by Candy Quinn
I licked my lips, hungering for it. For him.
I knew I was staring, but I couldn’t help it. He was absolutely glorious.
“James,” I whimpered, and it was the first word either of us had spoken in so long.
He muttered aloud my name in return, “Sarah” rolling off his tongue as a gravelly utterance as he kissed his way down from my lips, across my neck. Licking and suckling as he went, kneading my breast flesh as he lowered himself down so that the tip of his cock teased at my moist little cunny, prodding and expertly exciting it as he went from my clit on down.
His mouth felt so good on my body, but even that bit of bliss was overshadowed by the exquisiteness of the sensation of his cock rubbing against me. I wanted him to sink it in so badly I didn’t know how I could manage another moment longer without it.
“Please!” I begged of him.
“Yes,” he growled in response, and he clenched my breast in his hard, powerful hand and then pushed his hips forward. His thick, bulging cock, unsheathed and oh so huge, simply shoved itself betwixt my dainty labia. That bulging monstrosity pierced my womanhood, sinking in deep, deep towards my fertile womb as he let loose a lewd, husky groan of satisfaction.
I was lost to sin, to sinfulness, and I’d never felt so good and alive. I moaned, trying not to scream lest the pilots hear me, my entire body trembling with need and lust.
He felt so good, my wet pussy begging for more.
“Fuck me!” I cried out, so unlike myself.
James obliged, his powerful body coiling back like a snake ready to strike. And his snake did indeed strike; that thick, pulsating cock of his pounding down into me again as he began to thrust. Pumping his girth into me he let loose such throaty groans as he nipped and sucked at my neck, pawing at my tits with his big, strong grasp.
I’d never been prey to such intense, skillful desires before. Such an attentive, masculine man, who catered to myself and him with his every lustful move.
I bit down hard on my lower lip, trying to silence another scream that threatened me as I lifted my hips, begging for him to go deeper.
I was a wanton woman for him, for the pleasure he was giving me, and there was no going back.
With one hand he reached down, cupping the underside of my thick thigh and lifting it up to his side. He continued to thrust and pummel my wanting, pink pussy, his thumb sliding in around my outer thigh to circle and tease my clit.
The lewd, low groans he gave produced a delightful bass to my own moans and cries, his other hand kneading at my breast flesh as we screwed so far up in the air.
“Oh fuck, Sarah,” he groaned out so crassly. “You feel so damn good!”
I cried out, sucking in a breath to try to compensate it as he thrust into me. Though just then there was a ding, and the pilot’s voice sounded over the system.
“We’re heading into a bit of turbulence, though after that it should be smooth flying and we’ll be landing at JFK in about forty-five minutes.”
Just as he finished, though, the turbulence began, the vibration rocking through the cabin.
There we both lay upon the plush sofa, our bodies rocking, thrusting and grinding as the whole plane shook around us. James’ powerful body pummeling my slick, needy cunny as he thrust down betwixt my wet folds, plunging to the very depths of my fertile quim.
He moaned out deeply, his dick throbbing and stretching my narrow canal around his girth.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever fucked, Sarah,” he said so crassly. But all I could think of was the honour of being this rich and famous man’s finest moment.
I could barely believe my ears, but he sounded so genuine, so heartfelt, that I couldn’t imagine it being a lie.
And even if it was, I didn’t regret it.
The turbulence got heavier, until I was clinging to him, my body grinding against his so desperately.
“I need you!” I cried out.
“Take me, Sarah!” he cried out, thrusting harder, faster, so very, very deeper. “Take all of me!” he bellowed, his cock swelling inside me as our bodies slapped together hard and fast, the moist smack of our loins meeting filling the air as he took me like a savage animal. The whole plane shaking about us as if we made the very sky quake with our bareback rutting.
I was getting disoriented, dizzy, my mind hazy with lust as I clung to him like my life depended on it. Like he was my everything.
My nails clung to his back, putting little half-moons into his skin as he slammed into me so hard I worried we might break the expensive sofa.
James had no such worry, he was focussed utterly upon me. On ravaging my body as he thrust and mauled me, rubbed my clit with his hard thumb and groaned so lewdly. He thrust so hard my body bucked, and his harsh voice filled the air.
“I’m going to cum,” he grunted out. “I need to cum in you, Sarah,” he said, incessantly provoking my delicate clit all the while, attempting to bring me to climax.
The rational, logical part of me was so far gone, she wasn’t even on the same continent as me any longer.
Instead, I was the woman shouting, “Yes! Yes!” daring the pilots to hear me, to put a stop to us.
My legs crushed around his hips, holding him against me deep and then there was only bliss as I toppled over the edge of pleasure. My body tensed, squeezing his cock within me as I screamed out his name, my muscles and nerves filled with such amazing sensations that I hadn’t felt in so long!
As the waves of slick honey coated his cock and ran down to his balls, he let loose such a loud, boisterous moan of his own. His body tensed, his dick stiffened and swelled inside me, and he thrust in for one big, final push.
I could see his neck tense, the veins bulge out on it as he cried out, and then his virile shaft spewed its rich seed. The thick gouts of creamy spunk filled me up, his whole body tensing and locking with mine as he seeded my womb with his potent cum.
