“This is one beauty of a place,” she observed, adding with a chuckle, “Of course, calling this one beauty of a place is like saying that Michelangelo’s Statue of David is a passing good sculpture.”
Moments later she found herself swept up in the sheltering arms of her own personal David; a doting lover who dropped her in the cushiony depths of his comfy, fire hued leather couch.
After searing her lips with a warm ardent kiss, Culver once again dropped to his knees before her; piercing her with a seductive stare as he ran his hands up her legs and beneath her ebony skirt.
“I want you to pretend that this place is yours Dorothea,” he released on a hypnotic whisper, searing her with his cocoa hued gaze as his nimble fingers tickled her buxom thighs and rubbed her full hips before venturing farther upward. “You, my darling, are the lady of the house—the woman in charge of everything. I am here only to serve as your loyal and devoted servant—a man whose only purpose here is to serve and please you.”
Dorothea relaxed in her seat as his smooth soft voice served to lull her into a pleasurable trance; suddenly envisioning herself as the fancy grand dame that her lover now described.
“Could this dream ever come true?” she pondered, moaning in spite of herself as Culver’s touch lit a fire deep in her belly—one that soon threatened to spread like wildfire throughout her entire body. “Could I ever live this ritzy life, wearing beautiful clothes and eating gourmet food—never having to worry about how the bills are going to get paid, or how to cover next month’s mortgage?….”
All semblance of worry fled her mind moments later, as her ardent servant once again stripped away the wet cotton panties that served as a barrier between them; petting her intimate mound and stroking open the folds of her soaking wet femininity.
“In my ongoing efforts to please my lady, I do believe I may have stumbled upon a way to show her the optimum pleasure,” Culver continued to deliver his flawless brand of hot verbal seduction, rubbing her enflamed clit as he hissed, “This is just for you, my lady.”
With these words he slipped his fingers through the opening of her pulsating pussy, rubbing and stroking her hungry insides until she gasped her pleasure.
Riding his hand hard as she savored the look of passionate intensity that seared his chiseled features, Dorothea felt her heart pound with excitement as Culver’s magic fingertips continued to probe her pussy; his free hand all the while stroking the rounded belly that other men mocked.
Tonight Dorothea felt beautiful and unashamed in her lover’s admiring eyes; writhing wild in the softness of his couch as his fingers seemed to seek the source of her greatest pleasure.
Just then and with a wicked laugh, her lover ‘hit the spot’; crooking his finger in a come hither motion across the soft piece of flesh that lingered just inside her opening.
Dorothea gasped as her lover made contact with that divine source of feminine ecstasy known as the G-spot; sending spasms of hot electric feeling coursing upward from her pussy to kiss every fiber of her being.
Her eyes flying wide as her body reveled in this indescribable sensation, Dorothea fell forward into her lover’s waiting arms; rolling with him across the softness of plush ivory carpeting as their lips collided in an intense kiss.
Making quick work of one another’s clothes, the couple’s arms and legs entangled as their tongues also entwined.
Soon the pair found themselves in the shadow of an exquisite marble cast fireplace that formed a far corner of Culver’s living room; her host taking a moment to light the fire within as Dorothea enjoyed an unparallel view of his firm hard derriere.
“You are just too perfect,” she praised him with a giddy grin, opening her arms to him as he joined her on the exotic Oriental weavers rug whose rich pattern of botanical florals captured her attention; especially when further adorned by the golden masculine body of her handsome seducer.
Straddling him with a playful grin, a besotted Dorothea kissed her way down his hard sculpted chest and washboard abs; finally facing in full the long hard shaft that saluted her arrival.
Bracing two adoring hands on his rock hard hips, Dorothea ran her tongue along the base of his shaft as he growled low in his throat; finally suckling its erect tip with her soft cherry red lips.
With a wicked chuckle she tasted and sucked him, savoring his growl of contentment as he ran his hands through her long dark hair.
She released a groan of frustration moments later, as her lover laid a gentle grasp on her broad shoulders and pulled her upward; clasping her tight and sure in his arms as he cupped her soft cheeks in two adoring hands.
“You’re too good at that love. If you kept that up for very long, we’d be finished before we started,” Culver whispered, adding as his fingers seemed to memorize every line and plane of her beaming visage, “Good God, Dorothea. How could anyone think that you’re anything less than absolutely beautiful?”
With these words he swept her beneath him on the rug, her breasts crushing his hard massive chest as their arms and legs entwined.
Rolling wild across the length of the rug, the couple kissed deeply as he lowered his hand to knead her tender breasts; bringing her nipples to hard erect points beneath his touch as his free hand rubbed and cradled her back.
Gyrating his hard trim hips against hers, Culver kissed Dorothea senseless as his long stiff cock surged upward to kiss her feminine cleft.
“My beauty,” he praised her further, his hands running like warm water down her spine as she ran her own attentive fingers through his thick mass of silver black hair.
