Erotic Flights of Fantasy II

by Melanie Thompson

  He lifted her chin with one finger. Her green eyes sparkled like gems in the firelight. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

  She reached up and touched his cheek. “And you are a black man. I’ve never liked black people. They’ve always scared me. You’re so different.”

  “We could be the only two humans left on the planet. Maybe God got us together to make a new race…no white folks and no black folks, just survivors.”

  * * * *

  Jewel felt a rising rush of desire coursing through her body. The feel of his big body pressed against hers was incredibly good. She had never been promiscuous. In college she’d had a couple of flings, but mostly she’d been absorbed in her studies. On weekends and holidays, she went home to spend time with her father.

  She took his hand in hers and looked at the contrast, her white hand in his dark-brown one. He twined his fingers with hers which only accentuated the difference. When she looked up at his face, she saw warmth and desire in his eyes. Did she want him?

  “Can I kiss you?” His voice was soft and shaky.

  He’d actually asked. Any other man would have taken her by now. His hesitancy and his manners disarmed her. She reached around the back of his head and pulled his face to hers. When their lips touched, she closed her eyes. He had the softest mouth. His lips were tender and his kiss light. He groaned and looked away.

  “Woman, you lit a fire in me. Don’t be playin’.”

  She ran fingers over his mouth. He grabbed them and kissed the tips.

  “I’m not playing.”

  He snatched her into his arms. The feel of his power as he scooped her up and laid her on her bedroll excited her even more. He fumbled with the buttons of her faded khaki shirt and she helped him. Under it, she wore a sports bra. When that was off and her breasts revealed, he sucked in his breath so sharply she heard it.

  “Damn, but you got a fine pair of tits.” He bent his head and kissed them softly. All his movements were slow and deliberate. It was as though he was afraid of scaring her away.

  When he lifted himself off the pallet to remove his clothes, she shrugged off her jeans. She didn’t have on panties. Hers had worn out a year ago.

  When she lay back down, she shivered with cold and nerves. What the hell was she doing? Then she looked up and saw Adam naked. His body glistened in the light of the campfire, each muscle sharply defined. His stomach was ridged with muscle. He had scars on his chest and thigh. The sight of his erection made her gasp. He was huge.

  He fell to the sleeping bag beside her and threw one dark leg over her white one. “You have freckles on your chest.”

  She touched them. “I know. It’s the curse of being a redhead.”

  “I love them.”

  He kissed her deeply. The touch of his tongue sent chills of desire to her sex organs. She moaned and opened and closed her legs. He ran strong callused hands all over her body. “I just can’t believe you’re really here. I keep thinkin’ this is a dream.”

  He lightly touched her mound and she eagerly opened her legs. He groaned as he slid one finger inside her. “Baby, you’re so wet.”

  She pulled his head close and whispered. “I haven’t had sex for five years.”

  He chuckled as he kissed her. Their tongues danced as he positioned himself over her, spreading her legs with his thighs. When he penetrated her, he did it slowly, gently chafing her opening with the tip of his rock-hard penis.

  The additional stimulation sent her crazy with desire. She wrapped her legs around his waist, grabbed his tight ass with her hands and pulled him deep inside her.

  “You’re hot as a firecracker, sugar. You keep on that way and I won’t last two minutes.”

  “Oh god, I can’t wait any more. Fuck me.”

  Groaning, he drove into her, his huge dick stretching her opening to its limit. He stopped with his penis completely filling her and took a deep breath. “This is too good to hurry.”

  She clutched his butt and squeezed. “I said fuck me.”

  He plunged in and out, grinding into her. She felt her orgasm rising as she panted and writhed beneath his thrusts. He was so powerful, his muscles so hard, his dick so big, it was like sex out of her best fantasy.

  Suddenly, he stopped, wrapped his arms around her and rolled onto his back. His eyes were narrowed with lust, his breathing erratic. “You fuck me now.”

  Needing completion, she squatted over him, her powerful legs driving herself up and down as he pinched her rose-colored nipples. When she looked down at him, his teeth were clenched and his eyes closed. Shrieking, her sex exploded. He grabbed her ass and lifted her one last time, and then she felt him erupt deep inside her.

