by Viva Jones
But it was her mouth that really got him. It was full and generous. What would it be like to have those lips latch on to his cock? To feel that heavy swathe of honey-colour hair caress his body as he lay, helpless? She was his older woman fantasy in the flesh, sitting in the car behind him, amid motorway mayhem.
Grant wore no tie but his fingers jiggled the top button of his open-neck shirt as he stooped to answer her query, ignoring the amusement in her eyes. ‘Nothing too heavy. Lorry with a blown tyre – no casualties. Some guy talked to his PA. She’s logged onto the local travel news. We should be moving soon.’
Roxanne pouted. ‘Thanks. I thought my morning was going a tad too well. Is your schedule tight?’
He considered. ‘Not really. I’m heading for one of our branch offices. They’ll probably be relieved if I don’t turn up early.’ His gaze stripped her.
He’s got bedroom eyes, she thought. And good skin – he probably used a moisturiser. She enjoyed the way his confidence seemed to crumble when speaking to her. Roxanne’s empowerment was like a tequila hit. For a moment she wondered what he’d look like with a little twilight stubble smudging that cute jaw.
‘I have to give a talk to some graduates,’ she said. ‘They’ll wait for me.’ The remark lacked arrogance.
He nodded, straightening up to return to his vehicle. Roxanne lowered her gaze. He was jacketless. His lilac shirt, at this still early hour, was crisp and neatly tucked inside his trouser waistband. Roxanne could spot couture at 20 paces. This guy was doing very nicely, thank you. And judging by her close-up of his hard on, he seemed pretty pleased to see her.
‘Well, good luck,’ he said.
‘And to you.’
He nodded and walked away. Roxanne watched him settle in the driving seat. He glanced in his rear view mirror and met her eyes. Twenty years ago she’d have looked away in embarrassment. Today she held his gaze. He smiled. She licked her lips. He was the first to look elsewhere.
Roxanne replaced her shades. Next time he glanced in that mirror he’d be unable to tell if she had him in her sights or not. She wasn’t surprised when she brushed her right breast and felt the hard nub of her nipple.
After frustrating minutes in low gear, she saw the Bentley indicate and pull into the outer lane, slotting into the gap ahead of a lumbering truck. This young guy’s reactions were top dollar. She decided to stay where she was and sure enough, not too many metres along; she glided to a halt abreast of him. He glanced across and nodded. She responded by shrugging as if to say what a pain all this was.
His lips moved. Roxanne tilted her head to one side and mouthed What? He raised his hand and mimed drinking from a cup. Cheeky, she thought. But very flattering, given he was top totty. They were approaching her turn off. She’d already called the seminar’s organiser and been assured the schedule could be rearranged, allowing her to speak immediately after lunch. The wasted hours were a pain but if she called at the services she could use the rest room then have a flirty cup of coffee with the guy before completing her journey.
The inside lane was rolling. Roxanne indicated left and waited to be let in. After this manoeuvre, she glanced to her right. The Bentley occupied her former spot and its driver was smiling at her. She pretended to ignore him. But this virtual foreplay was exciting. Her imagination was up to its usual tricks. As soon as she could, Roxanne waved at the Bentley driver, allowing him to pull over so he was directly in front of her.
Her heart was bumping too fast for a woman used to making swift decisions on a factory floor or in a corporate boardroom. This was just two strangers, united by an irritating incident, each requiring a break before continuing their journey. Dozens of other motorists would be doing the same. Even in the coffee shop she’d still be in the driving seat.
At the services Roxanne deliberately drove by as the Mercedes glided into a parking space. She found a spot close to the forecourt and was out of her car and heading for the wash room without a backward glance. When she emerged, Bentley Boy was waiting. He was looking at her legs. Then he met her gaze. Her stomach lurched, forcing her to take a deep breath.
He held his hand out as she approached. ‘Grant Caldwell. May I buy you a cup of coffee?’
She shook his hand. It was warm, dry and smooth. The handshake was just right: not too hard but definitely not limp. ‘Roxanne Palmer,’ she said. ‘A regular Americano with a dash would be great.’