“Look who’s talking,” she hissed, next touching and caressing his rock hard pecs as he coddled and cradled her.
Finally and with an impassioned growl Culver joined them as one; his long hard shaft surging to the depths of her soaking wet pussy.
Their hips claimed an immediate rhythm as their beings merged as one; their kisses growing hard and frantic as she impaled herself on his sweat glistened member.
Soon Dorothea lost herself in all things Culver; her hands canvassing his perfect body as he probed and penetrated her, all the while listening as he continued to exalt her beauty and sensuality.
His words dissolved to heated groans some time later, as their enjoined bodies immersed themselves into the depths of an unbreakable cocoon; heated still further by the fire that roared full and loud right before them.
Collapsing in a rain of kisses and touches that threatened to consume them whole, the couple continued to writhe wild in one another’s arms as he surged forth to her very core; his reverberating shaft advancing and retreating as his long wet tongue mirrored the motion.
The softness of the luxurious rug beneath her proved a pleasing contrast to the hardness of her lover’s perfect body; and for just a moment she broke their kiss to gaze upon the whole of his raw masculine glory—admiring his sculpted form as he bowed his head to kiss and nip her neck.
Just then their gazes collided and their hips and thighs interlocked between them; and before they could stop themselves the couple parted their lips to say the words that both seemed to feel.
“I love you,” their tones resounded low above the crackle of the flames before them.
Even so the meaning of their words resounded strong and hard into the night around them; driving them deeper into one another’s arms as, with a last resounding stroke, Culver carried them into the realm of a blissful mutual climax.
Their beings merging to savor a tender rain of intense and seemingly boundless pleasure, Culver and Dorothea united in a long last kiss before collapsing in the softness of the rug below them.
Relaxing finally in an easy embrace, the couple’s kisses and sighs intermingled sweet in the atmosphere around them; their reverie broken by the untimely chiming of Dorothea’s cell phone, which now resounded from the depths of her purse.
Her eyes flew wide as she recognized the cell phone number of Cal Newton, the man who’d unceremoniously baled on the blind date
they’d scheduled earlier that evening.
“The nerve of him!” she told a watching Culver, hitting the talk button as she held the phone up to her ear and barked, “What do you want, Jerk?”
A stunned silence met her words, followed by a mumbled apology.
“I so deserve your hatred, Dorothea,” Cal admitted, adding in a halting tone, “You’re such a sweet gal, and I acted like a total cad. Is there any chance we could meet up in 10 minutes at Club Tropicale?”
Culver had heard enough.
“Hey Jackass, this is Culver Clayton, the owner of Club Tropicale,” he bellowed over Dorothea’s shoulder. “I’m afraid you’re too little, too late. You are hereby officially banned for the club, for life. And as for Dorothea? Well I sincerely hope that she’ll be mine for just as long.”
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TEMPTATION TALES
Story 7
Hank Irons settled in to watch the game. The couch was cheap and stuffing was coming out of one arm onto the fine hardwood floors. Hank had no good excuse to still have the couch. It was one that he had bought with his first paycheck after getting married years ago. He could afford better now even with the alimony, but he had won the couch in the divorce. It had gotten ugly and expensive, so Hank remembered every piece he had taken off his wife in the settlement. The couch was one. The Elvis tapestry on one wall of the living room was the other. It might be time for both to go, but they were trophies of a hard fought victory. He was keeping them. It would be like tossing out mounted deer heads that a man had hunted up himself. His ex-wife had taken those, so he was keeping the ratty couch and bigger than life velvet Elvis out in full view.
It was old, fat, sweaty Elvis from the Vegas years too. Hank felt a kinship to this latter day Elvis. Hank was forty, but he was fit and cut. He worked hard and he played hard. He looked good enough to bring home some young, hot trophies from the clubs most weekends too.
This weekend was pizza, wings, beer, and football. He hadn’t gone out or brought anyone home. It was a private party for him, Vegas Elvis, and old couch. Hank tipped an open beer up toward Elvis’s open, velvet mouth.
Hank smiled. “No, you’re the king.”
Hank took a deep swallow. This was a passing out on the couch kind of afternoon and he intended to pour enough beer down to see that plan along.
They even captured the blue drops of fat Elvis’s flying sweat in crushed velvet. It was a gaudy thing of beauty and it was all his.
They were still on the pre-game jabber with old athletes playing experts telling who had the advantage in the game. Hank shook his head. He knew a man had to work, but there was something sad about watching old heroes comment on a game they couldn’t play any longer. Every guy on the screen in a tacky jacket was in his fat Elvis stage of his career.
Hank smiled and lifted his half empty beer at the wide screen. “No, you’re the fat, sweaty Elvis.”
The television was really way too big for the room. He had to have special struts mounted on the wall and connected floor to ceiling to hold up the TV. It covered one whole wall. Hank had the couch pushed back all the way to the divider counter and he was still too close. He told himself that he liked to be able to reach over his head to grab food, but the truth was that he had installed a damn movie screen in his living room just to prove that he could. If he watched TV with the lights out, he’d probably damage his eyes and the neighbors would come to the window to investigate the strange light.
