Persuasive Approval free porn video

“Persuasive Approval” (circa-1971)

Meeting Beverley Jackson for the first time after their impulsive moment of intimacy when Charles and George left them alone in the hotel to visit the landlord of the Red Bull was always going to be a little uncomfortable.

He stepped out of the car and walked into the hotel reception.

Other than muffled voices coming from the television he was surprised to find the place deserted. His accommodation was always booked in advance so he knew Charles and Beverly would be expecting him.

A cigarette and a comforting stool at the end of the bar eased the anxiety and give him a moment to reflect on the events over the week-end.

He was still angry with Karen Ashton and his friend Jeff Calder for their irresponsible behaviour, which led to him and Jeff spending Saturday night in Gateshead police station.

After staggering out of the Cavendish Club, Karen shamelessly announced that she was up for a threesome.

It must have been two in the morning when he pulled the car into a quiet country lane.

The heated copulation quickly gathered speed, clothes abandoned on the floor, a tangle of impatient hands fondling and groping in the back seat of the car, Karen giving him a blowjob while Jeff fucked her from the back. The night promised hours of steamy entertainment until Karen said she desperately needed to pee. After gathering her clothes from the floor she left the car and headed for the privacy of the bushes.

In the crippling silence they waited for almost fifteen minutes, brushing condensation from the windows and staring into the darkness, watching and waiting….. No sign of Karen.

One foot inside the car and the other foot on the ground, his eagerness to search for Karen interrupted by the glare of a torch shining in his face and an unexpected voice laden with mocking amusement forcing him back into the car.

“Well-Well-Well and what have we got here?” the policeman chuckled, the shadowy silhouette of another uniform peering inside the car. “They look like a couple of nice boys. It’s not something you see every day. Two naked men in the back seat of a car in a quiet country lane,” he sniggered, lighting a cigarette and making an unnecessary comment about needing a puff.

The echoes of mocking innuendo threw them into chaotic retreat. They fumbled nervously in the back of the car searching the floor for randomly discarded clothes, bumping heads in the claustrophobic darkness, cursing and swearing and occasionally swapping garments, words stumbling between stammers, trying to proclaim their innocence, searching for mitigating words in their defence, muttering words like homophobic, straight men and this will all be revealed when Karen gets back to the car.

But Karen had spotted the two police officers questioning her two companions and she had no intention of having a confrontation with the law.

When one of the policemen made a sarcastic comment about Jeff’s sexuality he knew they were in trouble. Jeff completely lost control, hitting back with an outburst of verbal abuse. “Up yours arsehole,” he barked, sending another message with a couple of fingers.

As the voice of a police controller crackled through the radio in Echoes, Bravo’s and Foxtrot’s they were hastily bundled into the back seat of the police car.

The haunting images of a courtroom suddenly fed his panic.

The Trial... The Judge passing sentence... The newspapers…

The sound of creaking hinges and a door opening behind the bar interrupted his thoughts.

Beverley Jackson emerged from the dark abyss of the cellar, struggling with a heavy crate of alcohol above her head.

Crushing his cigarette into an ashtray and leaping from the bar stool he rushed to her assistance, taking the box with one hand and helping her up with the other.

A moment of agonising silence hung over them in a veil of unspoken emotions, two people shuffling uncomfortably from one foot to the other, nothing more than a brief exchange of nervous glances and forced smiles between them, both searching for something appropriate to say, both trying to figure out how to greet each other.

After a little light-hearted small talk, mostly to release the tension and to remove the uneasiness of the situation, they sat on one of the sofas near the fireplace drinking coffee.

Beverley informed him that Charles had flown to southern Spain for a few days to play golf. He breathed a sigh of relief into his cup and offered her a cigarette. After a long pause he asked her if she would like to have dinner with him tonight.

A reassuring smile lifting the corners of her mouth gave him the answer.

They sipped coffee between fleeting glances and anxious smiles, watching the flames from the log fire disappearing up the chimney, the mood and the conversation eventually settling into compliments and words of endearment.

He told her that ever since their night of passion he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He said he went to sleep thinking about her and he woke up thinking about her.

She shrugged her shoulders, forced a laugh and obliged him with a bashful smile.

As they parted he wasn’t sure whether they had instinctively kissed or if it was just an accidental meeting of faces. Nevertheless they were both feeling more relaxed and continued to go about their day.

It was just after seven when he greeted Beverley in the hotel reception.

Sweeping gracefully across the floor on towering heels, her blue eyes sparkling with erotic enchantment, her smile, as always mysterious and intoxicating , a red satin dress clinging to every curve like a second skin, the front cut low exposing shapely breasts and a deep cleavage, swaying her hips and bottom in a tantalising way that seems to come naturally to a beautiful woman wearing heels.

