Ultimate Curves

by Miranda Forbes

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, reaching around the back of the dress, pulling on her carefully tied bow. Her dress fell apart, revealing her underwear. He raised his eyebrows. She thrust her right hip forward, wondering what he was going to say. Or do.

  “I wasn’t expecting that,” was all he could manage.

  “What?” she questioned, attempting to sound innocent, knowing that under the demure but shapely dress, her underwear was sexy, provocative. Her full breasts spilled over her black lace bra. She wore a matching garter belt and stockings. And nothing else. Her hips and thighs looked pale against the black satin and silk. Her pussy was smooth. Nominally, this was to keep her cool, but she knew it was for far more than that. Her garter belt rested just below her waist, emphasising the roundness of her belly. No doubt, for modesty’s sake, she should have covered herself, reached for her apron or placed her hand across her pussy, at least. But she didn’t. He gulped. She saw Joel’s Adam’s apple bob in his throat.

  “Like it?” She did a shimmy, her breasts moved from side to side, despite the firm hold of her bra, her thighs and stomach rippled.

  He nodded. She’d rendered him speechless, apparently.

  “How about this?”

  She turned around, leant on the counter and bent over. Again she gave a shimmy, a shake of her arse. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him make a move. He picked something up. The next thing she felt was a sharp sting on her arse cheeks. And she saw pale green buttercream icing fly in an arc across the studio.

  “Ouch,” she protested. A bit.

  The spoon slapped her again. And again. She squirmed, sticking her arse out further, inviting him to slap her even more. This felt good. What the kiss had started, this continued, and the tingle that had begun in her lips radiated throughout her body, concentrating, of course, between the lips of her shaven pussy. Not that he wouldn’t be fully aware of that. She held tightly on to the edge of the counter, dropping her head, stepping her legs apart slightly, giving him a view of her arsehole, her shaven cunt. He placed the spoon on the counter and bent to touch his tongue to her arse cheeks, licking up the spots of buttercream with the tip of his tongue, making tiny circles at first, covering more of her dimpled flesh as he devoured the icing. And her arse.

  “This tastes good,” he sighed. And she was quite certain her didn’t mean just the icing as he knelt and buried his face between her buttocks, lapping at her cunt, grasping her arse with his hands, sucking up the juices that flowed from her. He licked down the length of each of her outer lips. Then she felt his tongue dart around inside her, and, no doubt, he could feel her cunt tense around it. She ground herself back down on to him, loving the feeling.

  Moments later she felt him pull away. She couldn’t suppress her feeling of disappointment.

  “No, please, more.” He grabbed her waist, and turned her around, grinning at her.

  “Of course, but I think I’m at a bit of a disadvantage. He pulled his boots off then unbuttoned his leather trousers, and, with some help from Clara, eased them to the floor.

  “I like a snug fit,” she whispered.

  Then he unzipped his jacket, threw it to the corner of the kitchen, shortly followed by his tight-fitting T-shirt. His erection pushed away at his boxers, threatening to escape. They caught each other’s eye.

  “What the hell,” he said, stepping out of them and releasing his cock, which bounced in front of him. Clara was desperate to get her hands on it. To get her lips around it, in fact, and practise a bit of deep throat. But Joel appeared to have other ideas. He’d spotted the bain-marie on the hob. The gas was still on low underneath a glass bowl a quarter full of melted dark chocolate.

  “Be a shame to waste it?”

  She smiled. He lifted her on to the counter. She spread her legs apart, shuffled her arse forward, leaning back on her palms, anticipating his next move. He reached for a spatula amongst the many kitchen implements she kept in containers on the countertop, then scooped a generous amount of the chocolate from the bain-marie, dashing back to her, his cock bobbing, chocolate dripping from the spatula. Clara drew breath as he smeared the chocolate over her shaven pussy in a careful triangle.

