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Message-ID: <50589asstr$1109574602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Teresa From Leon <TeresafromLeon@aol.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Loyalty (M/F lightd/s anal)
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Date: Mon, 28 Feb 2005 02:10:02 -0500
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Loyalty 

"Have you been well?" Peter Embury enquired, looking up at Tessa
Lee from the circular seat in the middle of the room.

"I've been...well, Mr Embury, " she mused, playing with his words
and holding still, wondering if she should sit down next to him.  

"Peter, please."

"Well, I am erring...on the side ...of caution, Peter."

"I would be cautious too, but my wife has abandoned me for this
evening and the next couple of days."

"Curious, so had my boyfriend - well tonight at least."

"There's serendipity for you."

"Your wife's absence is a happy chance? I think you need to think
about your marriage, Mr Embury," she said as she started to walk
away from him. 

"My wife does not." he began, reaching out to grab her wrist and
pull her back.

"I'm sure she does not," she responded coolly looking down at his
hand and reaching down to touch it gingerly with her free hand. 
"Mrs Embury being possibly as respectable and loyal as her husband
is perhaps scurrilous."

"All the same the mystery in your eyes and the teasing in your
words fascinate me," he grinned, relinquishing his grip.

"And your fascination is what mystifies me," she retorted. "How is
this for equilibrium?" 

"It might have been."  

"It has been. It has, in fact, been said. I know because I said
it..." She broke off in a fit of giggles and then turned to look
out of one of the windows over towards the still, oily sea across
the promenade from them.

"It is neither falling nor rising," she murmured. "Does that make
it a tide-less sea?"

"A sea's tide can never be stopped," he contradicted her, standing
behind her.

"I could picture lots of little sacks stopping the tide as they
did during the storms." 

"Perhaps they'd slow it," he whispered leaning down to kiss her
neck. "It cannot be stopped."

"Loyalty could stop it."

"A hurricane has no loyalty."

"Is the hurricane a symbol?"

"It seems a dangerous symbol."

"But, it is exciting."

"Some excitement would be a most welcome relief, Mr Embury."

"Peter."

"Okay. Peter."

"My excitement might be seen as marital infidelity."   

"When it is, in fact, nothing more than relief?" She smiled thinly.

"I'm not going to admit to much, dear lady."

"You can have your discretion, if you insist."

"I do, but you, being free, can, of course, show me your
indiscretions." 

"You could rifle around and find my indiscretions."

"I'd rather things be shown."

"Why?"

"Rifling seems to be too much effort."

"Then stop smoothing my bodice with your well manicured hands."

"It is a very handsome black velvet laced bodice and should be
smoothed."

"It fits snugly into the waist," she said proudly.

"As it should."

"And contrasts to this brightly coloured skirt," she said, holding
out the material and curtseying. "Do you like the way it swings
from these hips?"

"I like the bright colours. They denote a fiery attitude."

"The fire will burn more slowly, if you walk me home at dusk."

"Should I stoke it higher as you near your warm inviting abode?"

"Pass me my wrap, take my arm and stop imagining. Then we will
see, Peter."

He obeyed her as they stood together on the top step of the
Assembly Halls. A pale January moon stared down at them as cold,
stinging zephyrs slapped exposed cheeks.  The moon blanked the
windows in the streets, while the cool residue of the night breeze
died away, leaving stillness: stillness upon everything. 

The cool moonlight only served to heighten the chill immobility as
their thoughts crept sluggishly over the sands of their daily
lives. He wanted to conjure an image of a safe, warm, familiar
place but turned and was enchanted by her cold wild eyes and
glossed lips that promised anything other than safety.

"A night like this could last forever," he whispered romantically.

"Come the dawn and the light will leave scarcely a memory," she
responded more realistically.

"Then let us make the most of this fleeting night."

"Are you counting the moments already?"

"We both are...". "Speak for yourself, Peter. I am counting lamp
posts."

"I shall count your graceful steps home."

"You have had too much to drink to count fluently."

"My dear, I have quite a capacity for drink."

"I noticed that the barman was quite pale and wan by the end of
the evening."

"My cheeks were barely flushed with the effects of his labour, but
then I had your company."

