by Emmie Combs
"Hungry," he growled in my ear, his voice that gravelly purr he gets when he's just woken up. His teeth tug lightly on my earlobe.
I set down the earrings with a sigh. "I have..." The thought trails away as his hands stroke my breasts through my blouse. No. Can't be late. "A meeting," I manage. We're standing before the full length mirror and I'm watching those hands -- God, I love his hands -- slide over the white silk.
"Hungry, babe," he repeats, stroking his tongue down my neck to make me shiver. I'm always "babe" in the morning. The name-face memory is the last thing to awaken...unlike the part of him currently rubbing my ass. His tongue is warm, wet, on my neck. His hands are hot on my breasts. But I'm not done arguing yet.
"Later," I try to pull away, to push his hands away, "I'll be home early since I have to go in now." I don't win, of course, but I'm starting to get into the game of it. One of his arms bands my waist as the other hand pulls my blouse out of my skirt. The possibility of later is never a good excuse for him. Now AND later is more his style.
"Can I please..." I start, but now my blouse is totally wrinkled and needs to be changed. And my hair's all messy. Lucky I didn't get to makeup yet. I'm going to have to start over...
"You know what it does when I see you all fancy like this," he whispers, his breath hot on my skin. He pulls the blouse up, breaking away for the two seconds it takes to tug the silk off, then wraps his arms around me again.
"Damn, baby," he growls, his teeth scraping my bare shoulder, "No bra again?" I manage a shrug, but those hands are on my breasts again, this time with no silk between, and the heat of his touch spirals down to my core. Watching in the mirror, seeing him touch me, is even more arousing than the sensations he's creating with his thumbs. Those wicked thumbs.
"How can I let you go out like that," he asks, nipping my shoulder again, "Knowing those horny guys you work with will see your nipples through your top?" His hands give my breasts a gentle squeeze. "Nope, you have to stay home."
"I'm wearing a jacket over the blouse. No nipples in sight," I manage, fighting not to moan. One hand slides lower, stroking my belly, as the other pinches and tugs one of the nipples under discussion. I feel the tug clear down to my pussy, which has started to ache. "If I put on a bra, can I go to my meeting?" Look at that hand, dark against the very pale skin of my belly, those fingers sliding under the waist of my skirt. Another shiver and this time I'm sure my panties are damp.
"What have you got under this skirt?" he growls, the hand on my belly sliding around to flip open the button at the back. "I bet you're naked," his voice is rough with desire, "Ready to be bent over the conference table and fucked."
This is why he can't visit me at work. Too many surfaces to be bent over and fucked. My skirt falls away, revealing a lacy black thong and thigh-high grey stockings. His groan is hot on my neck and I feel the vibration of it in his body as he steps close enough to rub against my backside. I can feel the hardness of him, the heat of his cock even through his sweatpants.
"I love these panties," he chuckles, giving them a little tug. I quiver and whimper as the thin band of lace rubs my pussy lips. He chuckles again. He knows damn well he's won. I'm wet, as horny as he is, and all but naked. He's going to get lucky this morning and I'm going to be late to my meeting.
"Well, you bought them," I manage. His hand is sliding under the lace, burrowing down between my legs. The other hand still idly strokes my breast, but all my attention is now on the fingers stroking the edges of my folds. I'm watching in the mirror, unable to take my eyes from the sight of that hand in my panties.
"So I did," he laughed, low and husky. Memories of that day flash into both our minds -- picking out lace and silk, visiting the dressing room, being fucked senseless in the dressing room -- I love that my guy likes shopping. And, as long as it's for covering my pussy, he doesn't mind indulging me. So I don't get any ideas about going without panties at the office -- all those surfaces, you know.
His finger slides between my bare lips, seeking my clit. Another concession to him -- he loves to lick bare pussy lips. My head falls back against his shoulder as his fingers start to rub my hard little nub. Why fight it? I'm going to enjoy it. I always do.
"I love how you have my name on your neck," he whispers, his tongue tracing the tattoo as his fingers continue to rub and my body melts. "Tells everybody you're mine." He gives the tat a kiss, then suckles lightly. "Maybe we should think about putting my name on your pussy..."