  “Good with, good without,” he smiled. It was hot but bearable. He went back for another spatula full. This time he smeared it over her inner thighs. The third spatula was destined to insinuate its way into her folds. Clara decided there was nothing quite like the feeling of warm chocolate being spread over her clit. She threw her head back and groaned, shaking her tits, her nipples almost working free from her bra. Then she felt his tongue. First on her thighs. Then on her shaven mound, devouring her and the chocolate in equal parts. Then he pushed her thighs apart and delved into her lips and cunt, from the front this time. He darted over her clit, sending quivers of excitement shooting through her. He explored each and every fold, before encircling her cunt opening, then plunging deep inside her. His fingers slipped over her clit; he’d left some chocolate behind, obviously. She knew she was about to lose control, knowing he was tasting a special blend of her juices and the darkest chocolate money could buy. She pressed herself into his face. Just as her orgasm was to explode around his tongue he began to withdraw, still licking slowly. Fair enough, she thought. She had little doubt that she would come soon. And that it would be good. He picked up the spatula again, this time handing it to her. She could take a hint. She led him to the only chair in the room. He tugged on his cock as she delved into the bain-marie, loading the spatula, and running back to him, her breasts, stomach and hips jiggling as she moved.

  “Hands away,” she instructed as she held the spatula high above his cock, allowing the chocolate to drip slowly onto the erect tip. She saw it flinch slightly. No doubt it felt warm on his sensitive glans. Then it trickled down to his tight blond curls. Once his cock was suitably covered she knelt in front of him, and began to taste. He held her head, loosening her ponytail. Her hair fell around her cheeks. She developed a rhythm, sucking, licking, feeling him harden as she did so. She cupped his balls. They were tightening. He was close to coming. He pulled her head back up. Good. His instinct was the same as hers, she thought. She wanted to come with his cock filling her. And she suspected he wanted the same too.

  But he wasn’t ready yet, apparently. He pulled her up on to his lap, turned her so that she straddled him. His cock rubbed against her pussy. It felt like some kind of extremely pleasurable torment. So near, yet so far. She wriggled against him, quite sure that if she wriggled hard enough he would disappear inside her, the residual smears of chocolate easing his passage, and then she could ride him hard, not allowing him to stop until he’d come deep inside her. But she resisted. For now. She smiled at the thought of him bearing her weight, but he didn’t seem to notice. He fumbled with her bra strap, finally flicking the clasp open and discarding her bra somewhere near his clothes. Then he buried his face in her breasts, holding the weight of her pale flesh in his hands, admiring how they were too much for his hands, spilling to either side of his palms. He tugged on her nipples with his teeth, causing her to gasp with that sweet mix of pleasure and pain that she loved so much. Then, suddenly, he stopped, looking towards the door.

  “Hi, Craig.”

  Craig, Clara thought. Who the fuck is Craig? She turned to follow his gaze. Standing just inside the door was a second leather-clad figure. It dawned on her that he’d come to collect the éclairs. He was a carbon copy of the one whose lap she was sitting on right now. He stepped across the room.

  “Hi, Joel, having fun?”

  Clara shook her head. Did that extra-dark South American chocolate have hallucinatory qualities?

  “You could say that. I’ve found myself the sweetest woman.”

  Joel ran his hands over the folds of her hips and stomach, giving each thigh a sharp slap. While Joel was distracted Clara attempted that wriggle she’d thought of a few moments ago, and it worked. She smiled at Joel as he slipped effortlessly inside her. He looked surprised, but not
reluctant. She moved against him, and his hands, holding her hips, began to move her backwards and forwards, slowly at first, then with increasing speed. Her breasts bounced in front of him, and she giggled as he tried to catch them with his lips, like bobbing for extremely large and full apples. She reached for her pussy, parting her lips, ensuring her clit would rub against him, giving it the tiniest rub with her finger too, just to make sure. She glanced over her shoulder. Craig was closer now, and there was a telltale bulge in his tight leather trousers. He was beginning to unbutton them and delve inside with his right hand. Like most men, Clara thought, he couldn’t resist a little touch.