The thought of ripping her dress off, throwing her onto the floor and fucking her until she couldn’t breathe was almost overwhelming.

“You look beautiful,” was all he said.

Bruno Dante greeted his two guests in the entrance foyer of the Bella Roma restaurant.

“Mrs Jackson, how beautiful you look tonight,” he smiled through a well-rehearsed bow, kissing her on both cheeks, his persuasive Italian culture always gaining her approval.

“Bella Donna… Bella Donna,” Bruno chimed, his voice taking on a sing-song melodic tone, casting a suspicious eye at her friend.

The hesitancy to enter into any pleasantries or formal introductions was somewhat expected, although the disapproving look on Bruno’s face when he guided them to their table made him feel like he was being marched to the gallows.

All conversations with the other diners fell silent when the lady in red glided across the floor swaying her Marilyn Monroe curves to perfection. Bodies shuffled in seats, heads turning in all directions, admiring the vision of beauty with natural grace, some of the women exchanging looks of despair, some men revealing a hint of jealously.

They sipped their wine over a brief exchange of light-hearted humour and meaningless trivia, the speculative type of information that always seems to interest us as human beings, the conversation inevitably turning to questions and answers.

He was giving Beverley a brief synopsis of his remit with his employer over the next three years and a little bit about his upbringing living in the North East when a waitress delivering food and bottle of wine to their table interrupted the conversation.

After filling their glasses Beverley lit a cigarette and spoke about her life with Charles.

“We’ve been together for almost ten years,” she sighed, blowing smoke above her head.

“We first met when I was on holiday in Majorca. Charles was there playing golf with some friends. He bought me a drink at the hotel bar and asked me to dance. He was charming and a perfect gentleman. Later that evening he asked me to have dinner with him the following day,” she sighed, her eyes unable to hide the look of disappointment.

“The rest is history,” she smiled, stubbing her cigarette into an ashtray.

Echoes of guilt and betrayal rattled around inside his head, searching his subconscious for words that might help to ease her anxiety and absolve him of any misbehaviour.

After a moment of deliberation he choked back a lump in his throat and forced a smile.

“I do value our friendship, Beverley and I don’t want to risk losing it,” he sighed, lighting a cigarette and blowing a stream of white smoke across the table, searching her eyes, a confession forcing its way between tight lips. “If Charles knew what my intentions were I’m sure he would despise me. Or even worse....He might want to kill me.”

She sighed into her glass and lowered her voice to a surreptitious whisper.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she volunteered, glancing over her shoulder, staring at faceless people with furtive hesitation.

“About five years ago Charles was diagnosed with diabetes and is now dependant on insulin. There can sometimes be serious side effects from the medication doctors prescribe to balance the body’s sugar levels,” she confirmed, with a tone of authority, draining the wine in her glass. “Unfortunately, for some men, one of the symptoms associated with this type of illness can lead to erectile dysfunction.”

She pursed her bottom lip and sighed into her empty glass. “He’s impotent.”

After a long agonising pause she smiled and added. “We haven’t had sexual intercourse for almost four years,” she confessed, pouring wine into glasses and lighting a cigarette, shuffling uncomfortably in the chair, letting her head fall back and blowing plumes of smoke above her head.

“I should also tell you that for most of our time together Charles was only interested in sex when he had too much to drink, and even then his mind was willing but his equipment needed help,” she declared, the white smoke coiling around her face.

“His interest in sex declined long before his medical problems,” she sighed, searching inside her bag for a paper tissue, forcing a smile and brushing a tear from the corner of her eye.

“For a long time I’ve shared a bed with a deficient lifeless man. Most nights I just lie in bed imagining what it would be like to have a physical sexual partner. I’m still young. I have needs,” she sighed.

“This conversation doesn’t make me feel any better,” he snapped, pausing long enough for Beverley to interrupt his thoughts.

“Charles understands that everyone has needs,” she said reassuringly, her voice trailing off as she sipped her drink and gathered her thoughts. “So I asked him if I could sleep with you,” she said, shamelessly and rather matter-of-fact, the boldness of her statement forcing him to gasp into his drink.

“You asked him…What!?” he barked, picking up a serviette and wiping dribbles of wine from his chin, lowering his voice to a whisper when he realised his outburst was attracting the attention of other diners.

She paused long enough to give him time to compose himself.

“After a long conversation on the matter Charles said that I could sleep with you. He even gave us his blessing. And he told me that he also values your friendship,” she said, with casual ease, raising her glass as if proposing a toast.

“You asked him if you could sleep with me?” he repeated, warning bells ringing loudly in his head, his stomach churning, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him alive.

It had started to rain when the taxi dropped them back at the Royal Belvedere Arms Hotel.

To avoid suspicious eyes and gossiping tongues and to give Beverley enough time to let the staff go home and lock the premises, he made a hasty detour to his room.

