FrenchQuarter.htm by Alexander Lacey (good fiction books to read TXT) 📗

She tilted her head. “On Bourbon Street? You think someone really would?”

He shrugged. “Might sound unlikely, but I don’t wanna take any chances on gettin’ interrupted. Do you?”

She gave her head a sexy little shake, and then, holding her dress up under her bare breasts, rose from his lap, picked up her wine with her free hand and sashayed through the open French doors into his living room.

He followed, stunned by how utterly erotic she looked leaning against his wall, the blue fabric draping her body from only the ribs downward. She licked her lips and took a sip of wine. “Come here,” she said.

He was in no mood to protest. He set his wine on a table and approached her. “There.” She pointed to the back of his sofa. “Lean.”

He did it, never taking his eyes from her.

After another drink, she lowered the glass next to his and reached up to caress her breasts. The dress dropped to her hips. Watching her—and knowing she was playing with him, just trying to drive him crazy—was sweet agony. Slowly, she began to move toward him, all the while massaging those two pretty mounds of flesh, using her fingers to pinch and tease the hard pink tips under his close scrutiny. She leaned her head back and let out a sexy little moan, hardening his shaft all the more. But like last night, he could be patient. He loved discovering, one by one, what dirty little treats Liz had in store, so he was utterly content to watch her play with her beautiful breasts for him.

When finally she stood directly in front of him, she reached for the bulge in his jeans, cupping it in her palm, massaging him while her other hand still caressed her chest. “Merde,” he moaned. Her touch felt so good it almost hurt.

As she lifted her hands to his belt buckle, he reached for her breasts. He felt their delicious weight in his hands, raking his palms over tight, budded nipples, as she undid the button on his jeans and lowered the zipper. Reaching inside, she gently but confidently freed his cock, hooking the underwear down low, under his balls.

Then she reached for his hand. Still patient, he followed, letting her lead him around to the front of the couch, where he sat down. She kneeled between his spread thighs and studied his shaft, but he watched her—her hungry eyes and full pouty lips, her large lovely breasts hovering just above his rock-hard erection.

Finally, she leaned over, letting her breasts drape around his lengthened cock. Warm, soft; Jack nearly died from the sumptuous pleasure. He lifted himself lightly, pressing himself against the hollow valley between those sweet mounds of flesh, inviting them to close around his hard-on as much as possible. “Ah, beautiful, baby,” he murmured, his voice raspy. “Fuckin’ beautiful.”

She slid her breasts gently upward on his long cock, then back down. Slow, painstaking movements, and he felt every nuance—the soft fleshiness, the hard points of her nipples grazing the skin to either side of his shaft, the deep crevice where his erection was buried. He couldn’t help moving a little, fucking her gorgeous breasts—and it made her release a hot little growl as she slid them up and down his length more aggressively.

At last, just when Jack thought he couldn’t handle any more pleasure, he felt her tongue flick over the head of his cock.

He looked down to see her lick away the fluid gathered at the tip—watched her lick at the little opening, as if trying to bring out more.

Then her tongue made a circle around the whole head—twice.

“Fuck,” he murmured, leaning his head back with nearly unbearable pleasure.

“Want more?” she whispered.

“Oh yeah.”

With that, Liz followed her instincts and licked a line from the base of his strong, beautiful cock all the way to the tip, hungrily lowering her mouth over him. Already, she loved sucking Jack’s cock more than she ever had with any other man. The very sight of it made her want to kiss and suck and lick it, simply adore it, and now the primal urge was to take as much of that big hard shaft into her mouth as she could. She worked her lips up and down, thrilled by his sounds of pleasure and the knowledge that he was watching her go down on him. He held her hair back as she devoted her full focus on swallowing as much of his length as she could.

When he was good and wet and she needed a break, she pulled away to resume fucking him with her breasts again. Now his cock slid up and down between them with slick ease, and the wetness and friction against her chest got her even hotter. After a moment, she began punctuating each stroke of her breasts with a hungry lick to the tip of his cock. But soon, little licks weren’t enough—she wanted to lick away all the wetness gathered there, and then she wanted to suck him, deeper, harder.

“Careful, baby,” he warned, “or I’ll…”

But Liz didn’t care if he came now—she wanted to make him come this way, and she wanted to watch him come, wanted to see the semen spurt out of his long, thick, beautiful cock, just for her. “Come on my breasts,” she breathed. “I want you to come on my breasts.” She wasn’t sure why, she only knew she wanted to feel that sweet warm white fluid on her oh-so-sensitive mounds, wanted it to cover her, make her even wetter.

She sucked on him a moment longer—hard and wild—until he growled, “Baby, now.” Just after she released him from her mouth, his thick seed shot hot and wet in four long bursts, most of it arcing out to land exactly where they both wanted it to. Liz could scarcely comprehend the strange pleasure she gleaned as her breasts became drenched in his fluid, but she felt sexy and dirty and alive, beautifully on display as they