by Trinity Leeb
His fingers crept slowly down her belly and skilfully parted her slick lips, gently rubbing around the outside of her moist opening. She arched her back, forcing her wet sex against his hand, desperate for the pressure that would give her some relief.
She felt his mouth against her belly, his teeth nipping gently at her taut skin.
Slowly, unbearably slowly, he traced a line with his tongue down as far as her nub and began to work away at it rhythmically with his tongue, while his hand cupped her breast.
Each stroke drew her closer to climax, and she surrendered herself to the waves of pleasure, waiting for the final surge that would take her over the edge. But he was far too skilled for that and each time she got close, he paused, until she was begging him for the relief that only he could offer.
She was so deep in the throes of her own pleasure that she hardly noticed someone else kissing her and whispering her name.
She was surprised, but not freaked out. It seemed natural somehow that someone else would want to share this amazing experience.
She registered how soft the lips felt and how feminine the voice sounded, and she realised that the mouth on hers and the hand gently rubbing her breast belonged to a woman. She opened her mouth to say something but the woman silenced her with a kiss that tasted of male sex.
The other mouth was still sending waves of desire through her cleft and what she had to say suddenly didn't feel important any more. The man sank two fingers deep into her core, and she shuddered with pleasure. She could feel his breath coming hot and fast against her thighs now, and she kissed the woman back so violently that she felt she had drawn blood from her lip.
She felt the man withdraw his hand and interrupt the woman's kiss to let her suck his fingers.
Then she felt the pressure of him rolling on to her, holding her arms above her head and pinning her wrists.
"It's OK, I'm not going anywhere," she gasped.
She wanted to reach for his cock and force it into her to fill the gaping hole in the middle of her, but he held her arms out of the way, making her wait.
"Please..."
He let go of one wrist and she reached for him, stroking its firm length and drawing a gasp from him.
Then he forced her wrist back behind her head and he entered her suddenly, sending a hot wave right through her core as her muscles pulled him in and rhythmically tightened around his shaft.
He moved slowly inside her and she surfed the waves of pleasure, straining and rubbing against him as he rode her to climax.
"Yes! Yes!"
Her cries were muffled as he brought his lips down firmly on hers, and she tasted her own juices, feverishly sinking her tongue deep into his mouth.
She lay there spreadeagled in the sand, panting and spent, as he eased himself off her.
"Marc," she breathed.
A hand gently removed the blindfold from her face and she blinked, her eyes watering in the bright sunlight.
Confused, she looked around.
Marc was there, but he was leaning against a sand dune a few feet away, nursing an enormous erection in his hands.
The man she had been fucking was one of the Scandinavian volleyball players. The woman was nowhere to be seen. Around them, hidden in the dunes, she could hear moans of desire as the same scene was repeated over and over.
She sat up, outraged.
"What a mean fucking trick," she said bitterly.
"Why so angry?" Marc's voice was cool. "You enjoyed yourself. And I enjoyed watching you and Anders, not to mention Jenna. Quite a show you put on. You told me you were an open-minded kinda girl."
She scrambled to her feet, grabbing her dress where she had dropped it. Tears pricked the back of her eyes. Marc's gaze followed her as she brushed the sand off her butt and stomped off towards the beach, leaving with as much dignity as she could muster.
"See you later," he called after her.
She was furious and she didn't know why. It was less than an hour ago that she had been fantasising about the Norse gods, and Marc was right: she had enjoyed herself.
She was upset because... because Marc had played her and, more importantly, she now wanted him more badly than she had ever wanted a man before. The thought of him standing there, caressing himself in that detached way while she orgasmed was more than she could bear.
Her sex was raw and throbbing, and she felt as though the eyes of the whole beach were upon her as she emerged from the hot zone behind the dunes and began the walk of shame back to the apartment.
Perhaps a swim would help. She dropped her dress and plunged into the ocean, wincing as the cold salty water swirled around her bruised cleft and then enjoying the coolness of the surf on her skin.
What should she do now? She had nowhere to go but Marc's apartment, but she wasn't sure what game he would play next. Miserably, she swam freestyle for a while and then floated on her back, letting the waves lap around her. She was out of her depth in more ways than one.
But, try as she might, she could not rid herself of the image of Marc standing there, lazily stroking the length of his huge cock, his cat-like green eyes consuming her with hunger.
As she replayed the image in her mind, her body started responding to the stimulus and she realised the warm salty water, pulled in and out by the waves, was lapping at her core and she spread her legs wider, enjoying the sensation. Far from being sated by her experience in the dunes, she wanted more. She wanted Marc.
She swam back to the shore and picked up her dress. Dripping wet, she walked along the shoreline, and then became aware of someone following her. Marc. The sight of him - even now, without his massive erection - turned her insides to liquid.
"Don't be angry," he said, trying to cup her chin in his hands before she batted his hand away furiously.
She stood there, trying to ignore the hot tears that pricked the back of her eyes.
Droplet of sea water ran from her tousled wet hair down on to her breast and hung delicately from her rosy nipples, which were slowly hardening in his presence, before falling to the ground.
"I'll pick up my things from the apartment and you can take me back to the airport," she hissed, turning on her heel.
"Fine, have it your way," he said casually.
"Fine." She stomped off towards the apartment, leaving him standing there.
Five minutes later, she was standing in the corridor, shivering in her wet dress and turning the key in the lock.
Megan walked into the apartment and froze. Someone was there.
She glanced into the bedroom and there was Marc, lying on the bed, still naked, and playing lazily with his cock. Somehow she had to get past him to pick up her bag. Forget asking him to take her to the airport. She'd hitch. Or something. Anything to get away from this arrogant bastard before her resolve crumbled.
She steeled herself and walked right past the bed. He caught her by the hand and began tracing something on the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist. She tried to wrench her hand free, but it was hopeless. She could feel herself lubricating and getting wetter and wetter.
He sensed it too, and with one graceful animal move, pulled her towards him and burying his face in her soft mound through the sheer fabric of her dress. If it had been damp before, the dress was dripping now where it was pressed against her, and he pulled up her skirt, devouring her rosy sex like a starving man, lapping up her juices and exploring his soft folds with his tongue.
She moaned involuntarily, all thoughts of escape now gone.
Hot waves of pleasure travelled outward from her groin as he licked around her swollen bud, expertly flicking his tongue to the places where it would melt her inside. She could feel the creaminess dripping from her labia as he brought her almost over the edge, lifting her on to the bed and spreading her legs wide without once dropping his rhythm.
He buried two of his fingers deep in her core and worked away with his tongue until she came in one great shuddering climax.
She lay there
for a moment, stunned into silence by the best orgasm she had ever had. But now she wanted more. She wanted him more urgently than she had wanted any man before.
She slid down and ran her hand up and down his hard shaft, teasing with her fingers. He groaned, closing his eyes in pleasure. She licked gently around the tip, lapping up the creamy droplet of pre-come. And then, suddenly, with no warning, she engulfed him in her full lips, letting his engorged maleness graze the rosy back of her throat, cupping his balls and working him deeper and deeper into her mouth.
Already, she could feel herself tingling again, and she reached down and began fingering herself. The sight of her pleasuring herself in this way drove him to thrust deeper and deeper into her mouth. But she would not let him have his reward yet. She wanted him inside her and her need was becoming more and more urgent.
She released him from her mouth and straddled him, lightly running her wet sex the length of his cock. He gasped as she slid her wetness along him slowly, more firmly now, pressing herself against him. He was hers. She had him where she wanted him. Gently, she guided him into the tight opening and began thrusting her clit against the mat of dark hair at his base, intending to ride him to her final explosive climax.
"I'm going to..." she groaned. But he was not going to let her go there just yet.
He flipped her over so she was underneath him on her stomach and pinned her arms above his head. He thrust into her so deeply that he felt that her tight little pussy would swallow him whole. He brought her to the brink and kept her there, gasping, then withdrew.
She felt his wet finger running around the rim of her ass and then his tongue as he teased and stimulated this new opening. She groaned, half-wanting it and half-afraid that his size would hurt too much.
He sank two of his fingers into her cleft again, while his thumb probed her ass. She felt like the stimulation would make her explode. Then she felt him ease himself into the tight passage while his fingers thrust deep into her feminine core.
She groaned, a harsh feral moan from the depths of her being as he thrust into her and the pain was overtaken by waves of the deepest pleasure she had ever experienced radiating from inside her. Each stroke became less painful and more pleasurable than the last.
"Is that what you wanted? Is it?" She felt his warm breath on her ear and groaned her assent.
He rode her expertly and just as she felt she could take no more, she came in the most complete, loudest screaming orgasm she had ever known, carrying him along with her on the waves of her climax and sucking every last drop from deep within him.
She felt him reach his gasping, shuddering goal and they rolled apart on the bed, still panting their desire for each other.
He traced something on her flat stomach, which was now slick with sweat and fixed her with those captivating green eyes.
"Changed your mind about the airport?"
"Sure," she smiled at him. "It's going to be a fun week."
The End
Read more about Megan's week in France in Private Beach 2, scheduled for publication February 2012
Extract from Private Appointment by Trinity Lee
Scheduled for publication January 2012
Johnny's sister is getting married and she wants her brother to clean up his act and have his long hair cut so he looks good in the wedding photos. She pays for him to have a haircut at the classiest salon in town - but when he gets there, he finds the hairdresser has something else on her mind
She ran her fingers through his thick wavy hair, letting it fall back against his muscular shoulders.
"Exactly how long is it since you last went to a hairdresser?"
She stood there, one hand on her tiny waist, head on one side, waiting for an answer.
He mumbled something, grateful that the tent-like hairdressing cape she had swung around him was disguising the fact that he had a raging hard-on.
Mimi had the blackest, shiniest waist-length hair he had ever seen. He pictured it falling across his naked chest as she sat astride him.
No, he had to concentrate. He was here for a haircut, not to get laid, no matter how hot the stylist was.
He tried to think about something else, anything but this sexy woman with her hand tousling his hair.
Then he froze. He looked down at the floor, where she had carelessly left a plastic hand mirror.
In its reflection, he could see straight up her tiny denim skirt. Far enough to see that she did not consider underwear to be an integral part of her work wardrobe.
She saw where he was looking and caught his eye in the larger mirror in front of him. Her gaze was knowing.
She touched her tongue to her lips slightly and parted her legs, inviting him to look back down at the mirror on the floor...