After waiting anxiously in his room for twenty minutes he returned to the bar.

The room was dark and quiet and there was no sign of Beverley, although the two glasses of wine on the bar with a smearing of red lipstick on one of the glasses, suggested she wasn’t too far away.

Sitting on a bar stool smoking a cigarette and sipping his wine, humming to the soft soothing voice of Roberta Flack singing “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face,” glancing at the clock on the white painted wall, watching the hands approaching midnight, a reflection in the mirror behind the bar and a shadowy figure at the top of the stairs interrupting the song playing inside his head.

Spinning around on the stool, his eyes wide open, his jaw hanging slack, a vision of beauty posing in a full length mink coat, flashing her eyes and gazing down from the top of the stairs, a mischievous smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

Like unveiling a statue she opened the coat, brushing it casually from her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, both hands resting on her hips and endless legs growing from a pair of towering heels, swivelling and turning, flaunting he body like a well-practiced model revealing all her naked beauty.

Coughing into his drink and almost falling from the stool, his eyes opening like saucers, his heart beat increasing by the second, a familiar stirring inside his pants, staring at the vision of beauty floating on air down the stairs, her long legs balanced precariously on lethal heels, her soft blonde hair falling seductively over her shoulders, her shapely breasts bouncing in a slow rhythm, rising and falling naturally with each intake of breath, the impossible curves and contours of splendour masked in a captivating silhouette, glistening against the low lighting of the room, revealing nothing less than perfection.

Faces touched, lips met and mouths crashed together in a smouldering kiss, her warm breasts flattening against his chest, inquisitive tongues invading mouths, searching and duelling, twirling and dancing over teeth, two hearts beating as one, two bodies converging in a physical exchange of passion.

The embrace, the closeness, lust and urgency fuelling the fire of pursuit and expectation, inhibitions melting away, the need, the desire, the acquaintance of touch washing away guilt, his earlier declaration about valued friendship evaporating in the heat of passion, lips parting, breaking from the sanctuary of the kiss, stealing warm breath from each other’s mouths, breathing in the intimacy, the promise of engagement, breathing in the scent of arousal, the aroma of excitement, the smell of sex.

Fingers gliding with sensuous meaning, embarking on a journey of sexual discovery, tracing her ears, her nose and her face, sweeping over her back and down her waist, dancing lightly over soft sensitive skin, exploring every smooth texture and feminine curves, fondling and squeezing her breasts, nipping and pulling each nipple, squeezing her bottom and parting the soft globes, a probing finger gently teasing the anal opening, the unexpected intrusion forcing a gasp and soft whimpered cry, the threatening lump growing inside his pants bringing a smile to her lips.

“It feels like someone is ready to get down to business,” she smiled, arousal flirting with curiosity, lowering her hand and squeezing the impressive goods.

“Let me help you with that,” she offered, in a low sultry voice, impatient fingers opening the buttons on his shirt, unbuckling his belt and pulling down the zip on his trousers, slipping her fingers into the waist and pulling his pants and briefs over his thighs, pausing to admire the magnificent standing object peeking through his shirt.

A body swimming in a sea of testosterone and hormonal chaos, a heart banging inside his chest, a surge of blood rushing into genitalia, impatient gestures responding to impulsive urges, removing his shirt and kicking his shoes across the floor, almost losing his balance as he stepped out of his trousers.

A brief exchange of lips, gentleness courting affection, lifting her in his arms as if she was no heavier than a child, walking into the open lounge area and laying her down on one of the rugs in front of the open fire, pausing briefly to gaze at the vision of wonder before him, a welcoming smile playing upon her lips, an aching vulva open and inviting, the warm liquid heat manifesting between her legs indicating her readiness and her willingness to submit to a commitment of coital interaction.

Urgency responding to expectation, dropping to his knees in an intimate union of sixty-nine, his buttocks hovering above her face, his oval testicles swinging precariously in a tender sack, dangling like two hairy plums, occasionally brushing her chin and nose, slipping his hands between her warm thighs, parting her legs and opening her body, his talented tongue embarking on a thrilling journey over her navel and pubic bone, tracing a moist path over the soft skin of her inner thighs, his mouth following the warm wet trail of saliva, his lips peppering soft kisses along her thighs, his tongue leaving a trail of fire over her burning skin.

Pulling the cheeks of his bottom apart and running a finger along the perineum, pulling the dark pubic hair inside the crack of his buttocks and probing his anus, moving away from the anal enquiry, gripping the fleshy limb in her hand, working him hard, back and forth, pulling the tight foreskin over the bulbous head, stretching it down the swollen shaft, sweeping her tongue over the hairy scrotum and cradling his balls in her hand, giving each one a gentle squeeze before taking them into her mouth, swirling the hairy spheres over her playful tongue, nipping the rough skin gently between her teeth, letting them slip from her mouth to the sanctuary of the scrotum, traces of lipstick coating the rugged skin.

