Flesh: Alpha Males and Taboo Tales

by Raminar Dixon

  He unbuttoned his breeches, and beckoned Eliza forwards, urging her onto her knees. "Find my cock, and draw him out, and see how you like the taste."

  "The taste?" Eliza's eyes widened but she dropped willingly to the floor of the carriage, and slipped her hand in, finding his cock already uncurling and stiffening. She looked up to see his expression was one of desire. His eyes were fixed on her tits. She used her other hand to pull her bodice down a little, and one nipple sprang free. Then she placed both hands around his cock and drew it fully out from his breeches.

  Kit settled back in the cushions and relaxed, smiling down at her as she tentatively kissed the tip of his cock, curling her fingers around the hardening shaft. Then she licked, once, with a flash of her tongue.

  "How do I taste?"

  "Like the rest of you – warm skin. But a little saltier, perhaps. But not bad."

  "Now you must make your mouth as a cunt, Eliza. Cover your teeth with your lips, if you please!"

  Again she licked across the shining head of his cock, now fully erect. Then she pushed lower and licked from the very base of his shaft, slowly and firmly right up to his cockhead, letting the first inch of his dick enter her mouth before she let go, and started again from the bottom. He squirmed and touched her head, resting his hands in her hair.

  She found there was a ridge along the underside of his prick, so she experimented by flicking her tongue across it. This time, when she reached his tip, she boldly plunged her mouth right over his cock, swallowing as much of it as she were able to take in her mouth, and he groaned. She felt his hands flex and his fingers gripped her head. Keeping his cock in her mouth, she tightened her lips around him, and sucked, then used her tongue to flick that ridge again, and his hips bucked.

  Power! It surged through her.

  She ran her lips up and down, sucking hard then gently, lightly kissing his tip, getting into a rhythm, adjusting her movements whenever she had a positive response from him. Then he changed; his breathing deepened further and he took over the thrusting, pushing his cock into her mouth at his demand, not hers. With his hands on her head she was powerless now, unable to do anything except accept his insistent and quickening pushing.

  She used her hands to cup his balls and she felt them tighten as his pounding into her mouth became frenzied, and she gave up all pretence at teasing him. All she could do was keep her mouth around his cock as he built to his inevitable climax.

  The thought of his seed issuing into her mouth turned her on and she felt her own heart thudding as she worked to keep up with his hips as they slammed forward.

  Suddenly he gave one last, hard thrust and he held his cock deep inside her mouth and she felt it ripple. "Eliza, fill your mouth with saliva…" he managed to gasp and then his seed shot into her mouth, hitting her throat as she gasped and gurgled and tried to swallow the warm liquid.

  She did her best, gulping down his seed as he held firm, and gradually his spasms subsided and she relaxed her mouth. He slid out of her and hauled her up to sit on his lap, his arm around her waist. He kissed her lightly on the lips.

  "Well done. Well done indeed. And, thank you."

  "You're welcome."

  "Now, let me return the favour."

  "Er – what?" Eliza leaned back to study him from arms' length. "How do you mean?"

  Kit's smile was dark and cheeky. "Sit you back over there, my lady, and I'll show you how this goes. Country matters, I think you said once…"

  Eliza returned to the opposite seat and sat back in the cushions. Kit didn't move. He issued more orders in a voice that made her melt with the urge to obey him.

  "Draw up your skirts around your waist. That's right."

  She pulled back the pale silk and bunched it up, to expose her naked thighs and pussy.

  "Now, part your legs, as far as you might. Good."

  This time, Kit dropped to his knees and her legs started to quiver as she realised what he was about. He ran his hands up her legs, and leaned forward, and without warning plunged his face deep into the hair and folds of her pussy.

  She squealed with the shock of it, and brought her legs together, almost smothering him, but he put the flat of his palms against her inner thighs and gently pressed them apart. He nuzzled into her and she felt his breath on her pussy folds.

  "You're wet already – you enjoyed sucking my cock, didn't you?"

  "Oh…" was all she was able to reply.

