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From: walt9899@my-deja.com (Walt9899)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 6 Jul 2001 18:27:43 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} RP: Home with Nikki (MF)
Date: Sat,  7 Jul 2001 00:10:05 -0400
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STANDARD DISCLAIMER:
This story contains graphic depictions of sex between consenting
adults.  If you are under eighteen years of age you must stop reading
now.  Stop, I said.  Stop!

Now that I am addressing an audience consisting of only mature,
responsible persons over eighteen years of age:

This story and all its characters are a work of adult fantasy.  They
live in a world where sex is free of disease and unwanted pregnancies,
and, when convenient, free of the deeper emotional complications that
accompany it.  The characters happily invite you into their world
while you read the story but ask also that you please remember to
return to your own world when you are finished.

COPYRIGHT NOTICE:
This story's copyright, like its sex, is fantasy.  You may use,
modify, or distribute it as you choose so long as any use,
modification, or distribution is for the strictly personal purpose of
(1) pleasuring yourself or others; (2) light recreational reading; or
(3) testing to see if your boss really reads those continuous
improvement initiatives you keep sending him (or her).

FEEDBACK:
Did the story turn you on?  Did it stink?  The author appreciates any
feedback you may have to share about this story.  Send e-mail to
walt9899@my-deja.com.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME

********************************************************


HOME WITH NIKKI (MF)
By Walt9899


Nikki came out of the bathroom, the steamfog of her shower following
her like a guardian.  She was deeply wrapped in her Egyptian cotton
robe, toweling as much water as she could from her hair.

She looked at me and smiled, pleased.  "Candles!" she said.  "Jake. 
You did miss me."

Indeed, I had.  She'd been gone nearly three weeks, a particularly
grueling west-coast swing of trade shows and vendor visits.  Travel
was a part of her life, but I had gotten used to at least seeing her
on weekends.  She'd have stories to share, I was sure.

She'd landed just before dark and I'd met her at her place, sure she'd
want to unpack, unwind, have a glass of wine.  She'd kissed me at the
door and told me she was famished, so I'd picked up something light,
pasta, olive oil, tomato and basil, a loaf of good hard bread, and a
few things for desert.  After dinner she kissed me again, deeper, her
lips slick with olive oil, and said, "I want a nice long shower and
then bed.  You want me in bed?"  Rhetorical question.  While she'd
showered I'd lit the candles and brought the wine and the desert
upstairs.

She finished toweling her hair and came to bed.

"Wine?" I asked, offering her a glass of the red stuff.

She took it and said, "What's that?" looking at the tray that
contained strawberries, powdered sugar, and melted chocolate.

"Welcome home," I said.

"You *did* miss me," she said, taking a long drink.

I fed her strawberries.  I dipped the ripe red fruit in the sugar or
turned it in the chocolate.  She cleaned the fruit with lazy swipes of
her tongue, then ate it in one perfectly placed bite just below the
stem.

"You were gone a long time," I said, placing a chocolate-covered
strawberry against her mouth.  "How many men did you meet?"

She licked the chocolate off her lips.  "My industry's full of men,"
she said.  Her eyes were closed.  Her damp hair reflected dull
candlelight.

"Yes," I answered, pressing the strawberry into her mouth, "but how
many did you sleep with?"

She ate the fruit.  Swallowed.  "Only one, actually," she said, an
idle grin on her face.

"I don't believe you."

"Give me another strawberry."

I gave her another one, frosted white with sugar.

"Only one that I slept with," she said with white powder on her chin. 
"There was another one, in a hot tub, we didn't sleep together.  He
came in my hand."

I leaned down and kissed her.  Her tongue felt great in my mouth.  I
licked the white powder off her chin, down through its shallow cleft,
and took the plunge straight down her neck.

"Tell me about him," I said, my tongue in the V of her neck.  I could
feel her pulse quicken under her skin.

"Which one?"

"The one you slept with.  I'm sure I can figure out all about the hot
tub."

She sighed as I kissed her neck.  Long loops of Egyptian cotton
tickled my chin when her chest rose and fell.

"He was a field engineer from Houston," she said.  "You know the kind
I get in my business: educated, but doing hard time outside. 
Gentleman cowboys.  He had a beard.  You know I love a beard."

I wasn't much of a beard guy.  I'd grown a goatee for her a couple of
times and she'd loved it, loved the feel of it on her thighs when I
was between her legs, but I preferred to be clean-shaven.

