I tried posting this once, but it didn't seem to work. If I'm double posting I hope the powers that be will correct it.

I've wandered around this board alittle, and finally decided to register and post some things of my own. I hope you enjoy
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Professor Jack

Art History at 7 AM. Who am I kidding. One should never take a class where the professor is likely to turn out the lights and flip through a slide show at this hour. Besides, I'm not even a nice person at seven in the morning. The little cheerleader type to my left giggles one more time, I swear I'm going to hit her.

I can do this, I think to myself with a slight grin. I'm sitting back far enough he won't notice if I doze off. Old geezer probably can't see past his notes anyway. I paste on my best "good student" smile as the door opens— God. Check schedule, check room number. Art history. You're the prof? I'm so going to kill Jennie. She said you were older than the hills, some of the paintings we were going to talk about hadn't been around as long. I bet she thinks she's funny. Yeah, right. Hilarious. You get a kick out of the way my eyes go wide for a moment. Well, well professor. Maybe there is something to be said for the early riser.

My tongue flicks along my bottom lip before I manage to look down at my notebook. I'm sure you notice. I can feel your eyes on me, traveling from the careless knot of hair on top of my head, down to red painted toenails peeking out of my sandals. The cheerleader is giggling again. Holy Hell— she's putting on lip gloss. I've got five bucks that says its cherry flavored.

I'm guessing you're about six feet tall, its hard to tell when I'm sitting down. Dark hair, too long for a professor. It curls around your collar and practically begs a girl to run her fingers through it. Damn, isn't there some kind of rule that says Art History profs are old, dusty, and clothed exclusively in English tweed suits? Not this time. The black turtle neck and slacks make me think of Paris at twilight. You turn to write on the board. Soft black material stretched nicely over a firm ass. I bite my tongue to keep from purring in approval. You say: "Call me Jack." Sure why not. Professor Something-or- other just doesn't suit does it? Obviously over thirty. Nic age, nice smile. The eighteen year-old cheerleaders to my left are drawing hearts around his name right now. They can't help it you all but demand swooning and tittering.

I don't swoon or titter. Go ahead turn that smile on me, it feels good. I enjoy the long hard tug of pleasure between my legs and smile back. You may be a few years older than me, but I'm past the giggle and sigh stage. I sit up in my chair, my sweater clinging in all the right places without trying to hard. Slowly I cross one long, jean-clad leg over the other, pen poised over pad, ready to take notes. At first I don't think you're paying attention, but you drop your chalk when you notice me sucking on the end of my pen, working it slowly in and out of pursed lips. I bite my lip, choke back the laugh. I didn't notice I was doing it until it made him stumble. God, have I already decided to sleep with you? That was quick.

__________________
Have you ever been felt up...Over the panties...no bra...calvins in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?-- John Hughes

What's this? Oh yeah, the role, right. Name and phone number. I don't think so. I may be easy but I'm not *that* damned easy. Sure I'll sign my name professor, but if you want my phone number you'll have to work for it just like anybody else. I don't car how bloody sexy you are.

Class is over. Time flies...

"He's so gorgeous. I bet he's just yummy— ya know— I mean I bet he's really good at *it*."

This from the cheerleader. Okay, I know I'm a bitch but I just can't resist. I'm not a nice person in the morning. "Little girl, I can just about guaran-fucking-tee you'll never know."

"Excuse me?"

"I doubt he has much of a taste for cherry lip gloss honey."

She glares at me for only a moment, deciding her time is better spent in flirting with the newly christened "Professor Jack." I shake my head, sliding books into my back pack. You're watching me. I turn, bend down to lift my bag up, over my shoulder. A wicked smile curving my lips. Little one, if you can't say sex I doubt you'll get any from him. The giggling stops abruptly. I lift my head, look in their general direction. Well, Well. The cheerleaders stand behind you for a moment angry, completely forgotten. I have to force myself not to wave at them as they disappear out into the hallway. You leaning against a desk, obviously positioned between me and the door. That's just fine. We'll begin the game. I'm shocked to realize I can't wait to play. Shake hands. There's the bell. Round One. No one said anything about fair play.

"You didn't put your phone number on the role. Afraid I'll call you?"

That was subtle. Do you always hit on students the first day of class. Irrelevant isn't it? Eyebrows arched, laughing softly. "Professor Jack," my voice saccharine, sweet as cherry lip gloss. "I already know you'll call." I don't have to issue more of a challenge. It's clear— and it annoys you. I can't help but smile at the quick, wicked thrill.

I'm all but out the door. "I can get your number from admin. if I want it, little girl." Your voice a growl so near my ear its almost a caress. Busy hallway— that'll work fine. So close when I turn that you very nearly stumble into me. A deep breath from either of us and my breasts tease your chest. Perfect. Not one step back. You get credit for that. Most men wouldn't dare. My smile is genuine, my voice merely a whisper.

"You could— and I could say no when you ask." we both now for what. I don't have to say it. Your eyes resting in the deep V-neck of my sweater, then traveling slowly up to mine again. A sweet momentary caress. "You could, that is *if* I ask." Cocky son-of-a-bitch, even if you do have a nice ass. One slow, wicked smile for an answer and I'm turning away melting into the sea of backpacks and baseball caps. I won't say no. You know that— Bastard.

Round II

Coffee in the sunny little cafe down town. Indulging a smaller, less demanding addiction. I look up, you're there, just inside the doorway. My pulse quickens at the sight of you. How utterly female. God you're beautiful. Not looking at me, but aware of my presence. A wink for the cashier, and you have your latte. "Your usual Jack. Have a nice Day."