My whole body jerks at the idea and he chuckles. "Nah...wouldn't want some artist playing with your pussy," he shifts, tracing my spine with his tongue as he kneels behind me. His fingers hook in my panties and drag them down. I'm not totally nude -- still wearing stockings -- but close enough and I'm still standing before the mirror, with his hands on my hips, staring at myself. He presses a hot kiss to the hollow of my back, then another on each ass cheek. Now we're getting to the good stuff.
I love this part of our game. The possessive growling. I'm his. We both know it. There has never been another for me -- he was my first cock and I've been his woman ever since. Only his hands touch me. Only his lips. He doesn't really worry about me fucking a guy at the office. He knows his woman. But I love the feeling of being wanted, protected, desired...I love being his.
I watch in the mirror as his hands slide up the inside of my leg. Again he cups me, his tongue tracing patterns on my ass as his hands part my legs. I widen my stance and can see his fingers push between my pink lips. It's erotic as hell, feeling him stroke and watching those fingers at the same time.
"I want to taste you," he growls, lightly biting my ass as his fingers continue to play. I'm starting to tremble already, the sensations going straight to my core and making my pussy weep. All the blood has drained from my head and I feel my heart beat throb in my clit. "I want you to watch me when I do."
"I...I see you," I manage, clenching my teeth to stop a moan. His fingers have moved back to my pussy, teasing me. A fingertip in, then sliding the rim of my hole. I see the movement in the mirror, but it doesn't prepare me for when he thrusts. I gasp, jerk, arch, as his thick finger plunges into my pussy. He grinds his hand against me, his finger rubbing, twisting. I can see in the mirror...with a moan, I shudder and see his hand glisten.
He pulls his finger away, creamy with my juices, and licks it. I can't see him lick, but I hear the wet slurp of it. Then he slowly pushes two fingers into me. My legs shake as he works those fingers deeper and I watch them disappear into my body. He wiggles them and I close my eyes a moment, fighting to stay on my feet as my whole body melts with pleasure. I lean forward a little, rest my hands on either side of the mirror, trying to hold myself up. I don't want him to stop...and I moan as his fingers again pull away.
"Tasty little cunt," he growls, giving my ass another nip after he licks his fingers again. His hands slide over my ass, tilting my hips, spreading my legs a little more. As I watch in the mirror, he bends his head and I both see and feel his tongue stroke my folds. I shudder, biting my lip, as his tongue teases my opening. "Quite tasty. But then, you're in a hurry..."
He gets up and I barely hold back a curse. My body is primed for sex, trembling with need, hotter than the sun, and now he remembers I have a meeting. "Please..." I hate to beg, but I know it's the only way to get what I want. He loves to torment me -- offering and holding back, tasting and teasing only to leave me squirming.
He shrugs off his sweats, stepping close behind me and rubbing his hands over my nakedness. His thick cock rubs the crack of my ass and I moan. His lips are again on the back of my neck and I feel him smile as I push back against him, seeking release. I feel his hips shift, hold my breath in anticipation, and then gasp as his cock slides sideways against my pussy lips. The caress makes me shiver and the sight of his red-purple head appearing and disappearing between my thighs is erotic.
"I guess..." his voice is that silky purr that says I'm in trouble, "I guess I could be quick." Even before I can breathe, he moves
-- his hands clamp on my hips and, as we both watch in the mirror, that long red cock tilts and surges up into my pussy.
My breasts thrust towards the mirror as my body arches and I cry out. He's a big man, my body strains and stretches to hold his throbbing penis, the light pain only adding to the swirling pleasure. I love the feel of his cock inside me -- searing like a hot poker, hard as stone, filling me, pulsing inside me -- I feel the rush of my first orgasm and hear him groan as we watch my juices spill over his base, his balls, his thighs.
"Yes," he hisses, beginning to thrust. It's incredible to watch this thick rod appear, dripping with cum, then disappear into my body and feel the sensation of it burrowing inside me, stretching me, filling me. Again and again...he bends his knees a little to give himself the leverage to plunge up into me, ramming my pussy. I can't breathe, can't speak, can only whimper as I cling to his arm -- all that's holding me on my feet aside from the penis impaling me.