"You had my company at the tail end of the dance, but not in the
privet hedge afterwards."

"I am not a man for any sort of bush."  

"You will be pleased that I had a bikini wax earlier then," she
conceded wickedly and regretted her flirtation at once.

"You are a woman after my heart," he sighed and leant his head on
her shoulder, before rushing away from her, yelling out as he
negotiated each obstacle; " You are a woman of the night.of bushes
and drink; of lamp posts and stars..."

".Of cold moonlit walks," he added with a yelp, continuing his
outburst blithely.

"All that street furniture and you blind drunk," Tessa giggled, as
she stood there and watched him.

"And you?" He shouted back at her. "Are you sober as a nun?"

"I am merely following, watching you steeplechase boyishly along
the promenade."

"It is both a journey and a destination," he laughed, coming down
with a crash on a heap of bins and discarded benches.

"I could have told you that would happen you silly man," she
smiled, bending down and looking into his grinning features. She
reached out to tug him up slightly by the lapels and kiss him on
the nose. "And you think that you are quite inimical."

"And you think," he hiccupped, " you have been a fine companion."

"It seems that it is the journey, as well as the destination, that
prolongs your night."

"It surely seems so," he giggled.

"You lush. Shall I leave you here to consort with the stars?"

"I'd.don't want to wish away precious moments."

"You should have imbibed less then, Peter."

"It would have disappointed the barman and been wasteful to leave
the liquor."

"I can't leave you here," she sighed and shrugged her shoulders
helplessly.

"Yes, that would be disloyal."

"Quite."

"Yes, that too," he giggled and stood up slowly.

Is that your house over there, Peter?"

"The keys are in my coat pocket. Take it and you can try the lock."

"You'll freeze without your coat."

"You look so.vulnerable.in your wrap."

"No more so than you in your cups."

"My cups are empty and done, but your vulnerability endures," he
looked up at Tessa's big eyes shinning, suddenly sober.

"I am vulnerable. This I will admit."

"It is one of your finer traits, along with the fiery attitude and
your flowing intellect."

"My intellect does not seem to have flowed as well as your spirits
tonight, Peter," she said and turned towards the sea. She brushed a
strand of hair from her face.  

Peter watched her with veiled interest, thinking how her grace in
all things gave her some power over him.  She pulled a lash from
her eyelid and blinked away an irritated tear.

You're not sad are you?"

"No.  I am more uncomfortable."

He stood up slowly, pressing his palm to the ground to lever
himself up and reaching round her to hold her there.  Tessa
scrunched up her face as he breathed heavily on her shoulder,
trying not to show her disgust at his unsteady condition.

"I'd like to scoop you up in a swift and fluid motion, Miss Lee."

"I doubt if you are capable of that, Peter."

"Your lithe body held in my powerful arms. I want you to melt
against me, Tessa, slowly and resolutely. I want to dream of a
happy love and intricate, synchronized motions."

"Stop swaying like that or you will take another tumble."

"Stop stealing my illusions."

"Peter," she said and stroked his cheek. " Your dream of happy
love and laughter and whispered words is a figment. And in the
morning these keys will rattle as crisply as they do tonight and
they will surely make your head ache."

"To hell with the morning," he shouted.

"So much for slow, resolute melting," she sighed. "Hush you. There
is not so much light here. Be careful. You will wake your
neighbours."

"The neighbours will be jealous when I lower you to the bedroom
floor."

"The neighbours will be as disturbed as I would at the thought of
being lowered to your bedroom floor. Do you plan to have me next to
your marital bed?"

"I plan to see you in all your sensual glory. The bed is for my
wife. The floor is for strumpets like you.  I want to see you there
naked save for the fine things that nestle so close to your skin."

"You do?"

"I do.  I want to see those mysterious feminine undergarments you
hold dear"

"That's very determined of you," Tessa laughed and turned towards
the door, leaning against it and watching him balancing against the
railings, breathing deeply, wanting the night air to sober him like
draughts of hot coffee.  "I wonder though - who cherishes them
more?"  

"A good question."

"You need not answer, if it embarrasses you excessively."

