“Will you dance for me?” he asked.
Ronnie put a tape in the player and the room filled with rhythmic, exotic music. Sinuously, Nita undulated around the room, turning down lamps, and lighting candles and sticks of incense. As she twirled, she removed the veil covering her hair and slid its soft folds across Tory’s face. At one point, she stood in front of him, placed the veil over his head and kissed his lips through the sheer fabric, the bells continually tinkling.
When he reached for her, she danced away, trailing the veil over his skin. She held the transparent fabric under her breasts and lifted so the unrestrained twin mounds stood out from her chest and jiggled as she moved, covered only by thin layers of gauze. She thrust her chest into his face but, when he went to kiss one nipple, she danced away.
Near then far, close, yet not quite close enough. The fragrance of her eastern perfume filled Tory’s head and he longed to taste her mouth. When next Nita danced close, he grabbed the scarf that covered her face and wrapped it around her body, trapping her swaying bottom.
Nita leaned over and licked Tory’s upper lip with the tip of her tongue. Back and forth, her tongue danced over his mouth as her bottom swayed against the imprisoning scarf. Each time he would have pressed his lips tightly against hers, she moved slightly away, allowing only the lightest of touches of mouth against mouth.
“More,” he growled. “Kiss me, woman.”
Nita’s mouth was so close to Tory’s that her breath cooled his wet lips. “Your wish,” she breathed, “is my command.” She pressed her mouth against his and her tongue requested entry. Greedily, he opened his mouth and swirled his tongue against hers. For long moments, their lips and tongues joined in fiery combat, plunging, then drawing back.
While they kissed, Nita opened the buttons of Tory’s dress shirt and tugged it from his body. She removed her mouth only long enough to pull his undershirt over his head and finally she ran her hands across his chest so the hair slid between her fingers. She scraped one nail down his skin.
He was on fire, yearning to devour this woman who was his for the evening. When he let go of one end of the scarf she slipped away, teasingly moving around the room. She turned her back, then took off her top. Naked to the waist, Nita held up a scarf and twirled. Tory got quick glimpses of her full breasts, their large darkened nipples standing out from the soft white skin.
Without taking his eyes from her body, Tory stood, removed the rest of his clothes, and tossed them aside. “Your staff is fully ready, my lord,” Nita said, staring at his erect cock. “Shall I take it in my mouth and show you how much pleasure I can give you?”
He dropped into the chair. “Oh yes, Nita, but just a little. I will have better uses for my staff.”
She knelt on the floor at his feet and brushed her hair across his loins, combing her hair with his cock. The sensation was so exquisite that he was afraid he would come without her ever really touching him. When she finally placed a light kiss against the tip of his erection, it took all his concentration not to climax right then.
Nita flicked her tongue over the end of Tory’s cock, licking the sticky pre-come fluid. Then she pursed her lips and sucked his purple cock head into her mouth. She took it in as deeply as she could, then pulled back, her head bobbing up and down in his lap.
“No, not yet,” he growled. He stood, put on a condom, grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her harem pants down. He turned her so she was facing away from him, bent her at the waist and plunged his cock into her wet pussy from behind. Over and over he drove into her until he moaned with his release.
Ronnie hadn’t actually climaxed, but she was strangely satisfied, sharing Tory’s pleasure. She reached between her thighs and cupped his testicles, squeezing and milking all the thick fluid. His body bucked as the last of his orgasm flowed into her.
When Tory collapsed, Ronnie got a warm, wet facecloth from the bathroom and leisurely washed his penis and testicles. She squeezed his cock and satisfied herself that there was, at least for the moment, no arousal left in him. She never left anyone unsatisfied.
He stood up, stretched, and looked at the clock beside the bed. “That was great, but I’m afraid I have to go now,” he said.
“You have my number,” Ronnie said, “and there are many other pictures in my album.”
“I don’t get to New York often,” he said sadly, buttoning his shirt. “But when I do, you can be sure you’ll hear from me.”