The warmth of his mouth, the acquaintance of touch and the electric sensation of his velvety tongue travelling south and bathing her naval inviting pleasurable moans and a simulation of persuasive movements, his nimble fingers moving in a timeless dance, following the moist trail of his mouth, his lips feathering traces of fire over her soft thighs, pressing his chin against the pubic bone, increasing the pressure, letting her feel the heat of his breath, a well-practiced tongue gifted in the art of cunnilingus searching through the pubic jungle, feeling the fine silky hairs slipping between his lips, vaginal fluids mixing with oral secretions, the musky odours of sex teasing his nostrils, his warm wet tongue moving with heightened intensity, licking and tasting, feasting on the soft petals, lavishly licking the delicate tissue around the urethra, twirling in sensuous circles over the moist wings and petals, coaxing the clitoris pearl hidden beneath the sanctuary of its protective hood.

The sensation of touch, a wanting woman aching with desire, impulsive urges stimulating senses, warm fluids seeping from a burning vulva, long wheezing gasps and deep shallow moans turning into urgent cries, a moment of impulsive euphoria gathering behind clenched teeth, tight lips blowing a breathless whisper of encouragement.

A pelvic movement, an urgent gesture of intimacy inviting a gentle rhythm of involuntary thrusts, lifting her bottom slightly from the floor, his skilful fingers parting the outer lips of her labia, opening her body and sliding two fingers between the slippery folds of flesh, entering and penetrating her inner depths, sliding in and slipping out, hard and fast, opening and closing, curling and dragging his fingers against the inner walls, twisting and turning, stretching her inner core, going in pursuit of the g-spot.

“Oh Yes...Oh fucking yes,” she urged. “Don’t stop,” she begged. “More. More fingers,” she pleaded. “Oh! Yes... that feels so fucking good,” she cursed, thrashing her head from side to side, the promise of euphoric release running up and down her spine. 

The waves of passion consumed her body in repeating tremors, explosive emotions flooding through her body in a powerful surge of blissful contractions, pelvic muscles tightening and legs stiffening, grabbing his buttocks with both hands and digging her fingernails into the soft flesh, lifting her hips and pushing her vulva hard against his face, letting him smell the heat of passion, letting him taste the fluids of arousal, breathing in the aroma of sex, grunts clinging to muted cries, rapture and euphoria claiming her body, moans and groans joining whispers of endearment, calming words turning into filthy obscenities.

“I’m coming. Fuck!" she screamed. “Oh my God!” she cursed. “Oh please God!" she shouted. “Faster. Harder!” she screamed. “I’m fucking coming,” she hissed. “I’m… Ahhh.... Ohhh.... Oh, yes. Oh, fuck. Oh, my God... Fuck me... Ahhhhhhhhhh.”

The intensity of the most monumental release flooded her body in an ocean of ecstasy, spasm after spasm flowing through her body in a torrent of convulsing tremors, fluids of passion coating his mouth and teasing his nostrils, words gathering behind tight lips, moans and groans stumbling over curses, screams muted through clenched teeth, incoherent words escaping from an abandoned mouth, a body undulating in the aftershocks of a frenzied orgasm, breasts rising and falling and lungs burning for oxygen, sucking in precious air in short panting gasps, trying to calm from the storm, waiting for the tremors to subside, a body surrendering into silence.

A contented smile, a deep sigh and breathless mutterings, brushing away a few strands of hair hanging over her face, gestures and persuasive hand movements was all she could manage until her breathing had calmed enough and she could operate her mouth.

“Wow!" she managed to utter. “I’m absolutely drained. I want to stand up but my legs are trembling so much I don’t think they are capable of supporting my body.”

He lifted her from the floor and put her down on one of the sofas in front of the fire, the flames casting shadows of the phallic object against the wall.

“I’ll have to do something about satisfying that beautiful specimen,” she said, in a breathless whisper. “But if you’re going to fuck me you’re going to have to carry me up the stairs,” she smiled, offering her hand.

There must be more than sixteen stairs. Fucking old buildings, he thought, thankful that he still had the strength in his legs to carry her up the creaking stairs.

He was heading to his bedroom when she pointed a finger in the opposite direction.

“A double bed will be more fun," she smiled, flashing her eyes with wicked intent, a shiver of excitement running up her spine as he eased her to the floor, a playful hand grabbing his swollen appendage, skipping along the corridor, swaying her hips and wriggling her bottom with alluring fascination, a smile and a curling finger beckoning him into the room.