"You know the answer already for why else did you wear your
tallest heels and most sheer nylons tonight."

"I wanted to totter as well as you did, without the alcoholic
excesses."

"So clever, Tessa!  The softest leather and the narrowest points
left you tottering before me. Now let me slip off your petticoat
and slide your very pretty black flower panties down to the ground." 

"The black flowers are certainly pretty, but I won't do anything
of the sort on your threshold."

"I want to feel your heels rubbing together behind my back. I bet
you have pretty toes."

"And what of the items of clothing that you would have me abandon?"

"They have served one purpose. Now they can warm my pockets and
clear my sinuses: such useful accessories. Pull up your skirt and
let me observe."

"I will freeze out here."

"You do protest rather a lot," He lifted his hand warningly. "A
quick slap might help you to remember not to blow hot and cold so
much."

"Forgive me for not being sufficiently stereotypical," Tessa
pouted. "You are the one with the heated words, Peter.  I'm just
cold." 

"I will warm you, just as your scent warms my need," he breathed
deeply once more, as if inhaling a fragrant, womanly scent. Tessa
shivered as she watched his exhalation crystallise in the cold
night air.  "You know my penchant for black."

"The night is black."

"So are my thoughts," he grinned and slid a fingertip along her
wrist and across the palm of her bare hand - skin to skin.  "I
would turn you on your head and run my hand to find the slickness
of your surrendering groove." 

Tessa breathed in quietly, but said nothing, pressing her back to
the wooden door.

"I will cup you in the palm of my hand, feeling the soft residual
down and watch the split open under the pressure as my thumb runs
between the slippery, swollen outer lips."

"You turn fine romance on its head," Tessa murmured but he ignored
her and continued his obscene soliloquy:

"I will enjoy the sensation of my forefinger just barely touching,
circling as I enter you, providing the slight rolling pressure that
builds the pleasure within you.  You will twist your hips as I
stroke the satin walls and dance within you."

He paused and watched her silent shrug.

"There is you, there is me and there is my desire to lift you into
a flowerbed and have you," he leered, his eyes fixed on hers. "We
both know where you belong." 

She giggled nervously and fumbled with the keys.

"The way the well-worn key slides easily into the well-oiled lock.
It is."he paused for effect and swayed on the kerb," .as though the
lock was waiting... Tessa with the flat stomach and downy twat;
Tessa whose vaginal crease is all wet and silky for Peter; Tessa
who is going to be fucked by Peter.  You've been waiting for me to
slip my face up against your cunt all evening haven't you?

"Me?" Tessa laughed and paused as a rush of warm air greeted them
as the door swung open. "Ah! Another mystery to resolve!"  

"What?"

"Has Mrs Embury been baking again?"

"Why would you say that, my darling?" Peter slurred, reverting to
type as a precaution.

"There are three gingerbread creatures on the hall table, standing
arms akimbo waiting for you to tumble home."

"I know nothing of them.  All I know is that slender black clad
legs promise paradise for a long, thick male co."

"Shhh! I am not going to cringe at your touch now, you know,"
Tessa smiled and shook her brunette hair, "but you may have
provoked jealousy here."

The gingerbread beings smiled knowingly from well-sculpted features.

"Jealousy is not the issue."

"I know." 

"Oh?"

"The issue is loyalty..."

*****

"You sound a little bit less worried about the loyalty thing now,"
Peter said solicitously, reaching over to touch her cheek as they
lay side by side in bed the following morning.

"Yes," she nodded. "A good fucking does the world of wonders."

"It can do."

"All the same I wish that I'd gone riding this morning.  I really
miss trotting out with Andrew."

"Ah! Your famously well-endowed boyfriend."

"The very same. You sound almost jealous, Peter."

"I am."

"Tough. And his endowments are truly splendid."

Peter frowned.

 Anyway," Tessa shrugged. "Never mind."

"I like it when you share intimacies with me."

"Maybe that isn't a good idea," Tessa smiled. "It might put you in
danger of being loved by me as well as by your wife."

