She's Gotta Have It

Over the next many months she cajoled their copulation with him in myriad different locations. She liked to use the exceptional length of his member to assume all kinds of otherwise unlikely positions. Across the hood of his new car, in the women's bathroom stall, the next door neighbor's pool, in the yard, or upon rocks in the creek. She frequently wanted it in the kitchen on counters and stovetops. She loved to clean house slowly and seductively shedding her clothes, but keeping something ridiculous on like his football helmet or top hat. She'd wait till he was busily occupied in some other activity, cock a hip to one side before thrusting her chest out until he could not control himself any longer, and they'd end up thrashing about and dusting their bodies up in the broom closet.

Often it would take a mere look in the eye and they both knew what was about to happen next. One slow Saturday afternoon found them humping away on the high school lawn next to a walkway between buildings before a middle aged woman on a bicycle rode cooly by within inches of his pulsing buttocks as if they weren't even there. She even grabbed him once in an overgrown graveyard, but he didn't perform that well.--She said: "Fear of the dead?", but he knew it was 'fear of ghosts'.....

......She especially liked doing it as nasty as possible at work after hours. Something about the hustle and harassment of the work day being over, the clean, pristine work-only desks and spaces previously virgin, and then suddenly available was a turn on. The thought of all her colleagues and superiors watching; files left open, computers warm and able to quickly heat up any bare buttocks and spilled juices. The delicious prohibition of it all was a definite aphrodisiac.

Her dance studio was even more fun. Spreading her taut thigh-wings across the ballet balance beam at ay angle she liked, she could flutter and more perfectly edit and control the depths that he could reach. Exactly hip-high, it allowed a lowering and raising herself just slightly above his vertical pointing member for total control over his excitation. Back arcing, clutching his shoulders for better balance, she could prolong everything for hours if she wanted.

Probably it was as much about the fear, danger, and adrenaline rush of being caught in the act as it were at any moment that created such a delicious tension. He wouldn't have been the one completely shamed, as prohibitively, there was alway someone present at his work site.

Both preferred it in broad daylight or well lit rooms. He especially appreciated her domineering tendencies when she would stand or kneel, and squeeze her thighs tightly and straddle his face. As she undulated above his lapping lips in ecstasy, his untouched hardness increased by watching her rounded dual swollen orbs bounce as their pinkish swollen centers pointed skyward; wet peristaltic pushups galloping a balance just above his nose.

But once she had orgasmed, she was much more juicy, open and amenable. His game often was to wait on her first explosion to have more options available. They both loved it especially standing up. Neither of them were especially tall, but she was small and light enough to make it easily erotic. He would cup his large hands around her flexing butt and lift her before prancing proudly about the room. She would clutch desperately to his hardened biceps or pectoral muscles for leverage against his dancing pelvic thrusts. She especially loved it when they'd put on some music they both knew well so that she could anticipate exactly when he would swell at her, and she could arch her back off his stiffening rod. Beat thrusting and rhythm rebounding, they were an in perfect synch, a carnal metronome.

He'd stand there clutching her full rear lifting her upon his penis, knees bent, head rushing in a fog, He'd feel like a hirsute, mythological heavy hoofed satire, Pan or Priapus. In this position the seesaw was more tilted in his favor. No matter how firmly she clutched his pectorals or vein rippled biceps, arching upward off him with all her might, she could barely escape the gravity assisted downward impalement. Dancing about the room with her glued to his podium, her body tensile and hardened, writhing, she fought him off even more wildly, trying to gain advantage and elevate above his ever spelunking big dick. As long as he could hold on, he loved watching all her muscles tighten and undulate while her tits would expand ever upward into his face, balancing helpless off his happy wand.

- - - - -

But, after so many playful unencumbered encounters he wondered whether it was his abandonment fears rearing up, or whether he had slowly begun sensing a growing distraction and ennui in their lovemaking of late. Her body was certainly fully engaged, but he feared her mind and excitement was perhaps wandering just a bit.....?

"What do you fear most about a close relationship?.... Is it getting bored and growing slowly apart; realizing you could do better; being deceived and being heartbroken; or, your partner slowly becoming more and more dependent on you?"

"Wow; that's a tough one. Why; are you computing one of those choices or something?"

Gently stroking her long hair through its length; "No, no, sorry, maybe too heavy. None really; but being heartbroken sure would feel shitty I guess."

Both lying exhausted across his bed after an especially aerobic sexual workout, he felt a need to probe into her thoughts deeper as well.

"OK, OK, never mind. How bout this? What's some of your favorite sexual fantasies?"

"So what are we playing? Seven naked questions here or something? My sexual fantasies?.....Um, I don't know." As she grabs the bottom of his cock and shakes it about, then staring right at it. "Let's see.... this one here is pretty perfect; if a bit too long, but maybe.... OK; how bout standing in front of a group of military guys in uniform, or maybe firemen. And as they undress in front of me, I get to review the ranks and pull out my favorite appendage and then discipline him appropriately? Demand that he obey! Perhaps something like that; ha ha."

