We are mere minutes from home. Making it in the door is a challenge. Our clothing is mussed and half undone. I grab you by the hand and whisk you to the closet where we both begin stripping off each other’s clothing. How we make it this far is a mystery to me. Once your pants are off and my shirt over my head the hunger for each overtakes us. You crush into me passionately with kisses, cupping my breasts, taking them into your mouth, sucking, tasting, licking, sending chills of excitement to the core of my drenched pussy. I ache for you to touch me and am finally nearing satisfaction.
My hands capture your throbbing cock and I want nothing more than to taste you again. But it feels so good with you sucking at my breasts. Your hands move down my body, hiking up my skirt. I know I will not taste you again at this moment. Your fingers skim over my mound briefly, delve between my lips, and into my sweet spot. I clench around you and small pulses electrify my body. You take me to the carpet, spread my knees wide before you, and bend to taste me. There is nothing gentle or soothing. It is raw passion. You flatten your tongue high at my pussy lips lapping, sliding, licking, circling, and then plunging into my honey pot, tasting my passion. I come hard on your tongue. You urge me on with your tongue and lick at me intensely until I come over and over. I think I am spent, but we are not finished.
You rise over me with fingers teasing my breasts and your cock toying with my clit. You smile at me with glossy lips and then bend to kiss me. As we share the wetness of my pussy in our kiss I reach down to slip your cock within me. You are hard and very thick. You fill me completely. We restrain ourselves for a few moments until we can no longer persist in remaining motionless. You rock into me. I gather my knees up to your sides and meet your thrusts with all my power. You drive deep within me. I can feel every ridge of your bulging cock as you glide in and out of my silken pussy. Your breath hitches right before you are about to erupt within me. I lift my hips into you and grind, taking you as deeply as possible. You pulse and surge as you rock into me, coming hard. As you continue to plunge inside me, you hit the perfect spot and roll me on the wave of orgasmic bliss yet again. I shudder and giggle, because the moment feels so incredibly wonderful.
Though I am a bad girl at heart, they say good things come to those who wait. I am definitely looking forward to what happens in the morning.
BLUEBERRY MUFFIN SHOT
1/2 ounce Blueberry Schnapps
1/4 ounce Raspberry Liqueur
1/2 ounce Half & Half
1/2 ounce Horchata Liqueur
Fresh Blueberry
Place all liquids in the
order given in a cocktail
shaker filled two-thirds full of ice.
Quickly shake until well chilled. Strain into
shot glass. Garnish with single blueberry
skewered and placed across top of shot glass.
Real dairy cream products react with products
with high acid concentration. This might look
unappealing in the shaker before mixing the
shot. Don’t worry. Shake the Blueberry Muffin
Shot vigorously with ice as directed and this recipe
will turn out as appealing as shown in the photo.
This surprising little shot tastes exactly like blueberry muffins fresh from the bakery. It is a clever breakfast themed shot to sip in anticipation of a sensual morning romp.
CHOCOLATE CHERRY RIPPLE
1 ounce Chocolate Liqueur
3/4 ounce Dark Cherry Liqueur
1/2 ounce Coffee Liqueur
2 ounces Heavy Whipping Cream
Espresso Powder
Place all liquids in a
cocktail shaker filled
two-thirds full of ice. Shake until
well chilled. Strain into a chilled martini
glass. Garnish with light dusting of espresso powder.
Chocolate Cherry Ripple is like sipping a river of silken chocolate. An excellent coffee aroma marries the flavor of milk chocolate covered Bing cherries.
CLOSING TIME
I hope you don’t mind that I called. It kind of makes me nervous locking up at night. Chris and I were the only two left. Even though we put on a good front with the customers who won’t shove their asses out the door, we still like having a man around when it’s time to lock up and head home. While Chris and I clean up, you sit here at the bar with a drink and I’ll keep the music playing.