He gestured to the tables alongside the windows. She walked across, knowing his eyes followed her. She was feeling increasingly horny. Driving fast was a turn-on anyway. A bit of highway competition added a frisson. She checked her watch. Still plenty of time. There was a motel at this complex. Surely Grant Caldwell wasn’t hoping ...? Surely she wasn’t ...?
She was gazing through the window when he brought their drinks. ‘Thank you very much,’ she said.
‘My pleasure. Two travellers in time and space, etcetera.’ He offered sugar. She refused.
‘Cool car. Do you enjoy it?’
The words hung. ‘Immensely,’ she said. ‘I like the quick response. And staying power.’
She watched his eyes watching her lips. He picked up a sugar sachet and ripped it open, pausing before letting it surge into his cup. He still didn’t look away. Her slow-burning arousal was difficult to contain. She unbuttoned her jacket and leaned forward, displaying her cleavage. She liked the way his eyes darkened. She watched him lick his lips, knowing he could see her stiff nipples. It was obvious what was on both their minds.
‘I don’t play games, Grant. I adore younger men, as long as they’re up for the challenge. Do you fall into that category? Or did you just fancy a little ride in my Mercedes?’
He lifted his coffee to his lips and took a sip. When the cup was back on the table, he leaned forward too. ‘I can handle a challenge. Believe me. I won’t disappoint you, Roxanne.’
Wow. She sat back again, the whisper of a smile on her lips as she felt the telltale jungle drum between her thighs. ‘I’m taking this route home later,’ she said.
‘If I book a room, will you meet me? Shall we say six p.m.?’
She nodded, her fingers touching the single teardrop pearl hanging from the chain round her throat. She imagined a bead of moisture seeping from the head of Grant’s erect cock as he pulled on a ribbed sheath. She was already damp. How many hours must she wait until she got her hands on this beautiful hunk? From a distance she’d admired. Up close he was glorious. And delightfully urbane.
They exchanged phone numbers. He reached across and covered her hand with his own. ‘If it’s any consolation, I’m going to have trouble walking back to the car.’
Electricity sparked between them. Roxanne’s right hand remained still until he released it. She raised her cup with trembling fingers. These were the same fingers that grasped the phone to order product modification or gripped a gold pen to sign contracts. She bit her lip to stop herself blurting out her need for him.
He rose. That bulge was the clincher. ‘We could have an aperitif?’ she said.
Grant swallowed. ‘Should I get a room now?’
‘It’ll take too long,’ she said.
She kept up with his long stride as he led her towards the petrol station. She saw the Out of Order sign on the carwash. He guided her round the back, pulling her into a corner shielded by giant bristles. She couldn’t believe she’d consented to a knee trembler. But her arousal drove her. All she cared about was being fucked by him.
He put his arm behind her neck and bent to kiss her. She felt his lips warm on hers, felt his tongue teasing hers. Felt his finger stealing across her stocking top, finding its way inside her panties, slipping inside.
Roxanne shuddered with pleasure. This was such a good sign. But she reached for his trouser zip, desperate to grab his cock.
‘Hey, let me get sorted!’
She heard him rip the pack open. Kept her eyes closed as her skirt rode up. She was so wet that he had no problem entering her. The smell of deterg
ent filled her nostrils – an unbelievable turn-on. Her back against a concrete pillar, Roxanne gasped to a climax that left her teetering in her stilettos. They clung together, getting their breath back.
‘I wanted to make sure you’d turn up later,’ he said.
All afternoon Roxanne fought to concentrate. Her talk went well. She’d been fazed to find a Grant Caldwell lookalike in the audience; younger of course but tasty. With her senses tuned to High Doh, she couldn’t look at him. When he turned out to be one of the few she’d selected for interview, she regained her composure. He wasn’t the successful applicant.
She pulled into the motel parking area shortly after six. Since those stolen minutes earlier that day she’d been hungry for more. Soon Grant was sliding his big motor into the space next but one to hers. She liked that he wasn’t crowding her.
He locked his car and strolled over. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘How about you check yourself in? I, er, booked two rooms. I want to take you to dinner somewhere better than the coffee shop. We can take time to freshen up first. Is that OK with you?’