The bedroom was spacious boasting a huge four-poster bed and an en-suite bathroom in the corner of the room. A table lamp next to the bed threw soft light and shadows across the room and a row of mirrored wardrobes opposite the bed offered endless opportunities for furtive observation.

Heart beats raced and pulses throbbed, urgency stimulating arousal, expectation fuelling the fire of passion, eyes met and lips touched, two hungry mouths crashing together in a pulsating kiss, eager tongues invading mouths, duelling in a battle, dancing to a salsa, twirling and wrestling, a mutual exchange of breathless whispers laden with sexual desire, lust overflowing with passion, urgent gestures responding to touch, a tangle of hands moving to persuasive instincts, sweeping over familiar curves, touching and feeling, probing and searching, arms wrapping around each other, two lovers embracing in a courtship of intimacy, two impatient bodies suffocating in the heat of passion.

Falling on the bed, the mattress creaking under their weight, cradling her weighty breasts in both hands, feeling the soft flesh between his fingers, nipping and rolling her nipples between his finger and thumb, pulses increasing by the second, her shapely breasts rising and falling in rhythm with a racing heartbeat , arching her back slightly from the bed, lost in the erotic sensation, whispers of encouragement willing him to take her body , a compelling urge for oral stimulation, pleading for his hungry mouth to feast on her tits.

Planting lingering kisses across her chest, an inquisitive hand moving with meaningful pursuit over her stomach, pushing her hot tits up to his waiting mouth, tasting the sweetness and the warmth of her skin, sweeping and wriggling his tongue in an intoxicating dance, sucking one nipple and then the other, gripping one in gentle capture between his teeth, her fingers pulling recklessly at his hair, her voice fading into pleading whispers of urgency, her invitation to suck them hard hissed through clenched teeth.

The unexpected ringing of the telephone interrupted their moment of passion.

A blanket of silence suddenly descended on the room.

“I have to get that,” she sighed, lifting her shoulders and frowning in resignation, the bedspring squeaking in quiet protest as she lifted from the bed, a familiar wetness pooling between her legs forcing another sigh and a hesitant pause before picking up the phone.

“Hello,” she whispered into the mouthpiece...”Oh hi,” she answered, pointing a finger at the phone, pursing her lips and silently mouthing ‘Charles.’ “Are you having a good time? What’s the weather like in Spain?” She asked, her words full of pretence, a playful smile pulling at her lips, flashing her eyes with hungry pursuit, her demeanour embarking on a precarious undertaking, walking slowly towards the bed, the telephone cord coiling in her wake, a warm hand reaching down and gripping his meaty length, working his cock up and down with shameless amusement.

”No… I’m just about to go to bed,” she said truthfully...”Yes we had dinner at the Bella Roma. Bruno sends his best wishes,” she added...“No. I’m alone in my bedroom,” she lied...”No, he didn’t... No, we haven’t... He has a meeting first thing in the morning so he decided to have an early night,” she lied again...”Okay, enjoy the golf. I’ll see you in a few days,” she said, dropping the telephone into the cradle, a deep sigh of relief bringing a wide smile to her mouth and a renewed vigour in her step, falling on the bed in a playful giggle, her dignity lost in the increasing pulse between her thighs, parting her legs and opening her body, giving him an inviting view of the precious delights awaiting him.

Ignoring the brief interruption his warm tongue embarking on a journey of irresistible need, marking a warm wet path over the smooth soft skin of her stomach, caressing the toned sculptured curves of her waist, pausing to slide the tip of his tongue into her naval, bathing the curves and textures of smooth skin, sweeping a moist trail along the edge of pubic hair, peppering soft kisses between her inner thighs, dancing in slow figure of eight circles over soft receptive erogenous zones, blowing and licking, nibbling the sensitive frills, teasing the moist flaps of her burning vulva.

"Oh yes...Oh, fucking yes,” she cursed. “Oh, please don't stop," she begged, sweeping her fingers through his hair, keeping his head pressed against her warm wet entrance, his nimble fingers gliding in a sensuous and seductive tempo over the swollen clitoris before slipping inside the warm wet depths of her sheath, opening her centre and probing her inner sanctum, her body responding to the stimulation, arching her back and moving her hips in gentle thrusts, meeting the force, slippery fingers moving in and out of her body, opening her legs wide and drawing them in deeper, a moist opening aching for penetration, fluids of passion flowing from her glistening pocket, breathing in the musky aromas of passion, the odours of mature sex.

Words whispered in panting gasps and deep intakes of breath, her fingers grabbing the bed sheet, the warmth of his mouth and the tip of his tongue brushing against the urethra, sweeping over the sensitive hood and teasing the clitoris, thrusting her hips to meet his mouth, waves of lust washing over her, a compelling urge to taste his cock, high-pitched moans and suffocating groans, pants and wheezes stealing the breath from her lungs, arousal forcing curses between tight lips, propelling her senses into overload.