Ronnie shifted the phone to the other ear. “I see Tory two or three times a year,” she said to Carla, “and he’s very generous.” Carla heard Ronnie’s short laugh. “Last time, in addition to paying me, he brought me a magnificent gold bracelet with a tiny bell on it.”
“Do you always play the same scene with him?”
“Not always, but we come back to Nita more frequently than any other fantasy.”
“Thanks for the story,” Carla said. “That makes it much easier for me to deal with Max.”
“Well, good luck tomorrow night,” Ronnie said. “And most important of all, have fun.”
“I will. Believe me, I will.”
When she first saw Max, Carla had to smile. He looked like the stereotypical mountain man, about thirty-five, with almost black hair, a rugged build, and a full, bushy beard and moustache. “You’re a great looking woman,” he said without preamble. “Nice body, good bones.”
“Thank you,” Carla said, her nervousness quickly disappearing. “And you’re very handsome yourself.”
He fluffed the beard that was long enough to cover the first two buttons of his open-necked shirt. “You mean this,” he said as she put her napkin in her lap. “I think it’s ridiculous that a man spends ten or fifteen minutes each morning scraping a dangerously sharp instrument over his face. When I graduated from high school, I stopped shaving.”
“I guess that means that you don’t work in the gray flannel world of corporate America.”
His laugh was as booming as she had expected. “You’re right. I’m a maverick and proud of it. I own my own business, Sheridan Plastics. Hell, I am Sheridan Plastics. Built it myself from the get-go, you might say. Now some guys in pinstriped suits want to buy me out for an amount of money that has more zeros than I had dollars when I started. And I can sell or I can tell them to go to hell. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Are you married?”
He saddened. “Unfortunately, just when life was getting good, Marie died. Auto accident. It was real fast so at least she didn’t feel anything.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was almost eight years ago. Now I just like to have fun. Nothing serious, mind you. Just fun. What do you want for dinner?” Max asked.
“You selected this place and you seem to know your way around. What do you suggest?”
“I love a good steak and this restaurant serves the best in town.”
“Sounds great to me,” Carla said. Recently her life seemed to be a gustatorial war between nouvelle cuisine and peanut butter and jelly. She looked up as the waiter held his pencil poised. “Sirloin, medium rare with a baked potato and a salad.”
“Good choice,” Max said to the waiter. “Do that twice. And let’s have a bottle of Chateau Margeaux. I think you have a 1964 hidden away.” He turned to Carla. “The Margeaux is a bit light for a steak, but it’s excellent.”
“Very good, sir,” the waiter said.
“You’re full of surprises,” Carla said. “I would have taken you for a beer type of guy. Or even bourbon.”
“I was—still am—but I’ve learned to appreciate a good wine. I also enjoy ordering the most expensive bottle on the menu.”
Carla laughed loudly. She found she really liked this unusual man.
“I understand you have children.”
They spent the next hour in pleasant conversation. As the meal neared its end, Carla considered the problem of how to bring up her album but, as Ronnie had predicted, Max saved her the trouble.
“I’d lik
e to see your pictures.”
Nonplussed, Carla reached down and opened a black leather attache case that sat near her feet. “How did you know about the album?” she asked as she placed the book on the table.
“I guess that’s called Black Leather. Bert told me about Ronnie and her book, Black Satin. I assumed you would have some photos too. That’s why I called you. Now, be a good girl and get lost. I want to look at this in private. Oh and take off that bra. I like tits that jiggle.”
Carla burst out laughing. “Anything you say.” She went into the ladies’ room and, inside a stall, took off her bra. She was glad she had worn her teal-blue knit dress and only a half-slip. Max would be happy at the way her breasts bounced. When she arrived back at the table, Max was looking at a picture of a woman in a slinky negligee. “I want to wear something like this,” he said, not the least embarrassed. “And I want you to fuck me in the ass with a dildo.”
“You certainly know what you want,” Carla said, completely surprised by the nature of the request.
“I most certainly do. Can we play?”
“Of course.” Ronnie had told her that she had lingerie in larger sizes and had shown her the love toys. “I can’t guarantee that exact outfit, but I’m sure I have something you’ll like.”
