by Noel Amos
'Oh, Percy, yesss!' she cried, the sound rushing out on a hiss of breath as her arse-hole yielded and the elastic circlet of flesh swallowed his knob. Percy savoured the sensation. At last he was back in the driving seat. As his wife pushed the generous velvet moons of her bottom back into his belly, he thrust his penis all the way home.
Chapter 48
Lucian arrived home from Oxford in the early evening. He could have stayed on at Adele's wedding reception but, after his conversation with Karen, he hadn't the heart for it.
'I'm sorry, Lucian,' she'd said. 'I don't want to write another book.'
'But, Karen, you're mad. You've won the Baxendale, The Novelist's Wife is top of the bestseller list and we're offering you an incredible amount of money. You've single-handedly pushed back the frontiers of erotic literature. This is your moment - seize it!'
She laughed, a musical tinkle. Her black eyes twinkled as she shook her head. 'You're not going to talk me into it, you know. I've resisted Marilyn and I'm not going to cave in to you.'
'Oh hell.' Lucian's shoulders slumped as he accepted defeat. He swigged from the glass of champagne in his hand without tasting it. 'Just tell me why, Karen.'
In the marquee around them bright young things chortled and flirted and middle-aged family members guffawed in groups. Lucian heard only the soft lilt of Karen's voice as she took his arm and spoke into his ear.
'I've promised Monty.'
'What do you mean?'
'I thought he was going to die. I thought writing the book and winning the prize had given him a heart attack.'
'But he's OK, isn't he?'
'Yes. It was only shock. But it made me realise I had done a dreadful thing.'
'Come on, Karen. It's a bit late for remorse. Besides, he deserved it - that's what you said.'
'Maybe. The point is, Lucian, when he was in hospital we talked. We realised we had both made a mess of our marriage. And came to an arrangement.'
'You give up writing. It's a bit one-sided, isn't it?'
'No. We're going to have children. At least, we're going to try. And if we can't have them, we'll adopt. I'm giving up books for babies.'
'For God's sake, Karen, what kind of message does that send to women?'
'I don't want to send any messages,' she replied. 'I've got the rest of my life to write books, I haven't got long to have babies.'
There was nothing to say to that. As Karen was claimed by a knot of admirers eager to speak to the notorious novelist and 'friend' of the bride and groom, Lucian moved outside to contemplate the failure of his mission. It was two-edged. One of the reasons he had responded to Adele's unexpected invitation was to further his relationship with Karen. They had enjoyed a close professional understanding and Lucian had nursed hopes of expanding it into a more intimate sphere. Obviously that was now out of the question - which was something of a disappointment - especially in these circumstances.
It had always struck Lucian that there was nothing like a wedding to set people's juices flowing. Maybe it was the prospect of what the bride and groom would be up to later or the effect of quickly-downed fizz at the reception but, in his experience, where there were nuptials, nookie was always in the offing.
This occasion was positively throbbing with sexual promise, he could tell. The warm May day was perfect for skimpy female finery and the grounds of the fancy hotel had plenty of leafy corners for those wishing to explore the extent of that skimpiness. Eyeing a breasty brunette with grass stains on her skirt, Lucian had had the urge to do some exploring himself. But he had no partner - they seemed hard to come by these days - and so he had returned to London.
As he entered the flat he discovered a postcard on his doormat. It was from Tania Pilgrim in East Marimba.
Lucian stripped off his tie and reached for the last beer in the empty fridge. The cold bubbles hit the back of his throat and he thought of bubbly Tania. How he longed for her now. For her big brown breasts and dirty laugh and slick strong thighs wrapped around his own.
Her card asked for an extension on the delivery of her next book - her research was proving so exhausting. She promised to make it up to Lucian in whatever manner he chose. Lucian intended to grant her request - and to extract every last ounce of repayment from her delicious body when she returned.
But that was a far-off prospect and didn't fill the void of his empty evening or assuage the ache in his balls.
The message light flickered on the answerphone. He rewound the tape and found himself listening to the husky tones of Marilyn Savage as she wished him luck in persuading Karen to sign a new deal.
