Carol raced about the Marriot, clad in little more than a slip and stockings, glancing in the mirror then down at the small army of bras she had packed.  The peach one was thin and went so well with skin.  The black one was more daring, the tan had a thickly padded cup to emphasize her bosom while the red one pushed up her breasts into a little shelf. Sadly, it didn’t really work well with the lacy blue thong she had bought for this weekend. She picked them up, knowing she had time. Thomas had a farther drive, and he wouldn’t be there for an hour. She wanted to be ready when he came.  She wanted to be irresistible. 

Carol hadn’t felt pretty in years and her marriage was a big reason. Her husband had never been the most passionate. Initially she put his reluctance down to his Mormon upbringing.  Don had spent more time watching football than touching her once they got married. Later he spent most of his time with the new farmhand.  Tim was a very slim, effeminate farmhand with a noticeable vocal fry . Once Tim had arrived Don lost all interest in her, no matter what lingerie she chose or how high her hemlines went. 

It was hard to accept that she’d lost him to another, and it made little difference that the other had been another man. She’d tried to avoid the subject for a while busying herself in housework but eventually it became unbearable. They divorced. She remained alone, unwilling to go out. Then she’d met Thomas online.  He was good with words, funny at times and had listened carefully when she spoke of her life.  One night their chat grew intimate, and she’d ended their chat with her panties around her ankles and her fingers glistening with her own juice. 

After that their contact had grown.  Until finally he’d agreed to meet. Here in a motel, in a town midway between their respective homes.  Here where she would finally try to do the things they’d only talked about. Here she would be fucked for the first time in almost three years. 

Still, she worried. What if he didn’t like her?  After all,  Don had lost interest in her. What if she wasn’t pretty enough for him?  She needed to be pretty! She moved about the room trying on this bra and those panties, and matching them with stockings.  Four pairs of shoes hadn’t really been enough. Thomas had told her he really didn’t care, but it did matter. To her. To Carol, she needed to feel his desire more than anything. 

Finally, her hour grew close and she was forced to choose.  Lacy blue stockings to match her thong.   The red bra, the that maximized her cleavage.  She loved the way her breasts looked wearing it and hoped Thomas would too.  The blue cotton top, the one cut low in the front, a color that hoped she would bring out her eyes.  A reddish-brown pleated skirt cut just above the knees.   Her golden heart necklace, to dangle just above her breasts.  She hoped it would be enough.

Carol really didn’t see herself as pretty.  Middle age had added a few pounds, but not as many as some of her friends, but more than she liked.  She was of average height, average weight, average shape and her shoulder-length light brown hair itself seemed mousy.  Why hadn’t she colored it?  Thomas had mentioned Amy Adams and Nicole Kidman when they’d talked about actors they liked.  She could have done Amy’s color even if she couldn’t do Amy.  She bemoaned not coloring her hair, only now it was too late. Mousy brown would have to do.

She slipped on her lipstick, light pink and flavored with strawberries.  A light touch of Chanel behind the ears and on the top of her breasts, she took a look, and shivered, but time was running out.  She wanted to beat him to the restaurant.  She wanted Thomas to walk in. She wanted to be sitting on her stool with a cocktail and her legs crossed, toes pointed in the high heels she’d chosen.  She wanted to be alluring for him. She wanted him to want her, to crave her like like the men in the bodice rippers she sometimes read.  She took one last look, a deep breath, grabbed her purse and stepped out into the night.  

The riverside was lit with golden lights, spattered about them and she could hear riverboats burbling down the river, red and green lights marking their passage.  The restaurant where they’d agreed to meet was just across the parking lot. Not too fancy, not too cheap.  A place where a man might get a steak and a woman a good fish.  He’d looked it up, and she’d agreed. It seemed perfect for them both.  

They could get breakfast at the hotel if they weren’t  too busy being each other's breakfast.  God, she hoped it would be like that.  It had been so long since she’d felt a man’s hard body between her legs.  And her pussy knew it too, it tingled a bit in anticipation even as she trembled, wondering.  

