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Tempest Slacker was sleek. Her genes had clearly spent centuries traversing the four corners of the globe.

Vaulted Cheryl

As I slowly unbuttoned her blouse I was wondering where her brassiere went. The blouse was a sheer plain white button down. With Cheryl’s endowments, ornamentation, and pigmentation placement I can’t imagine that I was so busy to have not paused a moment to breathe in that view as we transacted commerce during business hours. With a translucent covering such as this, I know I would have spotted her brown nipples clearly through the fabric. Certainly the steely piercings would have shown.  While those twin beauties were restrained earlier, they were surely apparent and  attention grabbing now.

 

She undid the button on her jeans and slowly relieved the zipper of its burden. She then pivoted, bent over, and steadied herself on a stack of ten can film element cartons. Her fingertips just holding on to the box edges as she bent over offering her blue jeaned behind with arched feline back swaying action. I rolled  her jeans and panties over, down, and revealed her firm curvy behind.  Cheryl’s thighs were together to assist the jeans descent of her legs. Even so the gap between held her shimmering dewy jewel already wet and aquiver.  The time I spent freeing her jeans from her high heels was rewarded with Cheryl spreading her legs wide. As I rose to meet my just desserts my nose initially cleaved while my tongue followed into that tasty glittering Gulch meeting Cheryl’s shimmering clitorous halfway as she rose on high heeled toes to welcome my tongues agile attack.

 

She flayed her arms clearing a space which she quickly filled on her back and spread her long legs above the looming  boxes of film. The sound of clattering film cans on the cement floor, hopefully full of positive production elements rather that O.C.N. crashed about almost as noisily as her grunts and prurient demands. I looked down to survey her full five foot ten inch frame. Her nipple piercing shimmered back at me offset atop large rich brown perfect circle nipples erect and ready for the moment. My previous feast slayed and ripe for the plucking.

 

I mounted her there atop the brown cardboard boxes. Our lips met. Her bare breasts met my hairy chest through my parted shirt which I had unbuttoned for just this purpose. Each thrust into her pushed deeper into  the box below until it caved and her wanton hot behind found cold metal film can below.

 

So while her can may have been meeting cold metal all I felt was her nails raking across my back, my cock sinking in her deep warm wet writhing satin pillow with each thrust, and the knowledge that I would never look at this film vault in the same way again.

 

Our first Christmas together. I wanted everything perfect. Parents gone for a tropical Christmas cruise. But not before we all put up the family Christmas tree in our front room. I’m home from University on winter break so we spent the last night before their departure trimming the tree with all my favorite ornaments and bubble lights.

Pass Around Joy – 1 Packed and Stacked

1pajpacked-and-stacked Joy was all frizzy hair, glasses, boobs, and feminine curves everywhere else. Not stacked high, but packed and stacked to perfection.

Finally

Finally Cynthiafinally_cynthia_cover_for_kindle

When it rains Cindys, it pours Sindys. But there is only one Cynthia

Faces

Gina’s frizzy black hair a diaphonique veil when she took her turn working mercilessly down me until I felt the back of her throat while Brittany looked on.

Fragrant Furrows

My balls brushed Gina’s small firm breasts as I knelt before Brittany and slowly eased her little black dress over her red banged hair which framed her beatific face.

High-Rise Notebook

Judy looked magnificent in the early morning light. The sun rising over Lake Michigan gave her light blonde hair a halo glow and gossamer shimmer.

Whenever This Room Was…

I had forgotten how swiftly my body reacted back in those heady frisky days. Overpowered by my twenty four year old hormones which were fermenting nicely with her twenty year old vintage. 

 

Bingo!

But this was no time to call out heedlessly. After all I had been here before. But it felt so perfect. The way I was sliding.

Mags Hayward

Author of contemporary erotic romance

Written by Jenny

@writtenbyjenny

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