1:00AM. Phillies coffee house. A cup each: white and sweet for her, black for him. Nick stirred his clockwise, Darlene stirred counter.

“Chasin’ the moon tonight?” Nick said, looking over at her. Her hair was the color of fresh copper, and she wore a dress to match. Her face was lean, but not harsh, and her eyes were the green of fresh grass.

“Just watching it travel, I guess. Probably gonna be home before it sets,” Darlene said, smiling at him. He had a good face, with lots of character: strong chin, good nose, gray eyes hooded beneath luxurious eyebrows. Not a pretty-boy, but handsome on his own.

“Used to be able to make it myself: all the way from the silver coming up to the silver going down. No gray on the roof, but I’m not a kid anymore,” he said smiling at her. Under the red dress she was slim but not skinny, breasts full and obvious even through the material.

“You don’t look like you’re ready to get stuck in a home to me,” she said, returning the smile. He wasn’t big, but he seemed to be well put together: broad shoulders, and with nothing hanging over his belt. His hands, she noticed, had character. They were like signposts to his soul: strong, elegant, with perfectly clean nails.

“You’re just buttering me. Nah, just been burning too much of that midnight oil lately.” He wondered about her, instantly picturing her standing in his little place: red dress tossed over a chair, silken slip floating as she walked, showing off her fine lines. He imagined a redhead’s soft skin, longs legs stretching beneath the bright white slip, and the twin points of hard nipples on perfect breasts.

“Know it. Just got off a shift myself. Thought a cup might make the trip home a little easier.” She wondered about his lips: strong but soft, at first a gentle graze across hers, just a mixing of breaths. Then the initial chaste one, the first touch of his to hers. Heat between them flaring with the first touch of tongues, then the roaring blaze as he tilted her head back for a longer, more penetrating kiss.

“I’m right down on Bleeker. Got a little more to do but ran out of java. Jack’s place is always open.” He saw himself on his bed, looking down his half-dressed body, t-shirt, shorts, socks, as she climbed up with him. The gleaming white of her slip moving just enough to give him quick snapshots of knotted, deep-brown nipples, a tight tummy, and the distant flash of curled red hairs between her long legs.

“Gotta love Jack. You work graveyard or something?” His hands. Yes, that was next: his hands. Very good hands, and she thought about how he might use them. During the kissing, when it got good, so very good, they would be on her. Not hard grabs, but rather slow grazes across her thighs, up her side, over her shoulder. Then, as the fires grew higher, a gentle rest on her skirt, a cautious knead of the hard muscles. She imagined, and could see herself spread her thighs a little, just enough. But he’d be a good man, and wouldn’t dive right in. Instead, she saw him kiss her even harder, swing dancing with her tongue, and his hand rest softly on her breast. At the thought, her nipple crinkled and gently throbbed in the soft support of her bra.

“My own. I’m a hack; got one thing down but have another piece due tomorrow.” He was hard and hoped she wouldn’t notice-but he was also hard and hoped she would notice. She was there, live and real in his mind, smiling up at him as she reached into his boxers and pulled out his very, very hard dick. She kissed it, at first-just a soft little touch to let him know that she wasn’t afraid. Then a longer, wetter, harder kiss. In his mind, he was in her mouth, with his sensitive head of his cock grazing the roof of her mouth, as he watched her bright red hair bob up and down with each in, each out.

“Maybe I’ve read something.” She could see his chest, lightly haired with dark nipples and ridges of firm muscles. His shoulders would have a light dusting of freckles, and his arms would be thick but not burly. He would have a good manly chest. Salt, the sensation suddenly on her tongue as she sipped at her coffee. Yes, salt: she wanted-then, there-to kiss that bare chest, taste the bite of his gleaming sweat.

“Not unless you hang out in some very unlady-like places. It pays the bills, though. Where do you sling your hash?” It wasn’t that she would do the things he’d seen on playing cards, in stag reels. No, that wasn’t that had his dick throbbing on his pants. It was just the thought of her being there, really there, with him in his little place. The way she smiled: he ached to see her that same smile as she stroked his dick; as she pulled off her slip to show him her lean body, her firm breasts, her dark nipples, the triangle of red curls down between her legs. He wanted all that, but all that with the smile-more than anything.

“Del Rio’s down on 154th. Food’s not bad and the joes don’t pinch my ass that much.” She wanted those strong hands to touch her, to pull her close in a tight clench. She wanted him to hold her, to squeeze her so that her body was pressed against the firmness of his chest, his tight legs, his securing arms. Then-shocking in its quick power-she wanted him in her, to fill her with his kind strength, his barely restrained power.

“Tempting, I have to say; but I’m too much the gentleman.” In his mind she was turning, showing him all that she was-all that she had, a proud display of her excitement. Not shy, not hiding under the bedclothes, but smiling with pleasure. Her breasts, yes; firm, with just a little jiggle as she turned; her thighs, all good lines — a knockout; her bush, looking sweet and inviting, with her legs barely spread so he could see between; her ass, tight, strong, like a perfect pear. And-as she turned for him-always the smile, the brilliant show of red lips and white teeth. She wanted this, wanted him. That was the best part of his fantasy.

“My knight. Just as long as your pen is better than your sword.” She was daring in her mind, imagining his strokes into her, his strong pounding between her tight thighs. Thinking, allowing her mind to run hot and humid, she felt herself respond. A quick blush came to her cheeks as the wetness came between her legs. The shame, though, was gone as quick as the hot, wet had come: the dance of their bodies coming together, of his member sliding into that wetness, of his breath on her neck, of his lips grazing his own, was just too damned nice.

“Don’t know about that — haven’t got any complaints about the sword as of yet.” One playing card stuck in his mind, a favorite of his jerk-off fantasies, and her smile would go so well with it: her red, freckled body straddling him as he lay on his bed, her tits bouncing as she moved her ass up and down on his dick. He could feel her, in his mind: the way her cunt would grip him, the way her so-soft, so-wet lips would push down and pull up with each wild bounce. Smiling, of course, as she fucked herself on his very hard dick.