“Ohhh fuck Sarah! You’re so gorgeous,” he cried out amid his own tidal wave of pleasure.
He held me there, lost to the blur of pleasure, for so long. I lost count of the orgasms as they ripped through me, one crashing into the next.
I didn’t even have the power of speech any longer, it was just primal moans and growls of pleasure that barely sounded human. My nails raked his skin, and I knew he’d be red from them for days, but it was beyond me to care.
The two of us were drawn down to our primal states, like two animals in heat and we rode it out to the end, until we were a united, sweaty, panting mess. And the plane was slowly descending towards the ground.
The Captain’s voice resounded about us.
“We are descending now, and we’ll be arriving in just a few short minutes. Thank you for putting your trust in me.”
But there was another man I’d put my trust in that flight.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. But once we landed, James did the unthinkable: he contacted my employers, arranged for me to have paid time off to come visit his cabin with him. I couldn’t believe it, it was like out of a fairy tale, but I was overjoyed.
It was hard, rustic living there, but oh so satisfying. There was something wholesome about getting your hands dirty, making and building things yourself. I understood immediately why he enjoyed it so much.
But all good things had to come to an end, and eventually I had to return to my normal life. It was funny, the obnoxious men on my flights no longer bothered me like they used to. They weren’t able to get under my skin any longer.
And it wouldn’t be the last time I was swept away to James’ private cabin.
Half a year later, there I was again, standing side by side with him, overlooking the lake. His big, brawny arm about me as I cradled my swollen pregnant belly. And watched the glimmer of the fattest diamond ring I’d ever seen upon my finger.
Sometimes dreams really do come true.
The Fertile Tour Guide
Book Themes:
Bareback, Breeding, Creampie, and Sex With Str
angers
Word Count:
5,288
After the most brutal and heart wrenching autumn I’d ever experienced, I couldn’t help but dream of going south. Of traveling to some place exotic and warm, filled with happiness and salsa music, where I could forget everything about where I’d come from, or the loss I’d just suffered.
I knew I needed to recover from the death of my wife and our child, and I couldn’t do that at home, surrounded by their memories.
So, with my work’s blessing, I booked myself for a month long vacation in beautiful Havana, where I could immerse myself in a culture so different from my own and find my footing again. I wasn’t expecting anything to happen, but the moment I set my eyes on Isabel, my entire world was flipped upside down.
It wasn’t just that she was gorgeous — though she was, no sense in lying about that — it was that she had this strange little coy smile, her full lips turning up just at the corner as if everything was an inside joke.
I was the last one onto the tour bus and so she had me sit next to her, and there was a faint scent of mangoes or papaya or some delicious fruit that seemed to emanate from her. Just from that first moment, I was hooked.
The trip we were taking was across the island a ways, and I would be spending hours sitting next to her.
I was quiet at first. Shy, I guess. I’d been married for twelve years, so I wasn’t used to speaking to women I didn’t know. Especially not women as beautiful as Isabel.
But when we were driving down one of the roads, her hand went to my thigh as she pointed out the window.
“That is the highest bridge on the island,” she said in her accented voice, and I could hear the pride there. She was eager to share that bit of knowledge with me.
I might not be the most suave man out there, with my lack of dating experience in the past decade, but I was thankful my tolerance for the heat meant I got away with a nice light pair of linen pants and a short sleeved, button up shirt. I didn’t look like the horrible dorky tourists that filled the rest of the bus.
It also helped give me a bit more courage when talking with her.
“Impressive,” I said, peering at the bridge and the beautiful valleys beyond it, the lush green jungle all about. “Shame we’re not driving over it then,” I remarked with a smile.
“There’s nothing much out that way other than Varadero,” she said, mentioning the closest tourist resort. I’d wanted a more authentic experience, and so opted for a hotel closer to the capital of Cuba.
I once read that if you wanted to hang out with other Canadians to go to Varadero, but to spend time with Cubans, go to Havana. I was pleased that the advice seemed mostly true.
“Have you ever worked there?” I asked.
“Not usually. I prefer to be closer to the city,” she said, her coy smile turning up the corner of her lips once more.
For the next three days I was going to be with her, at her side, as we explored the no-doubt still touristy locations, though I hoped to get a glimpse of what it was really like. To live in Cuba, a place so different from home.
“Me too,” I replied, running a hand back over my long, blonde hair. It would undoubtedly be a bit uncomfortably thick in the heat, but I wasn’t worried. “The idea of being stuck back there with all the boring tourists doesn’t entice me too much,” I said with dry humour, hoping it came across alright.
It was almost as if she were laughing at me with that smile, if not for the fact that her hand was still on my thigh.
“Well I’m glad. If you’d stayed out there, I’d have been all by my lonesome up here.”
“You? I find it hard to imagine you would ever be left to your lonesome, as beautiful as you are,” I said, finding some reservoir of casual flirtatious chit chat to siphon from. Perhaps it was just that smooth, dark hand upon my thigh that was filling me with such vigor.
I always did perform best under duress.