  “There’s more than enough of me for two,” she said. Craig knelt beside them, one hand playing with his now released cock, the other cupping her buttocks. He seemed able to keep up with their rhythm, his hands flying over his erection. Clara gasped when his left hand parted her arse cheeks. He circled her arse hole before pushing his forefinger slowly up inside her. Clara could barely control herself now, her orgasm close to peaking, her whole body quivering and shaking with desire. This was just too much. Better even than devouring the richest, sweetest mille-feuille and sweeping the tiny flakes of pastry from her lips with her tongue. This image excited her further, and she could no longer prevent her cunt spasming round Joel’s cock, feeling the irresistible waves rolling through her, starting deep inside, only dying away once they’d left her body. In return Joel thrust still harder, no doubt unable to resist the pull of her cunt. And Craig twisted and turned his finger in her arse. This was like being in the best cake shop in the world. One in which the best cakes were being replenished as soon as they were devoured. Once their orgasms were complete, Craig pulled his finger from her arse and, holding her waist, he turned her round so that her back was to Joel’s chest, her legs spread over his thighs.

  “She’s all yours, mate,” Joel said.

  “I most certainly am, Craig,” Clara grinned. Craig lifted her from Joel’s lap, hampered by his trousers and her weight, and staggered towards the counter. She wrapped her thighs around his waist. She was ready for him.

  “Do you like buttercream?” she whispered in his right ear. He looked at her askance. He’d obviously never tried it.

  “No worries,” she replied. “We can experiment with your favourite embellishment.” And then she gasped with pleasure as his cock worked its way into her welcoming cunt.

  Once the boxes had been dispatched Clara dressed herself and began to wipe down the counter. She had no regrets. Tomorrow she would confirm her account with the courier company. But she wasn’t too sure she’d bother getting that buzzer fixed.

  Private Dancer

  by Carole Archer

  Allison was having a quiet evening in front of the TV when her husband James walked in and slumped in the seat beside her.

  Putting her arm around his shoulders, Allison asked, ‘Tough meeting, sweetheart?’

  James nodded in response. ‘And as usual they ended up in that bloody seedy lap dancing club in town. I told them I didn’t want to go and they said I’m obviously under the thumb and not allowed to go. So of course I had to stay to show them they’re wrong. Then all they do is throw themselves all over those scrawny women. I might as well not even be there. And I wouldn’t care but those girls aren’t even attractive. Most of them are like a bag of bones. And all those guys have wives, but they’re totally forgotten about once we’re in there. I refuse to cheat on you. I love you. And even if I wanted to cheat – which I never would – it certainly wouldn’t be with some cheap, scrawny little tart in a dirty, seedy bar.’

  Allison smiled and kissed him on the cheek. ‘But it wouldn’t be cheating. I’d understand if you wanted to watch the dancers for a while, I certainly wouldn’t be offended. It must be nice to look at someone with a nice figure for a change.’

  James looked genuinely shocked. Allison was absolutely gorgeous, much more beautiful than those thin and unattractive women. He told her so, but she looked unconvinced.

  She loved her husband dearly and knew he felt the same about her. And she was more than confident that he loved her voluptuous figure as much as anything else about her. But she couldn’t blame him if he was attracted to those dancers with their perfect bodies.

  She found it hard to understand that despite James having such a dominant personality, he backed down so easily to pressure from the guys at work and really let them get to him. She knew he hadn’t been in the job for long and was trying hard to fit in, but she wished he would stand up to them for once.

  She hugged him tight, kissed him passionately, then asked if he’d like to go to bed. His anger was soon forgotten once he got his hands on the beautiful body of the woman he loved. He caressed her curves and kissed every inch of her gorgeous body before making long, slow love to her.

  Several weeks later James had another meeting. He’d warned Allison that he might be late, but said he would try to get out of going to the club. She thought that maybe he secretly enjoyed going and his protestations were just for her benefit, but she really didn’t mind.