"Please..." I sob and he suddenly scoops me into his arms and dumps me on the bed on my hands and knees, his cock shifting and now hammering me from a new angle. I pant, my fingers fisting in the sheets, as his penis strokes my pussy continuously in and out.
"Watch!" he demands, his own breath panting. I turn my head to see us still in the mirror, that red member still sliding in and out of my body. Again his knees bend and this time the angle has me screaming. He grunts as he jackhammers my g-spot, sending lightning bursts through my body. I can barely keep my eyes open, but then I meet his eyes in the mirror and see the hunger that he has for me.
"Yes..." I sob, feeling his thrusts grow faster, harder, his cock swelling even more inside me. "Please..." It's incredible to watch the tension in his body, to feel his fingers dig into my hips, to see the veins on his neck stand out as he strains, driving that thick rod into my pussy. I can see his balls tighten, draw up even as my core begins to quiver with pending orgasm.
"DAMN!" His roar is nothing compared to the tidal wave of cum that explodes into my core. I shudder through my own orgasm, unable to tear my eyes from the mirror, from the sight of my body shaking as this thick red rod pulses, buried almost completely inside me. The heat of him sears me as it fills me and spurts out around his rod, white oozing around the edges of my hole. He pumps his cock inside me, his balls slapping my swollen lips, my clit, his cum still erupting inside my pussy. Unable to still my own shuddering pleasure, I drop my head to the sheets and moan as he empties himself inside me.
He pulls away with a slurping sound and I manage to lift my head again. In the mirror I see white speckles the back of my thighs, white cream oozing over my pink pussy flesh. He's standing a step away, his spent cock hanging half-erect between his legs as he balances himself with hands on his knees, panting. My pale skin is flushed pink, but that fades slowly as I shift and roll over to sit on the edge of the bed.
"Well," I say, trying for a severe tone and crossing my arms over my breasts, "I hope you're happy. I'm going to be late for my meeting."
His head comes up with a jerk and I see the dark humor in his eyes. "I could always come in with you, show them why you're late," he offers, the sparkle I love lighting the green of his eyes.
I shiver, imagining him bending me over the conference table and fucking me while my co-workers watch. "Then you'd have to share," I manage. I can see he knows what I'm imagining. He narrows his eyes a moment and wonder what he's considering.
Then he chuckles. "Get along with you," he waves at me, "And be sure you do get home early -- I plan on eating in tonight and you're on the menu."
What better incentive is there than that?
The End.
Helping Make Ends Meet
Cindy sat at the kitchen table sipping her chickory coffee. The aroma and taste seemed even stronger than normal. All her senses were at a heightened state. Would she return tomorrow or stay home? There was over $1500 cash in her purse waiting to go in the bank. She had to return didn't she? She thought back over the last week. It had all began at the very same table last Sunday.
Cindy had been through the job ads twice and yet started again. Her husband Tom had left to play golf at the club. The club they were wasting their savings on to remain members. Cindy recalled the fight they had the night before. She had dressed in some of her sexy lingerie hoping to make love for the first time in 2 months. Tom pushed her away saying he needed to get up early to play golf. That was when Cindy began crying and let out all the fears, frustration, and anger of the last 7 months. Tom merely walked from the room and slept in another bedroom.
Tom was a few years older than Cindy when they met. He was already a rising young star with his company. Cindy was working as a hostess at a popular restaurant, having recently graduated from college and not sure what she wanted to do with her life. Tom swept her off her feet, lavishing her with expensive gifts, taking her to places she could never afford to go, even insisting that she quit work and paying for her expenses. She was 26 when they married. That was 9 years ago now. The sex was good at first. Cindy, being relatively inexperienced, loved the things Tom taught her, but the last couple of years the passion waned as Tom spent all his time focused on his career. Cindy settled in to the lifestyle Tom wanted for them. More expensive home than they needed or could really afford. Nice sports car to drive, and the country club membership. Now Cindy felt guilty for allowing herself to grow so comfortable with the way they were living.