Peter winced and stared at her, wondering what to say at this
vicious little remark. Then he shrugged and then leant over her
face to kiss her.  She responded and held him there her hands
resting on his forearm as their lips melded together.  The kiss
lasted a good while, until with a little sigh she broke away and
shuffled across into a corner of the bed, lifting up a pillow to
close herself off from him and put a little distance between them.

"That was a joke by the way."

"I love the way you tell those jokes," he grinned.eventually.

"I've never kissed anyone in his marital bed before," she smiled
back at him, his amusement contagious as ever. "I would have
imagined it would be surreal."

"Shades of Notting Hill?"

"Surreal but nice. Hugh Grant eats your heart out."

"You look very attractive lying here next to me. I could have only
imagined you naked before, Tessa. If we had made love in the car,
there would be leatherette imprints on your flesh: on your bare
tummy as you lay belly down and your upper thighs as they are
splayed widely."

"Ah! No, it is your imagination that is stretched and displayed,
Peter," she giggled.

"If you like."

"I do like to giggle, unless of course, you don't like: in which
case I will cease and desist immediately."

"You are very flexible."

"Do you mean double jointed, Peter, or just sexually dextrous?"

"Actually I would hope the first a little bit, and I now know the
second most definitely."

"Super-heroine Miss Tessa Dextrous to the rescue," she grinned.
"She reaches the parts that other girls can't reach!"

"Her tongue as agile as a lizards. Her need to be beaten with left
over celery sticks."

"If you please, sir," Tessa cackled gleefully.

"And how long have you had these symptoms, Tessa?"

"Ooh! Doctors and nurses is it now?"

"Call me Dr Peter?"

"I think your wife would object to her bed being turned into an
infirmary."

"Does that matter right now?" He muttered petulantly.

"That depends on what sort of a mood she is in and whether she is
prepared to sacrifice her marriage to your mistress in the
glamorous nurse's uniform of your choice."

"So?"

"Even wives need to be loved, Peter."

"You are such a generous 'other woman', Tessa."

"Well, to be excruciatingly honest, I am not in a playful mood,
well at least as far as the wives of the world are concerned."

"I can stop pouting already then."

"Aw! Were you feeling unloved, Peter?"

"I was feeling tired and listless.  I spent too much time out
walking in the country over the weekend. The moors are so nice."

"Actually, Peter, I once had a Moorish lover," Tessa giggled
infectiously into one of the pillows. "Sometimes he was nice - so I
know."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, of course. He kept wanting more."

Peter shook his head.

"It was the way he yelled 'God is great' when he came that finally
led me to leave him."

"Now your teasing is completely absurd."

"Yes, but you still love it, Peter."

"Yes, I do."

"Seriously. I did have a brief liaison with an Arab boy. He was a
refugee from Algeria during the troubles there."

"You are so cosmopolitan, Tessa. All my relationships have been
with English people. I don't even have an Irish or Scottish scalp
to my name."

"You poor, sweet, insular man."

"Was your Arab boy really nice?"

"Yes, he was, but he was very chauvinist..." Tessa paused. 

"I don't think they see it as chauvinism..."

"And," Tessa interrupted and added in a delicious lie:" overly
fond of sherbet dip after anal sex."

"Are you trying to leave me speechless?" 

"I will leave you liquorice to eat to stop your complaining," she
grinned and then looked at him seriously once again.  "Tell me.
Peter..."

"Yes?"

"I may be too rich a mix for you. Perhaps you should water me down?"

"I hardly need to spice you up."

"I have to admit to being a practical 'AV' though."

"What is an AV?"

"An anal virgin," Tessa shrugged. "I have often wanted to. I was
going to buy one of those strings of beads, but I was too shy to
order them. When I come I often feel like it would heighten the
experience to have something, um, 'there'."

"You have to be careful and gentle."

"Yes, that's what I've read. I don't like hurt there, which is
maybe why I've not tried it. My who'd have thought that this taxi
would turn into a sex therapy clinic?"

"A girlfriend told me that my kiss on the bud was nice," Peter
replied reflectively, leaning forward to close the glass panel
between them and the driver, "as is the arrow point of a tongue and
the soft stroke of a finger."

"Kisses anywhere round there are nice specially after a really
hard "sherbet dip," she laughed.

