Her mouth watered. He was divine. Still, she could not believe he was here, and that Clint had sent him, and that he was going to kiss and lick her where she needed a man’s mouth most. And then he was going to put that massive rod inside her and fuck her, exactly as her husband had directed.
“You’re such a good soldier,” she murmured. “Coming all this way to lick the Captain’s wife.”
He smirked as he slid between her legs and put his big hands under her thighs, lifting her and exposing her to his gaze. “I’m going to do more than lick this pussy. You’d better take a few deep breaths, you’re going to need them.” And with that, he ducked his head and commenced Frenching her nether lips. One hand stole around to her mound and a long finger pulled at the top of her slit, rubbing tiny circles over her hooded clit until it was hard and prominent. When it was no longer hidden inside her, begging to be included in his tongue’s forays, his mouth took over. He teased her by licking all around the plump morsel before sucking it between his lips. Greedily, he sucked her entire vulva into his mouth and then groaned at the shudder that passed through her. She whimpered. A finger from his other hand delved into her welcoming crease and he moved it in and out, setting up an erotic rhythm that matched the movement of her thrusts. Another joined it. His tongue flicked mercilessly over her clit, finally daring to touch the prize it had been so carefully circling.
She moaned, cried out and arched her hips. His teeth grazed the engorged bud and her cries of “Oh, oh, oh!” filled the room. She bucked frantically against his mouth, coating his lips and tongue. He sucked the folds of her labia into his mouth, savoring her as she rode out the spasms that were milking his fingers. When she started to settle, he followed the line of her ass crack and inserted a damp finger just beyond the rim of her tightly puckered rosette and pulsed it. She jerked, convulsed and screamed. He groaned his pleasure into her flesh and drank her juices. She was all but passed out as he cleaned her with his flattened tongue, trying to slowly desensitize her.
Looking up at her face, he smiled. She was still in a state of euphoria, and he intended to keep her that way. He climbed up her body and put the thick head of his shaft at her opening. Her eyes popped open as he thrust home, seating himself fully. For several moments she froze with trepidation, then as her body adjusted to his size she visibly relaxed. “Ohhh,” she moaned after her sheath had accepted him, delighting in his size.
He couldn’t believe he was inside her. This was his best friend’s wife and he was fucking her. His dick was buried deep to her core and he was in heaven.
She couldn’t believe Clint’s best friend was on top of her thrusting himself into her body, filling her completely and driving her mad. She had known this man less than a few hours, yet here she was, letting him tie her up and fuck her. And it felt wonderful. She was in heaven. The tenseness that had wound her so tight for weeks was gone, her muscles felt lose and limber. She felt alive again. The perpetual wait wasn’t foremost in her mind anymore. The smell of this man was. And if she had to give this man’s essence a name it would have to be “Sin”—glorious, delicious, dark sin.
He pulled out, teasing her with the head of his cock slapping at her opening before thrusting inside her again. She arched and met his forceful movement pulling him deeper each time he retreated and returned for more. He groaned and pumped into her, angling down to get in even deeper. She followed him, clenching at him, not wanting him to leave her, not by the minutest amount. He pummeled into her—his hands above her shoulders in push-up stance, giving him better leverage. He entered her fast and hard, sending the mattress bouncing to receive and recoil with each penetration. The pace would have killed an ordinary man, but Rand was so driven with lust for this woman that he hardly knew the strain he was placing on his body, had no idea how hard his muscles were quaking under the strain. He only knew that he needed to be deep inside her, needed to feel her squeeze him fist-tight with her climax.
To keep from kissing her—which he desperately wanted to do—his mouth sought her ear. He ran his tongue inside the swirls, mating with it, sucking on her lobe and biting into the hollow of her neck just below it.
Her hips jerked upward, her clit stretched in its hood and strived to press some elusive, but wholly necessary part of him against it. But the touch was fleeting . . . if only she could have it for a second more. As if reading her mind, a mere moment later, his pelvis complied and the root of his manhood pressed hard against the straining nub, sending her into an intense orgasm. The resulting aftershocks were so strong that he literally felt as if her vagina was milking his cock with a velvet-gloved hand. He was staggered by the intensity and the duration. And so taken off guard that all he could do was let it take him as he cried, “Fuck me! Oh God. Oh God, yes, fuck me!” Petering out to “fuck it . . . fuck it . . . mmm,” followed by a shiver that went through them both.
When their bodies tumbled back to earth, he slid out of her and fell to the side. Both were covered with a sheen of sweat and as he lay beside her he reached up and clasped her hand in his. “Give me a minute,” he said breathlessly, “and I’ll untie you. But damned if I’m letting you go anywhere.”
Her breathing was labored as well, but for the first time in many months she was sated. Her nipples were sore, her pussy was sore and her neck where he had bitten her was sore, but she felt wonderful—free, deliciously loose, and well and thoroughly loved.
Her husband had done this for her, arranged this . . . asked this man to be his stand-in, and he had chosen well. Unbelievably, incredibly well.