Eager, hot and hungry, a body driven by responsive need, expectation stimulating lust and passion, shifting her weight on the bed, lifting and straddling over his body in an intimate alignment of north and south, balanced on both knees, her bottom perched above his face, vagina and anus open and inviting, her warm wet mouth travelling in a downward path, her pendulous breasts swinging and bouncing, sweeping over his chest, letting him feel the welcoming softness, the weight and the warmth of her tits, the stimulation of touch, the arousal of hard nipples brushing sensuously against his skin.

A pause and a snorting gasp, sucking in air through her nose, breathing in his masculine aroma, rejoicing in the sweet smell of sweat, her skilful tongue marking a warm wet trail from his knees and over his muscular thighs, feeling his sturdy erection brushing against the side of her face, closing her eyes and running a teasing finger through his pubic hair, dragging a finger nail over the rough skin of his scrotum and along the throbbing limb, teasing the smooth head and probing the small eye, grabbing the bulging veined object with both hands, clutching the swollen flesh between her fingers, feeling the pulse of blood surging through the web of blue veins, working the length back and forth, sweeping her tongue in a playful dance around the rim of the glistening helmet and over the engorged head, easing him into her hungry mouth, taking him deep, the colossal girth stretching her lips and making her gag, easing him out slowly and dragging her teeth over the sensitive membrane, looking into the mirror, rejoicing in the erotic reflection, wiggling the tip of her tongue in the myopic eye, savouring the taste of his sticky arousal.

An urgent adjustment on the bed, the mattress squeaking under her weight, lifting from the oral position and squatting on top of him with both knees on each side of his hips and both hands outstretched on the bed, hovering over his torso, feeling the intimidating force pressing hard against her bottom, her blue eyes shimmering with lustful intent, her breathing rapid, the onset of dampness building between her legs, her feline frame arched upwards like a prowling lioness scenting prey, moving her hips and wriggling her bottom, her pendulous breasts swinging from side to side, her nipples brushing against his face, her buttocks rocking back and forth in a seductive dance over the perilous attachment.

She smiled into his eyes, the corners of her mouth lifting in a wicked smile, the promise of suggestion dancing behind her eyes, sweeping her tongue over her top lip with flirtatious intent, leaning forward and sliding down his sculptured stomach, her shapely tits flattening against his chest, her bottom resting on his muscular thighs, cupping her weighty breasts in each hand and lowering them over the monstrous limb, pushing her tits together and wrapping them around the length, capturing the swollen limb firmly between her bosoms.

Sliding up and down in a slow seductive tempo, the throbbing muscle a prisoner in her cleavage, watching the small eye opening on the downward stroke and then closing on the upward motion, a breathless moan and a grunting groan hissing between tight lips, the euphoria of his impending release interrupting her teasing intimacy, shifting her weight on the bed, sitting up and letting his cock slip from her cleavage.

A moist vulva rubbing against his meaty length and a familiar sensation flooding her thighs, a compulsive urge for penetration, reaching down in hungry pursuit of carnal pleasure, gripping the sturdy flesh in her hand and guiding his massive cock in line with her receptive sleeve, opening her body and preparing the moist lips for entry, a whispered cry and a hissing curse blurted through tight lips, nine-and-a-half-inches of hard flesh easing inside her body, her vulva stretching to accommodate the long thick column, thrusting his hips back and forth, the formidable length completing its journey to the cervix, the muscles of her inner walls tightening around the thick shaft, her clitoris rubbing against the hard limb, the pleasurable acquaintance teasing her senses with heightened expectation.

Bodies connecting, hips and pelvis moving to persuasive urges, pulling him deeper inside her portal of pleasure, raising her bottom slightly, lifting and lowering, up and down, gaining momentum, joining and separating, easing him in and easing him out, lifting and dropping, thrusting and grinding, wiggling and thrashing, lifting and lowering, hard and fast, soft and slow, the threatening limb breaching the fleshy folds, stretching her burning entrance, the pace quickening, curses joining gasps, pants and grunts smothered under the sound of a banging headboard and squeaking bed springs.

She was fucking him. He was fucking her. Two bodies fucking to a chorus of urgent grunts and a verbal commentary of filthy curses, a brief exchange of compliments, heads swimming in euphoric glory, rejoicing in the heat of passion, caressing and squeezing her breasts, capturing her nipples between his finger and thumb, nipping and pulling, bruising her body and torturing her senses, electrical charges exploding in a blinding light of euphoria, the invading force probing and penetrating her inner depths, reaching the limits of the vaginal vault, banging against the cervix, her body tensing, her toes curling, a climax building, thrusts gathering speed, lifting and lowering, up and down, easing the massive object inside her body, stretching and filling, violating her burning vulva with an uncompromising force, each thrust pushing her closer and closer towards the edge.