He was courting her? She’d been counting down the hours, anticipating his firm, young body and powerful thrusts. Now, over drinks and dinner in an intimate situation where his eyes could travel over her curves, would he still like what he saw? Her breasts were rounded and pert; her skin glowing from her own body butters and lotions. She always packed an overnight bag. She always included a little black dress, fresh underwear and toiletries.
‘That sounds tempting.’
‘I’ll phone ahead for a table.’
Roxanne reached for her holdall then locked her car. Grant didn’t fuss her, didn’t insist on helping her. She liked his style. She left him making his phone call, unaware he needed to make a second one, cancelling his previous engagement.
‘That was a delicious meal. Thank you.’
‘My pleasure. Shall we make a move?’ He caught the waiter’s eye.
As they left the restaurant she was conscious of Grant’s nearness. His hand brushed her thigh, sending her backbone into meltdown. She imagined he too had been anticipating throughout the day. Wondering what the night would bring.
He zapped the Bentley’s key-lock. Turning, he cupped her chin with one hand, touched his mouth to hers – soft as a butterfly – then harder, making her tingle all the way to her core. She swayed just enough for him to pull her to him. He smelled of clean linen. She groaned as she felt his erection surge.
‘Not long now, baby,’ he whispered. ‘You’re my dream come true. All today, I’ve tormented myself – driven myself crazy – imagining what it’ll be like making love to you ... horizontal.’
Over dinner he’d confessed his youthful crush on Marcia Morton. He’d teased Roxanne about being too young to fulfil his older woman fantasy. But she knew better than that. He was probably not much older than her son. But who cared?
Once inside her room, Grant locked the door. He held out his arms. ‘Come on, Boss Lady. Tell me what really turns you on.’
She tossed back her hair. Her breathing was ragged. She moved closer. ‘I want to feel you touch me. Slip your fingers inside me. Pull my panties down so I can step out of them and spread my legs for you.’ Her eyelids fluttered. ‘I like to be finger-fucked. Like to get really sticky ... like this morning.’ Her tongue was loosened by wine.
His eyes were glazed by desire. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I’ve been turned on ever since I realised you wanted me to fuck you. But you can wait a little longer before I fill your pussy again.’
She gasped as he cupped her bum cheeks with his hands. Then she felt him caress the skin above her stocking tops under her short skirt.
‘You have fabulous breasts,’ he said. ‘I’m going to suck your nipples ’til you beg for mercy. And then I’ll lick you and suck you even harder. And faster. How many times can you come before I wear you out, Boss Lady?’
‘I shan’t bother counting,’ she whispered.
He tugged at her briefs. She stepped out of the lacy black wisp. Two of his fingers found her clit and began rubbing, slowly and deliberately. Roxanne rammed her breasts against him.
‘In a minute, baby,’ he said. ‘That’s how long it’ll take for me to make you come.’
She wanted to protest but she was steam heat down there. And as his rhythm increased, she knew he was right. She was fast-tracking towards climax. She wanted his tongue between her legs. But that would come – as she was coming now.
The floor was strewn with clothing and they were locked in each other’s arms when they sank onto the bed. Her imagination had drip-fed her arousal throughout the day. Now, on the strength of that first urgent fuck, she wondered if tonight would prove as electrifying.
The drapes were drawn. An open window let in the evening breeze but there was no need to shiver as Roxanne did when Grant touched her nipples. True to his word, he began licking them with a sinuous tongue flick that aroused and tormented her. When he sucked on one, she whimpered, desperate for him to move to the other. When he emerged for air, she put cool hands where she’d been longing to.
Grant groaned. ‘You’re doing exactly what I’ve been picturing. But lord knows how long I’ll last.’
She moved into a kneeling position. Bent over him and took him inside her eager wet mouth, rolling her tongue round his smooth, rock-hard cock.
‘Are you sure about this?’ He was panting.
She chuckled and he groaned again. Lay there like a star fish, helpless under her hands. Her rhythm was regular, quickening in time with his arousal. Soon he was moving under her. When he came she looked down at her hands cradling his cock. He wove his fingers through her hair, drawing her head forward till their mouths met. His kiss was deep, tender and meaningful. Roxanne was stunned by its emotion.