My text book closed, I straighten my shoulders. You moving toward me. I fight the urge to run my fingers through my hair. You're watching. It won't do to give you the satisfaction of primping. You, stitting in the seat across from me without asking if its taken.

"Hi Chelle." Turn on that smile and damn you but I can't help smiling back..

"Hey Jack." My eyes meet yours. I keep my smile steady and my voice light despite the flutters in my stomach. You absently stroke a finger down the spine of the textbook on the table. Its me that shudders.

"How are classes going?"

I laugh, taking a long sip of my coffee. "Well professor, all business today?"

You shake your head, a warm chuckle rumbling up out of your chest to shiver along my skin like a caress. "Its called conversation— you know, small talk. Should we switch to the weather?"

"Better Idea. Let's switch to what you're doing at my table." I smile, leaning back in my chair a little. I wink at you over the rim of my coffee cup.

"I don't know" eyebrows arched, you become interested very much in your coffee. How fabulous. You're annoyed I know, that I've already decided. I was wrong about the girl with the cherry lip gloss. You do have a taste for it— for her. You'dd tell her to get down on her knees and open her pretty pink mouth and she'd do it, without question. Parted lips murmuring "Yes professor. Anything you want professor." Don't like the fact that I might end up on my knees giving everything you want because I chose. I wanted...I want. Oh god, I want you.

You write something on a napkin, stand, drop it on the small table top . "Dinner. 7:00." Its an order, Prince to peasant. A thousand retorts spring to my mind, quiver on my tongue. Your eyes narrow. The next battle so casually waged. Those accustomed to winning know that occasionally it pays to lose. I say nothing, glance at the address. Black tie, no less. Isn't that sexy. Your fingers, possessive, I knew they would be, slip under my chin and tilt my head up. "Don't be late."

Dinner

I toy with the idea of being late just to push you. Its not in my nature, and there's so very little pleasure to be taken from simply being contrary.

6:55: The restaurant is warm, the light soft. The bits of conversation I catch all circle around art, the theatre. Advantage out. That's just fine. I don't mind knowing we're playing this round in your court. Little black dress, thin satin straps, white shoulders, long auburn hair. I don't turn every head, just a few. Including a woman with long dark hair and coffee colored eyes. Her smile is sweet. I take it with me to his table. Everyone can use a blessing from the goddess now and then.

Evening clothes make you look more dangerous. That suits me, and I'm not afraid. A part of me is tensed, ready for the first volley. Which of us will take that crucial first shot?

"You're stunning." Just a few words, a smile and the tensed muscles begin to relax. Your fingers brush the nape of my neck while you hold my chair. I feel the flash of heat, accept it. I knew it would be there when you touched me.

"I assumed you were old enough to drink the wine." First shot. Nice aim. Eye brows arched, I pick up the glass, tilt it slightly towards yours. The crystal chimes softly as the glasses click together. A long slow sip. Crisp, clean not bad. I set the glass down, wait until your eyes meet mine.

‘I don't drink." Laughter is contagious. Yours spills through me, much more potent than the wine. Fingers close around mine and we're holding hands across the table. God, the electricity that flows at human contact. I pity anyone who doesn't take the time to feel it. That shiver of awareness is yours. How delicious. An impulse wasn't it professor? That's alright won't hurt to shake us both up a little.

Dinner. The food is fabulous. I'm only a little annoyed that you ordered for me. We talk. Don't get me started on Shakespeare. I'll babble for hours, bore you senseless. My favorite poet? God there's so many. Alright, I'll pick one: Rupert Brooke. Who? English, turn of the century. "These things I have loved:" There's laughter now, easy and unmeasured from both of us. Have we called a truce professor, or am I being lulled into complacency. Maybe a little of both. Alright, it feels nice. I'll go with the flow. I'm still a little wary, but then so are you. Who knew we'd actually enjoy each other's company. A walk along the river? Sounds perfect.

"You'll be cold in that excuse for a dress." Quick pout— mine. Soft laugh— yours.

"I have a coat Jack. Besides, you like the dress."

Riverwalk

Its cold out. Not so cold we can't enjoy the night. My wool coat is warm, soft against my skin. Leather gloves a soft boundary as we hold hands and stroll along the river. Little shops, still lighted, still full of shoppers wandering in and out. It's the weekend after all. You look down, notice our joined hands. Shocks you doesn't it? You didn't realize you were holding it. They're good for you professor, those little licks of need. You'll need me before this is through. I promise.

Talk around the edges of things. So much in common. Different enough that there's new ground to explore. Its easy to be with you. That shocks me. I didn't expect to feel quite so easy.

We're window shopping, laughing together, people watching. The light behind us, our image reflects in a darkened shop window. How can we look like we belong together? I tilt my head up to look at you. You're still watching the reflection in the glass. With my heels on my eyes are only an inch away from being even with yours. I like that, just as I'll like stepping out of them later, adding to the distance before pressing my lips to yours.

"Thank you for dinner Jack." more polite conversation, around the edges of things. I'm thinking how much I want you, my fingers are itching to pull open buttons, my mouth watering with desire to taste.

"You're welcome Chelle." You're biting your bottom lip. I want to bite your bottom lip. Its going to happen tonight, we both know it. I can't wait much longer. The words form on my tongue. Drinks at my place. I want you there. In my apartment. I know you want me too. I part my lips to speak. Its your words I hear.

__________________
Have you ever been felt up...Over the panties...no bra...calvins in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?-- John Hughes

Kiss

"Come here." You aren't gentle. I didn't expect you to be. Your hands flex on my waist, drag me against your body. Your mouth on mine. Finally...Finally....oh God finally I know what it's like to taste you, to feel the heat. Your tongue is possessive, slides deep. My mouth opens welcoming the invasion. Your hands under my coat molding the curves of my body. I shiver with pleasure at the caress. Your teeth scrape over my bottom lip. I moan. You shudder. Our lips part. Both of us are panting. Your hazel eyes are flashing almost green in the yellow light. Did you growl the word "Mine?" Did I only hear...feel...taste it in the way you kissed me, the way you held me?