  She slumped on his chest and he cradled her in his arms. They rolled over holding each other.

  “I can’t believe we had sex. I didn’t like you the minute I saw you. Black men terrify me.”

  “Hey, little white girl. We’re just men, like you’re just a woman. Color isn’t important any more and may never be again. All we got is each other.”

  He pulled her close and she buried her face in his chest. They hadn’t used protection. Considering the strength of her desire, she could have been ovulating. What if they just made a baby?

  She smiled. The thought was oddly comforting. Being in his arms was comforting. They were very different, but they were both strong survivors.

  “Will you come with me into the woods? We can be safe there. I know I can take care of us in the wilderness.”

  He held her tight against his body and buried his face in her hair. “You know I will. I ain’t never gonna let you out of my sight…ever. You’re the first woman I’ve seen in over three years and you’re a gem I plan to keep.”

  She laughed. “I’m not gem, I’m Jewel.”

  Forever Kyrie

  “Come on Chimi, you can make it.” Kyrie crooned to her donkey as they made their way up the narrow ledge.

  Earth and pebbles cascaded like a waterfall from the overhanging cliff above and dropped onto her faded brown-leather cowboy hat.

  Chimi’s hoof slipped on the smooth rock causing them to almost topple one hundred feet to their death. With her heart still in her throat she patted Chimi on the rump for reassurance. “Come on boy we haven’t come this far just to fall off a cliff.”

  As Chimi carried her up the precarious path, Kyrie closed her golden eyes and inhaled the smell of damp earth mixed with sweaty donkey.

  Rounding the last crest they reached the top of the cliff. She dismounted and tied Chimi’s reins around an old sequoia stump. She found the canteen in her saddle bags, unscrewed the cap and poured some into her hands. The donkey drank greedily as she gently stroked the small white star on his forehead.

  When Chimi was finished, Kyrie returned the canteen and grabbed her trusty Winchester and some small fine-grain leather bags to put her treasures in. She shaded her eyes and scanned the area looking for Indian paint brush plants and creosote bush. The Miller’s little boy had come down with consumption and both were necessary for his treatment.

  Kyrie was the only healer and mid-wife in Shiprock, New Mexico. Her fascination with herbs and how to use plants for healing started when she was six years old. The family cat Albert was bitten by a snake and their Navaho housekeeper Moapa had taught her how to use herbs to nurse him back to health.

  Finally, she spotted the tell-tale small leaves and yellow flowers of a creosote bush. One lonely plant grew at the edge of a rock outcropping on the cliff they had just ascended.

  “Why is nothing ever easy?”

  She pulled a hankie out of the pocket of her light-blue poplin skirt and mopped her brow.

  “God, it must be a hundred degrees out today,” she mumbled to Chimi, stepped over to the ledge and placed the Winchester on a large red rock with her two bags. She dropped to her knees and held onto the boulder for leverage while extending her right arm as far as it would go. The bush was still about a foot out of her reach.


  She crawled slowly onto the ledge. Pebbles cascaded like rain into the gorge below. Her heart hammered with fright as she fought the urge to look down while she scooted forward. When she stretched her right arm and her finger she could just touch a leaf of the plant. She inched forward scraping her knees on the sharp rocks. Her hand trembled as she grasped the plant and pulled off a handful of leaves.

  Grinning, she crawled backwards clutching her precious cargo. Once a safe distance from the cliff, Kyrie held the plant to her nose, closed her eyes and deeply inhaled the musky scent of the creosote plant. Her eyes flew open; that wasn’t just creosote she smelled, something was burning.

  A noise floated across the desert. She sprinted to the rock, grabbed the Winchester, dropped behind the rock and peered into the gorge below trying to spot the source of the sound and smoke.

  A gentle humming grew into loud chugging and rattling noises. She saw billowy puffs of white smoke, as if a neat row of dandelions rose in the distance beyond a bend in the small canyon.