“Oh...Yes...Yes... Ahhh... Fucking yes,” she cried. “Ohhh... Ahhhh. I'm... I’m... cuuminng!" Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! she screamed, deep guttural moans and cries of orgasmic euphoria hissing and wheezing through gritted teeth, arching her back and letting her head fall back, a shudder and a violent thrashing of limbs, the walls of her vagina contracting and gripping his swollen cock, the warmth, the relentless force, the energy of a tidal wave, the overwhelming heat of passion washing over her in a crescendo of rapid spasms, an impossible release, an inner fire igniting tremors of elation, hot fluids spilling from a burning vulva, a breath-taking orgasm pushing her over the edge, breathless pants and wheezing gasps stumbling over choking sighs, her arms giving way under her weight, collapsing on his chest, a vulva bruised and burning, a head spinning in a delirium of blissful ecstasy.

Ignoring her moment of orgasmic bliss and her breathless pleas for calm, clutching her bottom and lifting her up, pulling her down the slippery shaft, lifting and lowering, pushing his sturdy limb deep inside her wet orifice, keeping his strokes to a steady pace, pushing in and pulling out, increasing the momentum, sweeping his hands over her bottom, pulling the soft cheeks apart and slipping a finger into her anus, thrusting and grinding, fucking hard and fucking fast, each thrust penetrating deeper and deeper, his liquid pleasure erupting with the force of a volcano, emotional lava filling her warm depths, splashing against the inner walls, coating the mouth of her bruised cervix, groaning out his pleasure as the last tremors of his ball crushing climax spilled from his body.

Lost in a moment of sensory fulfilment, unprepared for the Intensity of the overpowering release, gripping the bed sheets with both hands and lifting her weight, his softening organ slipping from her body, their bond of passion broken in trailing strings of seminal fluids, falling face down on the bed, two bodies melting together in pools of perspiration, sucking in precious air, gasps fading into silence, waiting for calm.

The welcoming surge of nicotine drawn into lungs and an exchange of compassionate words and meaningful compliments broke the brief silence, the mere mention of the telephone call with Charles filling her head with confusion and uncertainty.

“The lies... The deceit... He said I could sleep with you...Why didn’t I just tell him what we were up to,” she uttered, her eyes searching his for assurance, his nodding head and occasional grunt offering little comfort.

“Why didn’t I just tell Charles we were in bed?” she repeated, blowing a stream of smoke through a frustrated sigh, knowing that a confession was inevitable.

A long painted finger nail sweeping over his stomach and an invitation laden with flirtatious suggestion interrupted his nodding head.

"I want you in the shower." she said, more of a command than an invitation, rolling of the bed, grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet, flashing her eyes with lustful intent, skipping with eager enthusiasm across the bedroom floor, heading to the en-suite bathroom, any thoughts of a confrontation with Charles brushed from her mind.

The warm stream of water poured from the shower head, splashing her face and soaking her hair, spilling over feminine curves and disappearing between the bubble shaped cheeks of her bottom, slippery hands and curious fingers roaming over smooth skin, probing and exploring, groping and searching, infusing the delicate curves of her neck with warm kisses of affection, blowing in her ear and sweeping his tongue from the base of her neck, marking a sensuous trail over her shoulders, lifting her chin and peppering kisses over her nose and eyes, lips meeting and mouths opening, tongues courting affection, twirling and probing in an intimate dance, the persuasion of touch, the interaction of genitalia responding to impulse, the intimacy momentarily broken by an overwhelming need and a desperate urgency for penetration.

“Fuck me from the back,” she said, brushing water from her face and turning on her heels, her arms outstretched against the wall and her hands flat against the tiles, arching her back and opening her legs, feeling the pulse of his throbbing muscle pressing against her bottom, feeling his masterful hands gliding over her waist and his playful fingers brushing through the thick bush of pubic hair, applying a little pressure over the pubic bone, parting the outer lips and teasing the delicate folds of her inner labia, sliding inside and slipping out, stimulating her clitoris, the arousal of touch heightening expectation, soft whimpering moans of encouragement overflowing with desire, a pleading voice craving for cock.

Sliding his hands between the slippery globes, pulling the soft cheeks apart and sliding a finger into the soapy groove, teasing the dark secret entrance and probing the sphincter, slipping a finger slowly and gently into her private place of intimacy, the unexpected invasion captured in the hesitancy of a whimpered cry and a whispered gasp.

There was nothing to compare to that invigorating feeling you get when you fuck a woman covered from head to toe in soapy water. He wasn’t sure if it was the slippery movement of hands running reckless over body parts or the assistance it offered when attempting to penetrate a tight opening.