The maitre d greeted her warmly, and led her to a table in the bar, as they’d agreed.  As agreed, she took out a copy of Hemingway’s book  A Farewell to Arms.  It was a signal they’d arranged. They had been certain no one else would have that out in a bar.   Sure she had his description and he hers, but she wanted to sure.  

“My name is Julie and I’ll be serving you tonight. What may I get you,” asked a waitress clad in a tight low-cut blouse and jeans with red hair, just like Amy Adams. 

This Julie was young and really pretty, and that scared Carol, wondering if she would turn Thomas’s head from her.  But the woman was really just doing her job and she was slightly gratified by the wedding ring set she wore. Thomas had told her he didn’t make a habit of cheating.  

But it only takes once, right? 

“I’d like an Absolut martini,” she said, suddenly wanting more liquor than her usual white wine.  

“Dry?” the waitress asked. 

“Very.”

“Would you like a menu?”

“Two. I’m meeting someone.”

Waitress Julie smiled,  nodded and turned to leave. as if she’d seen this sort of rendezvous before. Was this a restaurant where people often met to fuck?  She hoped it would be for her and Thomas, but was conflicted.  She wanted more, something like when Helena Bonham Carter met Daniel Day-Lewis in, what was that movie’s name?  She wasn’t sure, though she’d liked it very much. She wanted to be like Helena Bonham Carter even if she was no longer young and never that pretty.  She wanted Thomas to think her pretty. Tonight, she wanted her man. 

She watched the room, studying the people.  Across the room, a middle-aged couple were chatting up a very tall blonde woman.  An older married couple in the corner, leaning close and laughing together.  Oh, how she envied them, what she’d had that she had so far missed, that dream promised to every young girl when she’s just starting out that one day she would be the belle of the ball and her man would only have eyes for her.  

She looked down at her blue blouse and cleavage hinted just above the soft, slightly fuzzy fabric.  She would never be the Belle of the Ball. But she might have Thomas.  

Julie brought her her drink, a pair of menus and a small order of cashews to hold her over until Thomas arrived.  Oh, she was ravenous. She’d been dieting for weeks now to prepare for this night, and the thought of the salty nuts just seemed too good. She hoped he would be here soon, but waiting was getting hard as thick prime ribs were carried across the room.

She didn’t want to appear a pig, but reached for another handful of cashews. And then leaned back, threw her shoulders back like Lauren Bacall, and tried to let her hair fall over her shoulders and eye like Veronica Lake. It felt silly, but right.  Tonight she needed to be sexy.  

She was working on her second martini when a good-looking man entered the room.  He wore gray trousers and grey tweed sports coat with a light blue tie, all fitting nicely. He was of medium height, medium weight with broad shoulders and short graying hair, with a well-defined chin. He fitted Thomas’s description, and he looked good.  Very good. Maybe not the man on the cover of the novel she hid under her pillows, but good enough.

His eyes scanned the room as if looking for someone, and to her delight settled on her.  He approached slowly, with a confident stride and his eyes seemed big and brown as he approached he looked her directly in the eyes.  She felt both relief and terror as she realized her man had arrived. 

“Carol,” he said.  His voice was deep, just like it had been on the phone, and perhaps a bit more musical. Clearer despite the soft piano music in the background

“Thomas,” she said,  rising to greet him, forcing herself to move slowly as excitement and dread filled her.  

“It’s good to finally see you,” he said, his eyes sweeping up and down her body.   Yes, he was checking her out but his eyes never left her and his smile never left his face. She felt a small sense of relief.   He'd seen her and hadn’t fled.  In fact, he seemed pleased

“It’s good to meet you too.”

“Well, I thought to put my things in our room before coming down. Thought it might make things simpler later.”

Oh, she agreed, but felt a pang of fear, wondering if she’d really remembered to close up her suitcase again.  Probably so, and she was sure he’d be too polite to say anything if he had. 