  “What the hell can that be? It sounds like a train, but there aren’t any tracks here.” A brilliant flash almost blinded her when the sun reflected off something metal rounding the corner.

  Kyrie stared in awe.

  A man wearing a Bollinger hat and large goggles sat on a small, bronze-metal seat maneuvering the machine with four long levers. He was constantly in motion, feet pumping two silver pedals up and down, long arms pushing and pulling the levers in a synchronized pattern. He seemed almost…dancing. It was mesmerizing. The strange machine was shaped like a stage coach made out of steal inlaid with bronze and copper. Two large round stacks on top puffed out ever expanding balls of white smoke. On the back of the horse-less carriage, a collection of copper tanks were secured with metal tubing coiling out of the top to disappear into the interior. The speed of the contraption was another marvel. It seemed to easily move forward faster than Chimi could gallop!

  She raced to Chimi, tripping twice in her eagerness, flipped open her bags and grabbed her brass twin telescopes; a gift from her granddad a long time ago. Then she dashed back to the ledge and slid on her stomach slapping the scopes to her eyes. She pushed the large round button on the side and they made a loud clang as the gears moved them into automatic focus.

  She could see writing engraved on the door of the carriage that said Prescott Inventor Extraordinaire. When she trained the binoculars on the driver, her hands started to shake and she nearly dropped them. The man had black hair and a square jaw.

  As recognition dawned, her stomach threatened to erupt from her throat. It couldn’t be? Ryder Prescott, the only man Kyrie had ever loved was back.

  She dropped the binoculars, sat against a rock, gulped down huge breaths of air and struggled to calm her racing heart. When she took off her old leather hat her chestnut curls floated around her face. Kyrie stared into the turquoise-blue of the New Mexico sky and thought back to the last day she’d seen Ryder.

  * * * *

  Being the daughter of the local brothel and saloon owner isolated Kyrie. All the children made fun of her or were afraid of the power her father had in town. The only person who didn’t seem to mind was her neighbor’s son, Ryder. He was eight years her senior, but that didn’t matter. Every day he would come over and help her patch up her dolls or push her on the swing that hung from her mother’s prized oak tree.

  She’d been sitting under the old oak playing doctor with her dolls when he strolled through her front gate. Both of his hands were tucked in the pockets of his dark-brown trousers. He walked straight to her, knelt and took both of her hands in his.

  “Kyrie, I’ve got to say goodbye. The train will be here in an hour to take me to Virginia.”

  She entwined Ryder’s fingers through her own and gazed up at him. Tears spilled out of her eyes and made streams down her freckled cheeks.

  “When are you coming back? I want to come with you.” She whispered so softly Ryder had to lean close to hear.

  He pulled her into his warm embrace and buried his face in her curls. “As soon as I’m done with college, Sunshine, I’ll come save you from this town. Now give me a kiss on the cheek and dry your eyes.

  She’d jumped up and wrapped her arms around his head and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t forget, Ryder, you have to come back. We still have to fix the tear in Molly’s leg.”

  He gulped, clearly holding back his own tears and made a cross over his heart.

  “I promise Kyrie. While I’m gone you will forever be in my heart, until I return.”

  Chimi nudged Kyrie in the head, breaking the spell. “How the heck did you get loose? You’re the craftiest little donkey.” She smiled and patted him on the neck as she packed up her gear and climbed on Chimi, nudging him in the side to get him moving.

  “Come on buddy we have a man to catch. I’ve waited fifteen years for him to come back. Time’s a wasting.”

  They hurried to town as fast as that little burro could move.

  As Kyrie approached Shiprock she noticed a crowd had gathered around her father’s saloon, Sinners & Saints. The strange carriage Ryder had been driving was in front and many of the town’s residents had gathered to point and talk about Ryder’s crazy invention.

  She dug her heels into Chimi’s side and hurried around the building to the rear entrance of the brothel, dismounted and tied the donkey to the hitching post next to a fat, chestnut quarter horse. The two touched noses and nickered.