A body responding to impulsive persuasion, imagination feeding curiosity, an irresistible urge for anal penetration sweeping away hesitancy, arching her back and pouting her bottom, spreading her legs and opening her body, both hands finding purchase against the wall, a shuffle, a wiggle of her hips and a fleeting glance over her shoulder, a broad smile, a nod of approval and a whispered invitation dancing behind tight lips.

The soft cheeks parted, the dark anal shrine open and inviting, the sphincter muscles pulsing around the rectal pocket, gripping his swollen appendage firmly in his hand, guiding the smooth head against the tight opening, the soapy lubricant assisting penetration, pushing slowly and gently at first until the anal passage yielded and the gruesome limb slid slowly inside her bottom.

"Oh, my God!" she cursed, her voice echoing inside the steamy enclosure, sucking in air between gritted teeth, a hesitant pause and an uncomfortable shuffle, the unexpected visitor an unfamiliar display of intimacy, a contorted face looking over her shoulder, reaching back with her hand and gripping his arm, a moment of unnerving silence hanging between them.

“Give me a moment,” she sighed, her voice barely a whisper, a painful cry and a choking gasp blowing from a breathless mouth, the brief pause giving her time to regain her composure before letting go of his arm, a reassuring smile brushing away the need for caution, a deep intake of breath and a nod of her head signalling her willingness to continue.

A moment of composure and a renewed enthusiasm, easing in gently and easing out slowly, a soft lazy rhythm of give and take, an exchange of coital intimacy, discomfort surrendering to pleasure, hands reaching back, gripping his buttocks and urging him forward, wriggling her hips and pushing back to meet the force, momentum gathering pace, thrashing her head from side to side, her tits swinging recklessly, her body jerking with each pounding thrust, easing in and pulling out, entering and retreating, balls deep inside her bruised bottom, sphincter pulsing in quiet protest, anal muscles tightening over the thick muscle gripping his cock like a vice, giving and taking, giving more, taking more, the threatening length and impossible girth, stretching and filling the dark abyss with an unforgiving force.

A collection of unrecognisable sounds spilling in muted curses from a helpless mouth, uncomfortable shuffles, painful grunts and short gasping pants, moans following groans, a burning sensation claiming her tight orifice, the dark shrine of intimacy bleeding fluids, a frustrated sigh hissed between tight lips, tearful eyes looking back over her shoulder, her bruised mascara smearing her face, painful whispers stumbling over agonising cries .

“You’re too big. It hurts. I think my legs are about to give way”

Easing the blockage slowly from her bottom, a deep sigh of relief spilling in snorting gasps from a breathless mouth, a bruised and battered body pleading for calm. But the suggestive movements of an intimidating force bobbing urgently against her bottom were letting her know that calm would have to wait a little longer.

“Oh fucking yes,” she cried, a renewed vigour in her voice, the brutal entry parting the fleshy folds, stretching the inner walls of the vaginal vault, wriggling and swaying her hips in a mutual rhythm of give and take, body-to-body, flesh-to-flesh, feeling the force of his hard thighs smacking mercilessly against her buttocks, thrusting and banging, grinding and penetrating, fucking like a wild stallion in heat.

“I’m coming, she screamed. Fuck me harder....Fuck me faster, she pleaded. I’m coming. I’m fucking coming.... Ohhhhhhh” she cried. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" she shouted, pushing her hips back and driving him deeper, feeling the bulbous head battering the cervix, a crescendo of muscle contractions and a sea of spasms flooding her body in an ocean of ecstasy, cries of bliss and filthy curses bouncing off the shower walls, a shuddering explosion between her legs, a teeth-clenching orgasm rushing through her burning body, the heat of copulation and the combustion of their union spinning her head into sensory overload, a delirium of coital elation consuming her body.

A libido without restraint, his endless stamina without compromise, vaginal fluids spilling down the long shaft, in and out, back and forth, deeper and deeper, hard and fast, plunging in and pulling out, penetrating and stretching, a perpetual battering ram filling her body with hard flesh, his legs stiffening, his calve muscles tightening and his body tensing, his balls boiling, seminal fluids embarking on its irrevocable journey up the shaft, reaching the summit in an explosive release.

A phenomenal quantity of seminal ballast spilled with a force inside her body, spurt after spurt of his milky white cargo washing the inner walls of her vagina until the last drops of liquid pleasure drained from his testicles and his softening penis slipped from her body.

No words were spoken as they staggered breathlessly from the shower. The aftermath of the knee-trembling orgasm and the brutal invasion of her bottom had left her incapable of speech or any movement in her legs.

Falling on the bed and pulling the bed sheets over her battered and bruised body, a fleeting glance at the clock on the bedside table a cruel reminder that the early morning staff would be arriving for work in less than three hours. Flicking the switch on the lamp and resting her head on the pillow she closed her eyes.

The telephone started ringing...