“That’s okay. And by the way, you have great tits.”
Max dropped a handful of bills on the table and almost dragged Carla to a taxi. In the bedroom of the brownstone, Carla put her coat and Max’s away and went through the bureau drawers. She pulled out a black nightgown with a deep vee front and back and thin straps over the shoulders. She placed it across Max’s lap. “How about this?”
His huge, calloused hands slid over the delicate fabric. “It’s beautiful.”
Carla found another, a peach-colored satin lounging set with feathery trim. “Or this?”
Max held the black gown in one hand and the peach in the other, rubbing the slippery material between his fingers. In another drawer Carla found a bright red teddy that had long attached garters and panties to match. As she handed the pieces to Max, she saw his eyes light up. “Do you have stockings?” he asked.
“Of course.” Seeing Max’s expression she said, “You’ve obviously selected this one?”
“Definitely.” He stood up and quickly removed all his clothes.
Carla tried not to think about how much hair Max had all over his body and how the undies he had selected would look. She was afraid she would giggle. When she looked at his face, however, she quieted. He was mesmerized and his body showed clearly that he was extremely excited. Anything that excites a man like this can’t be bad, she thought.
“Will that thing fit around my waist?” Max wondered, pointing to the bustier.
“Well, let’s try.” Carla stretched the silky red lace teddy around his waist and threaded the laces through their eyelets.
Max let his head fall back and closed his eyes as the silk caressed his skin.
Carla fetched a pair of thigh-high red stockings. “Sit on the edge of the bed and I’ll help you put these on.” Max sat and Carla scrunched one nylon on her thumbs. “Raise your foot,” she said, kneeling on the rug. Slowly, she took his foot in her hand and slid the nylon up the arch. Inch by inch, the sheer red material covered first his ankle, then his calf, his knee, and his hairy thigh. His cock was rock hard as Carla fastened the stocking to the garters.
Max held his breath and trembled as the second stocking inched up his leg and Carla snapped the garter in place. “Soft,” she said, sliding her hand down his nylon-covered leg. “Very smooth.”
He lifted her hand from his leg. “Not yet,” he said through gritted teeth. “I want to feel the rest of the outfit.”
“Of course,” Carla said. She slid the bikini panties over his large feet and up to his knees. “Now stand up.” Agonizingly slowly, Carla pulled the panties over his engorged cock, then stroked his body through the cloth. Up and down his legs, across his chest, up and down his cock. Her hands were everywhere, their touch muffled by the various fabrics.
Max’s breathing was ragged. This was better than it had ever been for him. He stood, his eyes closed, his body quivering, as he tried to retain control. He realized that Carla was no longer touching him. He opened his eyes and saw her, still completely clothed, holding a slender penis-shaped dildo in her hand, stroking its length.
“You know what I’m going to do now, don’t you?”
He could no longer remain standing. He collapsed, curled on his side, on the bed. “I know.”
Carla sat behind him and applied a generous amount of lubricant on the flesh-colored rod. “You know where you need this?”
“Yes.”
She pulled the panties to one side and slid the dildo easily into Max’s ass and replaced the nylon. “Now, that’s done and held in place firmly. Stand up.”
“I don’t know whether I can.”
“You can and you know it.”
Max stood up, almost unable to control his body. It was taking all of his strength not to come. But when she milked his cock with one hand and rotated the end of the dildo with the other he was done. Semen soaked the front of the panties, drenching Carla’s hand. It seemed hours and still he came, Carla handling his cock in front and twirling the dildo in back. When his body was empty, Max dropped back onto the bed.
Carla sat beside him until his breathing had almost returned to normal. Then she withdrew the dildo from his body, washed it and put it away in the toy drawer.
“That was marvelous,” Max said, turning on his back and watching Carla move around the room. “Just marvelous.” He sat up. “Help me off with this stuff.”
Carla carefully removed the clothing, then slid a new pair of red satin panties up Max’s legs and over his limp penis. “Leave them on under your slacks and think of me as the material rubs your cock.”