  He used his tongue to lick slowly up her folds, then with his fingers he pressed her open and darted his tongue into her hole, making her twist with the strange feeling of it. He licked his way up and started to flick across her sensitive spot.

  "What is that? What is that part of me called?" she breathed as she felt her pussy throb.

  "That tiny thing has a long Greek name. That's a clitoris," Kit said, licking it between each word and making her squirm and giggle. "Clit."

  Then he pressed his lips hard against her and sucked, pulling her tiny nub into his warm, wet mouth, and she grabbed his shoulders in ecstasy. "Oh! Oh, Kit!"

  He pushed his thumbs into her gaping wet pussy and lapped at her clitoris, and she wriggled as she felt pleasure and need build up in her. She let go of his shoulders with one hand, and grabbed her exposed nipple, needing to pull and tweak it, needing to feel all the erotic parts of her connected and touched.

  He peeked upwards. "Are you touching yourself?" he asked.

  "Yes…oh god, Kit, don't stop to talk!"

  He laughed, hot breath tickling her pussy, and returned to the task with gusto, sucking harder and harder on her pulsing, sensitive clit. He pushed his thumbs into her slit as far as they would go, then to her delight started to pull them apart, pulling her hole open, making her feel strange and wide and somehow filled.

  She twisted her nipple and felt a charge of lightning shoot through her body. "Oh Kit! Oh Kit!" He shifted, and removed his thumbs, to change position. He kept sucking and licking her swollen clit and this time thrust what felt like his whole hand into her soaking cunt, pushing his fingers deep inside and wriggling them.

  And that was all she needed to unleash her own climax. His hand and his fingers and his lips and his mouth brought the points of lightning tearing through her body and she squeezed her eyes shut and screamed with the painful delight of her orgasm.

  "That's it! Come, come, ride it!" Kit urged, plunging and working his hand in her pussy as she ground down on him in desperate desire.

  "Kit!" she screamed and then, "Fuck!" And she came hard around his hand, sobbing and shouting and gasping for breath.

  He let her thrash around. As she calmed, he withdrew his hand, and moved up to sit next to her on the seat, drawing him to his body in a strong, gentle embrace.

  Eliza caught her breath. Relaxing, she tugged her skirts back down over her legs, and looked up at Kit with languid eyes. "It's my turn to thank you," she said.

  He laughed and stroked her cheek with his fingers. "You certainly know how to enjoy yourself. Do you know, there are women who never get to feel that climax?"

  Eliza was horrified. "No! Surely… when married… their husband would…"

  "Not all are as skilled as I am," he said smugly. "And it helps to have a willing partner. There are those who say a baby is conceived easier if the woman climaxes. Perhaps. Others say it is a sin."

  "Humph. I thought about that. Why would we be given the capacity for such pleasure, if not to use it?"

  "My thoughts exactly." Kit leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose, making her giggle. "And now, I really must be off. I do apologise…"

  "No, no, I understand. Needs must and all that."

  "Well yes. And the angry mob bearing pitchforks that even now must be wending their way here."

  "That too."

  Kit jumped down out of the coach, and turned to look back in through the doorway. She gazed at him with a mix of sadness and the joyful memories of shared pleasure.

  "I am sorry," she said. "I don't know what to
say. I know what I mustn't say, of course. But I do want you to know that – without obligation – you mean a lot to me. You meant a lot to me. I… am grateful, and that sounds stuffier than I mean it to."

  "Yes." Kit reached in and took her hands in his. "I think I know what you're trying to say. And, I should say it back to you. You know me. A highwayman, a fly by night. A taker of jewels and of women. But… you have something special, Eliza. You once asked to come with me. I said no. But…"

  "Yes?"

  "Would you come with me now, and live a life on the road, in taverns and stables, running wild and free?"

  She blinked in surprise. "Are you jesting?"

  He glanced over his shoulders, listening for approaching hoofbeats. He turned back to her as serious as she'd ever seen him. "I do not jest, no. Would you join me?"

