Big Book of Smut (12 page)

To avoid cumming, Shane removed his dick from her mouth and pulled Tessa to her feet. He kissed her red lips, and stepped back to remove his clothes. Tessa watched as he revealed his muscular chest to her, anxious to have his flesh against hers. Shane, completely naked, reached out and unbuttoned her blouse. He slipped it off of Tessa and unhooked her bra, sighing as her breasts spilled out. He firmly turned her around and pushed her shoulders, bending her over the table.

Tessa put her hands on the table for support as Shane ran his hands down her back and over her ass. He unzipped her skirt and slowly slid it over her butt cheeks revealing her little black thong and garter. He slid the skirt to her feet and helped her step out of it. He kissed her legs all the way up to her ass; his warm breath sending chills through her body on his way back up. Shane slowly caressed her as she kept her hands on the table ass aimed at his cock. He gave her a little nudge and she lay flat on the table. The cool wood sending goose bumps over her flushed skin.

Shane’s hands slid over the wonderful curve of her ass and he slipped his finger under her thong, pulling at it causing it to rub her swollen clit. She waved her behind in the air and he gave it a little smack. She squealed and he swatted her again, this time a little harder. Her flesh jiggled at the impact and her butt cheek became rosy. Shane rubbed it with his palm then without notice smacked it again. Tessa cooed and wiggled. “Again.” She said in a raspy voice. Shane ran his hand around her ass and up her back then back to her butt and whack! He bent over and kissed the handprint he had left on her bottom and then ripped the small piece of material that was her thong. Tessa jumped a little when she heard the material rip but didn’t stand up. She stayed bent over the dining table and waited for what would happen next.

Shane couldn’t believe what was happening. You read about this stuff in adult magazines but you don’t ever think it will actually happen to you and here a gorgeous customer was waving her bare rear end, tauntingly at him asking to be spanked.

He smacked Tessa’s heart shaped ass again then ran his hand over her cheeks squeezing them and then sliding a hand between her legs. Her pussy was beyond wet, it ran down her thighs as he spread her juices around her cunt and up to her ass crack. He tickled her little asshole with a moistened thumb as he looked her over, messy hair, flushed face, tiny waist and that luscious ass.

Shane ran his cock between her legs to get it wet then slid the tip in her dripping hole while holding her ass firmly so she couldn’t take more of him inside her than he allowed. He teased her pulsating pussy with the tip of his cock. The heat of her juices drove him wild and he needed to have more. He held her waist firmly and gradually slid his cock into her. He moaned and held her tight, taking in all the velvety smoothness of her cunt’s walls. It was just as hot as he had imagined.

Tessa thought she would pass out as Shane’s cock slid into her. The pleasure was beyond anything she had felt before. Her legs were weak with pleasure and she was thankful to have the table there supporting her. “Fuck me.” she chanted, “Fuck me.” Tessa groaned as Shane’s thick cock glided rapidly in and out, his balls tapping her clit with each stroke, little sparks of pleasure with each thrust coursed through her body. Her skin felt alive, every inch of her in sensory overload as Shane pounded away at her pussy when suddenly he stopped and pulled out.

Tessa heard the crumple of plastic and then felt the shock of something cold dripping on her hot flesh. She squealed and shivers ran over her as Shane held a bag of frozen blueberries over her behind and watched as the condensation dripped on her ass and ran down her cheeks.

He spun Tessa around and lifted her to the table. She lay back and he was inside her once again. He held the bag in both hands making them cold, teasingly dripping the cold water on her stomach and chest. She writhed as the cool droplets hit and then ran down her curves.

With chilled hands he grasped handfuls of her breasts firmly in both hands and rammed her pussy. She shuddered and lifted her legs, resting them on his shoulders. Her hands on his forearms, Tessa clung to him as he grunted and slammed into her over and over. Her pussy clenched around his cock, getting tighter as the waves of pleasure swept over her.

Shane growled watching Tessa’s breasts bounce like a jelly mold as he pounded into her. He came hard as Tessa’s pussy contractions milked the cum out of his cock. She let out a high pitched squeal as her orgasm took control of her. She felt his load deep inside of her sensitive pussy. Shane rammed her one more time and then collapsed on her sweaty breasts. She sighed as she came down from the best fuck she had in ages, holding her delivery man to her bosom as his dick twitched inside her.

With what little breath she had left Tessa whispered in Shane’s ear, “See you in two weeks.”

About the Author

Saffron Sands has finally found her place in the world and it is on her back...or is that on her knees?
She likes
red wine
with ice-cubes, pirates and hot sex. In her spare time, she reads and writes of sensual adventures both real and imagined.
Saffron Sands....pleasuring the world one story at a time.

Saffron Sands can be contacted on Twitter
@saffron_sands

By email~ [email protected]

Or by visiting her blog
http://saffronsands.wordpress.com/

The ease with which Jacqueline Manceaux breezed through life provided a perpetual source of annoyance for Denise. She shone like the sun, even in her darkest hours, and to be fair, she had more than her fair share of them. Denise strove not to take any sort of snide comfort in the misfortune that often befell Jacquí, as she was affectionately called by the hordes of her closest friends.

In contrast, Denise felt like an ogre in Jacquí's company. On those rare days when she felt well above average on the attractiveness scale, Jacquí would arrive at the office in a sleek and stylish new designer suit and steal what little attention Denise hoped to garner. The leggy blonde epitomized sexy and had enough smarts not to need good looks to succeed in the business world. To add insult to injury, she had the nerve to be one of the nicest people Denise had ever met. No one, not even Mother Teresa, deserved to be that close to perfection.