“How was your drive?”

“Hard.  Rush hour has turned horrible lately. I thought I’d never get out of town.”

“Same here.   Where did all the cars come from?”

He chuckled.  “In America, everyone drives.  Truly you’re hosed if you don’t.”

“So true.”

Waitress Julie choose this moment to arrive and ask for Thomas’s drink order. She bent over more than Carol liked, no doubt showing that she had the superior chest, but to her relief Thomas hardly gave her a glance.

“What are you having,” he asked. 

“Absolut martini.”  She smiled and licked around the edge of the glass. 

“Sounds wonderful. Make that a double!”

“Yes, sir," said Julie then mercifully padded off to fill his order. 

Thomas turned his attention back to her and she slipped the book back in her purse, its purpose fulfilled.  “So we’re finally together, after all those talks we had.”

“Yes,” she said, suddenly nervous.  It had been so easy talking on the phone, why was it hard now?  She didn’t know what to say.  What if she disappointed him?  What if she was no good?  The questions ran through her mind. 

“Well, I’m finally glad to be here,” he said. “My kleenex bills were getting out of hand,” he added with a grin.

“What'...?” she said, then blushing as she finally got his meaning.  Unexpectedly, a bit of cell phone Carol returned.  “Well, I think you can find a better place to deposit those fluids tonight.

“I am counting on it,” he said, pretending to toast her with a glass he did not yet possess. 

She chuckled again.  “It’s been a long time,  you know.”  It seemed suddenly that a touch of confession was in order.  “My marriage wasn’t a good one.”

“I believed you mentioned your ex-husband is gay.”

“Yes," she said, glad to have that out in the open and her fear itself. It was a confession she hadn’t made outside to one or two close girlfriends.  It hurt too much, as if a better woman would have kept him on the straight and narrow.

“If someone really is gay there’s nothing anyone can do,” he said and his hand reached out to run his fingertips over hers.  It was a tender gesture, and she noticed for the first time how soft his skin was, and how gentle his touch. “You could be Mata Hari herself and it would not matter.  He would choose a man when finally confronted with his true self.”

“I know that’s what all the psychologists say, but in my place, it really doesn’t feel that way.  I know I shouldn’t complain,  I know it’s not my fault, that’s what everyone tells you.”

“But you don’t feel that way, do you? I think we all feel a bit a failure when a romance doesn’t end well.  I know. After all, I’m a divorced man.”

“You never said much about that,” she said, wondering how they had started dredging things up.

“It wasn’t really anybody’s fault,” he said, eyes looking up at the ceiling for a moment.  “We were young. Gail got pregnant.  She wasn’t a bad person at all. She just wanted to go one way and I needed to go another. It happens. It’s life.”

Carol chuckled and shook her head.  “Romance generally sucks when you think about it. I think it would never happen if we didn’t get horny.”

He smiled.  “Sex is a biological highlighter.  Heard that in a movie somewhere.”

“How many movies have you been to?”

“A few. Too many and not enough at the same time.  What’s your favorite movie?” he asked out of the blue.

She smiled, relaxing. “Oh, there are so many.  When Harry Met Sally.  Ummm.  Little Miss Sunshine.  Gone With the Wind.”

“Here I was thinking you were really into Showgirls... ”

“Bastard!” Carol found herself grinning. “You know I’m not into tripe.”

“I don’t know, it’s full of hot women.”

“You know I’m not into women.  And what is it about two women that so fascinates men?”

Thomas leaned over and rubbed his chin, stroking the soft gray hairs.  “I don’t know. It isn’t logical, is it?  It’s not women turn to lesbianism just because they’re so overcome with lust that any human will do.  I figure we’re just great apes, wanting our own pack of receptive women for, you know, ook ook!”

Carol laughed and it was throaty.  “You just want what you can’t have.”

Thomas looked her directly in the eye.  “And sometimes we want what we can have.”

