Monday, March 21, 2011

Little black riding hood

It's been a very intense couple of weeks, for reasons you can guess but of course I can't tell you.

Friday night I was totally fried when I finally got some freedom, did some window-shopping and was walking home. But not so fried that my sixth sense didn't tell me I was being followed. And badly, at that. This was an amateur. So I didn't head in the direction of home, walked instead a long way down Pennsylvania Avenue and let the crowds thin out. I stepped into an alley and waited. My gut was tight but I was cool and focused. I unsnapped the retention snap on the holster holding my SIG Sauer (for you gun nuts, I was wearing my Galco Silhouette highride, a very nice accessory for my pants suit). When the figure passed me, I whispered, just loud enough.

"Hi, there."

The figure jumped in surprise and faced me. Beneath the black hood of the raincoat was...Robin.

"Amber..." she sputtered.

"Why are you following me?

"I'm not..." I saw the red of her face even in the dim light. Then her expression changed and she advanced toward me in the alley, her body quaking with anger.

"You fucked my husband!" she shouted.


I know, I know. You warned me, and I had an uneasy feeling about out solitary romp. I took a step back and lied. I'm usually a very good liar.

"Lying little bitch!" she screamed. "I saw the video on his computer!"

Fuck, fuck. He taped us.

"Look Robin," I said. "James told me you were OK with this, and you have your own boy toy on the side..."


I'm usually very good at defusing situations. But she just slapped me, hard. I felt I had to let her do it. But it was no girl slap — I almost felt some dental work start to come loose. When she tried it again, I grabbed her wrist, turned her, put an arm lock on her and kicked her behind the knee, dropping her to the pavement, face down. Then I heard the blip of the siren and saw the walls reflecting the emergency lights.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

It was a DC police cruiser, pulled to the curb. Two officers were getting out of the car.

"Stay," I commanded Robin. Then I walked (in a non-threatening manner) to the cops and discreetly showed them my credentials. They went away, silently resenting the feds. I walked back to Robin, who was on her knee crying. I helped her up.

As we stood there, she cried and told me how they had started swinging after their kids had grown up and left the house, how she was very reluctant at first but grew to enjoy it, but how each had pledged to do no cheating on the side.

I'd like to tell you that I took her back to my place, made us drinks and we made passionate make-up girl love. But that didn't happen.

"He's in love with you, Amber," she blubbered. "I don't want to lose him!"

If that was true, she had bigger problems than me. She's a pretty woman worried that she's losing her looks. If James is screwing me on the side, who else might he be doing? I am that most threatening thing to a married woman: A single woman who men want to fuck. And a redhead. But all I could promise was that I wouldn't see him again. As she pulled up her black hood and hailed a cab, I knew I wouldn't be getting any more invitations to the lifestyle club. Now I just need to call in a favor and get the asshole's video erased before it ends up on the Web.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Half of my threesome

A few days later I got another invitation to be with my new friends, Robin and James. If I didn't need an additional incentive, I was feeling my period coming on. That's the time of the month when I am frantically, insatiably, recklessly horny. Same hotel, same room. James met me at the door and his brown eyes glittered in appreciation of the little black dress I was wearing. My coat dropped to the floor. He took me in his arms and started a marathon of kissing, light, deep French, lips all over my face, ears and neck. I was panting in anticipation.

"Where's Robin?"

"She's running late," he said, nibbling my neck, letting my hair fall into his face. "You are the hottest goddamned woman I've ever seen, Amber."

I was against the wall of the entryway into the room as we continued to make out. As he kissed me, he fondled my breasts, gently pinching my nipples. Then his hands wrapped around my waist and I could feel his fingers searching for my panty line. "Such a bad girl," he murmured, as he realized I wasn't wearing anything beneath the dress. His hard penis poked against me through his tailored slacks. I reached down and unzipped him, letting it hang out freely as I wrapped my hand around the shafted and stroked up and down. He reached under my hemline and brushed my bush, put a finger inside me. All this while we stood there, kissing like teenagers. I tried to guide us inside to the bed, but he kept me there.

"I want you now," he said, and in a flash the slacks and boxers were at his ankles. He pushed me against the wall, raised my hips with his hands. My legs went up and he slipped right in, mashing my back against the wall. We fucked, my legs wrapped around his lower back, his thick cock impaling me, his hands holding me in the air. He was strong as hell; all I really had to do was enjoy, which I did. It had been years since a man had fucked me against a wall...back in...hell, my mind was too fuck-addled for history. His breathing picked up and I was whimpering and moaning, his cock finding its way deeper and deeper into me. "Amber...oh, my god...fuck...," he yelled and I felt his pelvis and legs shudder as he came. The man was no boor: He held me there, his cock still inside me, kissing me gently. Finally I felt him go soft and slip out. He eased me down, then picked me up and carried me to the bed, where he slowly undressed me, what little there was to undress.

He used the little black dress to brush lightly across my nipples, which were so hard already. Amazing feeling. Then he started licking them in concentric circles, one nipple, then the other, back and forth, each time applying more pressure until he was really sucking hard, which I love. I pulled off his shirt and ran my hands across the light hair on his chest. Then he eased me back down and dropped down on the bed. I felt his mouth on my right foot, licking and sucking my toes. It sent bolts of pleasure up my legs into my pussy. For maybe the next 30 minutes he gave me "the treatment," licking and kissing up one leg, then the other, lingering on my inner thigh. Then I felt his tongue on my clit and shuddered. He wasn't going to let me off that easy, though. He backed down and started running his tongue around my pussy lips, then he tongue-fucking me, causing me to get pretty noisy but not go over the edge. I felt him sucking at me. A good Kegel girl, I bore down and gave him a taste of his come. Was it. He rose up and French kissed me with a huge glob of semen mingled with my pussy juices. Our tongues danced in it before I swallowed the goo. That had me bucking and grinding against him, I was so desperate to come. He went back and brought me off expertly with his tongue, then fucked me awhile missionary — not bad for an "old guy." I had an aftershock through my pelvis with every stroke. "Oh, a scratcher and and screamer," he said, looking down on me. I hadn't noticed. Then he held me as I came down off the orgasm plateau.

"Robin's not coming."

This broke me reverie. I asked why. "She has her own lover tonight, a younger guy. Maybe we'll invite him sometime."

This made me vaguely uneasy, as I had checked them both out before embarking on this little adventure, and I knew nothing of Robin having a separate lover.

"Does she know you're with me?"

"Sure," he said. It was a lie, I knew it.

"I just had to have you, Amber."

I didn't resist as he pulled me on top of him and I slipped his penis inside me and started to ride.