Hank’s house was on the corner, so the neighbor’s house was at an odd angle to his. He could see from the living room down into their backyard, side-yard, and driveway. The house had been vacant for a while, but Phil up the street had said a couple was moving in.
Phil’s exact words were, “The guy is kind of dumpy, but the girl is marriage ending hot.”
Unfortunately, Hank knew exactly what Phil meant. It was marriage ending hot young girls that had done the trick for Hank’s divorce too.
He heard a motorcycle roar through the neighborhood with a Doppler Effect that he could feel through the walls of the house. Hank smiled. He had his gigantic TV while Phil had gotten a Harley. If the man ended up divorced, it would probably be about the bike before the girls.
Hank heard a metal on metal screech outside. It sounded like bad brakes. There was a pump and another screech.
Hank stood and moved to the living room window. He saw the reverse lights of a box truck pulling into the neighbor’s driveway. Hank frowned. He would have to remember to put on pants in the morning again. He started to step away from the window as the movers got out, but then he stopped himself and kept watching.
The pair struggled with the latch handle on the back of the truck. It took him a second to realize he was staring at a dumpy fellow kneeling behind the truck and then a smoking hot woman stepping around the corner.
The gears turned on what Phil had told him earlier and then Hank nodded with understanding. “Oh, self movers. Either saving money or you spent yourself house poor and you had to move yourselves then. God, to be young and stupid again. I would never move my own stuff again.”
She leaned on the back corner of the truck and Hank got a better view of her figure. His mouth actually dropped open. She had huge tits barely contained in her tee shirt. He wasn’t sure she was wearing a bra. He could see nipples pressing hard through the cotton even from all the way up in his living room. Her blond hair spilled down around her shoulders in golden curls. He could see the icy blue of her eyes. They were almost too blue to be from the real world. Her jeans shorts had white strings coming down from the frayed denim edges that were cut so high that they showed all the leg there was to see. Nothing left to do but rip them loose to reveal that pussy and ass which Hank just somehow knew would be perfect. Phil hadn’t been kidding. This babe was worth every ended marriage. Hank wanted to end her marriage.
He shook his head.
The frumpy husband got the door unlatched and rolled it up. Hank could see shelves, cabinets, couches, mattresses, and even filing cabinets. The dude struggled to get the hand truck down off the back. He and the wife were discussing what to take down first.
“Come on, man,” Hank said. “Do you not have any friends? I could get a dozen guys on Super Bowl Sunday, if my wife had tits like that. We’d all be moving with raging hard ons though.”
They knelt down and Hank saw the shorts ride up as the denim hugged her curves on that fine ass. Hank gritted his teeth. That was too much.
They were trying to figure out how to get the ramp out from under the truck.
Hank sighed and rubbed at his forehead.
If he went out there, he would be doing the work that this dork should have forked out a few hundred dollars to get pros to do. They’d probably try to pay him in pizza like they were still in damn college. If he hid inside, Hank would probably hear it when the dude threw out his back. The wife might get hurt too. Hank would feel bad about letting that happen.
He shook his head and headed for his front door. Hank considered calling Phil to get him to help to. He could tell Phil about the tits, but Phil would probably just roar by on his bike again really slow without actually stopping to help. Everyone else in the neighborhood had better sense than to jump in on a free move.
As Hank rounded the outside of the house and headed for the neighbors’ drive, he realized he was probably going to be laid up tomorrow with ice packs on his back.
“A wild weekend.” Hank whispered.
He crossed the invisible line that divided his property from that of the new neighbors’ lot across the grass. As he approached the driveway, he cleared his throat a few time to keep from startling the guy. Hank definitely did not want to spend his weekend giving some guy CPR.
He saw the dumpy guy first still messing with the ramp release. It was good that he couldn’t get it to pop loose because where he had his fingers he was either going to break them or clip them off.
The guy looked up at Hank app
roaching and stood. Dumpy smiled and pulled his hands free of the danger zone finally. He extended his hand out to Hank and said, “Hey, I assume you are our neighbor. I’m Ralph Stills and this is my wife Missy.”
She stepped out from around the truck and looked like she had popped right out of a modeling shoot – maybe the opening to a porno. She was dressed for either that or a beer commercial. She was much hotter up close.
Hank let go of Ralph’s hand and leaned out to take Missy’s. He averted his eyes because there was no way he was going to avoid staring at her tits any other way. She really wasn’t wearing a bra. What was this girl trying to do to Hank? How did a Ralph end up with a Missy? A guy that moved himself with just his wife to help couldn’t have much money, so he had to have an enormous cock or a great personality or both. Hank found himself hoping that Ralph was the funniest asshole in the neighborhood.
Those Kinds of Adult Stories Your Mother Warned You About Page 14