It doesn't matter. My lips are swollen from our kisses, my senses full of you, but there's more. For both of us there's more. I slide my fingers under your coat, stroke fingertips lightly up your chest until my hands slip behind your neck, tangle in the dark silk of your hair. I'm aching to touch. One hand stays there, stroking at the nape of your neck. The other moves to cup your cheek, tenderness to match the fierceness vibrating through you. For every action there is an equal, an opposite. I whisper your name. My lips brush yours. Softness equal to your greed, your possession. My tongue caresses. Tiny licks along your bottom lip. You don't realize the exact moment when you open for me but you do. I swallow your moan as I slide my warm, wet tongue deep into the caverns of your mouth, tasting. It isn't fast or hard but the need is great, the desire raw. Pulsing. I recognize the tremor that runs through you. I felt it only moments before.

"Come home with me Jack." Your line. Your question. Your move. I took the step first. I've annoyed you again. I can feel it in the way the muscles in the back of your neck tense under my fingers. I don't mind annoying you. Annoyed or not you want me like I want you. That's all that matters.


Cab Ride

I hang back as you step the curb, signal for a cab. I'm aware of even your most simple movements. The bunch and flow of muscles. My fingertips are tingling as if I'm already touching you. Images flashing through my mind. Erotic in the extreme. Everything is tinted a shadowy gold, like watching an old movie through a glass of dark, amber colored liquor. Tangled limbs, straining bodies, desperate moans. Your hand on my arm, guiding me toward the waiting car. A spark of electricity runs along my spine, nerve endings firing. I shudder.

"You're cold. Forgive me. Take my coat."

My shudder has nothing to do with the chill in the air. I suspect you know that. I don't voice a protest. Your coat draped over my stocking clad legs like a blanket as you slide into the taxi behind me. My address, and the driver pulls away from the curb with barely a glance at his passengers.

Your arm slides around my shoulders. I can smell you, the distinctly masculine aroma of soap and salt. My mouth waters. I wonder at how you will taste when I run my tongue along the column of your throat. I'm tempted to simply tilt my head back and find out, but your breath, warm against my ear stops me. You flex your fingers on my thigh an inch above my knee. I'm trembling. The muscles between my legs clench hard and release, my bottom lip c aught between my teeth to quell the moan rising in my throat.

"Still cold girl?" Your words are silky in my ear. So soft. So warm. So close. I'm no where near cold but I nod my head, whisper softly.

"Yes, a little."

Your lips curve against my ear. Your body shifts allowing me to settle fully against your side. There is so much to feel. Your lips, a soft kiss,a whisper against my ear. Fingers slipping higher on my thigh, under my skirt, stocking giving way to flesh. Their progression is slow I notice the sensation more than the movement. You've pushed my legs apart. I glance nervously at the driver. One look at him tells me our world is still ours alone. The slight quivering of muscles sliding into a shudder.

"Don't worry baby. I'll keep you warm." Fingers — *oh God* — Your long hard fingers stroking slowly, firmly up and down the swatch of silk between my legs. An in drawn breath, my hips arch, the movement both denial and plea for more. "Don't scream Chelle. He'll hear you. He'll know." A challenge. I never could resist one. A scream would embarrass us both, I know that. The last thing I want is for you to stop touching me. At this moment I'd rather die than be left without your touch.

I turn my head, look into your eyes, press my mound up into the heat of your hand. Your eyes as stormy, as dark as mine must be. I like that you can feel my arousal wetting the thin silk. Maybe you expected me to stop you to struggle, to blush at least? Maybe it annoys you— yet again— that I accept —no— welcome the invasion of your fingers when you abruptly push the silk aside and sink them into me.

My muscles spasm around your fingers, my body quivering, but I make no sound. The sublime pleasure of being a woman. Concentration, discipline allows us the opportunity to be aroused completely, to orgasm even, without the knowledge of a single soul. Except of course for the exquisite man whose fingers are moving inside me caressing slick walls, searching hidden pleasure spots. You will know, will feel it when I cum for you in the shadowy back seat of the cab, before we ever reach my apartment. Our eyes lock. Elemental communication, beyond the clutter of words, of sound. My muscles flexing tightening, coiling around you, telling you all you need to know. My breathing is a little uneven. You can see it in the rise and fall of my breasts though you can't hear it. I'm close. So torturously close and you know it. Watching me intently searching my face, raking my body with hot eyes. You're fucking me already, fully clothed in view of strangers. You love it. I love it. I long to tell you how good it is. You only smile, push harder with your fingers.

The orgasm is sweet and slow, running deep, erupting out of me in a silent wave of pleasure. I allow my head to fall back to your shoulder, my lips parted in a slow soundless scream, the impact of which must be felt for miles. Although my hips aren't bucking as I'd like to allow them, my muscles are spasming, shaking, clutching so that you can feel my release. Feel how much I need you. So you can see how much more there is to give.

A discreet cough from the taxi driver. I jerk my head up, wondering if we're caught. I look around, realize he is only trying to signal us that we have reached the address I specified. My appartment..

I slide out of the cab before you do, my legs only a little wobbly from the recent orgasm. I look over my shoulder as you hand the drive some bills. "Come into my parlor darling."