Carol said nothing, looking him straight in the eye, saying nothing and suddenly wanting to take what she could have, and take him right now.  

Waitress Julie ruined the moment by returning and inserting her big boobs between them. “May I take your order?” she said.  

“Yes,” Thomas said his eyes on Carol’s before turning to their waitress.  “That is, if my lovely companion is ready.”

“I am.” Carol was pleased he’d asked, and more pleased at the compliment.  She’d completely forgotten what she had wanted to eat and glancing at the menu she said.  “I’ll take the tilapia, with broccoli and the lobster bisque in place of the salad.” It was a good meal, one that would show him she cared for herself.

“I’ll take the prime rib petite, rare and with real horseradish, not the sauce.  Baked potato with butter and sour cream, and the house salad.”

“Very good, sir,” said Julie, mercifully excusing herself. 

Carol’s ardor cooled a bit as her stomach rumbled.  The problem with dieting is that you’re often really, really hungry.  Carol certainly felt her stomach at that moment.  Yes, food before pleasure.

They talked as they ate, and laughed a little bit.   Slowly she relaxed.  Thomas kept his focus on her except when Julie inserted herself to deliver food and find out if they wanted something, like say a drink.  Thomas switched to merlot, and Carol to chardonnay, not wanting to get too tipsy, though she certainly was ready to be taken advantage of.  

He talked a bit of his marriage, of the job, the new reorganization at work and the promises they’d made that his job would be safe.  Secretly she hoped it wasn’t so safe, hoping he’d find work where she lived.  Occasional weekends were not likely to be enough.  Not with this man. Of course, he still might not like her. She might still disappoint him.  His words, might be... words. But he certainly felt sincere and she found herself liking the real person as well. She felt herself relax. 

He took her hand after they paid the check and stepped out into the night.  Their fingers laced together naturally, as they moved on into the lamplit night, streets glowing with tail lights and golden streetlights, and the lights from the face and windows of their hotel.  She looked at him in the darkness,  very nice.  Yes, she was ready.  She wanted to get him alone.

The hotel door slid open with a hum and they stepped inside tot he sound of piano music.  Some kind of jazz, the easy kind with a grizzled gray-headed black man bending over the piano and a young, slender sax player standing at his side listening, waiting for his cue to come in. 

Thomas lifted her hand and turned to face her. His arm went around her hip, fingertips caressing the small of her back.  His face was close and she could smell his cologne, something subtle too, just a touch musky,  very nice, very male.  She wanted male.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, gently bowing.

“Of course,” Carol replied, looking around.

No one else was dancing, though she could see people sitting around the bar with glasses in front, nodding their heads and tapping her toes in time with the music.   He pulled her body tight to his.  

The swayed together slowly, her head on his shoulder, his fingers gentle, but moving.  And as the pressed together the most wonderful thing happened. His cock began to grow and stretch. She could feel it against her belly, so hard and big.  So hard for her. It made her gasp as he leaned close. She looked down, seeing only the tweed of his shoulder, her mind totally mesmerized by that hard male meat so close to her.  So hard for her. 

The parted as the song ended, and the clapping began, she leaned back and looked him directly in the eyes.  “I think I’ve had enough dancing,” she declared pursing her lips, “at least dancing in the vertical sense.”

Thomas laughed, his laugh deep and wonderful, and she noticed the way his shirt hugged his hips, just so.  So as she wanted.  “I suppose we could go upstairs so you can show me your etchings.”

“My etchings,” she said, momentarily confused before catching the joke.  “Yes,” she replied with a chuckle  “You really need to see my...

Thomas leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “What I really want to see is your pussy, perched on my tongue.”  His hand slipped down to give her bottom a tiny squeeze as they went away, and she smiled.  Don had never talked to her that way, touched her that way.  She wanted to be touched.  She wanted to be touched... everywhere.

