. We know what we are to each other, a reliable source of sexual satisfaction. But then he asks me whether I will ride again the following day, and I suddenly become perverse. I refuse to have my groom questioning me about my agenda. I tell him I ride when I have a mind to. I know he does not like my answer. His eyes gleam and he backs me against the nearest tree, his hand finds my breast and begins to roll my still sensitive nipple between his forefinger and thumb.”
“Ah, that feels nice,” she sighed, writhing with ecstasy as Anthony probed her sex with his tongue.
“Finish the fantasy,” he murmured.
“I am excited and wish to feel him inside me again,” she continued, her voice becoming increasingly thready. “It is as though he reads my mind. He kneels in front of me and pulls down my jodhpurs. He forces my legs apart and begins to lick me. My jodhpurs are tight. They prevent my legs from opening wide, so he must force his tongue inside my folds. He flicks my bud with it over and over, driving me to the brink of ecstasy. But just before I reach orgasm, he stops, pulls up my jodhpurs, and refastens them. I beg him not to stop, but he holds my hands and tells me that is his
way of making sure I return the following day for more.
“‘Don’t forget what I told you, Miss Nicola,’ he says. ‘I know how to give you what you want. Whenever you want I will eat your sweet little pussy for you real good. And after you come I’ll put my big, hard cock inside you and’ do you until you come again, over and over. Any time you feel for that, just come and find me.’
“I scream at him as he disappears into the night, but he does not come back. I am so frustrated. Tears sting my eyes as I continue up to the house.”
She stopped speaking, her words swallowed up in inarticulate murmurs of pleasure as Anthony’s tongue possessed her sex. The harem pants kept her knees close together as he took her succulent folds into his mouth. It was like devouring the fat, round wedge of ripe mango that his mother used to slice off for him, biting into the sweet fruit, and licking away the nectar trickling down his hand. Responding to a primitive urge to eat her up in the same way, he feasted on her , greedily filling his mouth with her moist tender flesh.
“Is that the end of the fantasy?” he asked presently.
“It is, but I don’t like the ending.”
In a moment of blinding clarity it came to him that if he wanted her to be his woman, he had to be the man in her fantasies, helping her let her imagination soar to the heights and depths of her sexuality. The imaginary men in her fantasies were just that, imaginary. What she needed was her own flesh-and-blood man to play the roles of her fantasy men, to become whatever man she needed him to be, delivering a real-life sizzling ending to every one of her fantasies and taking her to her sexual nirvana. More important, he wouldn’t vanish like smoke but would still be around in the morning. He resolved then and there to be that man for her. She was everything he wanted. If he didn’t want to lose her, and he didn’t, he would be everything she wanted, starting now.