Tom was laid off 7 months ago when his company downsized. It was a shock to both of them but at first Tom seemed to respond well. The first couple of months he sent out hundreds of resumes and spent hours on the phone and in front of the computer chasing an opportunity. After his severance ran out at the end of 3 months Tom began to change. He grew more depressed and spent less and less time looking for a job and more time at the club playing golf or cards. He had a support group of others who had lost their jobs as well that he saw twice a week but all Cindy could tell about that was he would be gone all day and come home smelling of beer.
Cindy decided late the night before, after crying herself to sleep only to awake in the middle of the night, that she would find a job. After going through the ads it was obvious that someone who had not worked in 10 years, and had no marketable skill, was going to have a difficult time finding work. She was about to put the paper down when she noticed the ad.
"Help Wanted. Lingerie model needed. No experience necessary. You make your hours. Big money available to the right person. Call Stan @(877) 877-8777.
Cindy looked at the ad. She had done a little fashion modeling while in college. She even had some of her shots make it into a national store publication. She had never done lingerie but had done swimsuits. There was not that much difference was there? She wrote down the number and decided to call the next morning. Tom came home late that night drunk and passed out on the couch without Cindy telling him of her plan. The next morning he showered and left the house before Cindy awoke, leaving a note that he was playing 36 today at the club and would be home late again.
Cindy showered then called the number. Stan answered on the second ring. Cindy told him of her interest in the job and Stan said if she could be there by 10AM that morning he would discuss it with her. He gave her an address and directions to a building on the North side of Dallas. Cindy went to her closet and finally selected a 2 piece suit with a short jacket and a skirt that hit a few inches above her knee. She dressed after applying a little more make up than she would normally wear and drove to her appointment. It was in one of those trendy highrise buildings so prevelant in North Dallas. The lower floors had businesses but the upper floors were expensive condos. Cindy was surprised to see that the suite number she was given was a condo, not an office.
Cindy knocked on the door. A man who appeared to be about 50 opened the door and invited her in to a well appointed living area with hallways leading in two directions.
" Hi, I'm Stan and you are a little older than the women who normally answer our ad."
&nbs
p; Cindy was slightly taken aback by his comment. " Well perhaps I should just leave now!" she replied.
" Oh no. I did not mean to offend you. You are very attractive. It's just we usually get a certain type and you don't fit the mold."
Cindy accepted his apology and asked what magazines would the photos be taken for. Stan looked at her with disbelief.
" What photos? Don't you know what you are applying for?"
" A lingerie fashion model is what the ad said"
Stan began to laugh. Cindy listened with shock and embarassment as Stan explained.
" We provide companionship. 98% of our clients are well to do executives looking for a little relaxation. Once in a while we get a couple looking for something different or a woman who is bi-curious."
"You mean prostitution?" Cindy said meekly.
"That's an awfully harsh term don't you think? We charge $100 fee at the door. I keep $65 and the girl gets $35. Then you take them back to one of the bedrooms. They have massage tables, beds and bathrooms with showers and jetted tubs. Once there you are free to negotiate with the client for whatever they are looking for. Massage, conversation, whatever. I don't want to know. That's up to each girls discretion. I guess you aren't interested huh?"
Cindy knew she should get up and leave yet she heard herself ask, " So how much money could I make?"
Stan replied, " Well it depends on how much you work and how much repeat business you develop but my top girls make at least $1000 a week working about 6 hours a day."
Cindy felt a shiver run through her. " I'll take it."
"Wait a minute. I don't remember offering it to you. Let's see your qualifications. Take off your clothes."
Cindy started to protest but Stan interrupted. "Honey I have an obligation to my customers and if you can't show me anything, how are you going to help?"
Cindy rose from the chair where she had been sitting and unbuttoned her jacket and slid it from her shoulders. Next she unzipped her dress and stepped out of it. She stood before Stan in only her bra and panties. It was a cream colored set that she had bought at Victoria Secert. The top half of the bra cups were sheer as was the front panel of the bikini panties. Stan looked at her with appreciation. He noted that her nipples were erect and pushing out against the material. Cindy noticed his stare. She to was aware of her nipples and also felt her pussy beginning to moisten. Stan stood up and took a step towards her.
