She lit two candles and a stick of musk, then began to strip her clothes to the music from a scratchy recording, lapping around an old turntable. Saxophone and a throaty blues singer.
He sat on the bed; there was no chair.
“Do you like to watch?” she asked as she unbuttoned her sweater.
“Do you ever dance?” he replied as the allure of her reminded him of clubs he’d been to on the road, where exotic dancers leaned into his face with breasts he could only enjoy by the sight of them. It was a cruel fate, watching these vixens share the best part of the female anatomy, while he was forced to keep his hands in his lap or around his glass; his cock springing to life reminding him of what he couldn’t have.
“Dance? You mean to strip?” she asked as she moved lazily toward him, her sweater about to drop from her shoulders. A little shimmy and it was sliding down her back. “A few times.”
She gazed down at her tits while she stood between his parted thighs. With her breasts at his face, he could see through the lace of her bra the outline of two pinkish aureoles beneath. “Truth is, I didn’t like it much. I’d rather have my hands on a man’s flesh and his on mine than just show it off.”
Another shimmy and Daniel eyes fixed on her jiggling cleavage. Raising one lanky leg, she rested it on his thigh. The hem of her skirt inched up high, exposing black garters attached to her lace-edged stockings. A flick of his fingers and he detached them with a simple snap—the experience like opening a box of scented treasure leading straight to the heart of a woman’s private mysteries. His roving hand found a naked snatch so wet and warm it would be heaven to bathe in all night long. He was certain his cock would readily agree. Would it be too crass when he finally took off his pants for his erection to be as stiff as the pink dildo lying on her bedside table? All he could imagine was a succulent Paula so pleased, she’d take it between those rosy lips and draw it into the heaven at her mouth before he planted it inside her pussy.
“Shall I leave on the lace or fuck you naked?” she inquired.
“Oh, I want your skin.”
A devious smirk lit her face, and her eyes glowed almost black, having darkened measurably in the darkened room. Falling free, her tits seemed to grow in size before his eyes. Pressing them to his face, the passion of her passed through him in an hypnotic wave—like being drugged—like being reminded of the best sex of his life between Bella’s (his regular lover’s) legs. He wanted them both, but would be content with having just this slutty substitute to make him happy. For as long as this sweet-smelling tart was willing to have him lighting up his organ in her brothel bed, he’d cozy up to her luscious embrace, and taste with cock and mouth the portal between her thighs.
“Why, Daniel,” she finally said, pulling her breasts from his face. “You have me at a disadvantage, seeing my treasure while I haven’t had a glimpse of yours.” She pouted. He had his hands under her skirt, both with a generous portion of her ass squeezed between groping fingers. Each time he massaged her cheeks, he could feel his erection pulse as though the two things were physically connected. He didn’t want to stop, but they could hardly remain like this all night.
“Maybe you want to take care of that,” he whispered, as he pushed her further away. She sunk to her knees between his thighs to undo his belt, and lower the zipper of his jeans. He watched how her eyes opened wide in anticipation, and that uncertain moment of dread passed through him as he wondered if what she exposed would meet her expectations.
“Oh, my, this is quite a cock you have here,” she seemed to approve of his hungering meat—even the angry purple head that was ready to get on with the main course of the night. He needed her mouth, or her pussy or ass. Something tight and warm to help him shed the dour reflections of his day, a place to lose it all like nothing in the world mattered.
Then, of course, he wouldn’t mind playing servant to this Paula’s fantasies—if it made her hot and a little bolder—as if she wasn’t already bold enough. He never understood why men wanted their women respectable; one step short of whore was just fine for him. Maybe Bella taught him that, or just life and loneliness. But what seemed to matter most to him at times like this was getting naked with a woman, and a little more honest than he’d usually be. He could heal a hell of a lot of troubles in just one hour of making love.
Paula took him in her mouth almost like it was an obligation. Of course, any beautiful woman paying attention to his cock was pretty amazing. But what he enjoyed most about her delicate blowjob was staring into her eyes as she looked up at him. The temptress was there, an Old World siren, and a slavish whore. Then too, there was a vulnerable innocence in her expression, as though she wondered if she was good enough to please him.
“I suppose you’d like to put this sweet rod in my pussy?” she purred an invitation.
“I think that would be just fine,” he replied, lying back against the bed. She stripped him of his shirt, running her fingers through the hair at his chest; then tugged at his jeans till they dropped to the floor. She finally climbed back to this dick with her pussy open for the impaling attack.
“Ooo, my, how full your are,” were her first words of satisfaction. There were many more. She was a vocal harlot, giving him advice as the fuck proceeded.
“Yes, yes more, on my clit, yes, rub that clit.” Her pussy shimmied down to the base of his shaft, hips moving catlike. Her eyes—when open enough for him to see—smoldered fiendishly. “You are perfect, Daniel Bogart.”
He was hardly doing anything at all, because Paula was the kind of woman content to do all the work, and in the process please his cock with all her fancy gyrations. “More of that, yesssss, pound me harder.”
They rolled over with Paula on her back, her legs rising high, so Daniel finally put them to his shoulders and lunged into her groin. His cock was deep in the pool of her pussy, hitting the end while she was asking for it harder. “Oh, yes, do me more, yesssss….”
c) Ludovic Goubet, www.ludovicgoubet.com