by Unknown
her breath away.
"Oh, Malachy."
"Champagne?"
28
"Ahem, yes. I'll just start out with a back massage and we'll take it
from there!"
As she massaged his neck and back muscles, Lana got into her role.
As the sound of ocean waves slip-slapped in the background, her hips
swayed to the rhythm of her rolling hands. Eventually, she had Mal
flip into a supine position so she could get to the best part of the
massage.
She let her fingers glide over his chest and stomach before reaching
for his erection. She loved fondling the solidness of his hard-on.
Caressing this sweet delectable part of him was lovely ... were it not
such a tease for them both.
"Lana, no more playing. I know you want to go down on me."
She stroked his cock for a few moments while gazing at his
handsome face. "Mind reader."
She took him into her mouth the way he way he would eventually
take her cunt ... slowly, patiently and deliberately until a threshold
dissolved. She would make love to his cock because this was the man
who taught her what the word love means.
She started with his scrotum and possessed the skin there with her
tongue's warm embrace, eventually licking her way up his shaft to toy
with the tip of his gorgeous cock. She licked and loved the head
while Mal stroked her scalp and murmured words of encouragement.
"Don't stop," he said.
She would never stop. She would love his cock all night long and
into the morn if he'd only let her. Down she went until the world fell
away and all that mattered was this magnificent form expanding in her
mouth. She went down further still until she was sucking him wholly
and completely, full-throttle, giving him every possible pleasure of
deep throat.
"Baby," he moaned, gently pulling her up and off. "I want to be
inside you."
He touched her mound where she was wet and ready. He pulled
her up on the table which was sizable for two only if those two
happened to be fucking. They deftly switched positions so Malachy
29
was on top, his girlfriend happy to be taken in the missionary position.
With Mal, every position was achingly good.
He looked deep into her eyes before nudging her soft folds with the
tip of his penis. He was such a thoughtful lover, always careful not to
hurt her.
Once she twined her arms round his neck and started tilting her
pelvis, he knew she was ready to be fucked for real. He thrust his
cock deep, as deep as he could go, fucked her to the brink of toppling
them both to the floor; the table could only take so much rocking.
"You're so tight," he murmured in her ear. "I feel like I'm ripping
you in two."
Lana gasped as he took her over the edge into that sweetest part of
fulfillment known as orgasm. She loosened her grip and stretched out
her legs which were starting to ache from so much clinging. Maybe
next time would call for a different position. She smiled at the
possibility.
"What are you smiling about?" Malachy asked as his girlfriend got
up to pad to the kitchen.
"It's my birthday, Mal. I have a lot to smile about."
They drank a little wine and talked about the days when they first
met.
"When you asked for my number, I knew you'd call. But on our
first date, I thought I blew it. I never expected to hear from you
again."
Malachy shook his head. "Every girl I dated in college was a trust
fund princess who was only happy when shopping. I felt like an
accessory. You make me feel special."
"Yeah, a girl from the hood knows how to make a man feel special
... sometimes even for free."
"C'mon."
"No, I get it. From the moment I met you, I knew we had a destiny.
I have some kind of erotic class war I need to wage with you." Lana
raised her fists in triumph. " Send me back to the bog, I'll show you ...
I'll show you all! "
30
Malachy kissed her lips and neck. His tongue and fingers played
over her breasts until she guided his hand between her legs.
He twisted her clit between his fingers making her yelp in surprise.
He kissed her deeply and passionately while plunging his digits into
her vulva.
Mal knew he could make her come this way so he kept at it until
she said, "Let's go to the bedroom."
She kissed his cock and stroked it until the sight of another
gorgeous erection made her want to do wanton things.
She got down on her knees and looked over her shoulder with a
naughty take me if you dare look on her face.
Malachy dared. He knew Lana loved to be fucked like a streel
sometimes, especially after they had already made love sweetly and
tenderly.
Her rump was just the right size for him; he loved to watch it
wiggle in anticipation. It was wiggling now and he squeezed her
pillowy flesh until she looked over her shoulder again.
He let the tip of his penis crest over her mound, just enough to
make contact. In maddening increments of pressure he teased her
vulva. She was so wet, it took all his self-control not to plunge right
in, but he was enjoying this. Finally, the head of his cock pushed in
just to say hello. He went just a tad further before pulling out. He
parted her legs so he could feel the heat of her inner thighs, pressing
his finger pads to her sensitive clit.
Malachy pulled away altogether and began pacing around the room.
Lana just looked at him. "Mal."