He disappeared into the bathroom while she found tissues. He was young. He was a testosterone-fuelled guy who needed sex and lots of it. She’d probably have to sing for her supper. And give encores.
When Grant came back to bed she wasn’t surprised to see him already semi-aroused. But she wasn’t expecting what he did next. He kissed her lightly on the lips then reached for the lube lying on the bedside table.
‘Spread your legs,’ he whispered.
She half-expected a brief massage before he plunged. But his mouth moved to her cunt. His tongue probed inside her. It was a very talented tongue. Soon she was writhing. Begging. Telling him she wanted to come. She must come. And quickly. Wasn’t she the one calling the shots?
‘How much do you want it?’
‘More than you’ll ever know. Oh my god that is so, so good ... oh, please, please, make me come.’ She shuddered. ‘Please, Grant. Fuck me.’
He didn’t reply. He was too busy. And Roxanne’s sweet tugs of arousal engulfed her, pushing her towards a vortex of pleasure that left her trembling. Almost weeping.
Grant cradled her in his arms. She hadn’t experienced such passion, such raw uninhibited lovemaking mixed with such concern for her pleasure, for many years. She’d abandoned herself totally to this young man. It was almost as if she’d come to him a virgin.
But his erection demanded attention. She wanted him inside her but he made her wait while his deft hands pulled on a rubber. Then he was smoothing again – this time smoothing lube on her pussy lips before straddling her. She guided him inside. The cock that plunged briefly into her that morning was hers to savour now. At first he moved slowly. So slowly that she longed for him to speed up. Then she relaxed, aware she was in the hands of a connoisseur. She forced herself to breathe deeply. Her hips synchronised with his deep, deliberate thrusts. She hardly noticed him grab a pillow until he eased it beneath her bottom. With her hips raised, he speeded up his movements. Now Grant’s impressive shaft tweaked her clitoris each time it plunged inside her hungry, wet core.
This time, she knew, they would come together. She told him so. Crying out to him; letting him know how thick and hard he felt inside her cunt. Each time he reached her centre,
she squeezed herself round him, greedy to keep him there. The sensation told her how close they were to freefall.
She knew he was climbing with her. His thrusts were short, swift and forceful. Her breath came in gasps. His cock rammed into her again and again till she hovered on the edge. Just as she felt herself falling, he called her name, his voice desperate like that of a drowning man.
Her hands gripped his firm buns as she shuddered beneath him, wrapped in zigzagging, scorching pleasure. Afterwards they remained, limbs entwined. Two virtual strangers in an anonymous hotel, realising they’d found something very special.
When Roxanne woke at five next morning, she was alone. An empty feeling pierced her. He couldn’t have wanted to hang around, even though it was Saturday. She’d found the energy to remove her makeup once sure he was sound asleep. But she’d hoped to wake early enough to use her corpse-reviving cosmetics before he opened his eyes. In the half-light she clicked on the table lamp. He’d left a note.
Early start for me, Beautiful Boss Lady. I want you again. And again. And soon. If you want me too, text me ...
She could still taste him. She closed her eyes, leaned back and ran her hands across her breasts. The memory of his lovemaking was enough to make her wild for him again. She had to touch herself. She was incapable of stopping once she began stroking and teasing. Where did he live? Where would they meet? Would it be that night? This was crazy. She brought herself to orgasm and rolled onto her tummy, knowing she’d meet him wherever and whenever he suggested.
She reached for her phone. She texted YES then set off for the bathroom, intending to shower. As Roxanne stepped inside the cubicle she heard her phone bleep. She rushed back like a smitten teenager, desperate to read his message.
There were just five words. Open the door, Boss Lady.
Lust on the Lot
by Thomma Finland
Damn! Boy had it goin’ on! As soon as he turned the corner, walking with a confident swagger that bordered on cocky, my pussy was soaked. Suddenly, being on the studio lot at two a.m. wasn’t looking so bad. He perked me up faster than the strongest cup of coffee.