The vision stared back at her from the full-length mirror, "Not bad, not bad at all," she murmured. She'd been blessed with a good metabolism and someone in the gene pool had handed down to her a natural complexion that so many were envious of. She ran her hands through her hair, no matching 'collar and cuffs' for her, a chemical indulgence from the bottle - but as the saying went, 'Blondes have more fun.'
Her hair was a beacon, a signal to men to take note. Then when they did their attention would be held by the curve of her body, hidden at times under close fitting jumpers, the swell a hint at what lay beneath. On occasion a more daring top, a partially opened door, causing those passing to sneak a look inside.
Her breasts and hips gave her a womanly appearance, no schoolboy look for her-no she was all woman. Her gaze flowed past her navel to the newly shaved mound, a pain to keep trim, but worth the effort.
This, was what 'they' wanted- the hair or breasts might snag their interest but this is what they all wanted, her piece of heaven... hers to share or deny, hers to enjoy alone or in company.
Of course they all feigned interest in other less obvious pursuits- of enjoying her company over dinner. Maybe sharing a lighthearted joke, or perhaps merely spending time together, as in —"you're such a fun person." But deep down what they wanted was what she was touching right now. Oh they could dress it up, but she was old enough to know that there were truly few who really lived to dine, or lived for days of viewing The Masters at the Gallery, no, excepting those rarities she knew that all were playing the game. A game that avoided the direct question and instead danced around the subject, the experts clever in their indirect foreplay, for that's what it was wasn't it, a game of image building, a smokescreen to the inevitable.
The clever ones were quick to employ subtle innuendo, taking note of the reaction, gauging whether to press home the point. Or to wait- play the game for longer before trying to snag their catch. Single and now married she'd heard it all, in fact since being married the game had changed, the innuendos now more prevalent. Especially at parties and gatherings where drink loosened lips, and bold words were thrown to the air. Oh she knew she looked good in comparison to many at such functions, but did they really think that a flirty word, or a double entendre would send her panties to the floor for more than a quick fumble in the pantry?
All those words, all of that flirting was for one thing and one thing only, to make her swoon. Make her forget who she was and to make her want their cock inside whatever delightful piece of lace was covering her modesty. She chuckled, women around the world like her held more power than they thought, and all because of the magic between their legs. In the earlier days of marriage she'd laughed off such attentions, making her excuses and extricating herself from the scene as cutely as possible, never mentioning the dialogue to her husband, fearful of his reaction. Would he be annoyed at her, thinking that she'd led someone on, or would he take umbrage at the offender possibly ruining years of friendship for the sake of a misplaced word.
When she grew to know him better she had let slip one or two of those 'moments' and had been pleasantly surprised to find that like her, he was amused or proud of the attention she had attracted. Perhaps it was affirmation for him that he'd made a good choice of life partner. Or perhaps there was an underlying satisfaction that he had what others wanted... Either way it had become the norm for her to recount such amorous flirting as she undressed for him, always slowly, taking her time to slide off those garments closest to her sex, knowing that his impatience would stir him to a more passionate encounter.
Their lovemaking after such flirtations was lusciously predictable- Alpha Male intent upon sowing his seed deep inside her, intent upon letting her know who was Master. Their initial embrace soft, until his ardor turned to lust, his gentle kisses becoming more akin to a face fuck as he probed her mouth with his tongue. Then lapping at her pussy. Inhaling her scent, telling her how he loved her taste, and how he was going to make her cum so hard. Taking her glistening lips within his mouth and teasing each of them in turn. Nibbling, tugging, heightening her need before he'd touch her clit. And that delectable surge that she felt when he'd finally touch her there. Holding her nub between finger and thumb. Gently jerking her off whilst fingers opened her. Fingers that probed her deepest secrets. Massaging special sweet spots that he knew so well. Rubbing those deep triggers that would have her thrashing wildly, her body consumed by the force of the wave.
Gentle, as he eased his cock into her, no matter how wet she was, coating it slowly with her heavenly secretions before increasing his pace, encouraging her ... "Come on you wanted to fuck, you want to cum? Move those hips you dirty..." His voice full of intent, seeking to arouse her even more.
His words were sometimes lost as her passion ignited, but she knew what he wanted on nights like that. And knew what she wanted as well... She'd buck her hips to meet him, jarring their bodies together with each thrust, enjoying the feeling of being fucked, of being his to use. Often he'd slide off, and then lying on his back, his cock firm and upright would be an unspoken invitation... She'd duly mount him knowing how much he liked to see her breasts, how he'd want to lick them as she rode him... his voice a distant reminder, "Take what you want, go on ride it like you ride those fucking dildos, and when you're done it'll be my turn." Sometimes she'd try to calm herself, to slow down and tease him, but on nights like that there would be no room for teasing. He'd simply pull her to his chest and drive his cock into her from below, holding her still as he pummeled her.
When she was done she'd roll from him on all fours, gasping for breath from the last orgasm that had rolled through her body and he'd kneel behind her grasping her hair or shoulders pulling her back onto his stiffness, forcing his cock as deep as it would go, fast and hard like a piston. She knew when he was avoiding his own wave he'd slow awhile, slapping her cheeks, his touch stinging but awakening more sexual energy, keeping her on the boil as he walked his own fine line.
"You happy baby or does my dirty bitch want more?" Those were the words that told her he was ready if she was...
Oh she knew she could ask for more and he'd indulge them both, but it was never an issue for her, the moisture on her thighs testament to her own rewards. "No, I'm done, finish me off, I'm all fucked out. "Then like a dying candle his lust would wane, often needing comfort as he brought himself to his own climax. Scissoring between her legs as they lay on their sides, demanding her to hold him and grind him to his goal, telling her not to stop, no matter the anguish on his face...Their movements then, small yet powerful, were intense enough for him to release his own cum deep within her.
The last party came to mind and she resolved to tread carefully. One of the guys at the party, Mike, had come close to unlocking her. Throughout the evening, his velvet words had washed over her, and she had found out way too late that he was a true Pick Up Artist. A pity that her friend Sally hadn't warned her about him that at the beginning of the evening! Throughout the soiree he'd popped up at her side, steering the conversation - it hadn't helped that she was close to her 'time,' a time when she was horniest. But that had been no excuse.
Late into the party and after perhaps one glass to many, she'd found herself alone with Mike, they were standing at one end of the deserted balcony staring up at the stars. She still wasn't sure what he'd said, but she could recall his breath on her neck as he held her hair with one hand, the other swiftly moving upward under her skirt. She should have walked away there and then, but something compelled her to stay, to stand, motionless, compliant.
He'd pushed her panties aside with practiced ease, before unceremoniously thrusting his fingers inside her. So forcibly that she was standing on tip toe as he furiously worked her spot. Once he'd touched her there she couldn't move - he held her literally in the palm of his hand as she let go a dribble of cum. Only then did she push him away, telling him that it was a mistake, and to leave her alone.
That night she'd wondered if Nick had guessed or perhaps seen something in her. He'd certainly been rougher than normal, and she liked it rough sometimes, but that night it he took it to another level. He'd put her on all fours, holding her hair as he forced his cock into her mouth, his hands holding her head firm as he guided her along his shaft. Firm at first, before seemingly losing himself - face fucking her, pulling her head tight to his body and making sure that she'd taken his full length. Taking control of the pace as he had obviously wanted to hold himself back.
Even his commands that night had seemed harsher than normal-"Strip, and then bring that wet cunt over here!"