I moved down a few inches, parted the robe a little, kissed her chest
just above her breasts.

"He sat beside me at dinner," she continued.  "It was loud and he kept
leaning close to talk to me.  Every time he did his beard tickled my
ear."

I sat up and took a drink of wine, then offered her the glass.  She
drank but as her head was too far back some of it dribbled out the
side of her mouth.  I was only too happy to clean it up with my
tongue.

I undid the sash of her robe and began kissing her again where I'd
left off.

"His name was Jack," she said.  "He had been married once but it
didn't work out.  It was a distance thing.  No kids.  After dinner we
went out for a drink and when he put his hand on my leg I didn't stop
him."

Her flesh softened as I worked my way lower.  Nikki has wonderful
breasts.  Perfect B-cups.  And her nipples, when she's excited, are
the same color as the strawberries I was feeding her.  When the robe
got in the way I nudged it aside with my nose or pulled it away with
my teeth.

"After our drink he asked me if I wanted another one and I told him I
didn't need anything else to drink.  He asked if he could kiss me. 
His hand was still on my leg.  Just on my knee.  I leaned toward him
and he kissed me."

"Was he a good kisser?" I asked.  My tongue was skating across her
breasts now, dipping into the cleavage still damp from her shower.

She didn't answer for a moment, moving her torso lightly into my
tongue.  Her leg got itself in between mine and began to move against
my groin.  I was hard.  She'd been gone three weeks and I'd fed her
fruit and wine and had my face against the swells of her breasts. 
Besides that I was turned on being a fly on the wall, watching her
gentleman cowboy's hand on her leg, watching her lean close to him so
he could kiss her.

"He was a very... gentle kisser," she said, trying to move one of her
nipples into the path of my tongue.  "We kissed for a long time just
there in the bar.  His hand never moved from my knee.  I started to
think he was too much gentleman and not enough cowboy."

"But something changed your mind?" I asked, swiping a long smiley face
in the heavy crease below her breast.

She sighed, frustrated, and wriggled herself out from under me,
turning me onto my back in the process.  On her knees, she undid the
rest of the robe, letting it hang freely at her sides.

"You want some more wine?" she asked, looking frankly at me, her
breasts beautiful and free and shadowy in the candles.

She bent over to the tray and poured more wine into one of the
wide-mouthed red wine glasses.  She filled it almost to the top.  Then
she leaned out farther, off the bed, and lowered herself onto the
glass, guiding one of her breasts into its contents, coating it with
wine.  She moved back to me and lowered it to my mouth.  "Here," she
said, smiling, "will this get your attention?"

Her nipple and areola shined darkly, and a larger diameter of the
white surrounding skin was now stained with a light burgundy patina. 
She was above me now and the wine ran across her breast and gathered
at her nipple, a large drop formed, and just before it could drop off
I latched on, sucking hungrily, licking the wine from her nipple,
reveling in the taste the wine made with her skin.

She moaned, forgetting her story for a time, and when I could taste no
more of the wine she offered me some more from the other breast, which
I drank just as greedily.  She straddled me and pressed her cunt
against my erection.  I was still wearing my boxer shorts and I sighed
because I wanted to feel her pubic hair against me, wanted to feel the
slickness of her labia as they parted around my cock.

But I didn't want to lose her story altogether, so I finally unlatched
my mouth from her nipple and said, "There was another man, I think, I
man named Jack who you were kissing in a bar."

"Oh," she said, as if drawing herself back from somewhere far away. 
"There was that man, huh?"  She sat up, moving her hips languidly back
and forth against me as she talked.  "He was a cowboy after all, I
guess.  Just when I thought he was going to kiss me to death his hand
started to move."

"Down towards your delicate ankles, no doubt?"

She smiled and said, "Hmmm," and let her robe fall from her shoulders.
 Her boobs swayed as she grinded me.  "I wasn't wearing hose," she
said.  "And maybe my skirt was kinda short.  All I know is that when
his fingers got to my thighs, he told me we'd better get back to my or
his room, one."

I ran my hands across her belly, up her sides, massaging her
shoulders, and then down her arms to her hands.  Our fingers twined
around each other.

"We went back to my room," she said.  "We made out in the elevator. 
He got his hands up to my ass and I felt his dick against my thigh.  I
have to admit he knew what he was doing on one account.  All that
chaste kissing, setting my expectations so low, and then coming on
like a freight train--that worked pretty well with me.  By the time we
reached my floor all I wanted to do was fuck him."