Inside

Light and shadow. Everywhere and always a contrast. Right now it is the soft glow of streetlight playing across your face, across mine, as we stand on the sidewalk, less than a breath apart. Your fingertips tracing over my bottom lip. The taste of my arousal on your skin makes me hungry for more— for you. Our eyes lock. Hunger. Yes, no contrast there— yours— mine— those fires flare with equal intensity.

"Come inside."
"Inside." You echo the word— a promise.

The two flights of stairs to the third story are endlessly longer than ever before. The key seems to slide into the lock for centuries. Life in slow motion. In the movies everything slows in those moments before triumph or defeat. I realize I'm holding my breath. I mourn for those who have never experiences a moment or two of wonder.

My apartment. Comfortable, familiar. It's different with you in the equation. It's different with you. Your hand is at the back of my neck, sliding into my hair, fisting there slowly, fingers tightening around silky strands. I draw a breath, prepared to ask for your kiss, but your lips are on mine, and we're tasting again. Feasting. My soft moan, yours lower, deeper, tangle together and echo through the room, the sound finding its way into corners. Lingering there, making itself at home.

Your mouth. I'm lost in it again. That soft wet meeting of tongues as I explore the depth of it, swallow your groan. Yes it was yours this time but there's enough for both of us. More than enough. The kiss turns quietly into another struggle for control. My teeth, your tongue. Both of us probing, taking, waging the most devastating war. In this particular case I revel in the taste of battle.

We pull back, panting, desperate, both gathering our forces. I already know there will be other times for gentleness. Not now. Your eyes are dark, glowing with flashes of gold— violence— the kind that releases itself only in knife-edged passion. I tremble. From want, not fear.

"A drink Jack? I have wine?"
"I thought you didn't drink."
"I don't." Low-toned, amused laughter. I'm learned already to love that sound.
"Wine. Alright, white?"
"Yes, I'll get it. Have a seat."

Your dinner jacket discarded, draped over the back of a chair. I step out of my high heels as I return with the open bottle, two glasses. "I make an exception for a toast or two now and then. On special occasions."

Your gaze shifted, moments ago to the red painted toenails now visible through the smoky black sheer of my stockings. It lingers there while I pour the wine. "A toast then, little girl. To surrender." I pull my glass back before crystal glasses chime together.

"Mine or yours?"
"Yours of course darling. It will be exquisite."
"Hmm..." Biting my bottom lip, considering. "I can definitely drink to the exquisite. We'll just wait and see about the rest."

Crystal tapping lightly to crystal. The smooth, cool taste of wine.

__________________
Have you ever been felt up...Over the panties...no bra...calvins in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?-- John Hughes

More

You waged your battle with words, with those devastating eyes, but my fingers have been busy. My free hand slides into the opening freed buttons have left in your dress shirt. Fingers threading through the dark mat of hair on your chest, finding your right nipple, teasing it, squeezing, rolling. I'm content with the way your flesh hardens and your muscles tense, even if I don't manage to elicit from you another one of those delicious moans.

My wine forgotten, I drink from your skin, trailing kisses along your throat, skimming down thee now open path to your collarbone. I lick you there, nipping, pressing a kiss to the tender flesh where the two bones meet. Its not a moan that rises in your throat, but a growl. Your fingers slide into my hair again, gathering, twisting until I feel the first tingle of pain. I'm prepared for the tug, for you to lift my mouth from your body, but it never comes. I continue my exploration, licking a slow path down the center of your chest, both hands wander inside your shirt, over your naked torso.

Did I set down the wine glass? Drop it? Letting that golden liquid spill across the floor to gleam in rivulets on polished wood? I don't know. I never felt you pluck the glass from my fingers. I know only that I'm touching you, hands, mouth, teeth, tongue. You're letting me. I can see by the way you're watching me that you're giving me this taste of you I take it, without reservation. The gasp of pleasure I've been waiting for comes in the form of an oath. My mouth, having found its way to your nipple. Flick of tongue, scrape of teeth, gentle suction of soft, warm lips. Another sharp oath and I raise my head, smiling dazzlingly.

I don't know when I came to kneel, there, between your legs while you lounged in the corner of the couch, but here I am. You're so utterly male, sitting there, naked to the waist, one knee bent, leg resting against the back of the couch. I can feel the sole of your shoe biting lightly into my thigh. Your other leg is draped over the edge of the couch, foot resting on the floor. Dress slacks stretched tight over the rising bulge beneath your fly. My mouth waters. I want it- all of it. All of you.

On my knees for you after all. We both knew it would come to this. You didn't ask or order. I didn't obey, or beg. It simply is. Will be. It's inevitable. My hand moves to the buckle of your belt. The tiny straps of my dress straining at my shoulders as I slide the thin leather free.

There's something mesmerizing about this disrobing— your clothes strewn on my living room floor. It makes the need to see you— touch you— feel the weight of your sex in my hands so intense it borders on pain. My fingers work to free your cock from its confines. Both of us shiver at the brush of flesh against flesh. My warm fingers seem cool against the heat of your arousal.

I explore you thoroughly, excitedly. A child in a candy store. Even then I had a sweet tooth, its just that my tastes have changed. No longer can I suppress the urge to *taste* you. My eyes on yours as I lower my mouth, my tongue flicking slowly around the swollen head, bathing it, moaning as the flavor of you runs through me. I'm more dizzy than I would be from the entire bottle of wine. Drunk on you. On that first taste and the way you mutter, gravel voices, when my tongue probes into the tender slit.

"You sweet little bitch."

Oh wait darling, there's more— oh so much more. I lap at you, a cat licking cream. I wet every inch of your rigid shaft. It glistens in the wake of my ever moving, ever spiraling tongue. Your moans are more frequent now, your breathing uneven. Uttered curses, threats. Pleas are conspicuously absent. I don't mind. I'm patient, and relentless. Both of your wide-palmed hands tangled in my hair now, forcing me down slightly, urging me closer.
"Suck it," you growl. "Suck my cock slut." It's clearly an order.