  James truly didn’t like the club but yet again found he was pressured into going with them. Once they arrived, all his colleagues went off to private rooms with the dancers, so he decided to go home and see if Allison was in the mood to cheer him up again.

  He texted her to let her know he was on the way home, and said he’d call in the shop to get a bottle of wine. He was surprised when he received no reply from her, and there was still no reply when he phoned her. He was even more surprised to find the house in total darkness when he arrived home.

  He opened the door, locked it behind him and started to fumble for the light switch. His wife’s voice cut through the darkness, telling him to sit down, she’d be with him shortly, but to leave the lights off.

  Puzzled, he slowly made his way to the settee and sat down. Allison called out to him and asked how his day had been. He complained that the management committee meeting yet again ended up in the lap dancing bar and, as usual, he was totally bored. He said he couldn’t see the point of the meetings as they didn’t discuss much work at all, and he believed it was just an excuse to go into town, and to the lap dancing bar in particular.

  Allison turned on the music then walked into the room. She already had a bottle of wine chilling, and she brought him a glass. She said she would join him in a minute. He wondered if his luck was in, and he believed it must be when she started to massage his shoulders. He quickly began to relax and forgot all about the guys back at the lap dancing bar and their failed attempts to yet again make him join in.

  His massage stopped all too soon, and Allison walked across the room and used the dimmer switch to turn the lights on low.

  She walked around to the front of the settee, and he was stunned to see his wife in the tiniest red dress he’d ever seen, with her ample breasts spilling out. She was obviously wearing a push-up bra and her breasts looked bigger than ever. The bra was at least a cup size too small and the sight of her ample assets made his cock harden.

  He longed to stand up and kiss her, fondle those huge breasts that he loved, but something told him to stay where he was.

  He looked open-mouthed at the tight dress that clung to her curves, showing off her well-rounded stomach. He absolutely loved this and wished she would wear tighter clothes more often as he thought she looked so sexy. The dress clung to her hips and he longed to run his hands over them. The dress was also indecently short, and he clearly saw her black panties as she turned her back to him. She walked across the room and it was then that he noticed the pole.

  His cock was already hard from the second he saw her in that dress, but as she started to do the sexiest pole dance he’d ever seen, just for him, no room full of perverts to share this one with, his cock got painfully hard. She turned her back to him and slid down the pole, her dress riding up even higher and her buttocks pushing out of the tight black panties.

  He absolutely adored her bottom. In his opini
on it was definitely her best asset. He loved larger women, he always had. But his favourite part of a woman was her bottom, and the bigger the better. He hated to hear Allison complain about the size of her bum. He believed there was nothing sexier than two full, round bottom cheeks bouncing seductively as a lady walked. And the way his wife’s bottom wobbled around as she moved made him breathless with excitement.

  He loved to spank her bottom playfully. He loved how the flesh rippled in response to his firm hand. He loved the softness of her bottom cheeks. It made him so horny lying beside her and fondling those buttocks, giving them the occasional gentle smack and watching them wobble. All these thoughts filled his head as he watched her bottom, and he longed to touch her.

  Unable to stay still any longer, he put his glass of wine down and walked over to her. She’d just slid up the pole again, but her dress remained scrunched up above her panties. He squeezed her bottom cheeks, which were bulging out of the very tight panties. She slapped his hand away and told him to sit down, no touching was allowed. Before backing away, he gave her right buttock a smack and smiled as the flesh wobbled in response.

  He reluctantly moved back to the settee and sat down, shifting uncomfortably as his cock formed a noticeable bulge in his pants, literally begging to be released.

  He wondered if he should give himself some relief and started to unfasten his zip. Hearing the zipper over the sound of the soft music, his wife turned to him and took his hand.

  ‘I think someone would like a private dance in a private room.’ Smiling and kissing him softly, she gently fondled the bulge at the front of his pants, which seemed to grow even bigger as he gasped with a mixture of both pleasure and pain.