by Lynn Young
Before she could guess his intention, Dallas reached out an arm, got a handful of towel that she was pressing to her and used his grip to pull her to him. He pressed his lips to her temples and trailed them down her cheek. When he felt her tremble against him, he couldn’t help but sink his teeth into the tender skin of her neck. Anna Marie cried out, arching her small body against his, shuddering with fear and need. Before now, she could not say that her brute of a lover had been tender and sweet. But a few times he had shown gentleness, maybe even consideration. Even when he had dragged her into the shower and his hands had been greedy and Secret Affair 101
insistent as they washed her body, he had held back his hunger so that he could explore her soft silken curves beneath the foamy film. And she had felt safe, desired. Even cherished.
Somehow, since the shower, something happened, perhaps it was something she did or in the way she looked at him. Whatever it as, it made Dallas turn predatory, ruthless, and very hungry.
She gave a soft whimper when she felt his mouth suckle hard her neck. A shudder of
erotic need ran through her, ending in another ball of heat between her thighs. But she somehow gained enough strength to push him away.
“Don’t,” she said. “Last time you did that, it left a big red mark for days on my neck and I had a hard time explaining it to people at work.”
She moved to walk past him, but he captured her hand and used it to pull her back. He bent his head and clamped his mouth over the same spot on her neck and suckled deeply. The kiss set off an equally ferocious hunger inside Anna Marie, making her knees buckle under her so that she had to cling to his shoulders with her small hands.
Then she threw all caution to the wind and threw her arms tight around Dallas’s neck, the towel falling in a pool around her feet. Standing on her tiptoe, pressing her naked body to his, she threaded her hand through his thick hair and pulled his mouth away from his neck so that she could cover it with her own. This created even more havoc for her, increasing his hunger and need for her. Dallas deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her so tight that she gave a small cry of pain and squirmed in his arms because she couldn’t breathe. He instantly loosened his steel hold and his kisses gentled, apologetic. When he lifted his head, he visibly made an effort to temper the savagery of his hunger.
“I want to masturbate you,” he whispered against her lips.
Anna Marie’s lips widened with shy pleasure and a trace of apprehension.
“And I want you to watch while I do it,” Dallas said.
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped with shock. “I…I can’t…”
Dallas put his hands on her shoulder and slowly turned her around until she faced the mirror. Anna Marie quickly lowered her eyes rather than face the complete naked image of herself again.
“Come on, baby, look up,” Dallas coaxed, smoothing one hand down her side. “I want
you to take a good look at yourself. That’s step one, to recognize just how sexy your body is, and Secret Affair 102
that it can drive a man crazy to a point that he can lose all control of himself. Come on, lift those baby grays for me, and take a look.”
Because her natural tendency was to obey rather than be obdurate, Anna Marie slowly
lifted her eyes. What she saw made her gasp and stare with amazement and awe. This time she was not only seeing just the reflection of her nude body but her nude body against the backdrop of Dallas’s much taller and much bigger naked body. She knew she was quite short and small.
But set against his, especially nakedly, her body looked very delicate and vulnerable, and so unutterably sensual.
Dallas’s shoulders and chest loomed up behind her. The top of her head barely reached his chest. The breath of him, the bulge of his muscles on his neck, shoulders, arms, and chest had him completely dwarfing her. He was naturally darker skinned than she, almost golden tawny, creating a sharp relief to her smooth white skin. If she were the fanciful type, Anna Marie thought she would imagine that she looked like some sex slave that he had captured to do with as he pleased. Then she thought that while he might not have captured her as his sex slave, he still ruled her and did pretty much what he wanted with her body sexually.
As she stood there, forced to face her nakedness with open frankness for the second time, it occurred to Anna Marie that this was what he had been leading her up to all along, from the moment he kissed her in her kitchen that first time to tonight. He wanted her to be able to share in his debauchery and hedonism, to use her own body as he was using it for her as well as his pleasure. And he wanted her to witness first hand with her eyes why he could not keep his hands off her.
As she hesitantly examined her body in the mirror, she began to realize that her body was not exactly something that a woman could be ashamed of, even if she was diminutive. She wasn’t fat at all. On the contrary, she was quite slender except for the oversize of her breasts. Her shoulders were straight, her arms long and looked toned despite the fact that she did nothing strenuous to make them look that way, except maybe carry a pile of books from one shelf to another every day. Her pale stomach was flat, giving her a very tiny looking waist, emphasizing more than she would have liked the generous flare of her hips. The hips tapered to the long columns of her thighs, which were also thankfully slender, making her legs appear long and shapely.
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When looking at her breasts now, she felt sexy, instead of self conscious and vaguely ashamed. They were like small ripe melons, so round and full, their heavy weight still held upright so that they thrust out instead of sagging down. In the middle of each pale globe was the large disc of the areole, shaded in pale coral pink, and in the middle of the disc was the nipple, also large and fat, much larger and fatter than any eraser end of a pencil, so that they protruded from the disc prominently even when they were not hard with arousal.