She felt a new flush, a kind of fear: too much, too much. Good, damned yes, but it was too much: she wanted to touch him, to run a hand across his cheek, to feel the muscles there, the slight sandpaper of his almost-invisible shadow. She wanted to say something, to bring it about. No-no, it was too scary, too present. “This late I don’t know if anyone would be able to find anything,” she said.

He felt a heaviness. She was still there, fucking herself on his so-hard dick, but part of himself felt the illusion fall. If she came with him she probably wouldn’t smile, probably wouldn’t show him her body with pride and excitement. Maybe a handjob, maybe just a promise for sometime later that would never come. “I know. Except maybe the moon. Shouldn’t stop us from trying though,” he said.

“Always willing to try-but, you know, I think it’s going down,” she said, a little bloom springing up. Maybe, maybe, maybe. She touched that hope, and kept smiling at him.

“Happens to all of us. Long nights, too little sleep… you know,” But, he thought, she just might. The illusion flickered but didn’t die-he held it, looking at her pretty face, and smiled back. Maybe -

“Too well. Sometimes I think the only thing that keeps me going is the joe,” she said. She held it, the dream of him kissing her, of his broad chest, his strong thrusts, the chills and wonderful shivers of him inside her. Not tonight-no, but there’s always the next day.

“Good dreams. See you in here tomorrow?” he said, trying to keep the quaver out of his voice, the precious grip on his dream from slipping. It was a good illusion: so real and… too complete not to give it a try.

“It’s a date-I’ll just follow the moon,” she said, swallowing back an octave of pleasure. Not today, but maybe later-maybe sometime soon, maybe even tomorrow.

“See ya,” he said as she got off the stool and picked up her handbag.

“Bye,” she said as she passed him and walked towards the glass doors.

He watched her go, and smiled At the doors she looked back, and returned it.

Perfection. Greek sculptors mastered their art: realistic carvings in every conceivable way. Astonishing. Mesmerizing. I enjoy touring the ruins and have walked the museums, but never before have I been so lucky as tonight.

It is one of those “friend of a friend” connections that allows me to wander the storage area of a little known museum that houses the newest discovery from ancient Greece. The very male athlete stands, from head to toe, just over six feet. Just like his brethren, there is a tangible realism to his features; he very well could have been a victim of Medusa! There are no identifying marks to credit a sculptor and there is no support signaling a Roman reproduction. Perfect balance, perfect craftsmanship, perfect…perfection. His musculature is well defined. His body poised.

But he is different from all the rest. Where the others follow a contrapposto form, he does not. Neither does he stand rigid and straight. No, there is a real…character…attitude… something in the way he stands. His head is slightly tilted, his face drawn down, and a very faint serene expression rides his visage. His sole arm extends downward, with a slight outward angle, as if he is reaching for something. His shoulders are wide with very obvious brute strength, and yet…and yet he appears tenderly loving.

He is intriguing. But wait! Loving? I step back and look again at the entire statue. From a few feet away he appears to be reaching for something off a table, but up close…

I allow my eyes follow down his body and admire the sculpted abs. This is an Olympian athlete without question! I return to my close inspection as my eyes lower. As with his brethren, he is nude, and very much male. The marble phallus glistens and I realize I have dropped to my knees and gotten a little too close. But is this too close? Never before have I objectified a work of art, but tonight…tonight I am drawn…and I need to understand why!

Just one touch? A single touch cannot harm this masterpiece. The limp carving begs to be caressed. One solitary kiss will not hurt. The moment the thought strikes, my lips press forward. Cool white marble shocks my nerves, but I do not pull away too far. I frown at the aftermath of my momentary peck; bright red lipstick screams from the surface of the stone. I reach up and gently brush my left palm slowly down the smooth shaft. A smile twitches my mouth; I am being gentle because this is a work of art and it is ancient, I tell myself. While a man is the most useful to a lot of women when he is hard, I find the softer moments to be a prized pleasure. Engulfing him and feeling him grow inside my mouth is a wonderful experience! But this is not a real man, I admonish my thoughts. To which, I reply, Oh, but to try!

While I argue with my irrational urges, my hand continues to wipe at my lipstick. I watch as my hand closes and begins to stroke the marble cock. I watch in silence, for my thoughts cease to exist. It is a full minute before I realize my fingers are fully encircled and touch my thumb. I know that means something is wrong, but I cannot place exactly what that something is. My hand is a slight shade of pink, the faded lipstick soaking into the stone acting as a lubricant for my stroking. I lean forward and close my eyes as my lips pull the tip of the statue into my mouth. It has been warmed by my hand and continues to melt on my tongue. I expected a rocky taste, but receive a pleasant flesh flavor dancing along my taste buds. My right hand instinctively rises to cup his balls. As I suck, they become soft in my grasp. A moan escapes, sending chills down my spine, tightening my nipples, and soaking my panties. With a full mouth and full hands, I look up. The sight that meets my eyes is amazing! He is not reaching for something off of a table, he is reaching to run his fingers through my hair!

This thought excites me more than I could ever imagine — a one of a kind Greek statue that is not meant as an offering to the gods or as a tribute to an athlete, but as a simple reminder to a wife of her husband’s love! The view from this angle is splendid! His face, his arm, his stance is so life-like. As I close my eyes, I fail to notice how the white marble is slowly disappearing. A tan radiates from his groin outward, pulsing with my heartbeat.

As the tan deepens, flesh appears. The focal point is the quickly growing cock deep in my mouth. My mouth feels to be shrinking, but it is only the limp cock waking, stretching, and my throat opens to accommodate the larger intrusion. My eyes flutter open, the chills once again spreading through my body. I look up as fingers brush over my head and a smile greets me in his softening face. I slowly pull my mouth away, letting my right hand take over stroking as my left switches to the soft pouch beneath his delicious cock, but before I can release the tip, he halts my head with his strong hand.