"An erotic class war, you say?"
"Malachy. It's my birthday."
Her lover held up a finger and said, "Ah, but it's my penis. If you
want it, you'll have to let me blindfold you." He went to their dresser
and pulled open a top drawer where he found her favorite silk scarf
placed for just a certain purpose.
"Will you do this for me?" he asked.
31
"I'd do anything for you. Absolutely anything. If you wanted me
to roll around in mud singing a Sinéad O'Connor song, I'd do it. Just
love me."
He quickly blindfolded her with the silk and she sat back on her
haunches waiting for instructions.
"Kiss me first," he commanded, "then I'll make love to you."
She felt the tip of his penis tap her lips and she wolfed him down
completely. She loved sucking his cock while wearing a blindfold;
there was a primal beauty to it and she let her whole body relax into a
whirlpool of bliss.
Malachy groaned, saying his lover's name over and over again as
Lana's lips clamped the base of his shaft while her tongue worked its
arabesque magic.
He was so hard and full, she thought he might explode. When she
felt his fingers twist through her hair, the hair tugging away from her
scalp, she knew she was about to get fucked.
His penis gone, she licked her lips like someone who had just
savored a gourmet meal. There would be other blow jobs but every
act of fellatio was more fulfilling than the last. She loved giving him
head and she loved the fact he never made her feel dirty for
worshipping his fine maleness.
When she heard the words "I love you, Lana," she got down on her
hands and knees, hoping he would fuck her now. She didn't remove
the blindfold; she would let Mal do that. She loved how nothing
mattered more than the gravitas of his cock and she would wait oh so
patiently for it.
There was no teasing this time. One of Malachy's hands gripped
the left side of her waist while his other hand parted her loins. He
plunged his cock deep inside her and though she naturally had a tight
quim, her vast wetness welcomed him with every thrust.
She cried out his name as he spent himself completely, his hands
raking her back as his seed spilled its last.
He rolled her over on her back and removed the blindfold.
"You're so good to me, Malachy."
32
They were kissing and about to settle into a post-coital embrace
when Malachy smiled and led Lana back to the living room.
"You're birthday's not over yet," he mused.
She donned her bathrobe again; something about being naked in a
living room made her more vulnerable than nudity in a boudoir.
"You know, if I were the real Champagne, I'd be expecting a tip
around now. Lucky for you, I'm satisfied with a good meal and an
umbrella."
Mal said, "Remember at the restaurant I told you your real present
was waiting at home?"
"Yeah."
"Hold that thought; I'll be right back."
Malachy left the room for just a few moments. He returned holding
something behind his back. Lust crazed as she was, she wondered if it
was a new sex toy.
"Close your eyes, love."
He sat down next to her, putting his arm around her shoulder.
Something had been placed in her lap.
"Okay, open your eyes."
She opened her big blue eyes and gasped. He hadn't given her a
new toy.
She opened the velvet covered box and started to cry.
Malachy hugged her. "I hope that's a yes."
Mal took the ring out of the box. "Will you marry me, Lana?"
Trying not to burst into tears again, she said, "Of course. Yes!
Yes, I'll marry you. I love you with all my heart and soul. You're the
reason I want to get up in the morning. Yes, let's get married. Oh,
Malachy!"
He took her left hand and put the Claddagh ring on her ring finger.
Lana couldn't imagine a more beautiful ring. Two hands holding a
crowned emerald heart.
"A symbol of friendship, love and loyalty. You're my best friend.
I'll always love you. And because you're my best friend and true love,
I will always be faithful and loyal."
33
"I have something symbolic to give you too, sweetness. Hold your
thoughts."
Lana jumped up and ran to their bedroom. Malachy heard her
rummaging through their walk-in closet. She returned and handed
him something he had never seen before.
"Your massage school diploma?"
"That's not just a diploma, love. That's my dowry which entitles
you to a massage any time of day or night. There will always be a
supply of almond, vanilla and/or avocado oil for your sensual touch
needs."
And so began the love story of Lana Vinetti and Malachy Moore.
Malachy asked Lana to take his last name and she was honored to do
so. Lana and Malachy Moore still live in Belltown where they can be
seen walking the city streets holding hands like newlyweds. Every
once in awhile Lana glances down at her Claddagh ring, grateful to
have been shown the meaning of true love.
34
WALK-INS WELCOME
When Conor gave Ellen his credit card to go shopping, he expected
her to buy more than just clothes.
"Buy something for us," he instructed, letting his fingers trace the
golden tendrils at the nape of her neck.
She loved it when he approached her from behind, anointing her
flesh when she least expected touch. She couldn't fold clothes or
stand at the kitchen sink without receiving a tender reminder of
possession. Every night, she was his to fondle and mold as a
malleable plaything and in return she woke up each morning with the
man of her dreams. Ellen had decided long ago she could never be
with another man after Conor; in fact, he was the only man she had
ever really wanted. After ten years of marriage, his slightest touch
could melt her faster than butter on a griddle.
"I can't keep my hands off you," he'd often say as he cupped his
wife's bottom for the umpteenth time or reached under her blouse to
caress her breasts.
El and her man experienced ups and downs the way all couples do,
but they always managed to resolve their differences through touch.
Ellen was a successful IT professional which meant most days she
touched nothing more exciting than a keyboard. When she walked
through the foyer of the spacious home she shared with her husband,
every part of her body ached with a carnal urge to please the
handsome man who had changed her life forever. All Conor had to do
was reach for her wrist while his eyes pinned her with lust and she'd
be wet, oh so wet and willing to do his bidding.
When he sent her shopping for accouterments that meant she was in
for a special treat. He would tie her up and take her down that well-
tread path of submission.
With C's credit card burning a hole in her handbag, she pulled into
the parking lot of her favorite shopping mall.
Before picking out a new restraint, El made a spontaneous decision
to get her hair cut. Nothing dramatic, just a trim. She kept her tresses
long because C wanted them that way. Not that he was the kind of
35
guy who would ever criticize his partner's physical appearance.
Conor had proposed to El after they had spent an entire weekend
talking on the phone, racking up long-distance charges.
"You know, we should just get married," he reasoned. "We could
be doing all this talking in person."
No, El had kept her hair long because it was in her nature to please
this perfect paragon of maleness. Besides, in bed when she got down
on all fours so he could take her from behind, she loved the way her
scalp tingled when he grabbed her hair by the fistful, reining her in for
a kiss or two between the calibrated thrusts of his cock.
The hair salon accepted Walk-Ins. Within thirty minutes, she
walked out with her newly cropped mane pulled back in a ponytail.
She wasn't vain but she did appreciate how sex with Conor kept her
feeling ageless and lithe.
She took the escalator to the mezzanine where she found a shop
with a prodigious display of scarves in the front window.
Standing just inside the door, El's mouth watered at the image of
her forearms crisscrossed and tethered to the headboard as Conor
mounted her over and over again.
"Are you looking for a particular color? Something to go with a
cocktail dress?" A trim, cheerful sales clerk was all too eager to help
a wel
l-heeled customer.
"Actually, I just need something soft and silky. Material that won't
chafe my wrists too much when hubby ties me up tonight."
The clerk blinked in mild confusion before snapping to attention for
a sale.
"Soft and silky! Well, follow me. I'm sure we have just the item
you're looking for."
The bustling saleswoman led El to a round table with an impressive
display of scarves arranged jauntily as if their owners had casually
dropped them there.
El held an expansive length of eis wool to her chest but Candace,
the knowledgeable purveyor of accessories said, "Oh, no, dear. Try
the charmeuse."
36
Rubbing the satin-finished silk against her skin, Ellen smiled. Yes,
this was the one scarf that would do. She thanked Candace for her
help – clearly the lady had a passion for customer service – and
browsed through a number of stores.
As she rode the Down elevator, she twirled to catch a glimpse of an
elegantly dressed, black-haired man who might have been Conor, but
of course, was not. This was always happening. Ever since she met
and fell in love with her husband, she couldn't go more than a few
hours without seeing someone who vaguely looked like him. It was
as if her mind's eye held an image of the perfect man and was now
trained to be ever alert for the real thing.
El shook her head and started her car. She would go home and wait
for the real thing to arrive.
Trouble was, Ellen was so horny, she didn't know if she could wait
for Conor before getting off. Maybe she'd masturbate just once,
quickly. Conor came home from work early once and caught his wife
masturbating. He told her it made him feel left out when she
pleasured herself – couldn't she just wait another hour for him to get
home?
Since then, she tried desperately to control her onanistic impulses,
to no avail. Quite frankly, she was one randy dame. The second time
her husband caught her in the throes of self-satisfaction, she suggested
a spanking might help. That's when they started experimenting with
role playing and submission scenarios. The sparks of their
lovemaking flew higher and higher; eventually El forgot all about her
little masturbatory fetish.
But the charmeuse against her skin that afternoon was too much. It