"I will." My words muffled against your sex as my tongue works its way down the underside of your cock.
"Now girl"
"Soon. I promise." My fingertips cup your balls, massaging them, tugging lightly on the delicate sacs, tracing the contours with a fingertip. My mouth waters and I lower my head yet again. The taste, the texture as I draw one warm orb into my mouth and suck is beyond description. My moans vibrate your flesh. The soft wet sounds of my mouth on your balls filling my ears, filling yours.

Lost in you again. Always I'll be lost in you. I can see that clearly even when I see nothing else. Dimly I realize you're panting, rolling your hips, muscles tensed. Rock hard thigh under my free hand. Lick, suck, squeeze— I feel those hard muscles quiver.

"I want you honey. Want to be in your mouth." I know that, have know it for days. Since our eyes first met we've wanted. There's more for us now. There's another level. You know it darling know what it's like to take someone there, know what it's like to feel it. I don't have to say the words my eyes are eloquent. Dark sapphire sparkles as my tongue works its way up spirals the tip.

"Oh god I need you girl. Need your mouth. Need to feel it." Magic words. Want— Need. The next level. I knew we'd find it together.



Open mouthed kisses and I draw you in. Soft pink lips stretched around you, warm tongue lapping and the gentle suction you crave pulling at the swollen head, daring you to slide deeper. And so you do— go deeper. Both hands on the back of my head and you arch your hips. I growl softly as your cock head prods the back of my throat. Amazing isn't it how, being fed, the hunger only multiplies on itself, grows stronger.

You're content to watch for a few moments, eyes wide. Your mouth opens on a groan as I work my lips slowly up and down as your cock moves slowly in and out. Wet heat, cool air, your glistening flesh alive on my tongue. Air, fire, water— all the elements in this one long, sucking kiss.

You move. Your hips rolling, fucking my soft mouth. Not roughly but deeply so that I gag a little before my throat adjusts to take you. I'm drowning. This pleasure— the kind I'm already finding with you swamps me so always I feel like I'm clawing my way to the surface of a rough sea.

Ragged breaths. Panting around your cock, gasping chocking. Your dark laughter makes my most intimate muscles contract, ache. You push my mouth down, pull it back up your fingers knotted in my hair. My muffled whimpers in perfect concert with your moans, your sharply drawn breaths when I suck hard, scrape lightly with sharp white teeth.

Your balls, heavy and hot in my hand, tighten, draw up and I know. I can feel your shaft swelling in my mouth, twitching in my throat. I gag on the length— that one helpless sound sending you over the edge. Your hips buck hard, bruising my lips and you cry out as the first thick, hot stream splashes against the back of my throat. I use both hands now, stroking your balls, holding the base of your cock. Swallowing over and over, drinking you. Salty-sweet. Your seed coats my tongue, my lips drips from the corners of my mouth to run down my chin. I take my time, the gentle suction of my mouth drawing on you, pulling out every drop.

You drag my mouth away with a growl, but I fight my way back to lick at you. Greedy. I know I am. I want everything, every last taste. When I push the tip of my tongue into the tender slit to catch the last glistening drop your cry is sharp— the oath vicious. I yelp as you pull my hair hard enough to make my eyes water.

"Quite the little slut aren't you baby?" I only smile, nod. My tongue slips out to lick my lips. We watch each other for a moment, systems leveling slightly. I don't know when exactly you shrugged out of your shirt, but there you are, a naked God. Still half aroused, that glitter of violent passion still in your eyes. I'm tempted to ask you if you will demand a sacrifice. The words stick in my throat as my eyes meet yours— hold. I already know the answer.
----

I haven't decided yet whether to continue the story...its already kind of long, hope you enjoyed it.

__________________
Have you ever been felt up...Over the panties...no bra...calvins in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?-- John Hughes

>>>>>>>>>running to sign up for Art History next semester:p

Sea Chelle~ absolutely excellent story!!!! So glad you decided to share with us. Love a story that is witty and smutty!! I am really impressed!!!TY TY...and yes you have to finish it:)

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The practice of putting women on pedestals began to die out when it was discovered that they could give orders better from there.~ Betty Grable

If I wanted your opinion, I'd remove the duct tape and ask you for it.~ Me
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One man's dream is another man's nightmare~~~~> §¤ Lilith ¤§
~>My Scribbles<~
==>Gone Shopping<== ~Just a Quickie~ *~A Celebration Vacation~* ~Surprises~ Sleeping With the Window Open
What Did You Do Today? Self Defense Class ~Short Sweet Snippets~ § Summer Spin § Story Challenge Submission Pajamas

brava .... I really like the story and the way you tell it!!! please don't stop now....GREAT job!!!

I got stars on my first post here....damn...blushes n stuff....I will keep it going, I hope to post more soon.

Thanks for the great comments!

__________________
Have you ever been felt up...Over the panties...no bra...calvins in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?-- John Hughes

Hi Chelle

Your story telling totally captivated me. I look forward to the next installment

__________________
Strength in depth

I believe your most attractive features are your heart and soul

Very, very good Chelle! Sometimes the second person can be a little clumsy, but you handled it very nicely. Please continue!

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Read my latest story, The Bookkeeper, http://www.pixies-place.com/forums/...&threadid=11878

Excellent Chelle! I enjoyed it imensely! And YES, you MUST finish the story!!!

