a
bolt of pleasure-pain through me.
“Wicked girl,” he whispers, taking my mouth again before
lowering me slowly to the floor.
I settle on my knees, breasts bared and my dress bunched
around my waist, as he unfastens his jeans and frees his straining cock.
Holding it firmly in one hand, he stares down at me and says, “Suck me.” His
beautiful face lights with a breathtaking smile. “Please.”
I’m distantly aware that more people on the floor below have
noticed us. They continue writhing to the music as they watch the erotic show
we’re providing. A dark, illicit sense of excitement runs through me. Without
hesitation, I lean forward and take his hot, straining crest into my mouth. My
tongue flicks all around him, lingering on the underside, before I draw him
deeper.
Ian groans. He shoves both his hands into my hair, holding
me in place, and thrusts his hips forward slowly and carefully.
“More,” he murmurs.
I willingly oblige. The scent and taste of him fill me. A
heady sense of power courses through my veins. I love doing this to him, love the
effect I have on him, the way he comes undone for me.
But not this time, not yet. Too quickly, he pulls away.
Staring down at me, his gaze bright with love and lust, he yanks off his
T-shirt, then grabs hold of my shoulders and pulls me up.
“Turn around,” he says. “Put your hands on the supports.”
I do so, grasping the smooth metal rods that hold the skyway
suspended from the ceiling of the club.
With my breasts freed and my dress around my waist, I’m
fully exposed to the crowd below. They’re cheering, stomping their feet,
clapping, and--I can’t help noticing--more than a few are fucking right along
with us.
The tiny part of my brain that is still functioning is in
shock. I’ve never thought of sex--tender or rough, fast or slow, fucking or
making love, all of it--as anything other than intimate and private. But this--
This seemingly public display is so wicked, so wild. I can’t
believe it’s happening at the same time that I can’t bear for it to stop.
Ian leans over me, the soft hairs of his chest brushing my
bare back. His voice is a hot, rough rasp. “Don’t let go,” he warns. “This is
going to be intense.”
I’m dripping wet and so hot, my pussy empty and yearning. The
need to be filled by him is all consuming. All my desire and love for my
husband pours from me in a single gasp.
“Please!”
He drives into me with a long, hard thrust, his sack
slapping against my buttocks as he sets a swift, pounding rhythm. Sweat streaks
down his chest onto my back, mingling with my own. The metal rods are slick in my
palms. I cling to them as the frenetic tempo of the music rises to a crescendo.
The feel of his thick, long cock inside me is beyond bliss. Greedily,
I push back against him, drawing him even deeper.
“Oh, fuck!” he groans and grasps my breasts, squeezing,
kneading, tugging at my nipples, stretching them as he is stretching me inside,
demanding that I take all of him. I arch my hips and do so, my eyes closing on
a wave of ecstasy. So deep, so good!
I can feel his heart pounding along with mine. Both of us
are breathing harshly. Reaching between my legs, he rubs my clit as he
continues plunging into me. We move to a primal rhythm, borne along on it as
the rush to orgasm builds remorselessly.
“Come for me, baby,” he demands against my ear. “I want to
feel your hot, soaking pussy clenching all along my cock.”
His salacious words coupled with his blatant possession hurl
me over the edge. The entire skyway feels as though it is shaking, swaying to
the pulsing music and the fury of our passion alike. The orgasm that explodes
in me is, as he promised, intense but the powerful ripples of it have scarcely
begun to ebb before another builds, this one so ferocious that it frightens me.
My eyes fly open. The writhing crowd below is nothing more
than a blur. Blackness threatens at the edges of my vision but between
bolt of pleasure-pain through me.
“Wicked girl,” he whispers, taking my mouth again before
lowering me slowly to the floor.
I settle on my knees, breasts bared and my dress bunched
around my waist, as he unfastens his jeans and frees his straining cock.
Holding it firmly in one hand, he stares down at me and says, “Suck me.” His
beautiful face lights with a breathtaking smile. “Please.”
I’m distantly aware that more people on the floor below have
noticed us. They continue writhing to the music as they watch the erotic show
we’re providing. A dark, illicit sense of excitement runs through me. Without
hesitation, I lean forward and take his hot, straining crest into my mouth. My
tongue flicks all around him, lingering on the underside, before I draw him
deeper.
Ian groans. He shoves both his hands into my hair, holding
me in place, and thrusts his hips forward slowly and carefully.
“More,” he murmurs.
I willingly oblige. The scent and taste of him fill me. A
heady sense of power courses through my veins. I love doing this to him, love the
effect I have on him, the way he comes undone for me.
But not this time, not yet. Too quickly, he pulls away.
Staring down at me, his gaze bright with love and lust, he yanks off his
T-shirt, then grabs hold of my shoulders and pulls me up.
“Turn around,” he says. “Put your hands on the supports.”
I do so, grasping the smooth metal rods that hold the skyway
suspended from the ceiling of the club.
With my breasts freed and my dress around my waist, I’m
fully exposed to the crowd below. They’re cheering, stomping their feet,
clapping, and--I can’t help noticing--more than a few are fucking right along
with us.
The tiny part of my brain that is still functioning is in
shock. I’ve never thought of sex--tender or rough, fast or slow, fucking or
making love, all of it--as anything other than intimate and private. But this--
This seemingly public display is so wicked, so wild. I can’t
believe it’s happening at the same time that I can’t bear for it to stop.
Ian leans over me, the soft hairs of his chest brushing my
bare back. His voice is a hot, rough rasp. “Don’t let go,” he warns. “This is
going to be intense.”
I’m dripping wet and so hot, my pussy empty and yearning. The
need to be filled by him is all consuming. All my desire and love for my
husband pours from me in a single gasp.
“Please!”
He drives into me with a long, hard thrust, his sack
slapping against my buttocks as he sets a swift, pounding rhythm. Sweat streaks
down his chest onto my back, mingling with my own. The metal rods are slick in my
palms. I cling to them as the frenetic tempo of the music rises to a crescendo.
The feel of his thick, long cock inside me is beyond bliss. Greedily,
I push back against him, drawing him even deeper.
“Oh, fuck!” he groans and grasps my breasts, squeezing,
kneading, tugging at my nipples, stretching them as he is stretching me inside,
demanding that I take all of him. I arch my hips and do so, my eyes closing on
a wave of ecstasy. So deep, so good!
I can feel his heart pounding along with mine. Both of us
are breathing harshly. Reaching between my legs, he rubs my clit as he
continues plunging into me. We move to a primal rhythm, borne along on it as
the rush to orgasm builds remorselessly.
“Come for me, baby,” he demands against my ear. “I want to
feel your hot, soaking pussy clenching all along my cock.”
His salacious words coupled with his blatant possession hurl
me over the edge. The entire skyway feels as though it is shaking, swaying to
the pulsing music and the fury of our passion alike. The orgasm that explodes
in me is, as he promised, intense but the powerful ripples of it have scarcely
begun to ebb before another builds, this one so ferocious that it frightens me.
My eyes fly open. The writhing crowd below is nothing more
than a blur. Blackness threatens at the edges of my vision but between
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