"Or a really hard spanking, you naughty girl."

"I think the pressing of a thumb would be preferable to the
calloused palm of your hand." 

"I'd like to do either to you, Tessa."

"I know, Peter but while you were away and after Andrew left, I
still had my hairbrush." 

"You be careful with the hairbrush handle."

"I will. I you don't want to look like a total fuck bunny."

"Or a stuck bunny."

"Maybe you do," she giggled perversely. "You know, when I get
home, I'm going to look in the cupboard for my fancy dress Easter
bunny ears."

"Hey, I've just realised. We wrote a poem."

"We did?" 

"Yes, I'll have to remember to write it down when we get out of
bed. Listen:  

A kiss on the bud is nice And the arrow point of a tongue And the
soft stroke of a finger And the soft stroke of a finger

"And the moan of the fuck bunny?"

"No, you silly Barbette! And the pressing of a thumb."

"Peter, you are making your 'barbette' moist again," she laughed.
"I do so love it when you tell me off."

"Is that so misguided of me?"

"Less misguided that the shaped carrots and aubergines I've used,"
Tessa blushed.

"Is that what you call 'vegging' in?"

Tessa giggled again, but said nothing, looking across at the alarm
clock, as the minutes clicked relentlessly onwards.

"Softer than a hairbrush I should think," Peter mused. 

"And no nasty, sharp finger nails either."

"A blessing I suppose though that may depends on how boiled the
vegetable is?"

"No! Raw and fresh and yielding of course; smooth and slick and
sweating cool carrot or aubergine juice ... peeled naturally, Peter."

"And lightly shrouded in the darkness of your oblivion?"

"Along those lines, yes."

"A profoundly empty solitude where you won't sit down for weeks?"

"Um...that's what I might be afraid of."

"Actually, Tessa..."

"Yes?"

"You'd look very strange with florets of broccoli sticking out
there."

Her mobile phone rang and she fumbled in her handbag for it,
talking away to him as she hunted: "Two former boyfriends wanted to
do it to me there and a girlfriend, but I wouldn't let any on
them...not with broccoli I hasten to add."

"Don't spoil my deliberate misunderstandings with your haste," he
pouted and reached over to pull the mobile from her coat pocket and
place it in her hand. "Are you saving yourself for the wombat you
truly love?"

"Nope! I'm just saving my arse! Hey look at this text message.
It's Andrew - he wants to know if I'm home alone."

"Tell him it's just you and your seven bore shot gun tonight."

"Shan't."

"Tessa."

"Yes?"

"Turn it off and look at me."

"Okay."

She screwed up her face and stuck out her tongue at him, but
switched off the mobile and folded it away.  When she looked up,
after fumbling around for her bag on the floor for a moment, she
saw the serious look on Peter's face.  She opened her mouth to say
something facile, but something held her back for a moment.  He
didn't speak but Tessa remained silent and put her hands in her lap
waiting, listening to the sound of car engines revving up outside
and dissipating in the distance, wanting to fidget, cough, say
something.but almost not daring to break the moment.

"I could lay with you in a field and count cloud shapes forever."

"Peter! That is so romantic," she melted and rolled across,
reaching over to kiss him and hold his face in her hands.

"Be careful."

"Why?"

"Because the taste of your lips is deeper than roses and the look
in your eyes is warmer than all the Indian summers I've ever lived
through."

"Oh! Peter!"

"And because you might make me want to lick your body until you
scream loud enough to frighten all the ducks."

"Oh you!" She nudged him with her elbow and looked out the window.

"You are so eminently 'lickable', Tessa."

"With that arrow of your tongue?" She giggled, pushing the key
into the familiar white door and pressing the heavy wood open.

"Yes," he said, patting her bum. "I will pull up your nightdress
and help you to wriggle out of it and kiss you on the crotch of
your panties and on the hollow of your belly and hover over you
barely touching you."

"Shush! Don't the neighbours know your wife is away."

"It's okay. They are used to me and my fuck bunnies."

"Beast."

"And how, " he laughed, sliding the bedclothes back, revealing
her. His hands pulled and plucked at her clothing, finally touching
the warm flesh; her hands reaching up to ruffle his hair at the
same time.  Peter stood still and slid his hands down to her
flanks, looking at her admiringly.