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"They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety" Benjamin Franklin
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My Stories:
Dream Date
Just Desserts
Internet Lovers Meet - Part 1
Internet Lovers Meet - Part 2
Internet Lovers Meet - Part 3
RAVISHED!!
My Birthday - A Fantasy

Well....as promised ages ago, here is the second part of this wicked little story. Its taken me forever, because I've been all caught up in matching the style. I still don't know that the two pieces fit smoothly together, but as I told a friend just a few minutes ago, its a hell of a wild ride.

Hope you enjoy reading it as much as i...umm..enjoyed writing it. *evil lil grin*

~C~

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Have you ever been felt up...Over the panties...no bra...calvins in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?-- John Hughes

Naked

"Strip."

Eyebrows arched, I gaze at you. A command professor? Are we learning anything this evening? Lips curved, I can't help but smile. It's fabulous really. You, naked, aching, the orgasm still running through your system, making your breath uneven, your balls still aching slightly from the force of the release, and yet that annoyed frown still tugs at the corners of your mouth. Can't remember the last time I so enjoyed pushing someone's buttons. Interesting isn't it, the need I have to twist your world just a little. Moth to a flame. Pushing you, a girl could definitely get her wings singed.

The taste of your cum still lingers on my tongue, its like having you inside me, and makes my body throb just as if you were. My eyes on yours, I stand between your legs. Strip. Yes, I want to be naked for you now. Only sheer willpower keeps my eyes on yours. I crave the sight of your body, and you are such a picture, your cock half-hard, your balls still wet from my mouth. The shiver that runs through me is visible, and you smile. Damn that smile. Makes me want to give you anything, everything. We both already know I will.

I reach behind my back, fingers tugging at the narrow zipper. Soft sound of metal sliding on metal. I can almost see my reflection in your eyes as the thin straps fall from my shoulders. Your eyes narrow as my hands pause, palm lightly pressed against the swell of my breast, holding the dress in place. Impatience becomes you. My eyes dart down your body—I can’t resist—then meet yours again. Your lips finally curve into a smile as my hands fall to my sides, the dress whispering down over my hips to pool at my feet. My nipples harden in the cool air of the room. I straighten my shoulders as your eyes cruise down, devouring as they go. The silky triangle between my legs is shiny and wet. You knew it would be.


Your hand, like velvet steel, wraps around my wrist, turning me in a sort of pirouette, until you stand behind me, the silk of my stockings whispering against your thighs. The tremor runs through me, makes me my flesh tremble. My pulse racing beneath your fingers catches me off guard. I knew it would come to this, that I would give myself to you. Here. Tonight. I’m not sure if I knew until now that I’d be taken. “Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly…” was this my web or yours Jack? I can’t remember.

Was that a push toward the bedroom, or is it my own eagerness to be with you that makes me stumble? I can feel you. Close. Your mouth cruises lightly along my shoulder, lips parted to taste my flesh. I can’t hear the words you’re growling under your breath. Maybe they aren’t meant for me. Can’t tell. I can’t tell anything but the way your fingers burn against my skin. “I want you Jack. Need you.” I can give you the words. I’m not afraid of the feelings even though my head is swimming with them.

“Damn right.” The growl turns hiss as you spin me around, your hand still around my wrist so that my arm is caught behind me, your mouth inches from mine. Still annoyed with me I see. Is it because you want to take me, or because I’ve already given myself to you that your eyes are sparking hot? Doesn’t matter. Your temper is kindling to the fire. We’ll burn either way. I rise on tiptoes to press my mouth to yours, and you let me kiss you, pulling my tongue into your mouth, sucking it hard so that you can drink my soft whimpers. Your teeth scrape, nip, bite into my lower lip and I gasp. Breasts, pressed to your chest, muscles quivering I bend back over your arm, letting you push me wanting to be under you.

You growl, low in your throat and I’m falling. Suddenly released my body tumbles to the bed, and I lay, sprawled there, watching as you stand over me. The outside lights cast shadows over your naked body as you look down at me. Take me, touch me. Don’t you know how much I’ve wanted this? Wanted to feel you. I’m so close its like you’re already inside me. Now. Please. Now. The words tumble in my head. I grope for the ones that will make you reach for me. There aren’t any. Your eyes. God. “Jack…”

My body arches, legs parting naturally as I feel the mattress dip under your weight. No words. My mind races as I try to see what you’re seeing. To get inside you because I so desperately want you inside me. There’s distance though, In this moment. You look not at my face but at the way my arms stretch over my head, fingertips brushing the headboard, curling around the antique brass as my body arches. I see you smile, and the sea I’m drowning in ebbs a little, letting me breathe. Your eyes meeting mine, finally.

“Mine. Mine now, little girl.” The silk slips around my wrists. I don’t flinch as you pull it taught. I didn’t realize until just now that I left it there, draped across the headboard, for you. My fingers still curl naturally around the brass rung of the headboard, but its no longer necessary. My wrists are bound, and though the silk is soft and slippery against my skin the knot is unyielding. Your eyes devour my quivering frame. Your gaze lapping at me, making my skin burn. Please…Please…Please god touch me. The words are in my eyes as my hips writhe, shifting helplessly. I hear the soft whimpers float through the air, but I don’t register that they’re my own. Can I cum, just from you looking at me? It feels like it.

Minutes. Hours. Eons. Time is meaningless to me now as I wait for your touch. Your eyes never waver, your mouth, your hands don’t move any closer to my weeping body. My taut thighs strain as I stretch my legs wider apart, my feet scrambling for purchase as I arch my hips, my lower body rising a few inches off the bed. Slowly your gaze drifts down my body again, focusing between my legs. Your eyes darken as you watch the way my own arousal glistens on my sex, the way the glossy, wet lips quiver as the inner muscles contract deep inside me, desperate for something to hold onto. I’m startled by the sharp, desperate scream, even more so when it registers as my own. The tip of your tongue flicks along your bottom lip, and I can imagine you there, tasting me. Jack I can feel you. Can feel your tongue. Know how the solid heat of it will send me into oblivion. But you simply sit, inches from me, but miles beyond my grasp.