'If you pull it off, dear boy, you can roger me senseless every night for a month but I tell you now you haven't a prayer. You must turn your mind to fresh pastures. Actually, I have a new proposal that could earn you a special bonus. Give me a call, darling.'
The thought of Marilyn's heart-shaped face ministering to his cock had his organ jumping in his pants. Lucian dialled her number. A recorded message clicked in at once. He hung up. He'd try later but he didn't fancy his chances. Marilyn was not a woman to be idle on a Saturday night.
A pile of paper in the tray beneath the fax machine caught his eye. It was from Caroline. A stab of guilt shot through him. He'd hardly given Caroline a thought in recent months. Then he smiled to himself; at least that was one demon he had laid. The smile turned to a grin. The way she had begged to be laid the last time they met still gave him a thrill.
'Lucian,' said the top page of the fax, 'here's my new story idea. It's about a beautiful TV journalist who has a dark and turbulent affair with a waiter. As her media star rises so she becomes more debauched in her private life - but she can't live without the kinky sex! I'd really welcome your input. I do hope you like it and that we can work on it like last time. I attach the first chapter. Love, Caro. PS Can I have more money this time?'
Lucian took the accompanying pages and lay down on his bed to read. In the opening sequence the heroine allowed herself to be picked up in a nightclub by a slim and brooding Italian who dared her to make him a present of her underwear. With her knickers in his pocket, they took to the dance floor and he fingered her pussy through a slit in her dress until she came. At his apartment she protested when he sat her on his cock and pushed a thin dildo between the trembling cheeks of her bottom - but the double insertion gave her the kind of shattering orgasm she had never experienced before...
Lucian unzipped his trousers and freed his palpitating prick. It wasn't so much what he was reading that excited him, it was the thought of the snobbish and uptight Caroline dreaming it up and writing it down. As she did so, he knew, her pretty blonde-downed pussy would have been weeping into her panties - if she was wearing any at the time, of course. Did she masturbate as she wrote? That was an interesting question and one he would put to her at their first editorial conference.
He was looking forward to that occasion. Particularly the point when he would sit Caro on his cock and put a dildo to her glorious derriere. He would have rung her at once and suggested they get started if it had not been for a scribbled PPS which said she was out of the country for a week.
Lucian grasped the barrel of his tool and gently stroked - he couldn't help himself.
The ring of the phone diverted his attention just as matters were reaching boiling point. His member seemed to hiss with frustration as he reached for the phone.
'Hi, Lucian.' It was Hugh, his tennis partner. 'Are you busy tonight?'
'No.'
'Well, why don't you take a look out of the window?'
'What do you mean?'
'You know what I mean. Take a look. Right now.'
With a hammering heart, Lucian craned his neck and looked through the angled window across the street. Nicole was standing there gazing directly at him. She was wearing a tight blue T-shirt and cut-off denim shorts.
Lucian still had the phone to his ear.
'Are you watching?' said Hugh.
'Yes.'
&nbs
p; Nicole took the hem of the vest and lifted it over her head. She shook her mane of dark curls free and tossed the garment onto the floor. She wore no bra. Her incredible breasts thrust out full and proud, swaying with her movements. She unzipped her shorts and bent forward, her tits hanging in mouthwatering invitation as she shucked the denim down her thighs.
Lucian was rigid with shock. As rigid as Hugh who now appeared by Nicole's side, one arm circling the honeyed sheen of her waist, the phone in his other hand. Both of them were stark-naked.
'As you can see, Lucian, we've got nothing on. So if you've got nothing on either why don't you join us?'
'Christ, Hugh, I mean—'
At the base of Nicole's belly, her chestnut fleece shone in the late evening sun. Her hand was on her husband's cock, slicking the foreskin gently back and forth across the bulging glans.
'Come on, Lucian. Nicole's dying to meet you properly. She needs your advice.'
'Yes?'
'Didn't I tell you? She's going to write a book.'
'Of course.'
As Lucian hurriedly pulled on his clothes and ran down the stairs it occurred to him that editing erotic material certainly took its toll.
He gave so much to the world of books. In so many ways.
-oOo-
Enjoy more Noel Amos erotic novels, all exclusively published as eBooks by us and available to download from most popular online bookstores now...