The door clicked open and she entered first.  Her nerves returned to her briefly.  She could not forget she was in a hotel room with a man she’d actually met only an hour before.  She hadn’t been raised to be ‘that kind of girl’.  She had been a good girl. She’d been a virgin on her wedding night.  She’d read the articles on sex and some stories that made her hot, but those were words but this was real.

His fingers traced down her spine as the door clicked shut behind them. He pressed close, and she could feel that lovely erection again, pressed to the small of her back, felt his fingers reaching around to cup her breasts through her blouse. He was taking her, like one of the men in the novels she liked direct and demanding. 

Fear and passion fed each other, she was afraid, but not enough to stop. The direct call to taste her shocked her, but they penetrated through to her, just as her nipples felt his fingers through the thick material of her bra. Without thinking she pressed back into him and rotated her bottom, feeling shameless as a rush of erotic energy pushed through her fear.  She wanted to be bad.

“I like the way you push yourself back against me,” he said and rolled his hips against her bottom.

His fingers cupped her right butt cheek, fingers spread and kneading.  In response, she rolled her hips like she imagined a true harlot might only to realize it came naturally, that it took almost no thought at all to rub up against Thomas.  The touch on her bottom, where Don had so rarely touched, affected her.  She liked it, she realized and rocked back against him for more.

His left hand slid across her body, over her blouse, unbuttoning the garment and taking too damn long about it! She reached up to help him, suddenly feeling overdressed, wanting to be naked for this man. His breath was hot on her neck, his nibbles delicious, just hard enough to show his hunger.  She peeled her blouse off, her breasts exposed in the tight push-up bra.  She wanted him to see her like this, see his feast, to see the breasts she so much wanted to feed into his mouth and feel caught between his teeth. 

Fingers on her back, he was fiddling with her bra and a moment later it came off, and she shook her shoulders to pull it off and send it to the floor.  She could feel her breasts shifting as she shimmied but she didn’t care because a moment later his strong, rough fingers caught her fullness and lifted her, fingertips dancing across her nipple.  Then pinching and pulling it.  It hurt, just a little and so well!

She turned her head and kissed him deeply, tasting the vodka and red wine on his lips, feeling the scratchiness of his beard, only it was a good scratch, a male scratch, a kiss only a man could give, and she wanted this man. She was ready, sex already moistening, ready for his cock. Only Thomas himself was not ready.  His touch on her breasts was slow and certain.  He twisted her nipples, stretching them out. 

She moaned loudly and leaned back into him, sucking his tongue deep into her mouth. He pushed it deep, thrusting it as she hoped he would his cock.  But he kept moving slowly, so damnably slowly teasing her with his touch and the stretch of her nipples and the pressure of his hard cock against her back. She reached around to touch it with her left hand, wanting to feel it, and with her right unbuttoned her skirt.  So tight were they pressed that it did not fall when the buttons finally sprang open. 

She broke the kiss.  “Fuck me,” she said, surprised at her own crudity and a bit proud.  It was a thing she could never have said to Don, but with Thomas, it came naturally.  

“You’re not ready yet,” he said, voice perfectly calm and even, as if was making a simple statement of fact.

Carol strongly begged to differ, wetter than she’d ever been for Don, her pussy tingling but she kept silent. What did Thomas have in mind for her? Her nipples tingled at his touch, her breathing was deepening, giving soft cries with every breath.  She was certain she was ready to be fucked. She was ready and she could feel how hard he was. With Don that had been enough.  But not Thomas? What did it take to make this man ready to claim his prize?

His cock, she realized  Men loved having their cocks played with.  She would touch his cock, but it was hard reaching behind herself, between their bodies to touch that wonderful bulge. Try as she might, she couldn’t get more than a fingertip or two upon it.  How, she wondered, could she make him move on.

His right hand released her right breast, fingers outstretched, traced a meandering path down her belly. 

She rolled it, encouraging him, hoping he was heading in the direction she sought, then he broke their kiss long enough to whisper in her ear.  “Don’t worry, Carol, I’ll be giving you my cock soon enough.”