Tessa reached up to kiss his throat as he pulled the nightdress
off her shoulder blades, pausing to kiss each one.  He felt the
swell of her breast gliding against his chest. He wanted to press
her down onto the lavender sheets to roll her over onto her tummy
and massage her slowly. He wanted her.

Impatient now, he pulled the nightdress all the way up so it
bunched around her neck, pushing his hands in place to cup the
soft, welcoming breasts, while he breathed in the perfume of her
recently washed hair.  She lay back and enjoyed the press of the
expensive bed linen and the comfortable, conservative smell of the
place - unused for longer than the last time she felt that clasp
loosen and give or her breasts cupped from behind, the nipples
tender between splayed fingers.

Peter reached down to her lower back and planted kisses one after
another until she was trembling and wriggling her bottom eagerly -
wanting the touch. Tessa's hands brushed the fabric and then
touched his hands as she responded with a low, soft moan, arching
her back up, impatient and needy, desiring and so far unrequited.  

Peter pushed her legs apart and sat on the bed cross legged behind
her, watching her breathing in and out, pressing her face into the
pillow. He observed her until he decided that she was ready to have
her thighs parted and the gusset of her panties pulled to one side,
so that the 'arrow of his tongue' might slip where none have been
allowed to slip before.  

"Do it Peter," she moaned softly, then more insistently: "pull
them aside."

He pressed his face into the soft crease of her lovely bottom,
sensing how she was ready-moist...wet even. As she felt the elastic
tugged aside, she sensed the air on her wetness and her thighs
splayed all the more widely.  Peter began to lick and tease and
caress until Tessa was sopping with moisture and unable to resist
reaching down to touch herself through the material.  

Peter watched as she reached under both of them, raising her tummy
up off the bed as her fingers slipped onto her fabric covered clit.
Meanwhile, he pressed his hands down on her buttocks and placed his
fingers in the elastic to draw them down slowly over her cheeks. He
smiled as they sat empty at the top of your thighs. And Tessa could
feel every sensation -the descending thin fabric, pressing at her
swollen need.

She lifted her bottom up, parting her thighs slightly as Peter
slid lower to kiss the tops of her thighs. His hands stole round to
pull her panties down over the backs of her hips and then all the
way down to the soles of her feet in one smooth unwrapping gesture.
Tessa felt the whisper of his hair at her feet: dark sleek hair
that tickled her ankles, her calves as his fingers crept up to her
intimate parts.

Tessa raised her arms, palms flat on the bed, moulding herself
into the mattress, pressing down and then lifting alternately. She
felt the arousal in her nipples, her face suffused with the a red
blush, warmed by the sensation of rubbing...

Lifting her thighs again and pressing her face into the darkness
of the pillow, she sensed his quick, wicked tongue gliding and
probing. Peter promised himself that he would kiss every centimetre
of the pale flesh until he could not resist the impulse to press
his mouth and nose into the pliant crease.  He let his lips play on
her manipulating fingers, as she toyed with herself enraptured.

"And the arrow of the tongue finds the tightness of the bud," he
murmured.

"Shush! Just do it!"

Tessa felt so exposed, imagining being him, looking down on that
dark puckered, untouched place. As she did so, unconsciously her
fingers began to move faster in the top of her thick dark bush.

"Oh my!"

"What is it, Peter?"

"There is a taste of carrot and coriander lingering in the locus." 

"Hush."

He chuckled and bent down to his task, watching once more as she
rotated her hips in tune to the oscillations of his tongue, trying
to lose the image of absurdly overpriced Covent Garden soup and
enjoying the sight of her sex lifting to allow her whole hand to
press and cup - her palm sliding and rubbing over the slit. Her
pushed his palms down, watching the imprint on her wide, open
bottom. Then he let his left hand drift down to allow two fingers
reach down to join hers, pushing in to the sucking slit to add to
her excitement.

"Yes, yes," Tessa moaned softly into the warm pillow, her breath
making little beads of moisture on the fabric as she panted and
squirmed under him.   