My tongue wets my parched lips, head tossing to shake the auburn curls from my face. “Jack.” My voice is even. How can it be when I’m coming apart, going crazy. Your eyes on mine and I see. See the words you haven’t spoken, know what it is you’re waiting for. I thought it would be easy, the giving, but it’s terrifying, a quick twist of nerves that only adds to the layers of sensation. You incline your head slightly, your eyes never leaving mine. Was that a nod of encouragement, or are you simply curious about whether or not I understand, whether or not I can go where you’re taking me? “Jack….” The word sticks in my throat, smothered by a mindless whimper as my hips begin to rock, beyond my control. My voice is thin, my breathing thready I gasp.

”Please…pleasepleaseplease…”

A tear slides down my cheek and your lips curve, finally into a smile. Your smile. Damn. Everything is in your smile. Your mouth lowers, your tongue tracing away the tear as I feel your fingers slip between my legs and into me. One fluid motion. My orgasm starts before the first knuckle is inside me. The bucking of my hips drives my body onto the probing lengths. Both of us watch, my eyes glazed and wild, yours focused, intent on each spasm, on each glistening drop of moisture.

“That’s my girl…yes honey. Feel it. So fucking wet you’re dripping….” Once again I’m not sure if your rough, whispered words are for me, or if you even know you’re speaking them out loud. You seem entranced by the arch of my body, the slide of your fingers as they disappear again and again into my pulsing, aching slit. Then suddenly they’re gone and I’m whimpering again, unable to stop the quivering chills running through my body. My legs begin to close, my body curling into itself a defense against the waves of feeling battering my nerve endings. I didn’t see you, didn’t feel you move but you’re there, between my legs, kneeling over me, your thighs pressing against mine, keeping me open, exposed, throbbing.

“All. You’ll take it all little one. You know that now. Know that I’ll have you.” This time I know the words are for me, and that alone puts us closer than you’d like to level ground. My mind is spinning. There are no words for how you’ve made me feel, to describe the way my body shudders, aches for you. I want to touch you, caress. Soothe. Strange that in the middle of this hurricane I wish so much to give you tenderness. The eye of the storm. My eyes whisper along the strong set of your jaw, touching you where my fingers can’t. You hate the fact that I can make you shudder. Ahh yes. I know you Jack. Know that you’ll have me. I’ll take all. I want it. You can see it in my eyes, and though you’re trying to be annoyed again, its simply natural.

“Yes Jack. Have me. Take me. I need you to fuck me, have needed it since that first moment. Its seems like I’ve been waiting for ages to have you inside me. Now. Please now.” I arch my hips again. In surrender, in invitation. Oh yes, Jack, and in challenge. I can see it, just like you can see me. Not so simple now, though you ache to possess me, you’re baffled by surrender without fear, without weakness. Break or bend Jack. It may not taste like cherry lip-gloss, but I think you’ll like the flavor.

Once again you’re watching me, just your fingertip tracing along the swollen cleft of my sex. Your other hand wrapped around your cock, stroking lightly. As if experimenting you push your middle finger deep into my cunt, your palm pressed hard against me, your index and ring finger on either side of my clit. I can’t stop the gasp of pleasure, wouldn’t try, but you watch me, watch my face as you rock your hand against me, not really a thrust because your finger stays buried in me, working the silky wet walls, exploring me until I feel us both shudder. Your eyes change slightly, a decision made. Then suddenly you’re there, pushing inside me before you even draw your finger out. The thick head of your cock stretching me, nudging inside me along the exploring digit. The combination of your cock pushing into me, and your finger slowly sliding free, makes my hips twist, my head falling back, my mouth open as I pant mindlessly. The tender column of my throat is exposed, my back arched, your hands lifting my hips, searching for the angle as we strain together. Surrender. It’s yours. Mine. I can’t tell anymore. Can you?

You lean up, over, me, reaching for a pillow, and I slip a little, your cock moving almost all the way out of me even as I arch to keep you deep inside. I might take that soft growl for simple desire if the impatience wasn’t so clear in that subtle down turning of your mouth. You glance at my hands, still bound to the bedframe. The impatience in your eyes almost makes me laugh. Caught in your own trap darling. You grab for pillows, pulling the one from beneath my head as well. My hips arched you slide the pillows beneath me, giving you the angle you want, the depth, while freeing your hands to touch me. Your hands cruise up, over my stomach, along my ribcage to my breasts. You cup them, mold them roughly as your cock stirs and stretches the wet velvet heat of my sex. I can feel the throb of your heartbeat as your cock pulses between my legs. The need is boiling in you. Desire, too long restrained is suddenly edged with violence. The next thrust is brutal, stealing my breath, frissons of pain and pleasure sprinting over my skin. You’re above me now, one hand braced on the bed, near my shoulder, the other cupping my head, tangling in my hair, pulling on it. Holding me by it. Your mouth on mine is like salvation for both of us. We are surprised that as we meet, mouth to mouth the kiss holds none of the violence that drives my hips to arch, to meet your thrusting cock, both of us striving to get deeper, to take more.