“Hell, Carla, you’ll have me hard all the time.”
“That’s the idea. Your cock will be hard and you’ll remember me.”
With a quick laugh, Max pulled on his slacks over the red panties. “I just hope I don’t have to pee before I get home. Someone in a men’s room might see this red stuff and get the wrong idea.”
“Or the right one.”
“You’re quite something, lady,” he boomed. “I’ll be calling you. And I’ve got a lot of friends. I hope you’re not overly booked.”
“I’ll make room. Any friend of yours will become a friend of mine.”
As Max left, Carla noticed that he was walking just a bit differently, enjoying the slither of the red silk under his slacks.
About a week later Carla received a note in the mail. “Max told me about you. The plumber will be at your apartment at six o’clock on Tuesday evening the 27th.” The note was signed “Gene.” The only other thing in the envelope was five hundred dollars in cash. Later, Carla got a phone message from Max saying that a friend of his named Gene would drop her a note soon.
Carla was at the brownstone at six on the selected evening, dressed in a pair of tight, white denim pants and a snug-fitting plum-colored polo shirt that accentuated her bralessness. When the doorbell rang, she opened the front door and faced a muscular, if slightly overweight, man of medium height. He wore a pair of stained coveralls and carried a toolbox. “I’m Gene,” he said, “and I’m here to fix your kitchen faucet. Max said your plumbing wasn’t usually a problem.”
Carla almost giggled. “My plumbing is usually fine,” she said. “But that kitchen sink has been giving me a terrible time recently.”
“Let’s check it out.” Gene followed her to the kitchen and proceeded to actually dismantle the faucet while she watched. “Okay, lady,” he said, “I’m going to need some help here.”
“What can I do?”
“Most things, I’d imagine,” he said, grinning. He had disconnected the faucet and fastened a huge pipe wrench around some connection at the back of the sink. “But right now I need you to hold this wrench.”
Carla replaced his hairy hands on the wrench with her own. “Now pull hard,” he said, “and hold tight. If you let go, we’ll have water everywhere.”
Knowing nothing about plumbing, Carla had no idea what this man had done, so she pulled on the wrench with both hands. “Don’t let go,” he warned again. As he stood up, he brushed against Carla’s breasts which, since she was bent over the sink, were hanging heavily against her shirt. “Nice melons, lady,” he said, squeezing one of the heavy globes.
“Hey,” she said, “cut that out.”
As she started to straighten, he said, “Don’t let go of that pipe or it’ll make Old Faithful look like a garden sprinkler.”
“Shit,” Carla said. She had no idea how much of this was fantasy and how much was reality. Not ready to take a chance with Ronnie’s kitchen, she held onto the wrench.
“I’m glad you understand,” Gene said. He squeezed her breast, weighing its fullness in his hand. “Nice big tits,” he said, nodding. “Fill the hand, and then some. I love titties that are more than a handful.”
“Will you let go,” Carla snapped.
Gene backed up and, behind her, Carla heard tools banging around in the toolbox. “Here we are,” Gene, the plumber, said. Carla heard a loud snipping sound. Suddenly her polo shirt was being cut up the back and across the shoulders. With a yank, she was naked from the waist up. “That’s better,” Gene said.
“Now wait a minute,” Carla said, but Gene silenced her with a pinch of one of her swollen nipples. “Ouch.”
“Be a good girl,” Gene said, “and don’t let go of that pipe.” He leaned over and bit her earlobe. “If you say ‘Uncle,’ I’ll stop. Understand?” he whispered. Carla nodded.
With both hands holding the wrench tightly, Carla tried to wiggle away from the plumber’s hands, but she had almost no room to maneuver. He pressed his body against her back and his rough palms cupped her heavy breasts and pressed them against her ribs. As he held her, he thrust his lower body against her buttocks, jabbing her with what felt like the largest cock ever.
“That’s for later,” he said, his laugh warm, moist waves against her ear. Again he backed up and rummaged in his toolbox.
Made For Sex Page 11