  Eliza bit her lip. "Kit. I'm sorry." She withdrew her hands. "No."

  "No, of course not. Beautiful and sensible too." He reached back in for her hand, and kissed it, and stepped backwards into the night. "Good night, and have a safe journey. I will watch and follow and ensure that you do, Eliza."

  "Kit…" she said. And then, to herself, in a quiet voice. "Oh, Kit."

  The darkness swallowed him. She heard the creak of leather and his horse snorting, and then there were hoofbeats, and he was gone.

  And she sat waiting for the coachman to return, and rearranged her skirts and her hair, and let herself relax. She drew up her cloak and some blankets around her, checked the lantern was safe, and drifted into a happy doze, sated and heavy with the memories of pleasure still twitching in her pussy.

  And the dreams and memories became speculations of what she was to find in London, at the hedonistic court of King Charles II, with balls and masques and gentlemen stretched as far as the eye could see.

  She was going to use her experience wisely, and she smiled.

  # # #

  About the author:

  I’m a British author with a love of history, discipline and sexy stories. I am keen to show independent, feisty heroines who only choose to submit to the very best of men; I am a sucker for an old-fashioned hero!

  Smashwords Author Page

  Other books in the Highwayman series:

  The Highwayman and the Judge's Wife.

  Kit robs the wrong coach. The Hanging Judge is in town, and his beautiful wife Catherine needs a bold man to save her from her past - is Kit just a pawn in her game, or can she admit the truth to herself, and to Kit, in time to save their affair?

  The Highwayman And The Judge's Wife eBook

  The Highwayman and the Lady.

  Lady Ursula suffers at the hands of her brutish husband, Lord Armitage. Kit Fletcher, the notorious highwayman, may be a criminal but at least he's an honest one, and he decides to rescue Ursula. She's so used to denying her own needs that she fights back - can Kit persuade her that she's not only desirable, but worth desiring?

  The Highwayman And The Lady eBook

  ***

  Pulled Over

  By Audrey Grace

  Leslie Waterstone heard the familiar double chirp long before she caught the blue lights flashing out in front of her. The police car had closed on her fast, and now the road before her was bathed in the deep red and blue glow of authority.

  “Damn it,” she said to herself, slowing down and pulling over. She couldn’t possibly afford another ticket. She’d already had too many demerits this month. She’d lose her license for sure after this ticket. “Damn it, damn it, fuck!” She said savagely as she slowed the car to a stop. Her silver M3 braked gracefully and the police car perhaps edged a little closer than protocol.

  She fumbled through her purse for her mints and shoved four into her mouth simultaneously, crunching them viciously between her teeth. She dearly hoped he wouldn’t breathalyze her. The girls would never believe this! And she’d boasted that she wouldn’t be pulled over, that it would be too early for that! Not even midnight and this fucking cop was already on the prowl.

  Leslie glanced at herself quickly in the rear view mirror, wiping away some smudged mascara and using a small film to soak up the oil on her forehead and nose. Clubs always made you oily. It was a dead giveaway.

  A wicked thought entered her head. She looked up and down herself. A tiny black dress that barely covered her nipples-to-crotch, high heels, makeup, the works. No, she thought, laughing a little, watching as the policeman slowly exited his car. That would be stupid! That never works, right?

  It was worth a shot. It was better than losing her license. She smoothed down her dress and, laughing to herself as she did it, caught in the throes of tipsiness, quickly tweaked her nipples so that they poked through the thin fabric of her dress. She had to work particularly hard to erase the playful grin from her face. Take this seriously, she thought. This could actually work!

  Looking in the mirror, she saw the policeman swaggering toward her. He was wearing his sunglasses, which Leslie raised an eyebrow at. Christ, she thought, a policeman who’s watched too many movies. It’s in the middle of the fucking night!

  He reached the driver’s side of her car, and gestured for her to roll down her window with slow, deliberate movements of his finger. She couldn’t help notice that his fingers were long and thick, and his hand looked powerful. She saw a tattoo peeking out from his wrist. Great! She rolled her eyes. I get the bad cop! She knew she was stereotyping, but a hard fucker was less likely to let her go with just a slap on her wrist!