“I want it now. I want it now.  Please let me suck your beautiful cock.”  

There, she’d said it. She’d said it before, when they were on the phone or typing out cyber, but not for real, not with his hard meat pressed against her back, not with it right there.  She felt a bit of fear.  Don’s homosexual dalliance had led her to research fellatio. Maybe if she was good enough he wouldn’t have wanted Tim. She didn’t want to lose her husband without a fight.  She’d tried to learn, but by then Don’s cock was only for his Man.  She wanted to find out if she was good. She wanted to be good.  She was afraid  Thomas wouldn’t like it, but she wanted to try.   

His fingers found her mound, slipping underneath her skirt to explore through the thin material of her thong.  His left hand dropped to her hips, and he began to turn her so they faced each other, and then he leaned in for yet another kiss. 

Thomas was a patient kisser. The sort that savored her lips, pressing tight, and did not simply push the tongue into her mouth and start slashing.  He moved his lips as well as his tongue, soft then firm, his tongue sliding deep with purpose, sometimes to tease her tongue, sometimes to circle it, others to suck her tongue into his mouth.  But an active tongue did not mean idle fingers.

Down went her skirt, and she kicked it off, standing before him clad only in her thong, stockings, and heels. She leaned back and looked at him, happy to see his eyes sweeping across her body and the smile upon his face.  Clearly, he liked what he was seeing, and that was her.  Now she could see his bulge, trousers packed as he pulled off her jacket she went for his belt. dropping to her knees, wanting to show him what hours of concentration and reading had taught her.  She wanted to taste him.  

His belt came off quickly and he smiled as he looked down at her leaning before him.  She knew what she wanted, to feel it in her hands, to taste him to hold his meat and most of all to break his infernal patience.  She wanted to be fucked, and wanted him to know she was ready. He fingers fumbled with his belt in anticipation, slipping down his zipper, reaching inside his tartan boxers to pull out his meat.  

And there it was, at last, revealed to her, the cock she’d talked about sucking, the cock she’d dreamt of sucking and there it was hard and stiff for her!  For Her! She salivated at the drop of precum at his opening, showing he was juicing for her.   And so she leaned forward to runt he flat of his tongue about the head. Salty, but less so than she’d heard, creamy and not at all gross like her girlfriend Britt had said. She licked it, she realized, and knew she wanted more. 

His fingers found her head, sliding into her hair, sliding between her tresses, to caress her scalp.  Though part of her wanted him to grab her, to simply use her and push his cock deep into her mouth, Thomas remained patient, hands caressing, letting her find her own pace in this most intimate but unfamiliar act. 

Pink lipstick coated his cock head, as she licked and rubbed her lips upon him. He moaned softly, the first time she’d heard a touch of control loss in his manner, and that made her pussy tingle.   Opening her hips, she covered her teeth with her lips like her gay friend Simon had advised and started to slide her way down his shaft.  His taste was musky, but not only a little, not harsh at all but male, primally male. 

She tried to take him deeper, but could only take a few inches, her fingers wrapping around the base of his shaft. She bobbed her head and jacked him like she’d seen in the movies, but try as she might she couldn’t take all of him. She fumed at this, but felt his meat at the back of her mouth, full and hard.   And his hips began to pump slowly to match time with her lips.   

So this was sucking cock!  Britt thought it a duty, a reward for something special, something you did when you had to. Britt had no idea what she was talking about!  Carol found she loved it.  She could feel the tension in his meet, feel his balls bobbing close to her chin, and hear Thomas breathe.  His breaths grew deeper and he let out soft moans.  If this was cock sucking she could stand for a lot more. 

Then he stepped away.  She felt a pang of fear.  Had she done something wrong?  Men were supposed to be your slave if a woman sucked cock well enough. Was she bad at cock sucking?

 “Enough, for now,” he said.  “It would be so tempting to just let you have your way and give you your creamy reward. But that would ruin my plans for you.”