We’ve lost count of the small orgasms that have trembled through my body as you move in me. They are waves washing over us, swamping us for a moment, but we struggle to the surface again and swim deeper. My skin is damp with sweat; my hair curling at my nape as my head falls back. Your mouth ravishes my neck, my throat, hard nipping kisses, devastatingly hot laves with your tongue. Always you’re moving in me. Hard and thick, stretching me, filling me until my tender inner walls are aching, my thighs trembling beyond my control. I’m so far gone I don’t know what is building inside me, but you do. You can sense it. Have been watching for it. My body goes taut and suddenly I can’t breathe. Ohgodohgodohgod what are you doing to me. My eyes go wide as I open my mouth to scream. There’s no sound. You push deep in me, seemingly inches deeper as my pussy closes around you. You hold there, your eyes on mine. As my body bucks, writhes. Finally I drag in enough air for sound and I’m screaming. Not your name not words. Purely animal, primal. “Yes girl. That’s it. Yes. Fuck yes.” Dimly I can hear you, but the words don’t register.

I’m drowning this time, my mind going fuzzy around the edges, unable to feel my body, only the sensations running through me, gripping me like a fist. Little death. Yes. A little like dying must be. Go toward the light, and the light is a kaleidoscope. A tiny corner of my mind wonders idly, but without alarm if I’m going to pass out. I still feel like I’m trying to breathe through water. My eyes slide closed, but I can still feel you, your cock twitching inside me, your low groans of pleasure caressing my ears. My hands are free. When did that happen? How did you untie that knot when with all my twisting and pulling I never felt it so much as slip? My fingers itch to touch you, to stroke through your hair, over your body, but my arms are numb, and I can’t seem to find the energy to lift them. I can feel your eyes on me but I’m drifting, lost.

I feel you lifting, me, my arms slide around your neck automatically as I feel your breath warm against my ear. “No you don’t little one. Stay with me. We’re not done yet.” The steel in your voice rouses me slightly, but I shake my head in mute denial, knowing my body has been driven beyond its limits. Your voice is there, your warm tongue teasing the curve of my ear. Your voice is strained now, but not with the tempered violence of earlier. With need. Its need I hear in your voice, and my body answers to that, responding when I thought there was nothing left to give, nothing left to take.

I raise my head from your shoulder, my eyes meeting yours and finally I realize that I’m wrapped around you, my legs around your waist, your hands supporting the small of your back. “Ride me.” Your words are a low groan as my mouth moves to your throat, tasting sweat, heat. My hips begin to move, my breath catching as your cock moves inside my over-sensitive cunt, but the look in your eyes makes me hungry, makes me need. “Again.” Neither of us knows who said it, but we reach for it together, your hands on my hips, my fingernails sinking into your shoulders. We strain together; eyes locked. The sounds of sex, of breathing, of desperate passion fill the room as we take each other.

I watch your eyes go dark even as I feel you swelling inside me, your cock growing larger, pushing impossibly deeper, the feeling of your impending orgasm sending me over the edge. My teeth sink into your shoulder, breaking the skin. I feel you jerk, knowing that pleasure has finally taken you, like a sharp kick to the base of your spine, then shuddering through you in waves as I feel you spill into me, thick and warm and wet. So deep inside me I’m sobbing. I can taste blood in my mouth, your blood, and instinctively my tongue flicks out to soothe the wounds I’ve made on your shoulder. You’re still trembling, and I focus enough to flex my muscles around your cock, milking you, dragging out your orgasm. Pulling it from you greedily. With an oath you let us both slide to the bed. Our breathing is labored. The world is still tilted. Clinging to each other, drenched in sweat, steeped in the smell of sex we wait for the world to right itself.

Your cock is softening against my thigh. My fingers are tracing an idle pattern on your chest. I let my eyes close, surrendering to the fatigue. “Jack.” I whisper your name softly, knowing that I should fight sleep a little longer, knowing that you won’t be there when I wake. Shouldn’t be. I have sex with men like you. I don’t sleep with them. But I’m drifting now, between asleep and dreaming and it’s easy, so easy for me to let go. You’re still holding me, watching me, tracing your fingers through damp, sex-tangled auburn curls. You brush a kiss over my forehead, the tenderness surprising you, as it would have surprised me if I were awake to experience it. The part of you that is, in your mind, already dressing, turning to give me that last glance, that sweet goodbye is suddenly shocked to realize you have no such intentions. Your leg slips intimately between mine as you curl into me. In sleep I cuddle closer. You’re more than mildly astonished that there is no panic, no regret, no desire in you to pull away. Here. Now. You’re staying when you’ve never stayed. I’m sleeping, my head on your shoulder. You rest your hand at the small of my back, feel the slight instinctive arch of my body, and as you savor it your eyes slide closed. Into dreams you’d never considered dreaming.
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Damn, didn't think I'd ever find the end of this one. Hope you all enjoyed, and remember, please don't exit until the ride has come to a complete stop ;)

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Have you ever been felt up...Over the panties...no bra...calvins in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?-- John Hughes

Sea Chelle~ how lovely....perfectly lovely! Please write more...and often!

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The practice of putting women on pedestals began to die out when it was discovered that they could give orders better from there.~ Betty Grable

If I wanted your opinion, I'd remove the duct tape and ask you for it.~ Me
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One man's dream is another man's nightmare~~~~> §¤ Lilith ¤§
~>My Scribbles<~
==>Gone Shopping<== ~Just a Quickie~ *~A Celebration Vacation~* ~Surprises~ Sleeping With the Window Open
What Did You Do Today? Self Defense Class ~Short Sweet Snippets~ § Summer Spin § Story Challenge Submission Pajamas

Lilith-- Thank you very much *blush* I'm always happy to please.....and to be pleased...giggles wickedly....I have fun here, I'm sure I'll find another source for inspiration soon...

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Have you ever been felt up...Over the panties...no bra...calvins in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?-- John Hughes