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Coffee, Chocolate and a Gangbang?
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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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SETTING THE SCENE
“I can understand now why you won’t use the web cam.”
Miranda strode down the large stark room passing tables centrally clustered together, and draped her leather coat over her handbag, upon one of the polypropylene chairs. She mused the disenchantment of this room was more suited for conferences than office activity. No comfort had been spared: no oak desk or modern computer station; no high-backed executive leather chair; and, no interior design or plants to support a healthy productive environment. With an outstretched hand she made contact with the cold floor-to-ceiling pane of glass, one of many making the entire frontage of this first floor makeshift office. There were no blinds or the customary external shutters as seen upon much older European buildings, either to protect the occupants from seasonal climatic changes or from prying eyes of the car-park service users and local inhabitants.
“With nothing at the windows I have absolutely no privacy.”
Fabien watched as Miranda gazed out of the factory unit. He knew by the way she was resting her upper body against the window and emitting the odd, barely audible deep exhalation, that she needed his attention.
“I just need to attend to a few emails and then I am all yours.”
The greying March morning sky and tilt of her head allowed Miranda to watch Fabien’s reflection, in the glass, remove his jacket and hang it upon the back of his seat, and then set up his laptop. Her eyes returned to stare at nature’s and man’s co-existence. During the week the car park would have been filled, but today just three cars stood stationary. Beyond the boundaries of the small industrial business park, eucalyptus trees lined the winding road leading back up the mountain and into the Portuguese town of Vizela, where Fabien had temporary accommodation. Today there were no heavily made-up women in short skirts, advertising their wares to passing lorry drivers at the side of the rural road. Even call-girls knew that touting for business during this highly zealous weekend of the Catholic calendar would prove fruitless.
The tapping of keys commenced, breaking the comparative silence of the room. Miranda admired Fabien’s strong work ethic but this would not outweigh her rising desire. Desire that had begun much earlier this morning: she had busied herself packing her suitcase, desperately trying to ignore the palpitations between her legs as she had watched him towel-drying his olive skin after stepping from the shower. Beads of water had trickled paths down his torso that her tongue yearned to follow. However she knew then, as she did now, that she would have his total attention once his tasks were completed. The temperature of the window did little to cool her ardour; instead her nipples were beginning to stand to attention, excited at the chilliness seeping through her clothing. Oh how she willed Fabien to come up behind her and place his strong hands upon her hips, step in close to her, stoop to nuzzle his face into her neck and then allow his hands to wander.
As the passion arose in her body Miranda’s patience waned. She wanted to liberate her breasts, release her pink bullet-like nipples from the confinement of her ivory brassiere and tight blouse. She yearned to rip off her fading jeans and lacy girly boxers, the gusset of which was getting damper by the minute. A less than angelic thought crossed her mind as she sauntered to the side of the table adjacent to Fabien. He briefly looked up from the screen, smiled and returned to the keyboard. Had he remained watching her he would have seen the glint in her vivid green eyes and a half smile painted across her pale English Rose complexion that accented her almost predatory appetite, an appetite which would have to be satiated before dusk settled and her homeward-bound journey begun.
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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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REFRESHMENTS AND PORN?
“Did you want another coffee?”
Miranda, disinclined to descend to the lobby’s drink machine immediately, mumbled a reply about fetching two beverages in a while. She staged an item dropping to the floor and squatted to retrieve it. Having sited her destination seeing the tan leather shoes peeking below the hems of the cerulean jeans, the petite woman, like a wild feline stealthily inching towards her prey, crawled under the table. The floor was a little grubby but the distance was short. She reached Fabien’s legs and slowly slid one hand firmly up the denim cloth, travelling up his inner thigh to his crotch. She fondled his natural bulge which did not remain flaccid for long. Miranda then advanced to his button flies, intent on freeing the now engorged but concealed treasure. Fabien scraped his chair backwards and looking down at her, beamed. As he did so she raised her head to look deep into his now twinkling hazel eyes, but not clearing the edge of the table, she caught her head, “Owwww! This doesn’t happen in porn movies!” Vigorously rubbing her scalp she emitted a wounded giggle. Fabien helped her to stand and brush the dust from her knees. “I guess I need to use the bathroom, would you like a coffee on my return?”
With passion abated for mere seconds while her head smarted, Miranda washed her hands in the small wash-basin of the employees’ toilet. Strands of her long wavy auburn hair clung to her skin as she proceeded to splash water onto her face and neck. She watched as droplets flowed into the canyon between her heaving breasts. She caressed the water into her skin, gently around her jaw-line, down her neck and beneath the blouse and brassiere. With a snap of a clasp two porcelain mounds with hard protrusions danced and jiggled upon freedom, joyfully rubbing against the cotton of her beige blouse.
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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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Miranda reappeared with two cups of steaming sweet coffee. Fabien shuffled some paperwork to create space for the disposable cups. Having set them down, Miranda leant into him from behind and discreetly fiddled with his jacket whilst brushing her lips across his cheek and with hot breath from supping coffee, whispered, “Ola Senhor”. In his usual soft, subtle Gallic tones Fabien responded, “Hello Lady”. With the last email having been sent he shut down his laptop, pushed it to one side and watched as Miranda elevated herself onto the table opposite him. She could feel the heat from where the laptop had been situated for the past forty minutes penetrate the thick cloth of her jeans. She unzipped and kicked off her ankle boots, two thuds resonated from the uncarpeted floor. One foot she swung girlishly and with wiggling toes she placed the other tentatively against his groin.