“Like hell, it would!”  Carol pouted, missing the fullness of him between her lips, missing the salty precum that still coated her tongue.  “I want it,” she continued.  “What about my plans for you? I want to taste it, to drink it, just like when we talked.  I want the real thing.”

“And you shall have it,” he said, pulling down his pants and boxers in one smooth motion.  His eyes never left her as he pulled off his shoes and socks.  “But when you’re truly ready.”

“But I’m ready now!”  Carol tried to entice him by playing with her own nipples, pouting and pleading. She even slipped her fingers beneath her thong, pushing her middle finger up inside her sex.  He pussy contracted at the familiar touch, but she pulled back out and held her fingers up to see.  ”See how wet you’ve made me!”

He chuckled seeing. “I know, my pet.  But truly, you are not yet ready to be fucked.”

What does it take with this man?  She wondered what she had to do to entice him. She slipped her fingers back inside her own pussy, touching herself, sliding her fingers across her sex,  looking him the eye.  “Do I have to fuck myself?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” he said and pulled his shirt off, stepping to her. 

He took her shoulders and pushed her back upon the bed, and she laid there, opening her legs wide, wanting to entice him, wanting just once to break his damned control and make him take her?  Her pussy tingled, and hungered. She was wet, wetter than she’d ever been for her ex-husband, wetter than ever and her pussy hungered. His cock was strong and erect and the wetness leaking from the head only increased the effect.  She studied it, wanting to know more, wanting all of it inside her.  

“Come on and fuck me.”

Thomas smiled and bent over, his fingers parted her thighs, gentle, fingertips reaching out on her thighs.  His right hand slid upward, onto her mound and to slowly roll and unroll his fingertip up and down her slit.  She was held there, pinned by his touch, pussy needing more, wanting more.   

“Please fuck me,” she whispered, her pussy quivering. 

She was ready,  so ready, readier than she’d ever been for Don, even on their wedding night when girlish fantasies fueled her mind.  Now she had a woman’s fantasies.  She had a cock in her before, but not Thomas’s cock, not him, not yet, and that brief taste in her mouth only made her want more.  She wanted his cock more than anything she’d ever wanted before. 

He pushed her thighs back, bending her knees up to her chest, rotating her hips back, exposing her pussy to his gaze. His eyes studied hers as his fingertips circumnavigated her pussy, moving clockwise, slowly, so gently it was almost a wisp against her only it was her man, taking her, claiming her as his.   She realized then he was taking her, marking her, wanting their first time to more than a fuck, but a supreme experience. 

Still, she was ready. “Please fuck me.”

“Oh, I shall,” he said with a touch of mirth in his eyes. His middle finger dipped inside her, wetting himself on her, it came up shiny as he then moved it to pain her clitoris with her own juice. 

Her hips jumped then, and she gasped, shocked at the strength of her own response, loving his touch.   “Please, I’m going to cum if you keep this up.”

“Feel free.  Enjoy the one advantage nature granted women, the ability to come more than once. Savor it.” and then he moved his finger away and bent down to run his tongue straight up the center of her sex. 

She’d read about cunnilingus before.  Britt liked it,  she knew, but she hadn’t felt it before.  Don thought it was dirty.  If it was dirty, then she liked dirty. Her body quivered with tension. His tongue was both soft and firm at once, exploring the folds of her sex.  She felt her head swirling as he licked, steadily circling, exploring her thin pussy lips, licking around her hood. Her hands grabbed his head and mashed his lips to her sex.

Her hips began to pump, rolling to meet his tongue, trying to take control and guide it where she wanted and needed it.  Her pelvis rocked, and she felt as if her whole midsection was aglow.  Just a little more, just a touch more and she might cum.  She wanted to now, she didn’t want to hold back, wanted to let it go, just ride his tongue and mustache into sweet oblivion.   His tongue was flat, eyes on her hers and with her right hand began to pull and twist upon her nipples.  Oh, she wanted to cum. 

