Friday, November 29, 2013

The day after...

(c) Samarel,

The day after Thanksgiving...maybe recuperating from a little 'intoxication' of my own (though this time it's mostly too much food, not drink). Just a hot, sexy scene to savor for today. Wishing everyone a Happy Holiday weekend!

Intoxication: In this sizzling scene, Glenna's Dom arranges a hot (and very anal) scene with a muscled black man that this sexy slut can't help but love.

Novel Excerpt:

Walker and I had been going together for nearly nine months, keeping our relationship on an even keel, when Walker’s sexual needs took another unexpected turn.

    He wanted me dancing for him one evening, dressed in something “especially slutty” he told me on the phone.

    “Greet me at the door. Make sure your tits are showing.”

    This sounded good to me. A bedroom tango was exactly what I was up for. Putting a breathless Tina Turner on the sound system, and a red leather miniskirt around my hips, I thought I was ready for the night. I added cheek color, teased my blond hair into a halo of unruly curls, and massaged by breasts with a light, fragrant oil that would glow by candlelight and taste like something sweet and fruity. With five-inch heels on my feet, I strutted before the full-length bathroom mirror making sexual faces at my image, trying some especially naughty poses. Deciding that my clothes were just a bit too scanty, I added a string of pearls that dangled like tiny stars between my breasts.

    The doorbell rang. Who could that be at this hour?

    Turning out the lights in the front of the house, I scooted past the windows in the dark and peered through the peephole. Walker was there, but so was someone else.

    I cracked the door an inch, whispering, “I’m nearly naked.”

    “As you should be,” he said, pushing the door out of my hand with his arm, causing me to stumble back. Following him into the house was a black man, six feet tall, wearing a black skintight T-shirt, covering the kind of muscles I admired on policemen who frequented the sandwich shop in the afternoon. His waist was slim and his hips narrow, and he had one fine round ass I couldn’t wait to squeeze.

    “This is Charlie, Glenna.”

    Do I hold out my hand to shake, or just stand back and let him try to stop looking at my pearls?
    “Nice,” he said, referring to what he saw.

    “She’s easy to fuck,” Walker told him.
    “What was that?” I asked.
    “Easy to fuck, darling,” Walker said running his hands through my golden hair in a gesture quite unlike him. He never called me darling.
    “He’s going to fuck me?”

    “That is my plan,” Walker said as if I should have understood this without asking questions.

    “Do I have some say in this?” I wondered aloud.

    “It’s for me, Glenna. I’ll be here.” The natural color of his eyes seemed to alter to a darker hue. “It’s something I want to see and I know you want to experience.”

    How could he be that presumptuous and so right on?

    “Wish you would have asked,” I said.

    “Why, and miss this beautiful objection of yours? Surprises make the most fun.”

    Enough of Walker’s games, my attention turned to Charlie, the white-toothed smile, the prizefighter muscles and the telling bulge inside his pants.

    “Let’s move into the living room, hon,” Walker pushed me by the arm and I almost stumbled again. These terms of endearment were going to make me puke if he kept on, but I was too fascinated by our houseguest to lodge another protest.

    Walker poured three scotch and sodas. I rarely drank but I downed this one in a single gulp, while Charlie sipped his standing, waiting in the middle of the room eyeing me, and Walker did the same from the comfort of his familiar easy chair.

    “What would you like to do to him?” my boyfriend asked.

    I thought a moment, still trying to get comfortable with these two sets of eyes voyeuring my quandary and my naked chest. I didn’t need the body oil to make my skin glow; I was perspiring freely now, while feeling a certain heat in my groin skyrocket up through my belly to my lips.

    “You say we’re going to fuck?” I asked, without turning to Walker, instead focusing my eyes directly on Charlie’s dark chocolate face. He swayed a bit, a sexy sort of come-on I read easily and enjoyed. Walker never made that kind of move. He wasn’t hip, Charlie was.