"Did you?" I asked, even though she'd already told me she had.

She bent back over to the bedside tray.  I ran my hand along the
curvature of her ass, down the crack in the middle, over her asshole,
and played lightly with her pussy.  She anointed my fingertips with
her wetness even though I just tickled the length of her lips.

She sat up again.  She had the small glass bowl of melted chocolate. 
She said, "Be naked."

I wiggled out of my boxer shorts.

When I lay down again she got some of the chocolate on her fingertips
and began to brush my cock with it.  "I fucked him almost as soon as
we got in the room," she said, painting the length of me in chocolate.
 Her touch was light and every time her finger swirled around the head
my penis jumped up at her.  "We didn't even get undressed," she said. 
"I just pulled my skirt up and pulled my underwear aside and he
unzipped his jeans and we did it like that, him on top of me on the
bed.  He bit my neck and I dug my fingernails into his ass and we
fucked for about five minutes before he came so hard I thought he was
going to break my pubic bone."

She was licking chocolate off her fingertips, looking down at her
handiwork.

"Was that it?" I asked.

"Pretty much.  I didn't offer to let him spend the night or anything."
 Her fingers were clean now.

"Why not?"

She bent towards me and licked a long lick of chocolate off the length
of my penis.  I moaned.  She smiled.  "I just wanted to fuck him," she
said, licking again.  "I didn't want to play with him.  I didn't want
to get to know what his secret thrills were."  She was lapping
insistently all along the length of my straining cock, eating all the
chocolate she had applied.  Then she took me between her lips, moving
her mouth up and down over my cockhead.  I began to thrust into her
and she knee-walked herself around until her hips were next to my
head.  She removed her mouth from my cock as she lifted a leg over my
face.  "I didn't want him to get to know what my secret thrills are,"
she said, and she sucked my dick back into her mouth as she lowered
herself onto my mouth.

I quickly speared her lips with my tongue, tasting the hot wetness
inside her.  She coated my lips, my nose.  We each moaned into the
other.  I licked along her length, back to her asshole and up to her
clit.  She bucked against my face when my tongue touched her there.  I
was eager to suck it into my mouth, to pull it between my lips, to
make her squeal when I lashed it with my tongue.  She was eager, too. 
She was bobbing happily, sloppily around my cock, taking me deeply
into her mouth and popping me out like a Popsicle before descending
again.  I licked the length of her a few more times, but then I knew I
was going to come in a minute, so I rolled her over onto her back and
turned around so I was between her legs.  She was panting raggedly,
pouting that I'd broken the contact, but as soon as I lowered my head
between her thighs she put her hands behind her knees and pulled her
legs up and open, giving me access to anything I wanted.

What I wanted was for her to come, so I busied myself with her
clitoris, getting it into my mouth again, while I pushed one, then two
fingers into her cunt.  I sucked her clit hard, then let it go,
flattening my tongue against it and moving back and forth.  Meanwhile
I fucked her with my fingers, sometimes plunging them as deeply as I
could, sometimes pulling them back so that just the first knuckle was
inside, prodding at the delicate nerves just inside her pussy.

Finally she groaned and gasped, "I'm coming, baby," and I rammed my
fingers inside her as hard and deep as they'd go while I sucked so
hard on her clit I could feel it against the middle of my tongue.  She
rocked her hips back and made incredible guttural noises and her cunt
clenched like a fist around my fingers.  I held the tension for what
felt like forever, keeping my mouth locked against her and my fingers
painfully deep inside her, while her orgasm crashed over her in one
deep and powerful wave.

She was quiet for a few minutes after that.  I came up and lay beside
her, following the lovely taste of her with a few drinks of wine. 
When I put the wine glass down she reached for my hand and brought it
close against her, covering one of her breasts with my palm.  She
scooched her hips so that her ass was pressed against me.  I was still
hard.  She moved her hips back and forth against its pressure.  She
said, "That was a rough road trip, even with the gentleman cowboy."

"Don't forget about the hot tub guy," I reminded her.

"That's another story," she said, moving her ass against me more
insistently.  "But the point is, I'm glad I can come home and find you
here."

"It's been a long three weeks," I agreed, and she rolled over and I
got on top of her, and after I came inside her we lay together like
that for a long time.


THE END

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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