“Please, do not stop,” rumbles through the room. His voice is deep, gravelly, warm, and tender. How can I refuse? I once more lower my lips toward the golden hair at the base of his cock. How long had I been sucking on flesh with hair tickling my nose? When had the marble faded?

Questions are useless and annoying when there is a simple pleasure at hand. I ignore my thoughts and concentrate on the enjoyable task. His hand releases his tight grip and his fingers splay through my hair once more. He begins to moan, a deep thunderous yet melodious music to my ears. My panties are no longer simply wet; my jeans, as well, are soaked through. I have had orgasms while giving men pleasure before and I can feel the tell-tale signs of one beginning now. My stomach tightens, butterflies dance inside, and all I can do is moan. He is getting close, too; I can feel him swell and begin to throb.

Just as I begin to cum, just a second before he releases himself down my throat, he whispers, “I am sorry.” I do not care why, the ecstasy flows.

“Just — trust me. Most comfortable seat you’ll ever have.”

I eye you, wary, as you pat your lap.

“It’s an important conference call this time.” I take a step towards you, your expression mildly amused as you grin back at me. “You gonna behave?”

A low chuckle rumbles out of your throat. You don’t even try to bullshit me. It’s one of the things I like most about you.

“You sure you want me to?”

A tremble goes through my body, and my voice shakes as I respond.

“No.”

A wicked grin curves your lips as you crook a finger, beckoning me towards you. “More fun this way.”

“Fucking hell,” I mutter as I shake my head and move to straddle you, leaning back against you. You’re already rock hard and the call is five minutes away now. I’m allowed a moment to clear my head and get the headset on before your hands slowly begin to slide up my thighs. I’m wearing easy-access clothing, a habit I’ve picked up in the last few months of being with you. Easier this way. Less clothing to replace, although from time to time, I do like the tearing sounds different kinds of fabric make when you rip them off me.

Soft lips brush my shoulder, then nails run along my thighs as you growl, “Like you had a choice.” Such soft, menacing laughter.

God, I love what you do to me. You’re right. I never really did. But then I never do with you. With a groan, I look over at the clock.

“I’ll tell you when it’s time. Get your eyes off the clock.”

Shivering, I look down instead, watching as your fingers begin sliding against my inner thighs, your hands squeezing — first gently, then tighter. Just as I think you’re about to leave marks, I feel teeth on my skin as the first finger dips in, finding me more than ready for the sequence of events to follow. With what can only be described as growling laughter, your teeth dig in as your finger brushes my clit. The combination of sensations has my breath catching in my throat. My head rocks back as sensation flares through my body, pulling a groan from my lips. I can feel another hand sliding up my torso to cup my tit beneath the fabric of my shirt, squeezing it as your fingers pinch the nipple.

Your lips replace your teeth, gently rubbing your lips along my skin before growling, “The top. Take it off. Now.”

I quickly comply, shivering. For a moment, I realize that it’s not entirely fair that you’re the only one wearing a full set of clothes in this particular scenario, but the thought is obliterated as I lean back and you bite down again, your fingers dancing against me. My cries echo out in the small room and the sound of your own groans behind me are damn near doing me in already.

I shudder against you, a wave of numbing heat rolling through me as I crash over, knowing that I’ll have bite marks when I go to look in the mirror afterwards. You know how much I love looking at them afterward. As I come back to myself, you’re chuckling softly, kissing the marks that you’ve made on my body.

“Should be… just about…” you murmur, and the phone rings.

“SHIT,” I hiss, trying to collect myself. My breath hitching, I make sure that the mic is muted before I bring the call online. I’m greeted and take the mic off mute long enough to respond.

“You OK? You sound a little tired,” someone asks.

I nod, then smack myself on the forehead mentally, realizing that the person on the other side of the line can’t see me. I feel your hands on my hips as I reply, “Ah, yeah. Long weekend.”

I carry on an inane call and response conversation while your hands slide back up my torso, cupping my breasts and squeezing. I’m struggling to remain focused on keeping my breathing straight, slow and smooth, in and out. The social chatter stops and I click the mute on the mic again as you squeeze HARD this time, growling in my ear. Whimpering, I grip the edges of the desk, my breathing coming hard and fast as you release me, then nip at my neck.

“Good girl,” you murmur softly, kissing my shoulder. “Stand up.”

I comply, waiting for everybody on the call to arrive so that the meeting itself can begin. I feel you shift beneath me and hear the sound of a zipper as you adjust yourself in the chair. Pressing my hands on the desk, I feel the head of your cock as you grip my hips and pull me back down against you.

“Now, a level of difficulty, I think,” you murmur.

Ah, shit, I think to myself, pretty sure that it’s awfully fucking difficult at the moment.

“You are now going to grind this fucking cock for all you’re worth. Am I understood?”

Shaking, I nod quickly as I feel a hot flush race across my skin. “Yes, Sir.”

The last person on the call is ready, and important pieces of information are now being shared. Fortunately, it’s information that I don’t really need to be paying attention to yet. I wince as I feel the sting of a slap on my ass. “Speak the fuck up, slut.”

“YES, Sir.” I reply crisply, finding myself having an issue with breathing again.

“Now.” Amused impatience colors your tone, but it’s quickly replaced with a groan as I slide myself down over your cock, slowly bouncing, once — twice, then pushing you all the way in to the hilt.

For a moment, we both simply revel in the moment — me completely filled and you surrounded with my moist heat. Once I’m able to breathe again, I begin moving against you, grinding my hips in time with your groans of pleasure. An issue that I’ve been waiting for an update on comes up, and I snap my fingers — my ‘safeword,’ as it were, in this particular instance. I slide you all the way in, struggling to keep from breathing too hard before unmuting the phone. Your hand finds its way to my breast, cupping it as your other hand snakes into my hair, pulling it gently. I battle with controlling my voice as I feel your teeth scrape against my skin, nipping, then biting. Thankfully, the update is quick and the phone goes back on mute. Immediately, I feel your hand bending me forward. My hands slap on the desk and you grab my hips, slamming up into me. My entire body trembles and your name spills from my lips as you growl, “MINE.”

The very word is enough to send me over again and I clamp a hand over my mouth, capturing my own scream. Nobody on the call needs to hear a muted scream. It’d only bring up questions that would be entirely too embarrassing to answer. Pulling me back against you, still sheathed deep within me, you chuckle darkly, nuzzling my neck.

“Such a good pet,” you murmur softly, your fingers tugging gently at the soft nap of fur between my legs. With a contented, rumbling sound, you tug harder, knowing what it does to me.

“Ah, fuck…” I cry out, body bowing away from you.

“Hmm…” you murmur. “I suppose I should leave you to your call.”

“God, no… please, please.”

Begging. I’m here fucking begging you to keep going.

“Only if you’re sure…”

Now, I know you’re being a dick. Teasing me. Pushing me. I love it and hate it at the same time.

I turn to look back at you, seeing that shit-eating grin on your face and not knowing whether to kiss you or sock you in the jaw.

“God, I love that ‘just been fucked’ look of yours. Makes me wanna fuck your throat.”

I groan as your lips meet mine, turning towards you entirely as our tongues tangle. Somebody’s calling my name — oh, shit, the call! I snap again and quickly spin to unmute the mic, “Sorry. Had it on mute.”

I quickly mute it again so that I can get a handle on my breathing as I’m asked a question. I flip through the data in my head and on the screen and come up with a response, and then it’s on to the next person on the call and it goes back on mute.

“You’re a little too good at that,” you rumble, eying me suspiciously as I look back at you. “Makes me think you’re not entirely into it.”

My eyes narrow and I know you can see the irritation on my face. You look back at me with a mild expression, then raise an eyebrow.

Oops. Outstared. “Ah… is there anything that I can do to convince you of my continued… interest?” I ask tentatively.

“Get your lips around my dick. Might do the trick.”

I slide off your lap and look back at you. “It’s always something.”

Your expression closes down and you ask, “You sassin’ me? You sure you wanna go there — during a conference call?”

Oh shit. That look always chills me — but it excites the hell out of me as well. Although I like misbehaving, I’m never big on receiving actual punishment. You’re not like other doms that reward bad behavior. If I fuck up, payback’s a bitch, so I shake my head and quietly answer, “No, Sir.”

“Shut the fuck up and get on it,” you growl.

Trembling, I reassess the situation on the call, realizing that it will likely take a few minutes for the group to get back around to any issues I’m working on. I slowly kneel before you, my tongue darting out to lick the head of your cock. The combined taste of our coupling zips along my tongue as I wrap my lips around you, licking and sucking. I feel your body tense, then relax as you groan. I love that I can make your body shake as you fill my mouth, my lips slowly sliding back up, then down again.

You shift in the chair, white knuckling the armrests as I slowly suck you, throwing myself diligently into the task at hand. I begin sucking harder, moving faster against you, enjoying the way your breath catches, your moans and growls.

“Where do you want it?” you ask, your voice quavering.

I answer by taking you deep into my throat and humming. It’s your favorite answer, really. I pull away, then quickly slide you in again until you’re at the back of my throat, your hands gripping the sides of my head, trembling as you growl. You spill into me in a hot rush and I quickly work to swallow every drop as you buck into my mouth, spent.

I frown as I hear somebody calling my name again through the headset, then a response from somebody else that I must have dropped off the call. Crap!

I snap my fingers and pull my mouth off you, taking a quick swallow of soda before hitting unmute.

“Sorry. Was on mute again.”

I join the call again briefly, typing in necessary notes for another issue before I’m able to hit the mute button again. I look back over at you with a sheepish expression. You’re shaking your head, laughing softly.

“Smooth. Hell, I should hire you,” you rumble, still recovering. “What’s your going rate?”

I smile back at you, laughing. “You can’t afford me.”

Still grinning, you raise an eyebrow and murmur, “I’m beginning to see why.”

My smile grows broader as I move to straddle you and murmur, “Good thing you get my more primal talents for free, huh?”

“Mmm — Lucky me,” you rumble, kissing me.

“His name was Elvis”, she said, arching her back like a cat as she straddled the cold plastic chair, her head resting on her folded arms, eyes closed, hair falling in a tangled mass of curls.

“Elvis?”

She could feel his eyes on her, on her breasts, exactly where she’d wanted them. She rolled her shoulders and stole a furtive glance at him, watching as he licked his lips. Nervous tension seeped off him in waves. It gave her a thrill, knowing she was the cause of it. She’d never felt more alive. She drank in the tiny details of the moment, every intake of breath, every twitch of his fingers against the taut denim covering his thigh. She was intentionally making him sweat and it felt good. Her own desire was fueled by his, by the power of knowing she could have this affect on man so much older, so much more experienced. He was pushing forty; she was celebrating her twentieth birthday.

They’d escaped the noisy party, finding a quiet bedroom where they could talk, though she’d known what his expectations were as she’d grabbed his hand and led him down the hall. Now they were talking about first times. Talking instead of having the much-anticipated sex or doing the smart thing and sleeping off the alcohol they’d consumed so much of earlier.

“Yes,” Ashley sat up and spun in her seat, sliding her ass towards the back of the chair. Leaning in conspiratorially, she whispered to him.

“It’s a stupid name. I didn’t believe him at first, when he told me, I mean. But it was on his license. I looked.” She lifted her cigarette, carefully pursing her lips as they clasped the filter, gently inhaling before blowing the smoke out in rings that hung in the stale air.

“When?” Greg shifted on the bed, his erection obvious.

Ashley let out a short laugh, as much at him as the question, crushing the cigarette into an overflowing ashtray.

“Later. After.” Antsy, she stood, pacing from the grimy window to the pock-marked door, her eyes closed, swaying slightly to the rock music pouring out of the radio. He watched her in silence for awhile. He was still as he watched her and she wondered if he’d finally found his control. The quiet was heavy in the room, weighing on her, caging her.

“I didn’t mean when did you look. I meant when did it happen.” His voice was tightly controlled, but she was thankful he’d finally broken the silence.

She smiled and licked her lips. “A few years ago.”

She waited for him to speak, to ask another question, but he didn’t. He just watched her as she paced. She could feel the control slipping away from her. She needed action, needed to feel alive. Reaching up, arms at an odd angle, she slid her hands behind her back and up beneath the hem of her shirt.

“You don’t mind, do you? Uncomfortable shit. Hate wearing it.”Ashley knew he didn’t mind, knew he wouldn’t answer as she slipped her bra out of her sleeve, tossing it onto the floor between them. Her nipples weren’t hard, but she knew the watery light was strong enough to show them off through the thin white t-shirt she wore.

“What was it like?” Greg’s hand was steady as he reached for his beer. She felt a shiver move through her as he took a swig out of the bottle, his gaze never leaving her. He was studying her with a look she hadn’t seen before, didn’t recognize. His edginess was gone, something else in its place-something dangerous.

“What do you mean?” She knew what he wanted to hear, but wasn’t planning to give it up so easily. Walking to the window, she twitched the curtain to the side, staring out at the moon.

He was behind her before she knew it, his hand fisting her hair, pulling her head back. His voice was raw in her ear, harsh, like salt in a wound. Fear tinged with excitement twisted in her belly, a snake coiling around the arousal that had been building.

“I’m not some prepubescent prick you can tease, Ashley.” His breath was hot on her neck, his whiskers scratching her cheek. Her breath caught in her throat as he spoke again.

“Did you come here to toy with me? If you want to play games, that’s fine, but understand this-I make the rules.”

“No, I…” Ashley’s words trailed off. She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes, not sure what to say. She had been playing. He was just a game, a way to pass the time, escape the boredom, feel alive. Her thoughts flashed by, rolling through her head like the reels of a slot machine. The deep conversations she’d had with Greg online, the surprise birthday party the group of Internet friends had thrown her, how lonely she’d been over the past year. All the moments leading up to this seemed to swim through her mind.

She wasn’t the only one crashing at Greg’s place, not the only girl. They’d drawn straws to see who would stay with him, his dark eyes, quiet attentiveness and rough manners a turn on for them all.

Fuck, she thought. I’m in over my head.

It seemed like hours passed as they stood there, his body pressed against her from behind, his cock hard against her ass, her pulse pounding in the silence like a base drum. She remained still as she waited for whatever would come next. Without warning, he spun her around, kissing her roughly before shoving her gently toward the door.

“You’re nothing but a tease, Ashley. Go on. Get out of my room before I really do lose control.”

She was shaking now, her nerves frayed into live wires, her breathing shallow and rapid. She looked around, eyes searching for her bra, unable to remember where she’d left it. Greg pointed at it on the floor, then held the door open, waiting for her to leave. She took a step towards escape, then stopped, her gaze searching his as she wondered if it would be safe to pass so close to him. He was fire, and everyone knew you didn’t play with fire, but something was coming to life inside her, something that her kept her from walking out of his room. She wanted him, but did she want him on his terms or hers?

She never should have hesitated. He took a step forward, shutting the door. Ashley’s heart pounded as the lock clicked into place.

Greg’s voice was low as he moved closer to her. “Do you have any idea how selfish you’ve been tonight, Ash? You don’t even know what you want, do you?”

She screwed her eyes shut, closing them so tightly that she saw flashes of brilliant lights against the darkness. Shaking her head, she took a step backwards. It was his laughter ringing through the room this time, her nervousness oozing between them. He’d taken the control and she had no idea how to get it back.

“Your problem is that you’re an amateur; a little girl playing dress up in mommy’s high heels. You know what happens to naughty little girls when they get caught?” He was touching her now, his fingers dancing over her skin, tilting her chin up, forcing her to look at him.

“What?” she wasn’t sure she’d said it out loud, thought maybe it was just in her head, but his expression changed, turned predatory.

“They get punished,” he whispered, his face inches from hers, his hands slowly lifting off her shirt. She was frozen, a doe waiting for her slaughter, caught in the cross-hairs of the hunter’s scope. His fingers were rough from years of physical labor, scarred and thick, crushing her breasts, pinching the treacherous nipples cruelly. He smiled when they responded to the treatment.

“You like that, huh? Maybe you aren’t such a tease after all. Maybe you’ve just been testing your limits, pushing. Maybe you’ve been looking for a man strong enough to rein you in.” His mouth was hot on her skin as he lapped at her breasts. He stood back and shoved her skirt into a pool around her feet. He knelt in front of her and she felt her knees go weak as he pushed her legs apart, his fingers sliding along the silk of her panties.

“Look at that,” he murmured into her stomach. “Wet as Niagara Falls, ready for me to fuck. At least you got that part right.”

Tugging her panties down, he slipped a finger inside her, his thumb finding her clit. There was no gentle caress, no tender touch, only white hot desire as he began to thrust and rub and pinch.

She didn’t resist him, didn’t fight because she couldn’t. Some part of her had snapped, broken at his words. She drifted through the hole, lost in a dark place inside her head, needing, wanting, afraid. He worked his fingers faster and faster, matching pace with the need building inside her until she began to move her hips, hoping to draw him in deeper. The sensations were building, sending her toward release. Her hands slid into his hair, curling into fists as she held onto him. When he leaned forward and his wet tongue slid against her clit, it pushed her over the edge. She cried out as her orgasm ripped through her.

Greg remained in place until her breathing returned to normal, but she felt a sense of loss when he pulled his away, the heat removed, the need still there. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. When she finally opened her eyes, it was in time to see him toss her clothes at her.

“Get dressed and get out.”

He sat back down on the bed, drinking his beer as he watched her. He lit a cigarette, so calm. She was lost, adrift in a sea of confusion, unable to go back through the crack in her life he’d just opened. She knew then what had to happen; what she had to do. She accepted that her actions were her own as she gave control of her destiny to the side of herself she didn’t want to acknowledge.

She knelt before him, looking up at him from between his knees.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Please, what?”

“Please, Greg…”

He nodded and pulled her onto his lap.

Summer Barton walked down the street with her best friend, Gwen Daniels. The two were in serious discussion as they walked into an antique shop Summer liked buying knickknacks from.

“I’m serious, Gwen,” Summer said, her eyes large and round to prove her point. “Men these days just don’t know how to love a woman the way she wants and needs to be loved. Men are too feminine today.”

“Isn’t that what we women have been trying to do?” Gwen asked in return, “Make men more in tune with their feminine side so they know how to please us better?”

“I’m all for a man who understands the female mystique.” Summer picked up a curious looking crystal item about the size of a large egg and turned it around in her hand. The light from inside the shop reflected off the orb in rainbow colors and caught Summer’s attention. “But once a man understands me, I want him to exert his own masculinity in making love to me, not acting like another woman so I feel like a lesbian.”

“I’m not sure you can have it both ways,” Gwen laughed lightly.

“Well, if I can’t, then I’d rather have a man who ravaged me with hot, horny, savage sex than a man who made me feel like I had another woman in bed with me.”

“What? You want a man to be brutal, bestial, more like some creature from a fantasy realm of ancient times?”

“That would be nice.” Summer smiled even as she brought the crystal orb closer so she could take a deeper look into it, try to figure out what was inside the antique artifact that seemed to move about as she looked into its depths. “A man to savage me and treat me like a sex object…Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

Suddenly the light from the orb in her hand flared up and Summer found her mind going numb, as though she were undergoing surgery and the anesthetic had just taken effect.

“Summer?” Gwen backed away from her friend as before her the physical form that had been Summer Barton seemed to shimmer and swirl in wisps of colored fog. Then Summer’s flickering body vanished altogether, and the air where she’d been standing seemed to pop.

“Summer!” Gwen screamed where her friend no longer stood.

Chill mists breathed over Ellowyn’s skin as she walked into the ancient, gated graveyard. No matter. She would soon be warm by the fire she built, and then warmer still. Odd how the scent of wood smoke had taken on such a sensual quality over the years.

Or perhaps not so odd, she thought, letting the armload of cut wood roll from her arms to clatter to the foot of the bare mountain ash that marked her husband’s grave.

The tree had grown to its full height in the years since her husband had died, its trunk as straight as his back when he had been indignant. The roots that had long since fingered inside his wooden coffin had pushed his tombstone off-kilter. The leaning, crumbling block of stone was fitting for his graveesomehow, for her husband who had been so immaculate in life. It was wrong for him in the way that death had been wrong for him. She reached up and ran her fingers over the mossy stone where the years of wind and snow and rain had smoothed away his name.

Her lips shaped it: Rowan.

A year’s worth of dried leaves and red berries not plucked by the birds cluttered the grave. She couldn’t bear to come the rest of the year, so it always was a mess when she arrived. She cleared the debris, baring cold dirt that crumbled between her fingers. Nothing else grew over his sleeping body but the tree, and never had. Perhaps it was the ash and soot from her yearly fire.

She laid out blankets to soften the ground next to the grave and stacked the wood on the bare dirt over it, using twigs from the mountain ash, from his tree, as kindling. She sparked a match off his stone and lit the fire.

The fire seemed as if it took a breath… His breath, she thought… and then flickered to life. The scent of wood smoke stoked a cocktail of abiding love and tingling desire in her belly. It spread in a wet sluice of heat straight to her pussy. She stared into the flames as she slid from her jacket, only blinking once as her fingers found the buttons of her blouse. They only had one night and she wasn’t about to waste a moment of it undressing.

She looked away from the flames as she fumbled with her belt and slid her pants down, cold air licking her bottom and cooling her damp folds. The fire heated her front and the heady scent of smoke heated her insides.

Ellowyn.

Soft enough she thought she imagined it.

She lifted her chin and her breath caught in her throat. Rowan’s shade flickered within the fire, wavering into shape, forming from the smoke and stepping clear of the flames. He was naked, as always, long muscles stretching and bunching under his otherworldly guise of skin. His thick cock was already hardening. At the sight of it, of him, tingles spilled from the crown of her head.

Her eyes widened and a smile spread across her lips. “Rowan!”

She stepped closer to him, but not all the way, letting him orchestrate their first touch. He knew when his ethereal form had taken on enough mass. He reached out to her cheek and her eyes closed at the feather-light stroke, like ash falling across her face. His touch solidified as his hand slid to the nape of her neck, drew her toward his body, and lowered his mouth to hers in a hungry kiss. Warmth swept through her and her arms went around his back, fingers caressing his hardening form, rediscovering him. The familiarity never went away, but she could explore his body for an eternity and never tire of him.

He slid his other arm tight around her waist, pinning her against his erection, and broke the kiss.

Ellowyn. He breathed her name into her soul. My love.

With her eyes closed, she could imagine he was here with her in flesh.

“ I love you,” she whispered.

She ran her hands over him, tipping her head back as he moved his lips to her throat. Chills ran through her at his delicate touch. His hands found the combs in her hair, diamond-laced trinkets he’d given her on their wedding day, and let her waves spill free to warm her back.

“I love you.”

She meant it as reassurance that she was pleased to be with him, desperate to make love with him this one cold night a year, even in an old, windswept graveyard. She slid down his body, kissing her way along his broad chest, teasing at his nipples, and running her mouth and fingertips over his stomach. As she knelt before him, the muscles in his thighs corded under her hands.

“ I love you.”

She kissed his thighs, his hip bones, circling his cock, teasing him but taunting herself even more. She wanted nothing more than to please him.

“ I love you.”

At last she licked the tip of his rampant cock. It twitched against her tongue and she smiled, sliding her lips over the head as slowly as she could. He held perfectly still and the breeze ceased caressing her skin, as if he’d commanded the entire world to stop in this moment. She sensed nothing but their mingling desire as his cock filled her mouth.

She pressed deeper, sliding her tongue along the smooth ridge underneath, stretching her lips to enclose it. Her pussy heated and dampened further, a trickle whispered down her thigh. Just the thought of him there, pushing between her folds…she moaned around him.

His fingers twined through her hair and he released a shivering sigh that sounded like a breath of wind through the leafless tree. Ellowyn.

She drew back and then took him back in again, harder. She had all night, true, but her cunt stung deeply with want. He would take her over and over this night, and she could barely wait for him to begin. Her breasts swung heavy and full, aching for his hands, the nipples tightening.

She sucked him deep, pressing against him so that he slid past her teeth and over her flexing tongue. She opened for him, body and soul, as he pushed still deeper. She forced herself to relax, breathe, and pumped her mouth over him as she reached up to cradle his balls on her palm. The first time was always the quickest. He shuddered and his grip on her hair pulled tight, hard as a flood of heat spilled down her throat.

She licked him, though there was no wetness, just heat when he came, and backed off to look up at him from her knees.

He knelt and gathered her close, crushing her against his chest, his mouth on hers in a deep kiss. Her arms went around her and he laid her down on the blankets so he could kneel over her. He started at her lips, licking and kissing, tugging on the bottom one with his teeth. Her fingers explored his chest, caressing the hard lines of his muscles, the shifting planes of his back, the soft places behind his ear and under his hair.

His lips moved to her throat, and she stretched her head back as he kissed her. His teeth found the tender skin under her jaw, biting with a stinging pinch. Fresh desire tumbled through her. She writhed and moaned, pushing his head lower. He went willingly, cupping her breasts in his hands as if testing the swollen weight of them, his thumbs playing her nipples. He looked up at her, his face soft, a small smile on his lips as he watched her writhe under his touch.

A sharp agony built between her legs. She panted, begging with her very breath. She was wet enough to take right now, but he had had his pleasure for the moment and intended to stretch hers out. She gasped a soft cry as he lowered his mouth to her nipple and teethed it, and then to the other. He worked them slowly, thoroughly, until she writhed in agony under him, pleading with him to move still lower.

He let his hands slide over her belly and hips and lower, cupping her folds with his palm but not intruding on the wet folds. She pushed against his grip, but she could only manage to rub the edges of her sopping lips against his fingers. Passion tripped along her every nerve, settling achingly in her cunt. Her swollen clit stung from want.

“Please, my love. Rowan… ah!”

He let a finger trail between her folds to land on her clit, and then his thumb joined it, gently twisting and working the swollen nub. Pleasure rocketed through her at the sensation and she rode the wave, letting herself slam into quick, blunt climax. He let her buck against his hand a little and then shifted, sliding his pale, ethereal knees between her legs to spread them further.

He captured her gaze with his, still grey and ghostly even in his solid form, and her lips parted without sound. There were no words needed between them, only a whole year of living in this one night, captured in a single glance. He pushed into her, slow and deep as if in discovery. Her legs came up around him, gripping his hips, and he began to thrust, long sweeps with his hips that drew his cock along every inch of her channel, so that the tip of his cock kissed her folds, and then stretched and filled her again, satisfying every bit of her long year of suffering need.

The pleasure consumed her, drawing her again and again, nearer and nearer to the abyss of rapture.

Ellowyn…

Her fingers dug into his strong biceps and she arched under him, caught in the whisper of her name and his commanding love. His heat flooded her, spreading through her torso and every limb, tingling along her fingertips and toes like electrical sparks and bursting from her mouth in a delirious scream.

He held her afterward for a short while, before taking her again, and then again, countless times in the hours that followed, until she lay limp and drowsy against his chest, forgetting for the moment that he could not stay. He stroked her hair and hummed soft, wild, woodsy tunes, lulling her to sleep. She couldn’t resist her heavy lids falling, her breathing deepening, as he held her safe in his arms.

Early dawn washed across her face. She stirred to find herself alone, covered securely in blankets, warm in her nest though their fire had burned down. Before despair could take hold, she saw the sprig of white rowan flowers next to her, bright against the long, dark year to come.

A summer vacation in the desert southwest sounded like a good idea when Will and I planned it during a cold Chicago blizzard, but when we crossed the border into Texas, the heat slammed into me like a brick wall. Sweat dripped down my body, and I complained about it while Will laughed at me. He grew up here. He was used to the heat. I wasn’t.

We went to a bar across the street to have a drink and unwind a bit. The place smelled like old cigarettes, but the liquor was wet so we didn’t care. The AC was broken and all the noisy ceiling fan did was spread the heat around. The hot and sticky air was making me lose my mind, and I wanted to lose my clothes real fast. I flicked my tongue in his ear and slipped my hand between his thighs.

Will waved at the waitress. “Check please.”

We hurried back to our room and turned up the rattling old air conditioner as high as it would go. I kicked off my sandals while he threw the blankets off the bed, then he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. Will was an amazing kisser. His lips touched mine, just barely, soft and sweet before they parted and his tongue swept into my mouth and carried me away with him. There was no escaping his kisses. His mouth covered my neck, my shoulders, my chin, even the tip of my nose. I peeled off his sweaty t-shirt, stroking his hot, hard muscles. He unzipped my jeans while I yanked my shirt over my head. We tumbled to the bed, and he fondled my breasts while I struggled taking my sticky jeans off. I stripped him naked, his damp skin glistening in the fading sunset as we rolled between the sheets.

“It’s so hot here.” I sat up and peeled my clingy hair off my damp shoulders. “How can you stand it?”

If Will was tired of my whining, he didn’t show it. “You’re hotter than a west Texas fourth of July.” He smiled and pulled me down beside him, our bodies sticking together. “Com’ere. I wanna eat your pussy.”

He crawled on top of me and kissed his way down my body, nibbling and licking between my thighs. Yes, I know it’s my pussy, but some words feel dirty to me. I couldn’t say them even in my head. Nice girls didn’t say naughty things. Since when was I a nice girl? Certainly not since I met Will. I draped my legs over his shoulders like a good slut and curled my fingers through his soft hair. The rickety air conditioner shot a cold draft across my skin, puckering my nipples. Last night in another hotel room he made me come so loud the people next door complained. Will found that highly amusing.

“Let’s do something that’ll frighten the neighbors again, Talia.” His tongue flicked my… fleshy nub, and I moaned as sizzly sweaty sparks lit up my skin.

“You’re looking for trouble.”

“Yes I am.” But he took his sweet time finding it, making lazy circles around my naughty girl parts, slowly building a warm wanton fire with teasing flames gently licking my senses. My body rocked, and I moaned low in my throat, but Will wasn’t satisfied with that.

He shoved his fingers into my hot pink flesh and started licking with purpose. I squealed and raised my hips to his mouth, dragging my fingernails across his sweaty shoulders. Those teasing licks ignited an intense blaze, sending crackling sparks all the way to my curled toes. The inferno raged out of control, consuming everything in its path.

“I need you! Now Will please!”

That’s when his wild side got aroused. His hard cock slid between my wet lower lips, but he only gave me the tip, making those damn lazy circles again. He knew that drove me crazy.

“How can you do this to me?” I moaned.

Will just laughed.

“How can you do this to yourself?”

His hand slipped on the damp sheet and he sank deeper into me.

I was getting to him. “I know you want me. You haven’t been able to keep your hands off me all day.” He kept finding excuses to pull over and make out. “How can you hold back now when all you want to do is make me scream?”

Something devious flashed in his dark blue eyes and he faked a yawn. “It’s been a long day, and we have another long day ahead of us tomorrow. I’m pretty tired.” He pulled out and rolled over, turning off the light. “Sweet dreams, darlin’.”

“I don’t think so.” I threw my body against him, pushing him onto his back. I wriggled onto his still hard cock, and I smiled when his eyes rolled back in his head. “Now I’m in control.”

He moaned and let me thrust down on him once, almost twice. “Not for long.” Will flipped me on my back and I squealed. He spread my legs and rubbed his cock up and down my pink flesh. When he slipped in, I wrapped my legs around his waist and tried to pull him in deeper, but he held my thighs apart while he teased me with the tip again. My body started to ache and burn. I needed more and he knew it. I pinched my nipples with one hand, reaching down to stroke my button with the other.

Will grabbed my hands and held them above my head. “Nope.” But my legs were free, and I tried to pull him in again. “I gotta find something to tie you down with.”

He got up and dug through his suitcase. Will never wore ties. He hated them. He might own one, but I’ve never seen it on him. Did he bring it along? No, he pulled out the belt from my bathrobe. A devilish smile lit his eyes as he tied my wrists together in front of me.

“You packed that?”

“Thought I might need to restrain you,” he winked. And then he teased me again, crawling on top of me. His body covered mine, skin to skin, but he wouldn’t enter me fully.

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please give me more.”

“More what?” He knew I couldn’t say the words. I wanted to but they just wouldn’t come.

“More of you.” He pulled out, dammit. “More of your cock. I want all of it.”

Will groaned and sank into me. “Tell me what you want me to do you to, darlin’.”

“Harder,” I gasped. “Fuck me hard. Fuck me slow. Fuck me till I can’t move.”

He pushed up on his hands, planted his knees and drove into me. I cried out and threw my tied hands around his neck, pulling him down and kissing his hot mouth. My entire body needed him. “Suck my nipples. Please.”

He drew one into his mouth and tugged on the other with his fingers while he pounded me. I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him in hard, again and again. This was exactly what I needed and he knew that too. I came right before he did, loud and hard. Someone in the next room pounded on the wall. Will sighed and collapsed on top of me. I worked my ties free and ran my hands through his hair, and we fell asleep like that.

The Librarian

You walk up to the desk with a stack of books to check out. You smile a soft smile at me, and I nervously return one. You wait there patiently as I fumble through the books carelessly. I can’t help myself, you smell so good. After I am finished scanning your books and checking you out, my manager comes and takes my place so that I may go home for the evening. The library is nearly empty. You suddenly ask about another book. My manager tells me to help you find it. The particular section we need to be in is upstairs, and in a far, remote corner. I lead the way to the corner and you follow close behind.

I stop and you bump into me. I feel your hardness but why is it there? You reach your hand out to me and I tremble at your touch. We stare at one another and then unexpectedly, you grope me between my legs and shoot me a wicked, hot stare. I back myself into the corner, there is nowhere to go. You chuckle as one hand finds its way back to my most intimate area; the other gropes my breast. I inadvertently slip out a murmur of pleasure. You smile as you tickle my pussy lips through my thong. You push yourself closer to me, so close that I feel your growing bulge. I can’t help myself; I just have to touch it. I nervously reach my hand out and place it on your crotch. You force the zipper down and pull out your masculinity. I gasp at the sight of the sizable cock. You waste no time in pushing me gently against the book shelf. You pull my thong aside and plunge your cock into my slit and begin fucking me right there. I start to cry out but you put your hand over my mouth and cover it to silence me as you continue fucking me. You put one hand on my throat and the other against the book shelf to plunge your cock deeper inside my pussy. You laugh hoarsely as you pull out. I am pleading with my eyes for you to re-enter me. You shake your head no but instead insert your fingers, one, two, and then three and I release cum instantly on your hand. You push me to the floor in front of you and plunge your manhood into my mouth and I gag on it. You chuckle but slowly insert it deep in my mouth. This time, I surround my mouth around your cock all the way to the base, this time, you are the one squirming and groaning.

I do this multiple times until you almost lose your control. You pull me aggressively up and lean me back on the bookshelf, spread my legs and plunge your mouth into my center and lick and bite and suck. I am squirming under your mouth and your hands as they massage me.

You do this until you can stand no more and then you pull my legs up on your waist and shove your hard throbbing cock into my pussy as hard and fast as you can. We both let out slightly louder noises of pleasure. You fuck me again and again wildly, madly, until we succumb to the pressure of our building orgasms, and we release our cum together. I feel your hot liquid flowing inside me, as my entire body quakes unlike what I’ve ever felt.