At that moment she felt a new sensation, a single moist finger pressed against her backside, circling, caressing, not trying to enter.  Just that one touch and the dam broke. Her pussy convulsed on his tongue, his hips pumped and she moaned out Thomas’ s name, not caring who heard lost as the waves of pleasure broke across her body.  

Again and again, her hips pumped, but Thomas did not stop.  He blew cool air across her sex, and then flattened his tongue to circumscribe circles about her clit. It was hard and wet, his face juicy now as she lubricated feel, hips pumping as the waves broke over her again. 

Her hips bucked but he remained, riding her with his lips, fingertip still circling her star, staying there as her body went white all thought was lost except for the moment and the spasms wracking her body.  Stars filled her vision as her head rocked back,  unable to do anything but shriek out her pleasure and receive his caresses.  

Thomas released her and licked straight downward, pushing his tongue against her bare ass, tongue pushing at her star, the one place she was sure he would never lick and yet there he was, tongue firm and thrusting into her.  She felt dirty but in a good way. Thomas wanted in a way few men had ever wanted a woman. At that moment she surrendered herself, ready to take whatever he deigned to give him, certain it would only lead to more

And then he stopped, suddenly. But she did not, spasms still shaking her body.  Suddenly he was above her, his weight on her body and his hard, thick cock slipping across her pussy.   She cried to God as his cock slid across her, realizing that finally, she was ready to be fucked in his eyes.  He shifted about and then the round head of his meat found her opening, and eased inside her, stretching her, opening her, filling her.  So wet, he slid in easily and then their mounds were pressed together and all of him inside her. 

She looked up at him and he at her.  Her lips found hers, tongue pushing hard into her mouth, taking her, plundering her, a hot forceful kiss just as his hips began to move.  She bit her lip, as he found his pace, steady, inevitable, a march inside her, stretching and opening her. She pulled her legs back, pumping her hips to meet his thrusts. 

Her ex hadn’t lasted long, but Thomas he rode her, his cock driving deep, each thrust almost inevitable.  He pushed up with his arms, putting his full weight into each thrust, deep and hard, hips slamming into hers, taking her with an almost delicious brutality. He fucked her hard and fast, picking up his pace, driving deeper into her, over and over, stretching her. Her pussy tingled and she felt another orgasm rising, overcoming as her pussy convulsed around his cock.

“Give it to me,” she begged. “Please fill me.  Fill me!”  She begged and grunted, breaths deep and moaning. 

But his moans were deep too, deep like his voice and the thickness of her chest.  His cock was so hard, and then he shoved it deep, gave one final moan and she could feel it convulsing inside her.  And then the sticky feel of his seed filling her, just as she wanted, deep and safe inside her sex.  Right where she wanted it.  

They moaned together in harmony, her contralto matching his bass as they cried together in pleasure. The sweet pleasure consumed Carol, searing her,  making her crave more.  

With a final grunt, Thomas collapsed upon her, his weight heavy but wanted, cock still deep in her creamy pussy, lips touching hers softly.  “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice quiet, an echo of his earlier command. 

“Thank you!”  She felt it, her whole body tingling aftershocks still rolling through her, little spasms that hopefully would milk him just a bit more. His head fell on her shoulder and hers on his, arms about each other, touching, holding each other in silence as their bodies cooled. 

Finally, he rolled off her, and stretched out his legs.  She lay back, legs open, eyes staring at the ceiling, body still shivering.  For a few moments, they said nothing.  And then he spoke.  “Tomorrow I want to take you to store spotted on Route 412, not too far from here.”

“What kind of store?” she said, turning to look at him.  He was smiling like a Cheshire cat, his command returned, and she wondered what exactly she was in for.”

“They sell products of an adult nature,” he said.  “I noted some of your reactions. They suggest a certain kink I think we both might enjoy  Perhaps we can find something there to ease that particular road.”

She caught her breath, wondering what he meant.  Then realized she didn’t really care. She belonged to Thomas now.