Woman of His Dreams - Part XV
Welcome to Part 15 of "Woman of his Dreams"! If you're new to my dark little erotic tale, you can find the start here!
Enjoy, and remember, dreams often have a life of their own...
~AC
Anthony hesitated for a moment, trying to sort through the possibilities. The hardwood floor of the old store bit his bare knees; his nose twitched with the smell of book dust; and the still, musty air added oddly to the tingle of sexual charge in his cock.
“Come on, bookworm,” Cassie urged. “You want to know about that book or not?”
He looked up at her, into eyes that shone with wicked, violet light. He felt a momentary urge to stand up and catch her in a bear hug, to strike that fine-boned face with his open hand, and then bend her over the desk and fuck her insensible, but those feelings dissipated like someone else’s whim.
“Lick me,” she commanded and spread her thighs, her hand crowning his head, fingers tangling and pulling his hair, forcing him down, her grip much stronger than he’d expected.
Cassie wore panties of white silk and the outline of swollen labia behind them beckoned him, his face only inches from her crotch. One of his cheeks brushed the tight heat of her inner thigh and he smelled spice, vanilla, and something like plums just at the point of becoming overripe.
“Lick me, goddamnit,” she said.
He touched his tongue to the white silk, exploring the soft warmth, pressing against the thin barrier, pleased to hear her throaty response. He nosed the lips of her pussy, the hard bump of her clit, the silken wall thin and distinct. He reached for the hem of the panties with one hand while the other stroked the firm muscle of her thigh.
She caught his forehead and flung him back, slapped him harder than before, harder than he had been hit in years. Anthony staggered, almost losing his balance.
“No hands, little boy. Use your goddamned teeth.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his cock rock hard, his breath ragged as he returned to the task. He licked her thigh, tasting sweat and musk and her fingers tangled back in his hair, pulling just enough to keep his attention.
Holding his hands rigidly at his sides, he caught the top of her silk thong between his teeth and pulled. She lifted her butt and tightened her thighs so they pressed lightly against his cheeks, smoother than the wispy fabric but corded with graceful muscle. She shifted as he tugged and he saw the line of black hair below the bunched material of her skirt and blouse, an etching of inky beauty on the ivory pallor of her pelvis. He smelled her pussy, wet and ready for him as he tugged the panties lower, his nose brushing the open lips.
He stopped when he had bared her slit and gave her a tentative lick. She moaned and squirmed a little, all the reward he wanted. “Tear them,” she demanded. “Tear them with your teeth.”
His bite gripped the thin line of silk that he had rolled onto her thighs and he tugged, but the fabric proved stronger than he had expected. “Harder,” she said. “I want your tongue in me and that’s not going to happen till you get them off me. Do I have to hurt you?”
“No, ma’am,” he murmured against her dripping pussy, and he bit the silk again, chewing, weakening the scrap of fabric that defied him, then tearing again, hearing the satisfying rip as one side gave way.
She took mercy on him and finished the job, tossed the silk aside and opened her legs entirely to him, her cunt his to feast upon. He took his cock in his right hand and leaned to taste her.
Anthony had never been shy about giving head, and he knew he was good at it. He could make Cynthia cry, bring her to orgasm three or four times (And Brigitte…he had done the same to her, hadn’t he?) when he felt generous, but this was different.
The slippery flesh behind Cassie’s open lips tasted sweeter than any pussy he had ever licked before and he couldn’t get enough of her. He lapped her inner lips, massaged her clit with his mouth and tongue, every sigh and moan she made a little symphony that thrilled him like a sniff of cocaine or a third glass of good wine.
She tightened her knees around his back, pulling him harder against her and he responded with deeper strokes of his tongue, probing to the limits of his reach with faster savaging, butterflying her clit, satisfied and aroused by her panting, knowing she was about to come.
His cock jumped in his hand, gushing, as she cried out, a sound like a bird of prey, and a flood of juice bathed his face, drenching him in the scent of divine fruit. Her legs tightened around him, one knee over his shoulder now, her foot caressing his bottom under his shorts.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she said, shuddering. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”
He tried to pull back, to escape the almost smothering wetness and heat but she held him in place.
“Not through,” she corrected curtly. “But you’ve earned this.”
She leaned over him. He felt it in the shifting tension of her legs and the shift in her torso, though he could see nothing now but her thighs, her cunt, and her belly. He felt a moment of suffocating panic.
“It’s not a book,” she whispered close to his ear.
He tried to ask what she meant but his mouth was full of her wet flesh and her spice. His eyes stung. He was drowning.
“It’s a facet,” she said and her thighs tightened around his face, her legs implacable where they gripped his back, her hand on his head forcing him to return to the feast, but he couldn’t lick her any more.
He couldn’t even breathe.
Enjoy, and remember, dreams often have a life of their own...
~AC
"Woman of His Dreams"
Part 15
by Angela Caperton
Copyright 2010
Part 15
by Angela Caperton
Copyright 2010
Anthony hesitated for a moment, trying to sort through the possibilities. The hardwood floor of the old store bit his bare knees; his nose twitched with the smell of book dust; and the still, musty air added oddly to the tingle of sexual charge in his cock.“Come on, bookworm,” Cassie urged. “You want to know about that book or not?”