Chris is tall, blonde, and curvy with perfect breasts—not too big and not too small. She can go braless and you would never know except the two perfectly beaded nipples that peak through her t-shirt. The best thing is she has a great sense of humor. When we get together behind the bar with the music going and the place is hopping, we are unstoppable, and the tips flow in as fast as the drinks flow out. I am never sure if the guys are tipping because of the drinks or because they like to see the way Chris and I dance flirtatiously with each other behind the bar. Whatever it is, it works and we have fun.
Tonight we were crushed with party animals. The place was alive with music, the crowd singing to Buckcherry’s Crazy Bitch, with one of our own crazy bitches lying on a table letting her boyfriend lick whipped cream out of her belly button. It is nights like this that I should be bone tired, but I am so hyped with energy that I need to unwind first.
While you sit and sip your drink, Chris and I begin the nightly clean up. We wash glasses, put them away, take out trash, and mop the floor. Once the mundane is over, we begin straightening behind the bar. I make a big show of leaning over in front of you to give you a premium view of my cleavage.
“Do you mind lifting your glass, sir, so I can wipe the bar?” I ask in my best Southern accent.
You lift your glass and dip your head as if tipping a hat, giving me a devilish grin. I notice you take a long look at my cleavage and lick your lips.
I lean up on my tip toes as I swipe the bar with my rag and steal a lick at your lips.
“I’ll take some of that later,” I say smiling.
Quicker than I can react you reach up with an ice cube from your drink, dropping it between my breasts.
“And I’ll take some of that,” you reply.
I squeal and take a jump back. You laugh. Chris looks over her shoulder, shaking her head, laughing as well.
“I can hose him down if he’s getting too rowdy with you,” she says, holding up the spray hose from the sink.
“Oh, I can think of better ways to get him all wet,” I say.
I fish the ice out of my bra and walk over to Chris. I look her in the eye and wink. After a night of bantering with customers who can only be teased so far, it is fun to be able to take teasing that step further, like we do when we are in here with just the two of us. I take the ice cube and graze it across her open cleavage and look back at you.
“How about this? Does this get you a little worked up?” I ask. “It gets me wet.” I take my free hand and make a show of tracing my finger over my neck, cleavage, sides and hip to the ends of my frayed shorts. Then, I dip my finger under the edge.
“I don’t know,” Chris says. “It’s making me a little…,” she pauses, fanning herself, “hot!” She looks at you and we both giggle.
“Maybe this will help,” you say, tossing over another ice cube.
Somehow I get the feeling your intention is not to cool anything. That’s okay, though. You have no idea the lengths to which Chris and I have already teased and tempted each other on our many nights closing together. We have even talked about how fun it might be to get you in here some night to watch. Who knows where things might lead?
Lucky for us, there is an entire bin of fresh ice we have not emptied yet. She reaches down for a couple of ice cubes.
“Yeah, I think this will definitely cool things off.”
Chris pops an ice cube in her mouth. She winks at me and grabs one of my belt loops with the crook of her finger. Then she nuzzles close to my ear.
“How about we give your boyfriend one hell of a show? I’m game.�
��
Oh, I am all over this. My sensual side has been stirred and is willing, game or no game. This girl is sexy, hot, and you are all about watching girls whether you ultimately get to participate or not.
I give you a sly look at the same time I wrap my hand around Chris’s ass and squeeze, pulling her closer to me. “Oh, I’m definitely all in.”
You settle on your barstool to enjoy the show.
Chris’s tongue is wet and cold as she skims along my neck. Her touch gives me a cool sensation, but her sexual energy sends fire quivering through my body straight to my pussy. My hands rove the curve of her waist, thumbing at the fullness of her weighted breast, wanting to feel her flesh within my palms. A slight low moan escapes my mouth.
I reach into the ice bin and sweep a piece of ice up Chris’s outer thigh to the edge of her shorts, across her butt cheek, and between her legs. She lets out a hot sigh on my neck, right beneath my chin where she’s been nibbling with tiny kisses and licks.