    “Yes, that’s what I want,” Walker answered without any hesitation in his voice.

    While thinking of fucking Charlie, I began to dance. By that time, the CD was over and there was nothing but the background noise of a fire truck in the distance, and the sound of the refrigerator icemaker dropping another load of cubes into the basket. My breasts gravitated toward his dark skin, while my lips savored the promise of our first kiss.

    Charlie’s hips began to move with mine, move closer until our breaths crossed and our eyes could stare down the tunnels of green and russet brown in front of our faces. Just dance. Just hip to hip, groin to groin, measure for measure. He must have heard my music, too; his mellow sexy, swaying hips followed my lead as if we’d been practicing for weeks.

    Our fingers touched, lightly tickling. His chest brushed mine. My tiny nipples tightened in reply, feeling both hot and cold: hot like bullets to set his shirt on fire, cold with a chill to send goose bumps down my arms. My lips were in the line of his attack, drawing closer, parting, dispelling breath that smelled of the cinnamon breath mint I’d eaten just before the two arrived—perhaps I psychically knew what was coming and was preparing myself. Charlie’s cologne was something I remembered on another boyfriend, but the scent belonged to him, blending with the natural aroma of his body. Grazing my breasts with his chest, he pressed forward until the soft flesh smashed into his muscles. Reaching around my hips he clutched my ass, drawing my mound tightly against that growing bulge.

    Once he had me thoroughly convinced, I turned to putty, sinking into him, letting his strong hands mold me as he chose. When he flipped me over the back of the couch in front of my boyfriend’s attentive but passionless expression, I heard him struggling out of his pants, the gentle swoosh as they fell to the floor and the clatter of his belt as it hit the hard wood. I wiggled back into his bared upper thighs seeking his meat inside my pussy, grabbing for it with my inner muscles. When he finally took that first significant lunge, the huge thing seemed to explode inside me. I dragged the lovely organ deeper, clenching, spasming, urgently seeking a remedy for this bewildering lust. The action of his fast pistoning penis revved my engines higher still; the RPMs were off the scale. Hands digging into my ass for leverage, his body banged mine, until his dick hit bottom and I screamed. Bodies turning orgasmic, we were reaching a simultaneous end, about to finish what we started when Walker suddenly interrupted.

    “In her ass, Charlie.”

    “Sure thing, boss,” the black man answered as if he expected the order. He quickly lubricated my rear hole with juices drawn from my cunt, then jabbed two fingers in and out of the taut hole to release its tight grip. Unaccustomed to ass fucking, my arousal diminished when I realized what he planned to do with his eagerly fucking prick. Other boyfriends tried and failed—I held on to my fear of being hurt, and Walker thought anal sex too messy—though apparently not too messy for Charlie and me. It didn’t occur to me to object though I was scared. But the man’s miraculous fingers worked my back door with such elegant skill that the determined prodding began to draw a new kind of sensuousness from my body, something that sought a deeper, rawer kind of fuck. My body burst with excitement, my whole crotch engaged. When Charlie pulled his dick from my cunt and pressed its head against my ass, the firm thing slid inside as if it had been there before to scour the basest part of my sexual soul.

    “Oh, you bastard, fuck me!” I roared without any conscious thought to what I was saying. I rattled off another round of four-letter exclamations as the thick cock reamed my behind and I answered back, writhing to get the thing deeper inside.    

    Reaching around, Charlie thrummed my clit…the little devil jumped to life again, while I was
screaming, “FUUUUCKKKK ME!!!! Yes, yes yes, fuck me nasty!”

    Banged into oblivion, every nerve in me tightened like a watch spring. I held on, let the pulse rise to its crescendo and finally die slowly away. I calmed realizing that Charlie had cum, too, that his battered cock was still fixed inside my ass with sexual glue, stuck there to throb and finally dwindle on its own until I let it go. I’d never felt such emptiness as when it finally disappeared.

Copyright (c) 2000 by Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved