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Subject: Title story: "Anticipation - 4" Author: Holly 48663407
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Date: Tue, 12 Jul 2005 10:16:50 +0000
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Anticipation - 4
And so I slept. And if I dreamed, it was too deep to remember. I have
VAGUE memories of perhaps a quiet click of a door, maybe a soft rustle of
clothing, or the slight settling of the bed as a weight eases down on it. If I
noticed them while I slept, it was most likely in the
context of a dream.
I woke slowly and languidly, my body arching in a fluid, feline stretch
as my muzzy brain tried to figure out where I was. When I remembered, I
sat up in a flash and fixated on the space next to me. The covers had been
thrown back, and the bed had been slept in. A dark object tugged at the
edge of my vision, and I turned to see a large black duffle tossed on the
easy chair.
He had come back. Brian had come back. And the hushed silence of the
room attested to the fact that he was no longer there.
"SHIT!" I pounded the covers futilely, my face flushing with frustration. I
couldn't believe he had come and gone without waking me! I was livid! I was
furious! I was...
...deflated. As quickly as my anger flared, so it died. My intellect
reasoned that he had probably come back late and exhausted and, seeing me fast
asleep, had decided it was the best idea for both of us. I heaved a deep sigh,
and slumped against the headboard. Last night, as I had fallen asleep, I would
have given anything to be with a man that had no concern for my fatigue or his,
a man that would not have hesitated to wake me and ravage me immediately, him
giving no quarter and me taking none, tearing at each other like wild animals
in heat...
I was letting my imagination, and my continued frustration, get the better of me
again. I lounged for several more moments, luxuriating in the richness of my self-
pity. The pulsing fire and need between my legs had cooled during the night, but
there was a distinct tension in my body, a universal tautness of muscle and
sinew, which betrayed my latent desire, coiled like a spring inside me, capable
at any moment to erupt into
full-blown fuck-lust.
I extricated myself from the twisted sheets of the bed and freshened myself up
in the bathroom, splashing water on my face, combing my hair, and brushing my
teeth. I pulled my robe off its hanger and onto me, tying it loosely about my
waist. Now I looked decent enough to order breakfast. I sat on the edge of the
bed and picked up the phone.
I rang room service and ordered a bowl of fresh fruit, a couple of
muffins, and an orange juice to be sent up. Then, feeling slightly more awake
and industrious, I picked up strewn clothes and made the bed,
tidying up here and there simply because I had nothing better to do. When the
knock at the door came, I received my food and forked over a tip to the pimply-
faced kid that delivered it, then sprawled out again on the bed with my food, my
juice, and the remote control to the television. A loaf of bread, a jug of wine,
and thou. Hardly.
I thumbed on the t.v. and began flipping through the numbers, perusing channel
after channel of increasingly insipid programming, while idly nibbling on my
food. It quickly became obvious that the motel's vaunted 'deluxe cable' was a
lost cause, and I was about to turn the
t.v. off when a computerized data screen caught my attention. It was a listing
of pay-per-view offerings available by phone-order. I scanned the listings,
and noticed with some surprise that one of the p.p.v.
channels offered was an adult movie channel. And according to the timetable, a
feature had just started.
distractedly gnawed a piece of fruit, a slice of juicy honeydew melon, while I
considered this new option. As I stared blankly at the screen, contemplating,
the possibility of a little visual titillation seemed increasingly attractive. I
hesitantly picked up the receiver to the
phone, glanced once more at the screen, and resolutely dialed the listed number.
I was answered by a computerized voice, much to my relief - thoughts of sleazy
motel managers exploiting the knowlege of my horniness and my
room number made me extremely uneasy - and made my selection by touch tone. Then
I quickly hung up the phone. Suddenly I was seized by an inexplicable and
delicious sense of naughtiness, accompanied by a tiny fluttering of guilt. I
quickly abandoned the guilt. After all, for a
woman in my condition, a nice cheezy porno flick could probably be considered
therapeutic. The naughtiness, however, I kept for later use.
I again made myself comfortable on the bed, piling both the large pillows behind
my back, leaning back against them such that I could watch the television at a
comfortable angle. Then I relaxed and sucked the juice
out of my slice of melon while I waited for the show to begin.
Abruptly it did. The data screen winked out, the screen blanked for a
moment, then flickered back on again to reveal the feature already
in progress.
The scene was a game room, with a big green billiard table dominating the center
of it. Bending over the bumper board, cue stick in hand, was a gawdily painted
woman of luscious proportions, dressed in a short pink dress. I'll call her
Jane. Then a tall, lean man, whom I will call John, clad only in a tight pair of
jeans, moved into view and pressed himself
against her rear, ostensibly to help guide her grip on the stick as she
aimed for the cue ball. This action, of course, included the mandatory
pelvic grind, where the young stud rubs his groin against the girl's ass.
I stopped eating my melon, and watched fixedly.
Mandatory pelvic-grind still in progress, John slid his hands up Jane's arms and
down her sides, then up her stomach to grasp her tits through
her dress. Jane turned her attention from the targeted cue ball to the
targeted man, looking over her shoulder with heavy-lidded eyes and
pouting mouth. Abruptly she turned in his arms, and they went at each
other. He lifted her easily to sit her on the edge of the pool table
while she wrapped her arms around his neck, and they began kissing rabidly.
My slice of melon still held to my lips, I began licking it slowly, my
tongue running around the tip of the succulent, curved spear.
The camera flashed in for a closeup of their tongues, twining and lashing
against each other outside their mouths, then flashed back again as they parted
and began groping feverishly at each other. John took hold of Jane's elastic
scooped neckline and yanked it down, revealing full,
pointed breasts. The neckline snapped back underneath them, framing them and
pushing them up for his inspection. Her hands, meanwhile, were snaking down his
back to clench his ass, pulling his hips into hers. He ground his pelvis
between her legs.
I alternated between sucking and licking my melon slice, as my eyes were
transfixed on their enmeshed hips. My pussy had begun to pulsate again, and I
could almost feel the pressure of the man's hard bulge nudging my
clit.
John bent to suck and lick at Jane's tits, while she made a great
show of gasping and moaning encouragements like, "Oooh, that feels so
goooood..." John, with his arms under her back, lowered her to
lie back on the pool table, her legs still over the edge, while the camera
graced us with a close up of his tongue flicking against her
hard nipples.
With one hand I tugged at the belt of my robe, and it parted to either side of
me, baring my naked breasts and midriff. I slid the melon out of my mouth and
let it trail lightly over my chin, then down my throat, to slide wetly between
my breasts. As I watched the young stud at work, I started to tease one nipple
with the tip of the fruit, the wet, sticky juice clinging to my turgid nozzle. I
treated my other tit to the same, and gleefully rubbed sticky melon juice all
over my breasts, all the time watching the action on the television.
The young stud was now bent over Jane, kissing a trail down her body as he
slowly peeled the dress off of her, pulling it under hips and pushing it down
off her legs. She writhed under his lips as he
slobbered a path down her stomach, and was clutching his hair as his face dove
between her legs, tongue extended for lapping and diving into
her lightly furred snatch. His hands slid under her ass and literally
lifted her pussy to his face as he ate her.
I watched rapturously, rubbing my breasts and torso down with the slice of
melon, part of my consciousness admiring the sticky shine of my
front, almost reflecting the image of the set. As Jack continued his oral
assault and Jane thrashed and moaned and writhed on the table, I let one hand
stray down to stroke my inner thighs, feeling my moisture covering a wide area.
The camera panned in on the image of John's face as it disappeared
between the woman's legs, showing quantity if not quality of exposure. Typical
soft porn fare, but my hot and lusty mind was already filling in
the missing picture of his tongue nudging apart her slick pussy lips and diving
inside, trenching her out, then licking her clit. All this
in my one-track imagination while the camera maintained its almost
demure position over the woman's belly, catching glimpses of Jack's
head snaking back and forth, accompanied by impressive slurping noises.
My slick hand was now firmly embedded between my own legs, and I stroked myself,
my index finger sliding up and down over my clit to the irregular rhythm of the
panting participants on the screen. I watched as John
lifted one hand, pantomiming the act of slipping some fingers into Jane's hungry
cunt. Again, where the camera neglected to provide a better view, my imagination
obliged with a flashed image of two fingers pushing into her, spearing between
her pussy lips as his tongue continued to lash at her clit, jamming all the way
down to the knuckles of his meaty hand. At the same time, I shoved two fingers
of my hand up my hole, my hips now writhing much like Jane's were, and started
slowly fucking my fingers
in and out of my cunt.
John continued to pretend to lap at Jane's pussy for a while, and Jane
eventually faked a melodramatic orgasm. At this point, John removed his face and
fingers from between Jane's legs, and the camera angle changed to a shot of
John's ass, discreetly and hypocritically avoiding unsightly
full male frontal nudity, as he unfastened his jeans and pushed them off his
hips to lie in a heap around his ankles. He roughly grabbed Jane's thighs and
pulled her to the very edge of the pool table, stepped up between
them, and 'fisted' his cock into her pussy.
All of it fake. All of it cheezy. But it didn't matter to me. In my mind's eye,
John revealed his prick in all its throbbing glory, and I followed it mentally
all the way to the entrance to Jane's steaming cunt, my
imagination creating a scene so vivid I gasped as it entered her slowly, filling
her inch-by-turgid-inch.
My imagination wasn't the only part of me that was active. As my fevered mind
created a scene of mind-blowing eroticism, the poor slice of honey- dew melon
was getting more mileage than any fruit deserves. After
smearing its juice all over my body, mingling it with my own sweat, I used it to
tease my clit, the still-cool flesh of the melon sending shivers through me, and
the slightly gritty texture of it drove me wild. After I had had all I could
stand of this gourmet stimulation of my clit, I inserted the end of the melon
into my clutching snatch and pushed it slowly in. The sensation was heavenly,
and the irregular
shape of the melon slice stretched my insides in an entirely new way.
Again I found myself writhing like Jane, only my show was real.
John was now making an impressively manly display of grunts and groans, and his
ass cheeks were a sight to behold as he pounded into Jane with blinding speed,
Jane's entire body jarring with each thrust, developing, I was sure, one hell of
a felt burn on her back. I mimicked their
mimickry by picking up the pace with my fruit dildo, working it vigorously in
and out of my cunt. My breathing was gradually getting out of control, and when
I added my other hand again to play with my clit, I pushed
dangerously close to orgasm very quickly.
On the screen though, John abruptly stopped his maniacle pummeling of
Jane, and the camera gave the viewers a 'buns-eye' view of John turning Jane
around on the pool table, so that her head hung slightly off the bumper, tilting
backward. Jane lifted her hands to her mouth, and
conveniently obscured the view of John's cock disappearing between her lips and
filling her oral cavity. Not so with THIS viewer; I saw John's cock clearly, as
a figment of my imagination, sliding between those
painted, ruby-red lips of Jane's, watched Jane work her throat around his long
prick. While Jane swallowed his meat, John reached down to
squeeze and maul her tits with his hands, and whispered lewd obscenties as he
fucked her mouth with his phantom penis.
I had almost cried with frustration when John had 'pulled out' of Jane's snatch.
But, remaining faithful to the action on the set, I slowly pulled the melon
slice out of my grasping pussy and, my eyes fixed on John as he went through the
motions of pushing his cock into Jane's mouth, slid the melon spear between my
own lips. I sucked on it vigorously, its juices and mine wetting my tongue and
whetting my appetite, as I flicked my tongue against it. The taste was tangier
than it had been, and of course the fruit wuch warmer than it had been before,
but it was my
favorite part of breakfast, and I gulped it greedily.
My hand, however, had not stopped its action against my cunt,
and took up the slack the melon had left by replacing it with three fingers,
digging deep inside me. I felt my orgasm approaching again, and finally the
pleasure was too much. I closed my eyes, and let the melon slice fall forgotten
from my hand, which I returned eagerly to assist. My resolve to postpone my
orgasm for Brian had completely dissolved, and I knew that there was no
stopping me this time. Jane's theatrical cries and groans were drowned about by
the pounding of my blood in my ears and my own soft cries of pleasure. The
world narrowed
to this moment on this bed and these fingers and this pussy and I was
cumming, oh shit, finally, I was cumming...
Suddenly strong hands were gripping my wrists, and I felt my arms being lifted
up and pinned by my head, and a heavy weight descended onto
cliu. The void left by my flying fingers was almost instantly replaced by
something much larger, much hotter, and infinitely more satisfying as
it plunged hard into me. I screamed, and came instantly, harder than I
ever had in my life, and I came, and came, for what seemed like forever,
the cock in my aching cunt driving into me relentlessly, endlessly. I shuddered
in uncontrollable waves, my body arching up against the form
straining above me.
Just as my climax seemed to subside, the cock in my pussy began slamming into me
with unbelieveable force and speed, and even as my tortured
clit screamed a protest I was cumming again. As another scream built in my
throat, a mouth descended to mine, and my unvoiced scream seemed to crash into a
similar one welling from the body thrashing against me and, like waves,
cancelled each other out, leaving us liplocked in a kiss of mind-shattering
intensity. I felt the rhythmic spasms in my
cunt, and I knew he was cumming too, could feel the heat of the thick jism as it
blasted like a cannon inside me, and the sensory overload of it all spun me away
into a vortex of powerful eroticism. My mind whirled madly, and my last
sensation was that of absolute physical and emotional joy as my world finally
went blank in a dazzling display of light.
When I came to my senses again, I was clutching his shoulders tightly to me, and
my body was shuddering, not with climax but with sobbing, as I cried out,
"Brian, oh Brian, Brian, Brian..." He held me gently,
stroking my damp hair with touching tenderness. Gradually I calmed
down, and I lifted my head to look into his deep hazel eyes, so full of love.
"Hi," he said.
I choked.
He smiled at me, then reached behind him to pluck something off the bed, and
held it for me to see. It was my faithful and much-abused melon slice.
"Is this yours?" he said. And we both laughed.
THE END - Anticipation
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