I hear her rummage in the ice bin and then feel the cube between her teeth as she brushes my chest into my cleavage with the ice. The sudden coolness is euphoric, sending confused goose bumps of chilled delight from fingertip to toe. I pull my top aside giving her more room to play and roam. My hips lean into her.
She reaches behind me with cool fingers tugging the clasps of my strapless bra. Releasing my breasts she tosses my bra to the bar where it lands silently beside your melting drink.
“There you go, cowboy,” Chris says to you, teasingly.
“All right, let’s finish it,” you reply in your best Wyatt Earp imitation.
I let out a half laugh, half growl. Finish this, indeed. My fingers skim the ragged edge of her shorts and effortlessly glide over her nether lips. No matter how subtle the touch, I know Chris does not wear panties. I also know she is already drenched with a wetness that does not come from ice. She is moist and steaming wet. I slide my fingers along her pussy lips, curious. I already know she is wet. I want to know what else she is capable of doing and to what length she wants to take this game of teasing and temptation..
Chris lets out another sigh. Looking me directly in the eye, she cups my breast in her palm and slides her other hand down my tummy inside my shorts cupping my mound. Two of her fingers slide between my lips, catching my clit, and making it buzz with satisfaction. She wiggles her fingers.
“He said to finish it,” Chris whispered, barely breathing.
She has me so aroused I can barely think. What’s to think about anyway?
“Hop up there on the bar,” I said, pointing to where you sit watching, waiting.
You push your drink aside and Chris perches herself in front of you willingly. I unbutton and unzip her shorts. She shimmies out of them. She is beautiful. Smooth and neat, wet and glossy. I can hardly wait to taste her, though it would be a waste to skip touching everything. I glide my palms along her sides, scooting her t-shirt up. Chris raises her arms. You help and lift her shirt over her head. I continue smoothing my palms up her skin, taking in all of her creamy softness. You help with the clasp of her bra, releasing her fabulous breasts. I cup them within the palms of my hands. Chris leans into your chest, resting her head in the crook of your shoulder. You reach around, touching my hands, joining them at her breasts.
You hold her breasts for me, allowing me to stroke Chris’s back softly while I take her nipple within my lips, licking lightly at first, teasingly, circling, and then taking it in with a long, deep suckle. She arches her back, exhaling in your ear. She is exquisite. I move to her opposite nipple. It is equally as satisfying. But I do believe you have things quite taken care of up here. You have already begun twirling her nipples between your fingers softly, caressing her breasts.
I move down her tummy with the tip of my tongue, dipping briefly in the well of her navel. She wiggles as I stiffen my tongue to tickle her deeply and then I travel lower. She is spread eagle before me on the polished oak bar, wet, moist, and ready. My hands slide down her sides, past her hips, and over the tops of her thighs. I take one last look up at you before dipping my head to her bounty of sweetness.
My first taste delves between her lips, cupping the wetness seeping from her well of desire. Her passion is tangy sweet. I take my time sweeping the tip of my tongue up the well of one lip and down the well of the other, zigzagging, tasting, slurping, and then repeating until I hear the hitch in her voice I have come to know so well in my own. She is close to coming. I bring my fingers close to her pussy, massaging close to her mound while my tongue explores the secrets of her sensual pleasure. Then she comes, hard at my mouth, and her wetness gushes. She is sweet.
When I finally glance up at you, you are grinning. Chris is gathering her shirt up from off the bar. It really is time to finish cleaning up. I suppose I will have to clean this part of the bar again.
Once we finish closing and walk out of the bar, Chris waves goodnight and says we’ll have to do that again sometime. That is a sure thing, but right now all I need is you going home with me.
“How about we finish what we started, cowboy,” I say in my best Southern accent.
“I’m your Huckleberry,” you reply in your best Doc Holliday.
BODACIOUS BABE
1-1/2 ounce Bourbon
1/2 ounce Godiva® Chocolate Liqueur
1/4 ounce Red Vermouth
Place all liquids in a
mixing glass or cocktail
shaker filled two-thirds full of ice.
Stir until well chilled. Strain into a small
chilled martini glass.