“Did you bring any of your chocolate?”
Fabien reached behind him, not taking his eyes from her mischievous gaze, and delved into the pocket of his jacket. A bar of Côte d’Or was not the only item he extracted. Miranda chuckled and took the proffered chocolate and began to remove the silver foil whilst a grinning Fabien dangled her lacy lingerie that had somehow found its way into his possession. She broke off a small portion and pressed hard between her index finger and thumb. Deliberately Miranda sucked off the molten deposit from her thumb, taking the digit as far into her mouth as her hand would allow, repeatedly withdrawing to the nail and then fully re-inserting. Watching him watch her, Miranda smoothed the paste from her finger unceremoniously over her lips. With shameless intentions she grasped a handful of his woollen sweater and pulled Fabien towards the body that ached for him. He could smell her sex above that of the chocolate, the coffee, and her musky perfume: a creation of a heady intoxicant. His lips forcefully locked onto hers but she did not buckle under the pressure, and with probing tongues entwining they began the exchange of the residue of the chocolat de Belgique.
Fabien’s masculinity was powerless in resisting the messages all his senses were screaming in his brain: the sight of this woman (this alluring nymph-like creature with her delicate features and slim figure belying her maturing years); the feel of Miranda’s delicate skin (which in turn released the melodious sounds of her acquiescing moans as she pressed her body willingly against his robust frame); her scent; and, her taste; his manhood could only respond in one way. Fabien stepped back to adjust the discomfort arising in the ever decreasing space within the crotch of his jeans but rather than unbuttoning his flies he looked over to the naked window, noting the rather exposed environment. Fabien shook his head, “I cannot...”
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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago
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"Obviously no-one wants to read about the rimming or the foursome  "
I have been off line and just read it! As always it speaks of an active mind that loves to grasp the plot as muxch as Miranda's sweet pussy would grab a stiff member! X |
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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago
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"Obviously no-one wants to read about the rimming or the foursome "
I feel like that about my story. But im writing here and somewhere else so.continue writing. Keep.up.the good work. Looking forwards to next part |
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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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"Obviously no-one wants to read about the rimming or the foursome
I feel like that about my story. But im writing here and somewhere else so.continue writing. Keep.up.the good work. Looking forwards to next part"
I haven't written erotica since my ex and I split up.
I need another muse  |
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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago
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"Obviously no-one wants to read about the rimming or the foursome
I feel like that about my story. But im writing here and somewhere else so.continue writing. Keep.up.the good work. Looking forwards to next part
I haven't written erotica since my ex and I split up.
I need another muse "
Use me or use my story haha I see you are liking ''master and me''
Inbox me if you wanna throw some ideas around |
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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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...AND ACTION
Miranda slid onto the floor, tiny without her heeled boots on, grabbed the chocolate and took Fabien by the hand, leading him to the far side of the clustered tables; parallel to the window but far removed.
“There’s no-one in the vicinity Fabien, so how can we attract any attention? Perchance it happens they’ll probably shake their heads in envy that some lucky fucker is managing to get a little illicit action on a dreary Saturday morning.”
Miranda propped herself up against the table and unfastened several buttons to expose her pale breasts. Having softened some more chocolate between finger and thumb, she daubed it onto her erect nipples and areolae. Fabien stooped, and cupping both breasts, from one to the other and back again, rapaciously licked and sucked until no chocolate remained. Miranda, gripping the table edge with both hands, threw her head back in enjoyment as the morning palpitations revisited the moist area between her legs with a vengeance. Still orally attending to her breasts, Fabien unzipped her jeans and inched them, along with her panties, down past her hips. As soon as her genitals kissed the cool air, two of the Frenchman’s fingers were slipping deeply in between the inner folds of her soaking wet pussy. Long sensual foreplay was certainly not on the menu for the couple hungering for licentious liaisons.
“Miranda... God, I want you lady!”
“I am shocked, Monsieur!”
Fabien may have missed the wink as each hurried out of their lower attire. With jeans and underwear tossed to one side Fabien swivelled Miranda and bent her over the table. He drew her hips back into his groin so that his cock could be felt throbbing on the fleshy cheeks of her bottom. Miranda looked across to the window and could see no exterior activity. What she did see was a faint reflection of herself leaning on her forearms with breasts swaying freely from the opening of her blouse, while this huge man engulfed her small frame, reaching around, plunging and curling his fingers in her warm wet vagina to locate the G-spot. This had her excitement surging, as did the thought that at any moment some passer-by could possibly catch a glimpse of what was imminent. Fabien could feel the juices start to trickle over his fingers.
“Let me taste myself Fabien.”
“Only if you let me fuck your arse.”
Miranda’s moaning assent was muffled as she lapped up the sticky sweet juices from Fabien’s fingers. Almost immediately she felt his helmet starting to nudge at the doorway, but the sphincter was not yet ready to submit.
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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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"A good story doesn't have to be graphic. It just needs to grab the attention of the reader. "
Fifty Shades grabbed the attention of the multitude and yet there are reports of it not being well written. So now how say you?  |
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