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."