Garrett held a paper towel to his flaccid penis, wiping and gathering the surprisingly copious amount of cum from his groin. Not half an hour ago, he’d just done this in the shower. How had he managed to regroup so fast, he wondered as he wadded up the towel and tossed it into the trashcan beside his desk. Jeez, did he have enough stamina to even attempt another chapter?
He got up and walked into the kitchen to get something to drink. He stretched his back and his neck as he rummaged around in the fridge for some orange juice, marveling at how whatever it was he wanted was always toward the back. He filled the largest tumbler he had and in one continuous gulp downed it, his throat working feverishly to get the sustaining liquid down. How long had he needed to quench his thirst or get nourishment into his body, he thought as he shook his head in wonder. He’d completely forgotten to eat. He’d gone to the grocery store because he was hungry, with the idea of fixing a meal worthy of kings.
Moments later, like a crack addict, he sat back down at the computer with a Michelob Lime Ultra. He took a hearty swig, shook his head like a champ getting back into the ring and scrolled to Chapter Four.
Whoever this woman was, she was an amazing writer. Her writing was crisp, her characters intriguing, to the point that they drew you in—and her sex scenes, my God, they were . . . he looked down at his penis; the skin was red and chaffed from the abuse, the tip swollen—semi-hard it was amazing that it was still in the game. Well . . . this woman, whoever she was, was going to be sending him back to the store for KY Jelly or some kind of friction reducing lubricant.
Chapter IV
As he stood to untie her she watched his flaccid penis drip a mixture of her cum and his onto the duvet cover. Good thing it was washable she thought as she felt more seep out of her and trickle down her thigh to the bed. She should be ashamed, she thought as he removed first one hand and then the other, but she was not. He was looking at her with palpable interest, taking in every aspect of her body as if this might be his last opportunity with her.
When he went to the bottom of the bed to untie her ankles, his eyes drank in her slick, drenched pussy. His eyes shifted to hers and then he helped her to
sit up.
“Never met a woman who got as wet as you. Never met a woman who could take my control away so easily either. You are one incredible fuck. Clint is a ver
y lucky man. And I’m the lucky bastard who got sent home to take care of you for him. I can hardly believe my good fortune that I was shot that day.”
He pulled her into his arms and with an arm around her waist he hauled her off the bed. “Come, I’ll help you to the shower, then I’ll leave.”
“Leave? I thought you were staying for dinner?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You still want me to stay for dinner?”
“Well yeah, why wouldn’t I?”
“This isn’t a date you know. I introduced myself, had a drink, and then fucked you.”
“I thought that was your assignment.”
“You were. Mission accomplished,” he said with a sheepish grin.
“So is your tour of duty over now?”
“He never specified the duration.”
“Do you think he left that up to you? Or to me?”
“Uh . . . I don’t know, it was never mentioned one way or the other.”
“Well, I hardly think one, two, three or even four orgasms, no matter how wonderful they are can make up for six, seven, or eight months without any. Besides, the letter I read said, you didn’t have to give me back until he returned. Didn’t you say you had another
month stateside?”
“Yeah . . .”
“Well, what are you going to be doing for the next month?”
“What do you suggest?”
“Spend it with me.”
“Taking the edge off is one thing, setting up house is another . . . .” Clearly he didn’t want to over step his bounds.
“You haven’t taken off the edge, you’ve just primed the pump. Are you going to turn me out on the streets now, send me out to find any Tom, Dick, or Harry?”
“Christ Callie, when Clint told me he wanted me to be his surrogate, I got the impression it was a temporary duty assignment. We didn’t talk about a time frame, so how do I know he’s going to be okay with this?”
They were in the bathroom now, and Callie had started the shower to get the water hot.
“Well, we could send him an email and ask him how temporary this tour of duty is supposed to be.”
“Oh yeah, and how would that sound if anyone intercepted it? Hey honey, I just had a marvelous fuck from one of your division commanders, and I wondered if he could stay and fuck me until you get back? Love, Your Caliente.”
She slammed open the shower door and stomped into it. “You make it sound so sleazy! Go then if that’s what you want!”
She slammed the door in his face as he was about to follow her inside. He watched her soap up and when she had her eyes closed while shampooing her hair, he snuck inside and wrapped his arms around her waist from the back.
“It isn’t sleazy, you and I know that. I want to stay. I would love to stay. But Clint is my best friend. You are his wife. What would your neighbors say, me being here for one night much less a month, knowing that your husband is away? I don’t want to cause trouble for either of you. I love him, and I am becoming very fond of you.” His hands slid up her ribcage to her breasts. He kneaded them and squeezed them gently before plucking softly at her beaded nipples.
She moaned and he instantly grew hard. “Shit Callie, look what you’ve done.”
He looked down at his erection; she turned slightly to look over her hip. “Did my husband indicate whether or not it would be alright if I sucked on that monster?”
His sudden intake of breath made her laugh.
“My initials are C.S. E. for Caliente Susanna Edwards, or as Clint likes to say, Cock Sucker Extraordinaire.”
Holding onto him she slid down to her knees. His hands fisted in her hair. “Callie . . .” There were no more words. Even though it was his cock filling her mouth, she had effectively silenced him. Moments later, like a Sherman tank, she backed him out of the shower and into the bedroom, following on her knees.
She cupped his swaying sac, gently squeezing the perfectly round balls within and eliciting a long drawn out sigh from him as he stood at the end of the bed. Callie let his steely erection slide from her lips, gave him a sly smile and climbed up onto the bed.
She took her time positioning her body across the breadth of the bed, laying on her back and letting him view her slick body while he wondered what she was up to. Then with her head hanging over the edge, her long hair trailing to the floor, she beckoned him with the crook of her finger. “C’mere and give me that,” she said. As he swaggered close to her face she was able to grab his bobbing cock and pull him to her lips.
A tongue-lashing followed, and again, a long groan of pleasure. Going back to caressing his balls, slowly and gently with her other hand, she guided him between her lips and into her mouth. He was thick and long, but she knew what to do with the excess.
Making sure her head was positioned properly so that the curve of his penis matched the curve of her throat, she deep throated him, taking him all the way in until she was literally swallowing his penis. Since this sealed off her windpipe, she couldn’t breathe, so she quickly set the ground rules, namely that she set the pace.
Instinctively, he knew this and while not at all relaxed, he let her take over. No man in his right mind would go against a woman swallowing his dick. She directed each thrust and retreat like a pro, eager to slurp him back inside so he couldn’t withdraw completely. But he wasn’t going to just stand there and be idle.
His hands grabbed her breasts and began kneading them causing her to arch into his hands and to take him even deeper with the next stroke. When his fingers pinched her nipples, she wanted to moan but couldn’t. He did it for them both, ending with “Nnngh, nnngh, ahhh!” as his ejaculate pumped down her throat. His cum had entered her so far down her throat that she had not been able to taste it until he gently withdrew and dribbled some on her tongue.
“Never,” he whispered, hoarse with emotion. “Never have I had a woman suck me down like that. Jesus, Callie. You are phenomenal. That’s the best head I’ve ever had.” He collapsed on the bed beside her and fell fast asleep.
Garrett rubbed sore eyes and gingerly stroked his much-abused penis. He hadn’t come again, it had been too soon for his body to consider it, but he was mightily aroused again. Fatigue swept over him, he was dog-tired. It had been a long day, and that was before committing an erotic demolition derby on his body. He put the computer to sleep and headed off to dreamland himself.
He could only hope he’d get some sleep—he was groggy with exhaustion. Yet he didn’t doubt he’d be back in that computer chair in a few short hours to see what Rand and Callie would be up to next. Geez, who was this woman who wrote this wonderful trash? She sure had some amazing insights and a very knowledgeable command of the male anatomy. Not for the first time, it occurred to him that the writer might be a man.
Nah! No way. This was definitely a woman’s voice. He was surer of that than he was of his own name. But who was she? Where was she?
In trying to find out who the flash drive belonged to, he’d managed to step into another world—the fantasy world of one hot romance writer, it seemed.
Garrett woke the next morning to a woodpecker attacking the wood siding on his beach house, right outside the French doors leading to the deck. The sound drummed into his head in a noisy staccato that told him no way would he get back to sleep. Didn’t the fool know the difference between real wood and hardy plank? His beak would be worn to a nub before getting through the masonry siding. He looked at the alarm clock—6:36. Then he shifted the covers and looked down at his morning reminder of manhood. Hmmm. It felt hot, burned a bit, and looked abraded in crucial areas. He grimaced. The tip could use a generous slathering of Vaseline or Neosporin.
The erotica he’d just read had been honed to a fine edge, and it touched on fantasies that he well understood. He was fascinated
by her story and realized that her erotic fantasies were a counterpart to his and he couldn’t help the gnawing in his belly that was making him want, making him need.
He settled into bed and marveled at how he could long for, no, lust for, a woman he’d never met, never even seen. She was literally becoming the girl of his dreams; fortunately, he was past the age where they were the wet kind.
He had not thought it possible that there was a living, breathing woman who wanted what he wanted—no holes barred, wild, kinky sex play. And it was a given that if he kept this up he’d soon become obsessed with finding her. With only her flash drive, could he cobble together enough clues to find her? Because he definitely wanted to find her. It was as if he’d found a treasure map with G.P.S. coordinates to this woman’s orgasms. All he had to do was lock them in. For a man who loved women and appreciated their amazing bodies, he was hyped for the hunt.
He threw the covers aside and got out of bed and made his way to the master bath. Turning the corner he walked into the tiled shower and flipped the levers, allowing his own water to blend with the pelting shards raining down on him. He belonged to the Madonna school of thought, which had now been adopted by so many of the returning war vets. On the battlefield, in lieu of medicine, soldiers often peed on each other or on themselves for the ureic acid that could defeat diseases caused by bacteria that grew in moist, abraded areas. There would be no fungus growing on him, no Athlete’s Foot, no Crotch Rot, no Tinnea. Hell, it all went down the drain to the same place, might as well take advantage of nature’s health benefits. Of course if he hadn’t had a maid coming in weekly he might have felt differently. He liked a clean, fresh smelling bathroom and knew that women did, too.
Flash Drive Page 5
