breasts. They were just the right size. When he’d seen her nipples harden in the car, his cock had stiffened in his jeans. And just thinking about them now had the very same effect. He could feel—and see—his erection pushing up against the zipper and bulging inside the blue denim. He laid his hand lightly on the hot swollen place and with the other hand flipped over a page.
It was a close-up, done in black and white but he could imagine the colors. A man was caught just in the very moment of pushing his cock into a woman’s sex. There were no faces or limbs, just the shot of the nested genitals and his finger touching her a little way above the penetration. The tip of his finger itself was pressed amongst the folds, resting on a tiny budlike structure. The clitoris. That was it! Dio , there was so much to remember… So much that he was sure he must have once known.
The man was in her cunt. His cock was in her cunt. Her pussy. Her sex. And he was touching her clitoris.
Pressing harder on his cock, he imagined that the cunt in the picture was Hettie’s and that it was his finger dabbling in her wetness. Her pussy was pink, beautifully soft and wet, and she felt much better around him than his own hand ever could. Although even that felt pretty good at times.
The temptation to unzip himself now was almost unbearable, but there were people about the house who might come in and catch him exposed. The idea of Hettie seeing his cock made the organ itself throb dangerously. But he certainly didn’t want Starr or Mrs. Phillips to walk in and catch him masturbating. Perhaps he could take the book to his room later? Look at it in a safe place and caress himself in comfort?
The next photograph had some similarities to the previous one. It was a close-up shot of a woman’s sex, but this time there was no cock and no finger. A pointed tongue, either a man or a woman’s, was licking at the swollen glistening flesh.
It was too much. Moaning, Darryl rubbed furiously at his cock through his jeans and imagining the taste of Hettie on his tongue. He couldn’t believe that she wouldn’t be delicious!
And the texture… In his imagination she was soft and yielding. And she cried out as he’d heard her this afternoon. Moisture flowed from her as sensation took her. A sensation that must be huge and sublimely beautiful if it in any way resembled his feelings when he came. If it was anything like the way he felt now, as he orgasmed helplessly and his semen pulsed out into his briefs while he threw his head back and groaned with pleasure.
“Darryl?”
Darryl heard the word quite clearly through the bliss of his climax. It was so distinct that he suddenly realized that it wasn’t actually part of his fantasy. Looking up, blinking, he saw a figure standing near the doorway.
Lady Henrietta Miller, clad in a thin, floating, black silk evening dress. Her eyes were round and bright and a smile played around her soft, red mouth.
It was one of the most beautiful sights she’d ever seen, and even though Darryl was fully and modestly clothed it was supremely and breath-catchingly erotic.
Hettie had seen men touch themselves before. Piers had never been ashamed to masturbate for her, nor she for him, and she adored the sight of Starr casually fondling himself in preparation for a second bout of lovemaking.
But this was different. So pure, so unconscious, so uninhibited. A heavenly tableau… Darryl’s hand was a blur at his crotch, his strong throat was arched and vulnerable and his smooth angelic face distorted as the supreme moment racked his senses. It was everything she might have imagined of him and yet more, despite his lack of nudity.
As the crisis left him, she watched his slim hips drop back into the chair and his face and body relax.
Touché! You’ve watched me and now I’ve watched you. She almost spoke the words aloud, but before she could his eyes flicked open and she found herself smiling.
“I’m sorry. I
It was a close-up, done in black and white but he could imagine the colors. A man was caught just in the very moment of pushing his cock into a woman’s sex. There were no faces or limbs, just the shot of the nested genitals and his finger touching her a little way above the penetration. The tip of his finger itself was pressed amongst the folds, resting on a tiny budlike structure. The clitoris. That was it! Dio , there was so much to remember… So much that he was sure he must have once known.
The man was in her cunt. His cock was in her cunt. Her pussy. Her sex. And he was touching her clitoris.
Pressing harder on his cock, he imagined that the cunt in the picture was Hettie’s and that it was his finger dabbling in her wetness. Her pussy was pink, beautifully soft and wet, and she felt much better around him than his own hand ever could. Although even that felt pretty good at times.
The temptation to unzip himself now was almost unbearable, but there were people about the house who might come in and catch him exposed. The idea of Hettie seeing his cock made the organ itself throb dangerously. But he certainly didn’t want Starr or Mrs. Phillips to walk in and catch him masturbating. Perhaps he could take the book to his room later? Look at it in a safe place and caress himself in comfort?
The next photograph had some similarities to the previous one. It was a close-up shot of a woman’s sex, but this time there was no cock and no finger. A pointed tongue, either a man or a woman’s, was licking at the swollen glistening flesh.
It was too much. Moaning, Darryl rubbed furiously at his cock through his jeans and imagining the taste of Hettie on his tongue. He couldn’t believe that she wouldn’t be delicious!
And the texture… In his imagination she was soft and yielding. And she cried out as he’d heard her this afternoon. Moisture flowed from her as sensation took her. A sensation that must be huge and sublimely beautiful if it in any way resembled his feelings when he came. If it was anything like the way he felt now, as he orgasmed helplessly and his semen pulsed out into his briefs while he threw his head back and groaned with pleasure.
“Darryl?”
Darryl heard the word quite clearly through the bliss of his climax. It was so distinct that he suddenly realized that it wasn’t actually part of his fantasy. Looking up, blinking, he saw a figure standing near the doorway.
Lady Henrietta Miller, clad in a thin, floating, black silk evening dress. Her eyes were round and bright and a smile played around her soft, red mouth.
It was one of the most beautiful sights she’d ever seen, and even though Darryl was fully and modestly clothed it was supremely and breath-catchingly erotic.
Hettie had seen men touch themselves before. Piers had never been ashamed to masturbate for her, nor she for him, and she adored the sight of Starr casually fondling himself in preparation for a second bout of lovemaking.
But this was different. So pure, so unconscious, so uninhibited. A heavenly tableau… Darryl’s hand was a blur at his crotch, his strong throat was arched and vulnerable and his smooth angelic face distorted as the supreme moment racked his senses. It was everything she might have imagined of him and yet more, despite his lack of nudity.
As the crisis left him, she watched his slim hips drop back into the chair and his face and body relax.
Touché! You’ve watched me and now I’ve watched you. She almost spoke the words aloud, but before she could his eyes flicked open and she found herself smiling.
“I’m sorry. I
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