  She flew up the stairs to the second floor entrance and knocked three times in rapid succession. The door swung open and Kyrie sailed through into a room glowing red. The walls were draped in lavish red velvet. Gilded-gold framed paintings of people engaging in various acts of sex hung everywhere. The overpowering smell of musky sweat mixed with rose water assaulted her nose.

  Two chaise lounge chairs sat against the wall back to back. A small voluptuous blonde was draped over one dressed in nothing but thigh-high black stockings and a tightly cinched emerald-green corset. The little woman sat up and her full lips turned up in a smile.

  “Kyrie, you’re finally back; and none too soon. Did you see that strange contraption out front? I heard talk it’s full of sex machines.”

  She sat down next to the whore and hugged her.

  “Maggie, it’s him; Ryder has come back. Please help me dress like a saloon girl so I can go downstairs and see what he’s like. Please, please.”

  When Maggie first arrived at Sinners & Saints, she became very ill and Kyrie took care of her with medicines and herbs, until she was well. They both had very lonely childhoods, and even though they are from two different backgrounds, their friendship blossomed.

  Maggie sprang up from the chaise with her blond curls bouncing. For the first time Kyrie noticed that her friend had no knickers on and the golden hair on her mound had been coiffed in three perfect curls.

  Her cheeks flushed and warmth erupted in her loins at the sight of her friend’s private area. Her gaze slowly traveled up Maggie’s tiny corseted waist to large breasts spilling out to expose both dusky-rose nipples.

  Maggie’s pouting lips pulled up in a half smile, her sapphire-blue eyes glowed with fire as she reached up and cupped both of her pale globes and gently caressed the nipples.

  “Kyrie, are you sure you don’t want to stay here and play with me? You sure look like you want to.”

  With all the willpower she had, Kyrie shook her head no.

  “Not today Maggs, you know how much I’ve always wanted him. Now stop distracting me and help find me something to wear downstairs. I’m going to need my hair done and some rouge and powder.”

  “Okay, stay here and I’ll go pick out some clothes and grab my stuff.” Maggie spun on her heels and dramatically swung her hips from side to side as she sashayed her way into the dark hall.

  She returned a short time later carrying an armload of dresses and a pink hat box.

  “Now, we got to hurry this up cause the night crowd of men should start coming so
on and if your dad finds out you were here, I’ll be on the streets.”

  Maggie did quick work on Kyrie, picking out a black satin evening dress that emphasized her small waist and pert bosom. When she was done with the hair and makeup Maggie handed Kyrie a large brass mirror.

  Kyrie gasped in astonishment. She looked beautiful…and loose, very loose, like one of the girls. Her auburn curls were piled on her head with a few tendrils left loose to frame her heart-shaped face. Her full lips were tinted cherry-red and the subtle eye makeup made her light eyes glow as if lit from behind.

  With a new confidence, Kyrie turned to her friend and held both of her hands.

  “Maggie, you’re the best. I never looked like this before. I don’t think even my dad would recognize me.”

  Maggie took the mirror back and brushed her cheeks with more red color and dabbed some paint on her lips. “Well, thank goodness he’s out of town with Madame Renee so he can’t find out. I kinda like it here at Sinners and he’d have my hide for sure.”

  Maggie winked. “If you need a room for anything use two-o-two. That one’s been empty since Carla ran off with the old miner.”

  Having changed her own clothes, Maggie was ready for the night in a sky-blue, low-cut gown that had a slit up to the top of her thigh. Every time she moved you could see her fish-net stockings.

  “Well my girl, let’s go get your man. You follow me down the stairs and stay close. I’ll tell Frank the bartender your dad wanted you to keep an eye on the place. That should keep him out of our hair.”

  When Maggie opened the door, the smell of cigar smoke and stale beer rushed in. The sounds of men and women laughing with the gentle undertone of the piano as it played a soft melody in the background tinkled in her ears.

  She grasped the worn-wood of the banister and followed Maggie down the stairs to the first landing where she stopped to scan the saloon for Ryder. She spotted him at a poker table near the piano in a remote corner of the bar. Angie, a copper-haired whore, was draped over his right side shoving her enormous tits in his face. Anger rushed straight to Kyrie’s head. How dare she!