She giggled like a schoolgirl, her face tilting forward and some of her long hair curtaining her face for a moment. She tucked it back — still not removing her other hand from my leg — and looked up at me from beneath her lashes.
“Are you always like this?”
I didn’t know how to respond to that right away. After all, I certainly wasn’t. I’d not had many ups between my downs since the passing of my loved ones, but finally I was letting go. Moving on. This woman was helping a lot in that department, because the more I looked at her, the less I wanted to think of anyone or anything else.
“Must be all this tropical air, and the beautiful sights,” I said to her, my gaze too intense to leave any confusion as to what beautiful sights I was focused upon.
She laughed again, her eyes sparkling as we pulled into what looked to be a farm. She seemed a bit surprised by that, but quickly recovered, standing up just in front of me and stretching enough that I could see her belly button beneath her red blouse.
“This is our first stop for the day, to meet a local tobacco farmer,” she announced to the bus, then gave me a personal smile.
My head was abuzz but she was already bounding off the bus, ready to give the tour.
The entire way to the hotel, in between the stops, she always found her way back to me, her hand resting atop my leg. I certainly wasn’t complaining.
But night was falling, and the rest of the crowd were tired by the time we pulled up to the hotel, nestled in the jungle. The trip up the hill had been... rocky, and before I knew it, Isabel had been gripping my bicep for dear life and she was hesitant to let go even though we were parked.
“We’re here,” she breathed out, forcing herself to stand, and look at the others.
“There’s a buffet meal you’re all welcome to, and a disco just down at the left for evening entertainment,” she announced, the last part directed to me.
I waited until she got off, leaving me the last person off the bus.
I followed behind her, speaking to her quietly as the others rushed to the buffet.
“You look like a dancer,” I said, full of warmth. “You have the look of a woman who can really cut-a-rug with the best of them,” and I immediately felt dumb about that remark. Not only was it dated, but I wasn’t sure she’d get the reference either.
The language barrier was a finicky thing, after all, but though her brows furrowed, it seemed she grasped the warm intention rather than the literal confusion.
“I teach,” she said with a pause, “Salsa. On the weekends, as exercise.”
She slowly began guiding me towards the restaurant. “Do you dance?”
I followed along with her, having to pace myself, my long stride so easily overtaking hers even at a casual pace.
“I’ve been known to in my day,” I smiled and tried not to let on that my day was now years behind me. It’d been ages since I last danced. “Could use a nice refresher,” I said casually, getting the door for her.
“I am told that I am a very good teacher,” she said as she walked through, her flirty dress caressing against my pant legs as she went towards the buffet. “I will see you tonight for your first lesson.”
I couldn’t help but stare a while, until finally some tourist with a vastly over-filled plate needed me to shove out of the way.
When night came, I was surprised by its beauty. The stars above lit the jungle sky, while all around I could see the towering trees, vines and flowers lit by the moon. The little lizards of the day replaced by crickets the size of mice!
I left my room, a pair of shiny black shoes on, polished up nicely for the evening, and a freshly pressed pair of pants, a shirt and jacket from my luggage. I wasn’t about to go in looking like a schlep after all.
Good thing I had packed a wide variety of outfits.
It wasn’t immediately evident where the disco was, because it was kept tucked away from the resort rooms, so as to not let the noise bother the guests. But once I rounded the right corner, the music called me to it.
It built such anticipation in th
e air, the sound beckoning me closer, drawing me in with its sweet, warm sound. Wanting me in its embrace.
It was beautiful, and when I finally opened the door and let the sounds flood out into me, there was a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in a long time. The dancing bodies, the glowing lights, all flashed about me as laughter rose into the air.
And there was Isabel, dancing with some local, it looked like. She was gorgeous, spinning about and smiling that crooked smile.
It was enchanting, and I was content to just watch for the moment until she caught my eye, and her finger beckoned me closer.
Truth be told, I was a pretty good dancer in my college years, but that was well behind me. By this point all I had going for me were the nice shoes and clothing.
“Impossible to miss you on the dance floor,” I remarked to her as I made my way to her, trying to loosen myself up and move with the music, mimic the Latin moves of the local dancers. I was surprised my body was limber enough to even begin to impersonate them!
But I guess part of it came easy. Once the rhythm is in the air and touches your body, you get wrapped up in it.
Though what was better than that, was the fact that her hands went to my hips.
“Not like that, here,” she said, making my hips swivel in a certain way, but it seemed awful close to what I was already doing. I wondered if it was just an excuse.
“Who am I to argue with the finer points of dancing from such a talented instructor?” I said with an uneven smile of my own. Then I did a brazen thing and reached out, putting my own hands upon her ample hips and began to move with her.
The two of our bodies moving in the black light, leaving her dark curves so beautifully accentuated.
Everything was a bit hotter in Cuba. The weather, the girls, the music, and especially the dancing. There was something so sensual about the way she moved into me, her lithe legs shown off beneath her fluid skirt.
“You’re pretty good,” she said with a laugh, still somewhat guiding me.
“Oh, I’m just following you and the others,” I responded, the two of us moving so rhythmically together. “I’ll need some intensive, one-on-one training to get really good with this and lead,” I said with a cheeky smile that did little to hide my true intentions.