  She pushed her chest out as the electronic whir of the window receding into the door filled the silent air between them. They were the only ones on this road, despite the early hour. She wondered, briefly, if she’d be made to perform for the policeman. There was certainly enough privacy.

  “Is something wrong, officer?” She said smoothly, making sure to bite her lip a little afterward.

  “Do you know how fast you were driving, ma’am?” He asked Leslie flatly. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she could see him glance up and down her body, probably profiling her or something like that. Slutty dress? Check. High heels? Check. Makeup? Check. This bitch has been clubbing! Leslie had to fight not to giggle as she thought it.

  “Um,” she said, “below the speed limit?”

  “Unfortunately for you, no. You were doing eighty. Limit’s sixty five. Mind telling me what the rush was?”

  “I was going that fast?” She gasped, and widened her eyes. “I really had no idea. I’m sorry, Officer, I was just going home. Got an early start tomorrow.”

  “Is that right?” He asked, nonplussed. “License and registration, please.”

  “Of course, Officer…?” Leslie pouted a little at the policeman, and lowered her shoulders as she opened her purse, hoping he’d glance down her top, hoping that he would just let a pretty thing go on a Tuesday night.

  “Marshall.”

  Leslie snorted. She couldn’t help herself. “I’m sorry, Officer,” she said, quickly regaining her composure. “I just saw a picture of my friends in my wallet. You know, horsing around in those little Japanese-style photo-booths that put stars and sprinkles around you and stuff. Anyway, here you go,” she said handing her license to the policeman’s outstretched hand. His mouth had been drawn into a severe line. Fuck, she thought, keep it together. It’s not even that funny. Officer Marshall! She suppressed a grin again, knowing that her tipsiness had to be showing.

  The policemen stepped away from her car, speaking into his shoulder-mounted radio. He was running her license. Fuck, she thought, knowing that he would see her demerit record for the month. Fuck!

  “I’m going to have to write you a ticket, ma’am,” he said, approaching her again. “Also, it appears you’ve had an interesting month.”

  “Please, Officer,” she said, “I’m just a girl trying to get home. I really can’t have another ticket for this month.”

  “Actually,” he said, “you can’t get another ticket for the next six.”

  “Exactly, Officer. I need the car
to drive to work.” She fluttered her eyes at him a little, and pouted. “Won’t you let a girl like off the hook?” She leaned forward, bringing her shoulders together, exposing her cleavage.

  Officer Marshall looked at her for a moment before his mouth became a severe line. “Just what are you asking me, Miss Waterstone? That because you happen to be an attractive female I should let you go?”

  Leslie swooned secretly at the praise, and fidgeted a little beneath the hard stare of the policeman. “Um,” she said, “something like that? Perhaps I can do something for you?” The moment she had said it, she regretted it. She didn’t know why it had come out of her mouth like that. She really hoped he wouldn’t catch her out on attempted bribery or something ridiculous like that. Also, the policeman wasn’t bad looking, and it was better than losing her license for a year. She decided to go for it. “Are you sure there is nothing I can do for you, Officer?”

  “Ma’am, in my line of work, we call that attempted bribery.” Fuck, Leslie thought. “Will you please step out of the car?”

  “What, no, that wasn’t it at all, Officer, I think there’s been a misunderstanding?” Leslie was flustered, instantly angry at herself for being so stupid. Why did she do that? That was something reserved for movies, not for fucking real life!

  “Ma’am, I won’t ask you again. Please step out of the car.”

  “Fuck,” Leslie muttered, opening the door and climbing out. She wobbled a bit in her heels, and had to steady herself.

  “Ms. Waterstone,” the policeman said, drawing near. “Have you been drinking?”

  “Only one with the girls. You know, after work.” It was a lie and she desperately hoped he would buy it.

  “One drink?” he asked, looking her up and down. “Dressed like that? You went to work in those clothes?”