Lust at Large
'Excuse me.' The blonde was standing right in front of Gavin, on the other side of the counter. 'Hot, isn't it?'
Gavin was thunderstruck. Her yellow halter-neck was moulded to her body, tightly encasing her voluptuous form. Her protruding nipples were dark points beneath the cotton.
'I can tell you like my figure,' she said in a low voice. 'Would you like to see some more?'
Not waiting for a reply, she pulled the garment to her chin, exposing two stunningly proportioned breasts. They quivered in front of Gavin like ripe fruit.
It was a moment before he noticed the gun.
In a tone no less intimate, she added, 'While you're looking at my tits, put the money in the bag...'
She's out there somewhere - a woman of mystery and menace, with a knock 'em dead body that's coining her the cash. The papers call her the Topless Raider and her victims just pray she'll come back and roll them over again...
Assignments don't come any tougher than this - ice-cool detective Archie Monk has been handed the hottest case of the year. It's up to him to find the voluptuous blonde who has bared her all in building societies throughout the land - and made off with the money. Helping with enquiries is leggy journalist Robyn Chestnut. She's all mouth and no knickers but there's nobody better when it comes to grabbing exclusives.
Together they team up to hunt down the red-hot robber and put her where she belongs - back behind bras!
Lust on the Loose
'There,' announced Beverly and pointed to a patch of beach some fifteen feet from a group of naked youths strumming guitars. Placido spread the towel as ordered, this was going to be worse than he feared.
The guitars broke into an uptempo jig as the youths took in the girl's spectacular build: swelling bosom and violin-curved hips barely contained by a cerise bikini. She unfastened her top and bent to step out of her panties, her big brown breasts swinging free like ripe fruit.
Beverly took the suntan lotion from the grim-faced Placido and rubbed it lovingly into her body - all over her tits and her full, rounded buttocks and into the crack between. One of the boys whistled, and Beverly gave him the benefit of a shy smile. Unlike Placido, she was enjoying herself hugely...
From the stuffy offices of Soho to the refined bedrooms of St John's Wood, from the nudist beaches of Spain to the verdant fields of Sussex, men and women are on heat, there's fire in the blood, there's Lust on the Loose!
In his office, in conference with sexy Patsy Fretwork, detective Billy Dazzle consents to give her incriminating photographs of her gangster husband misbehaving at a party. It's a decision that puts him in a tricky situation, not only with her husband, Dangerous Danny, but also with gorgeous policewoman Sophie Stark, a protector of the law who'll do pretty much anything to get her man.
Lust Under Licence
Tom watched in astonishment as Sergeant Amy Tooth of the Sex Police unzipped her uniform and emerged from it like a butterfly from a chrysalis. Her creamy midriff was bared to shiny black PVC shorts, cut high on the thigh and tight across the bulge of her pouting mons veneris. And when she turned to rummage in her bag, she thrust out her posterior in heart-stopping provocation.
Amy straightened and turned, one hand now sheathed in a rubber surgical glove, the other holding a small plastic bottle.
'Don't be alarmed, Mr Glass,' said Inspector Quartermain. 'She's just going to take a sample.'
'What sample?' said Tom.
'It's standard procedure,' grunted Amy as her gloved fingers closed on Tom's most intimate portion. 'We need a sample of your filthy pervert's spunk...'
The beautiful and cruel mistresses of The Primrose Court are enforcing - Lust Under Licence. They're putting men under the microscope, altering the way they behave, challenging the male establishment.
A tycoon is lying in hospital trying to regain his memory after falling from his penthouse apartment, his past enveloping him in stark erotic detail, leaving him in need of the gentle mercies of his personal nurse.
Is he really engaged to the blonde television weathergirl with an inventive way with his bedside equipment? Is his lovely assistant really experimenting with a fitness plan based on multiple orgasms? And most significantly, is he really under investigation by the ruthless she devils of the Sex Police?
-oOo-
And as mentioned in the intro pages of this book, if you're keen to write erotic fiction and would like our Author Guidelines, or you're a published author and have existing work, the eBook rights of which remain with or have reverted to you, we would be delighted to hear from you.