The richness of this cocktail depends largely upon the bourbon you choose. Sweeter bourbons laced with cinnamon and chocolate complete this drink with supreme decadence.
This is a full-bodied flavor experience you won’t want to pass up. Bodacious Babe is full, rich and lightly sweet with a hint of spiced chocolate weaved in the flavor.
SOUTHERN SPARK
1-1/2 ounce Bourbon
1/4 ounce Simple Syrup
1/4 ounce Fresh Lemon Juice
3 drops Orange Bitters
1-1/2 ounce Sparkling Sake
Lemon Twist
Place bourbon, simple syrup,
juice and bitters in a
cocktail shaker filled two-thirds
full of ice. Shake until well chilled.
Strain into a chilled coupe or martini glass.
Top with chilled sparkling sake. Garnish with
a lemon twist.
Southern Spark takes full advantage of Kentucky bourbon’s bad boy charm and sparkling sake’s vivacious glow. You might even feel a warm, tingly feeling from your lips to your finger tips from the first sip.
ROOFTOP RENDEZVOUS
Remember when I emailed you a fantasy location? The completely decorated outdoor rooftop balcony with a comfy pillowed alcove for us to get cozy and relax together? That is exactly where we are. A million stars litter the pitch-black sky, reminding me of glitter tossed haphazardly in the air. An ever-so-gentle breeze brushes against our skin and glass-encased candles flicker, casting dancing shadows on a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket. We lie on the mounds of fluffy pillows, toasting our combined beautiful fortune of finding each other. You wear a white linen cruise shirt untucked over a pair of shorts and I wear a halter bikini top with a low slung flowing sarong over my bikini bottoms. I’d been lying out in the sun earlier while writing a steamy sex scene for my latest endeavor. We toss questions and commentary back and forth just like we do when we relax in the tub or when we drink wine at the kitchen bar.
“And what were you writing about?” you inquire.
“Sex,” I reply flirtatiously. I sip my champagne and eye you over the rim of the glass. The bubbles tickle my tongue, mimicking my playful mood.
“How do you decide what to write?” you ask while enjoying another sip of your own. You lean over to top off my glass as if to prod me on to peel away another layer of inhibition.
I’m already in se
xy mode, so I don’t need much prompting. I’ve been dripping wet for hours as I imagined and wrote this afternoon, reliving the scene in my head over and over. I swallow another sip of my champagne and lick my lips.
“Like this,” I say leaning over to the ice bucket. “It’s warm up here this afternoon in the sun and I want to cool off.”
I take an ice cube in my fingers and bring it to my mouth to warm it and make it slippery. Then I pull it from between my lips in a slow kiss and run it down my chin and neck down between my breasts. It chills me and my nipples stand erectly as the melting cube glides along the slope of my breasts, occasionally disappearing inside my bikini top. My icy fingertips circle my nipples playfully. My nipples respond, tightening into pink beads at the coolness of my touch. The ice cube melts as you watch me, smiling, enjoying every second.
“What are you fantasizing about while that ice cube melts?” you ask. You are on your side, propped up on your elbow, watching me with a salacious grin.
“This,” I say. After another sip, I put my glass down and reach over for a small piece of ice and place it between my lips. It disappears in my mouth. Leaning towards you, my cold lips brush against yours and I run the tip of my tongue along the inside of your silkily smooth upper lip. Then I slowly wrap my cold tongue around your warm tongue and feel the clash of temperature as ice becomes liquid.
You put your champagne glass down next to the ice bucket and retrieve a small piece of ice to circle my lips with before slipping it into my mouth. We kiss again. This is a cold kiss that quickly begins to smolder. As we kiss, you take another cube from the bucket and trace my chin, along my jawbone, down to my collar bone. You guide the ice with your cold, wet fingertips, tracing the fabric of my halter until you skim the outer edge of my nipple. The ice melts, yet you still linger over my nipple with the soft pad of your cold fingertip.
Cocktails With a Tryst: An Affair With Mixology and Seduction Page 6