"Understanding without effort," he recited quietly, "the language
of moist existence."

Her panties were stretched almost to breaking as she spread her
thighs wider still. The way she was slightly raised up on her
knees, allowed him to see the full swell of her mound and her open
lips. Her fingers brushed his as she masturbated herself faster,
panting harder now...wanting his tongue to lick the surplus juices
from her inner thigh and to deposit a little load of saliva and
secretion around the pertness of her behind in a perverse
benediction of her flesh. He would make her nether parts atone for
her pleasure, letting the punishment fit the crime in the sweetest
of fashions.

Tessa was undulating by then, thrusting up and down on her own
hand, making little moans and gasps of pleasure as each spasm moves
from her tight tummy down to the V of her pussy. She could feel the
roll of your saliva on her sensitive hot place...

"Yes, Peter ...mm. fuck me," she whispered as he rolled under her,
pulling her up and over him so that she straddled him, her hands
reaching down to unbutton and unzip.  The loose boxers were
scarcely an obstacle, the smile on his face concealed from the
world as she leant over him and pushed back, forcing his lips up
against her furry cunt.  A warmth of sensation enveloped him- the
warmth of the world between her thighs, as she reciprocated
reaching down to touch him with one hand, a prickling sensation
adding to the heat and musk between her legs.

Tessa's mouth opened to take him in as he began to lick and tease
and pull her hips apart, his head rest on the back of her calves as
her limbs crossed under the back of his neck, pulling his head up,
so that he could reach up and slide his fingers from the wetness of
her sex to the tightness of her crease.

"Tessa?"

"Mm?"  Looking back at him over her shoulder crouched as she was,
with his erection in her hand.

"Do you have any handy discarded vegetables of the genus carrot?"

"No, but I have got a nice, fat cock in my hands."

"I couldn't help but notice."

"Me too."

"Surprising that."

"Hardly."

"Peter?"

"Mm?"

"Fuck me."

He pretended to look dubiously at the imaginary vegetable clenched
in his fist.

"Peter," she laughed. "I need to come."

"What, now, here?"

"Please, Mr Peter, sir, your little fuck bunny wants to be a very
naughty girl."

"You are very much so, young lady," he grinned and reached up to
slap her posterior. "Playing with the invisible vegetable rack
without permission."

"Fuck me, Peter. Please," she begged, leaning down to kiss the
head of his cock.

"And what should I fuck my sweet little darling Tessa with?" He
taunted, reaching up each side of her hips, his hands playing over
her bare cheeks, slapping and pinching lightly and then pulling her
down to his face to bite her lightly

"Your cock, Peter; your tongue; the vegetable; anything."

"Ooh! Desperation. Goodie!"

So saying he pulled her wet, hot, musky cunt hard down onto his
mouth forcefully, as if wanting to consecrate her cunt on the pyre
of her burning desires.

"Mm, Peter. I really do need to come now," she blushed 

"You need my tongue in your cute little arsehole pressing into the
dry and unexplored interior?"

"Do it! Yes," she moaned as she began to masturbate his fine
upstanding prick with one hand reaching down to caress her so wet
cunt with the other.

"A hunter lost in the tight little cavern, seeking a way into the
maze of your desires."

"Enough with the poetry already!" She squealed, rubbing cunt and
cock faster.  "Just fuck my arse, Peter."

"Fuck (lick) your nice round (lick) soon to be (lick) buggered
bottom, Tessa?"

"Torturer."

"The tight little enclave that you save just for me?"

"Oh yes! Mr Peter, sir...you can have it...tight and hot."

"Kneel on the floor, girl."

"Yes, sir."

She slid off him and crawled down onto the carpet as he raised
himself up on one elbow, watching her catlike movements.

"Bend down and play with your puffy cunt lips."

"Yes, Peter."

"Arse up, girl."

"Mm.yes."

"Nice."

He watched her hands hover around the velvety slit, fingers
reaching up to expose the musky darkness to him. He saw her start
as her index finger made contact with the crinkly folds of her
vagina, exposing the secrets of her sex.  Then he pulled himself
onto the edge of the bed and pushed up to crouch behind her,
listening to her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Oh god!" she murmured as she felt the stab of his hardness into
her untried behind.