The thick thatch of dark brown curls between her smooth, sleek thighs intensified the sexual allure that the slender body and her large breasts created, a protective covering that was hardly innocent or designed for defense. The pretty little triangle only was an invitation for a rampaging lover to thread his fingers through it and to pull apart her thick petals for plundering.
And Dallas did just that, his roving hand hovering over her pubis, threatening to wade his fingers past the dark thatch by skimming his fingers over her thighs and brushing against the tight curls, making her thighs tremble and Anna Marie to catch her breath and then hold, waiting, almost fearfully, to see what he would do next.
He did it again, brushing his fingers over the triangle, his eyes glowing wolfishly as he watched her shivery reaction in the mirror. “You’re so pretty down here, kitten, so soft, satiny, silky. And when I open you up, baby, and see all those little folds of yours, shiny with your juices, I just have to have you. I need to have all that sweet cunt of yours. I know, baby, that I’m rough with you when I take you, but it’s your fault, Anna Marie, having such a sweet honey pot between your legs.”
Anna Marie squeezed her thighs together trying to squelch the heat that tightened in her loins. “Oooooh,” she panted, not wanting to watch but unable to tear her fascinated eyes from his male hands that were fluttering over her lower body.
Dallas’s hands moved behind her hips until they cupped her buttocks, and he gave them a gentle squeeze and began to massage them. “You also have some ass, honey, as well,” he said crudely and gave them another loving squeeze. Then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he did it again. “Your ass is big enough so that it twitches when you walk, so that a man could swear that you were begging him to turn you over his knees and tan your impish tail.”
Anna Marie cried out with sensual distress when she felt a big hand slip beneath her cheeks and insert a finger into her love box, and then sigh with some fearful relief when he took his hand away.
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He nuzzled her hair with his jaw. “If it were just yo
ur sweet little pussy, your tight ass, and the rest of your dainty body, you’d be sexy as any woman has a right to be. Plenty of men would fall sideways to want to bed you, sweetie. But, then, you’ve got such tits, haven’t you?” Dallas drew his two great hands up her body, deliberately caressing her on the journey up, and cupped each of the heavy globes in one hand and squeezed them gently. She moaned and leaned her back against his front side and watched in the mirror with horror and fascination as his hands fondled her breasts, making her pant even more heavily so that she sounded as if she were on the threat of having an asthma attack, her breasts heaving in and out of his greedy hands.
Anna Marie wanted to close her eyes, because the sight of such large male hands lewdly handling her breasts was so blatantly, pornographically wicked, sending slivers of shame down her spine, and yet making her feel so sexy, feminine, and somehow powerful. And hungry.
“Hmmmm,” Dallas murmured, his lips against her neck, watching the heat spread all over her body, and her eyes narrow with heavy need. “Now, your tits are something else, baby. And you hide them away, don’t you, in your prim little professional dress shirts and jackets. You don’t want anyone to know how gorgeous they are, how round and full and firm they are in a man’s hands.” He gave them a gentle squeeze, fondly. “It’s a shame that you have to hide one of your top assets, kitten. But, I don’t mind. That way, you save all your goodies for your Big Daddy, don’t you?”
Her gray eyes glued to the mirror, Anna Marie shook her head, trying to deny what was happening right in front of her very own eyes and that the nasty, diabolical words that Dallas was whispering in her ear had any lusty effect on her. “No, no. You shouldn’t say things like that.” He pressed his face against her hair and chuckled, and she could feel it vibrating down her spine, down her buttocks, and enter her loins, tightening them even more.
“What’s wrong, little lady? Did your mother teach you to never let a man talk to you with such disrespect? I bet she told you that nice little girls shouldn’t like dirty talk. Especially when the man tells you that your body shouldn’t belong to a nice, quiet librarian like you, but to a high-priced whore.”
Anna Marie’s eyes stretched in shock. “You’re calling me…a whore?”
“With a body like yours, you should be one. And the way you fuck a man, the way you
fuck me, and with your whore’s body, you’d have a clientele from the richest one percent of the population, honey.”
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Now she squirmed, outraged, the shame that she had refused to feel from the first time Dallas plunged his huge cock inside her starting to creep through the haze of passion.
“That…that’s not very nice,” she tried to say in an outraged tone but only ended up
sounding petulant and spoiled. She gasped again when he gave her breast a rough caress, his fingers rolling her nipples.
“Hmmm, there’s nothing nice about your body. You were made to be a whore, with your
luscious tits, sweet little ass, and a hot cunt.”
Dallas was getting turned on by his own words, and from watching his hands fondling her breasts, and seeing the contrast of her small pale body against his much larger, much stronger form. His hands became more urgent, his body pressing against hers. He lifted one leg to rub his heavy thigh against hers, betraying his growing need to penetrate her warm depths again.
“I want you to know how good your tits feel in my hand,” he murmured, trailing his lips down her neck. He took Anna Marie’s hands and put them over her breasts.
She instantly jerked her hands away. “I can’t do that!” she exclaimed, her face
scandalized.
“Shhhh, honey. It’s going to be all right. Everything’s going to be alright,” he crooned in her ear soothingly. He patiently brought her hands back up to her chest, curved them over her globes, and put his hands over hers to hold them in place. Slowly, with his eyes on her anxious, wary ones in the mirror, he slowly rotated his hands over hers.
Anna Marie stared at herself in the mirror with shocked eyes, disbelief clearly written on her face as she watched her hands fondling herself. Dallas gently squeezed his hands over hers so that she was squeezing her own breasts. She couldn’t believe it, but she was actually feeling herself up, as a man would feel up a girl in the backseat of his daddy’s car, as her big Navy SEAL had felt her up so many times before.
What she could not believe even more was discovering just how good it felt to be
touching her own body. All her life, since she realized in her teens that she was cursed with big breasts, she had never known what her breasts felt like with her own hands. It was as if she had, up until now, believed that her body, especially her breasts, was created solely for the pleasure of men, and never for her own enjoyment. It had never occurred to her that she could find any enjoyment of her body with her own hands.
But it was so sinful. Soooooo shameful.
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She couldn’t help but notice how firm and yet how ripe her breasts felt in her hands. And they were so round and full, too full for her own small hands. Their texture was smooth, silky, satiny. Was this why men were so obsessed with breasts? Now, Anna Marie could see why.
“Hmmmm, so you like that, do you?” Dallas growled softly against her hair. “That’s a good start.”
He backed up onto the bed, pulling her with him until he was sitting on the bed with his legs spread, with her in front of him, cradled in the nook of his open crotch. His hands gripped her thighs and slowly parted them so that her legs were aligned with his spread out ones.
“Oh,” Anna Marie exclaimed with shock as she saw in the mirror the open pink flesh
between her thighs. She tried to close them as spears of embarrassment and shame pierced her.
Dallas’s strong hands easily overcame her struggles and kept her legs apart. “No, kitten.
You shouldn’t hide where you are most beautiful.”
She had heard the parts between a woman’s thighs be called many things, but beautiful was not one of them.
“Dal…Dallas,” she rasped, her voice very shaky. “This isn’t right.”
“It’s very right,” he said firmly and pulled her thighs further apart. He tipped her backward in front of him, draping her legs over his, so that her buttocks were tilted towards the mirror.
Anna Marie saw the heavy lips of her labia part, exposing the moist pink folds of her flesh to her eyes. She wanted to look away but she was helplessly fascinated by the sight of her open pussy reveal itself, her small body cradled against the darker, much bigger male body.
“See how beautiful you are down here?” Dallas lowered his head next to hers, put both of his hands between her thighs and pulled her labia apart so that she was fully exposed.
She bit her lip and began to struggle. “Dallas, please. This isn’t right.”
She moaned long and sharply when he stroked one long finger the crevice between the
labia. Her hips jerked against his touch. She felt the heat tightening as he teased some nerve endings near her clitoris.
“Oh, god!” she moaned again, beginning to rotate her hips.
“You’re so pretty and pink, baby,” he murmured,
In the mirror, with both horror and feverish anticipation, Anna Marie watched his fingers move over her slick pussy, pressing against the minute folds. In front of her eyes, he pulled back Secret Affair 107
the protective hood of her clitoris to expose the nub, the pulling of the thick skin sending shivers of pleasure along her loins, making her tremble. She saw that the nub was swollen and red and glistening with her juices. To her own wide, gray eyes, her clitoris looked large. As far as her very limited knowledge of clitoris it might be. She had never witnessed other women’s clitoris to compare. But seeing her own for the first time since that one time when she was thirteen had sneaked a peak down there, her pleasure button looked obscenely large. Was this how other women reacted when faced with
their most private parts?
Dallas had called her a whore earlier. No, he had said that her body was made for a
whore. Perhaps she was one, after all. What decent woman with any sense of self respect would allow a man to trap her in front of her bedroom mirror, open up her thighs, and then make her watch as he parted her pussy flesh to her own eyes, all the while whispering explicitly sexual words in her ear, taunting her with the words and his touch? Perhaps she wasn’t who she had believe she was all her life. Perhaps she was not a woman who had self-worth, a sense of pride, as she thought she was. Could it be that deep inside she really had the nature of a whore?
No, she was not a whore, Anna Marie swore to herself. She was a librarian. And a good one at that. She squirmed against his arms, turned her head away from the mirror. But, a few seconds later, helplessly, she turned her eyes back, because it was about the most arousing image she knew she would ever see, a woman’s pussy flesh being played and stroked by long male fingers, more so because it was her own pussy and it was Dallas who was playing with it.