Jacquí strolled past her office carrying her typical bagel and coffee. She lifted the foam cup in a
g'morning
salutation and gave a megawatt smile that might as well have been nails on a chalkboard for its impact on Denise's mood. Even at eight forty-five on a Monday, the woman looked like a taller version of Heather Locklear in a power suit. Prettier, too, with all the beauty and none of the harder edges. The glass walls allowed Denise to follow her progress down the hall.

Denise hated the fact that she spent so much time trying to find fault with Mademoiselle Manceaux, some chink in the "charmor" that would enable her to legitimately despise the bitch. Maybe she abused small animals or kicked homeless people as they slept on the street. One could only hope. Shaking herself from the vortex of her thoughts, Denise returned her attention to the day's schedule.

Few people wanted to look at real estate during the morning hours on weekdays, so Denise used the time at her desk to return phone calls, schedule building inspections, challenge property tax assessments, and scour the newspapers online for
For Sale By Owner
ads. Her commissions didn't suck, but they could be better. Denise longed to have the finesse other agents used to reel in the reluctant do-it-yourselfers. Jacquí, unsurprisingly, led the firm in signing FSBOs. She also bagged more than a fair share of the sweet multi-million dollar estate listings.

The busywork made the morning pass quickly, and Denise's stomach reminded her that she'd skipped breakfast. She tidied her desk, signed off her computer, and retrieved her purse from the bottom desk drawer, intending to grab a soup-and-salad special in the building's basement cafeteria.

"You look nice today," a dulcet voice called from the doorway accompanied by a light one-knuckle knock. Even Jacquí's vocal cords evoked envy. When Denise looked up, she continued, "Well, you always look
nice
, but I especially like you in green. Brings out your eyes. Um, sorry to interrupt, but can I talk to you for a minute? It won't take long."

In spite of herself, Denise beamed. To be first complimented, then wanted—for whatever reason—by this ultra-smooth, ultra-savvy woman made her ego momentarily swell with pride. It didn't take long, however, for the inner cynic to squelch that elation.

"I'm on my way to lunch." She enjoyed the flash of disappointment on Jacquí's face. Unable to maintain the brusque dismissal, Denise capitulated, "But you're welcome to join me. I'm just going downstairs for a quickie. I have to show an apartment at one on the other side of the city."

Jacquí grinned. "Let me grab my purse. Be right back." With that, she scurried down the hall as fast as her butter-cream Prada pumps would carry her. Denise forced herself not to admire the retreat.

Before she could count to twenty, Jacquí returned with her matching butter-cream Prada handbag. Denise tucked her Coach knock-off under her arm. She felt good about the purchase when she impulsively dropped forty dollars on it last weekend. Now she just felt like as much of an imposter as her bag. Without matching faux-Coach shoes, she even failed as a competent fraud. The urge to compete was strong, but Denise knew that she could spend every spare moment at the gym and every spare dollar on clothes and still not even come close to stealing Jacquí's thunder.

To deflect attention from her perceived physical flaws, Denise strove to make herself indispensable in every other endeavor. That urge to overcompensate made her angry. Her envy angered her further. It wasn't as if Denise lacked either beauty or brains. She knew she could hold her own in most circles, even around much younger women, but Jacquí made her feel like a mutt.

They shared idle chit-chat in the elevator and as they wove through the lunch line. More than once, Denise wondered what was up. Jacquí declined several invitations to join other groups, opting instead for a small two-person table against the far wall. Once seated, she decided to cut to the chase, as Jacquí seemed reluctant.

"So, what did you want me for?" she asked, mentally kicking herself for phrasing the question in that way.

Jacquí raised a perfectly-plucked eyebrow but didn't otherwise react to the unintentional innuendo. "You know I just moved into a new place, right? The Garden Towers on sixty-fifth?" She paused to allow Denise time to nod in recognition of the exclusive luxury condos. "Well, I'm having a little dinner slash housewarming party on Friday night—just a dozen or so friends. Nothing fancy or anything, just come-as-you-are. And, well, I was hoping you'd come… as you are, of course. Do you have other plans?"

Denise attempted to decide if microwave popcorn and a stack of rented DVDs qualified as
other plans
and concluded that, yes, it did. She must've hesitated a bit longer than she realized, though, because Jacquí spoke before she was able to formulate a plausible excuse for declining the invitation.

"Did I do something to offend or upset you? I get the feeling that you don't…" Jacquí paused, apparently struggling to form the words for such a foreign concept, "…like me."

"No, Jacquí, you haven't done anything to offend me."
Other than exist
, she wanted to snarl.
Other than to grate on my every nerve with your face and your body and your hair and your clothes and your success and your sparkling fucking personality.
Green, Denise decided, was not her color in spite of Jacquí's earlier compliment.

"Then you'll come?"

It was Denise's turn to raise an eyebrow, and she gave Jacquí an "A" for
Aplomb
in the face of it. Such composure should be rewarded, even if grudgingly. "Sure. I'll stop by. Can I bring anything?"

"Do you have any of that wine left from the vineyard property you sold last month? I heard through the… um,
grapevine
," she chuckled at her little play on words, "that the sellers gave you a case as a bonus. If you have any left, I'd really like to try it."

Denise agreed and, with that business settled, they finished their lunches over light office gossip and speculation regarding the outcome of the softball tournament between the area's competing real estate agencies.

* * *

As the week progressed, Denise hoped that Jacquí would just forget about having invited her to the
dinner slash housewarming party
. Making small talk with a bunch of strangers just wasn't Denise's idea of a good time, and Jacquí's friends were likely to be a gaggle of Manceaux wannabes. After all, what woman in her right mind didn't want a killer body, successful career, seemingly effortless beauty, style, social grace, wit, and brains? The woman was the epitome of femininity.