He looked up at her, into eyes that shone with wicked, violet light. He felt a momentary urge to stand up and catch her in a bear hug, to strike that fine-boned face with his open hand, and then bend her over the desk and fuck her insensible, but those feelings dissipated like someone else’s whim.
“Lick me,” she commanded and spread her thighs, her hand crowning his head, fingers tangling and pulling his hair, forcing him down, her grip much stronger than he’d expected.
Cassie wore panties of white silk and the outline of swollen labia behind them beckoned him, his face only inches from her crotch. One of his cheeks brushed the tight heat of her inner thigh and he smelled spice, vanilla, and something like plums just at the point of becoming overripe.
“Lick me, goddamnit,” she said.
He touched his tongue to the white silk, exploring the soft warmth, pressing against the thin barrier, pleased to hear her throaty response. He nosed the lips of her pussy, the hard bump of her clit, the silken wall thin and distinct. He reached for the hem of the panties with one hand while the other stroked the firm muscle of her thigh.
She caught his forehead and flung him back, slapped him harder than before, harder than he had been hit in years. Anthony staggered, almost losing his balance.
“No hands, little boy. Use your goddamned teeth.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his cock rock hard, his breath ragged as he returned to the task. He licked her thigh, tasting sweat and musk and her fingers tangled back in his hair, pulling just enough to keep his attention.
Holding his hands rigidly at his sides, he caught the top of her silk thong between his teeth and pulled. She lifted her butt and tightened her thighs so they pressed lightly against his cheeks, smoother than the wispy fabric but corded with graceful muscle. She shifted as he tugged and he saw the line of black hair below the bunched material of her skirt and blouse, an etching of inky beauty on the ivory pallor of her pelvis. He smelled her pussy, wet and ready for him as he tugged the panties lower, his nose brushing the open lips.
He stopped when he had bared her slit and gave her a tentative lick. She moaned and squirmed a little, all the reward he wanted. “Tear them,” she demanded. “Tear them with your teeth.”
His bite gripped the thin line of silk that he had rolled onto her thighs and he tugged, but the fabric proved stronger than he had expected. “Harder,” she said. “I want your tongue in me and that’s not going to happen till you get them off me. Do I have to hurt you?”
“No, ma’am,” he murmured against her dripping pussy, and he bit the silk again, chewing, weakening the scrap of fabric that defied him, then tearing again, hearing the satisfying rip as one side gave way.
She took mercy on him and finished the job, tossed the silk aside and opened her legs entirely to him, her cunt his to feast upon. He took his cock in his right hand and leaned to taste her.
Anthony had never been shy about giving head, and he knew he was good at it. He could make Cynthia cry, bring her to orgasm three or four times (And Brigitte…he had done the same to her, hadn’t he?) when he felt generous, but this was different.
The slippery flesh behind Cassie’s open lips tasted sweeter than any pussy he had ever licked before and he couldn’t get enough of her. He lapped her inner lips, massaged her clit with his mouth and tongue, every sigh and moan she made a little symphony that thrilled him like a sniff of cocaine or a third glass of good wine.
She tightened her knees around his back, pulling him harder against her and he responded with deeper strokes of his tongue, probing to the limits of his reach with faster savaging, butterflying her clit, satisfied and aroused by her panting, knowing she was about to come.
His cock jumped in his hand, gushing, as she cried out, a sound like a bird of prey, and a flood of juice bathed his face, drenching him in the scent of divine fruit. Her legs tightened around him, one knee over his shoulder now, her foot caressing his bottom under his shorts.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she said, shuddering. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”
He tried to pull back, to escape the almost smothering wetness and heat but she held him in place.
“Not through,” she corrected curtly. “But you’ve earned this.”
She leaned over him. He felt it in the shifting tension of her legs and the shift in her torso, though he could see nothing now but her thighs, her cunt, and her belly. He felt a moment of suffocating panic.
“It’s not a book,” she whispered close to his ear.
He tried to ask what she meant but his mouth was full of her wet flesh and her spice. His eyes stung. He was drowning.
“It’s a facet,” she said and her thighs tightened around his face, her legs implacable where they gripped his back, her hand on his head forcing him to return to the feast, but he couldn’t lick her any more.
He couldn’t even breathe.
Continued in Part 16.
(Image by Mahlon Blaine from Nova Venus)
Copyright 2010 Angela Caperton. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
(Image by Mahlon Blaine from Nova Venus)
Copyright 2010 Angela Caperton. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
Posted by Angela Caperton at 8/28/2010 9:30 AM 
Categories: dark erotica, Lovecraft, Angela Caperton, Woman of His Dreams
Tags: dark erotica Lovecraft Angela Caperton Woman of His Dreams
Categories: dark erotica, Lovecraft, Angela Caperton, Woman of His Dreams
Tags: dark erotica Lovecraft Angela Caperton Woman of His Dreams
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