"Nice and tight," he muttered happily as he pushed in more firmly,
impaling her on his saliva covered cock, listening out for the
light gasping as he winged his way into her fundament, ramming her
hot little hole, filling her entire universe. He looked down to see
her knickers perched precariously around your ankles - all dignity
gone in her search for a little death on the shores of eternity. 

And as he fucked her, she could only pant harder and think to
herself how she was so very near to the oblivion she sought. She
tried to keep as still as she could to amplify their respective
pleasure by the tense connection between them. 

"Tessa?"

"Mm so near, Peter. So very near."

"Come for me, Tessa. Come you lovely slut. Let me hear the burning
sob of your desire.

He pushed into her as deep as he could and then withdrew, just
leaving his cock-head nesting in her tightness. And then repeated
the gesture, creating excruciating feelings in the woman.

"Oh fuck I am going to, Peter. I want to be your arse slut...cunt
slut...your wanton hot girl."

He reached round to her tits and cupped her, squeezing and feeling
her big heart pounding, stretching her anus on his embedded prick,
his gestures smooth and forceful like his words, now he was fully
in control.

"Come, girl. Come Tessa. Scream my name as you give yourself away."

"Peter - do me - do my arse...do my hot sexy cunt now! I'm going
to...

"You know where you belong, Tessa, You sultry little cunt."

He pressed into her, slapping her buttocks as he sodomised her,
murmuring meaningless endearments, as she yammered her excitement
in front of him. Perspiration beaded both their faces as she
squeezed him and came.

"Ohhh myy goddddd! Peter, Peter, Peter"

"You poor...you innocent... you little.bum fucked.child," he
smiled, pausing to press home after each word, watching her get her
breath back and then, suddenly realising from the blind stare she
gave him over her shoulder that she was not finished. 

She needed more brutal thrusting into her arse to make her
complete her quest and he was going to give it to her, again and
again and again, until she could never, ever hope to regain her
sense of equilibrium. 

"I will have to spank you very hard indeed you realise, you
naughty girl," he intoned, trying not to chuckle at her helpless
surrender, knowing that his words and his embedded prick would
bring her over the edge, "on your freshly fucked posterior..."

"Mm...ooh...god...yes...spank...yes," she stuttered as she felt
herself lifted up on the crest of a wave of delight, hearing him
faintly through the rush of blood to her head.

"I will have to smack your pussy too, until you come for me like a
beacon lighting the whole damned apartment."

"Ohhhh...mm," she sighed, as he slid from her." That was so... so
nice."

"I noticed you seemed to be enjoying yourself."

"I came about three times," she blushed. "The second really hard."

"Kiss me, you sweet lovely," Peter smiled, pulling her back and
cradling her in his arms. 

"Oh Peter," she panted, trying to get her breath back and leaning
back to kiss him as his fingers played idly with her nipples and
caressed her tits.

"I am so glad to have given you the pleasure."

"Thank you! Thank you...mm.that was lovely, Peter," she sighed
leaning back against his collar bone and raising herself up to
plant a huge wet kiss on the underside of his chin.

"Pull your panties up like a good little tartlet."

"Stop making me laugh with your sweet commentaries."

"You decorated my cock with your sweet secretions. You can suck it
clean later."

"Yes, sir."

There is time enough for that, Tessa, though, perhaps you should
go riding less often."

"Then I would get fat and flabby and I would squash Andrew when I
fucked him."

"I am sure that I could devise some other more productive form of
exercise to give you a good feeling and deprive Andrew of that
pleasure," he leered. "I love for you to enjoy yourself."

"Yes, the good feelings are the best," Tessa purred, twisting
round and laying belly down on the carpet. " So...how do I sound
now, Peter?"

"A little bit more reconciled to being.mine," he laughed, pushed
her face down towards his dirty cock and leant over her to kiss the
crown of her head as her lips made contact, and if she was still
listening as she bent to her task of suckling and pleasuring and
sending delightful feelings from his groin to his mind, she might
have heard him murmuring...

"And a little bit less.loyal...to Andrew." 





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