After a short silence following their laughter; "Although I do actually fantasize at times about doing it in front of a captive audience or something. A sexual stage for my polished expertise I suppose;" as she dramatically brushes her eyelashes upwards with a self-preening cartoonish, exaggerated flare.

"So what's yours?"

Without missing a beat: "You."

Laughter again shared, yet he's wondering why he's feeling a little unsettled by the discussion he's started as he gets up to the kitchen to retrieve a beer.

He would soon learn though that her fantasies were never too far from bursting to the surface.

- - - - - - -

One of their first primary social engagements together was an invite to her graphic studio's 10th anniversary party. After her rather deprecative descriptions of her employer, his question was more why she even wanted to go. Hers was mainly what to wear.

But on the night of the affair, gazing at her long silken, skin fitting black dress, pearls framing a plunging cleavage, he understood the stage of her desire. Arriving at the gala, very quickly he saw how she fit into the scheme as snugly as she had fit into her dress.

Diamonds, fancy brocades, carefully coiffed curls, shinning white teeth, spike-heeled shoes, over starched suits, low cut dresses and copious pourings of champaign was the artifice of the evening. A Polynesian theme framed huge flashing projected images on a wall of various graphic designs the company had celebrated throughout the decade. This was the one rare chance for employees to strut themselves, rather than their visionary ideas and artwork on display. And while he was a bit distracted by all the glitter, bless her heart, she kept her eyes focused primarily either on him, or straight ahead.

With the generic over-polished band, crappy food and strong drinks from the open bar, it became a festive affair rather quickly. After she became aware of and even a bit reticent of all eyes glued to them,(well her) on the dance floor, she steered him to the edge of the desert table in the corner. Camouflaged by by the fake palm tree beside the table, she leaned back upon him and quietly observed the scene.

Pressing and flexing her buttocks firmly into his groin, he didn't even notice at first that she had hiked the back of her skirt up to her waist, until reaching down with his free hand he felt the cool of her cheeks. Making a kind of tent with her dress, she stretched her underpants fully over to one side. Past the elastic seam, she guided his hand into the soft waiting warmth her her insides, spreading her lips wet and wide.

As she backed into him harder, her breathing quickened. Spreading her legs apart farther, she reached backwards, unzipped his pants, and soon had his member out under her tent. Twirling a finger of her other hand around one of the bowls of flan, she withdrew a dollop of goop and began massaging it onto the tip of his penis. Feeling his surprise, she turned only slightly to whisper; "It's OK".

Hardening, he placed his drink down, and bracing one hand on the dessert table, he bent his knees and lowered himself and pushed upward just enough to forge a little restrained shriek of pleasure from her.

"Ooooh, just another inch or two might do it;" she's whispered, before sucking the remaining flan from her fingers. The table began rocking as his drink almost spilled; until finally they were observed.

"Uh Oh, slow down; here comes my boss."

A rather portly, obviously drunk fellow sauntered up, eyes first glued more to the chocolate eclairs, he finally noticed both of them next to the palm trees.

"Oh, it's you....How is madame doing tonight?"; as his drink sloshed around before being placed overly careful upon the table.

"Are you feeling alright? You look a little red and flushed. I'm sure your gentleman friend and myself will be fine if you need to visit the little girls room..."

Catching her breathe, grabbing the flan bowl and dipping a spoon in it; "Oh no, I'm fine; maybe just a bit too much of this great flan." As she swallowed a large scoop and his knees behind her began to quiver.

"Well, don't eat too much of that now. Wouldn't want to ever spoil that lovely figure of yours, would we?..." He grabbed an eclair and his drink and balanced them off towards the bar.

Waves of excitement and danger then quickly spasmed electrically though their mutual orgasm almost immediately once he'd left. Dizzy, she clasped her wet sticky thighs back together and let him attend to his own fly, before dropping her dress back down. Once she ceased

leaning on him, with his balustrade suddenly gone, he almost fell over, bracing upon the table with such force as to finally topple his drink. Wiping her mouth delicately while smoothing her dress;

"Well, that was nice. But looks like you need another one. Come on...."

Sagging in flustered and newly unkempt weariness, they alone lounged at the bar observing the remaining dancers and hangers on. Again, he couldn't decide if it was her brazen passion for him, or just her unrestrained sexhibitionismm that had just played out.

Over the next many months she cajoled their copulation with him in myriad different locations. She liked to use the exceptional length of his member to assume all kinds of otherwise unlikely positions. Across the hood of his new car, in the women's bathroom stall, the next door neighbor's pool, in the yard, or upon rocks in the creek. She frequently wanted it in the kitchen on counters and stovetops. She loved to clean house slowly and seductively shedding her clothes, but keeping something ridiculous on like his football helmet or top hat. She'd wait till he was busily occupied in some other activity, cock a hip to one side before thrusting her chest out until he could not control himself any longer, and they'd end up thrashing about and dusting their bodies up in the broom closet.

Often it would take a mere look in the eye and they both knew what was about to happen next. One slow Saturday afternoon found them humping away on the high school lawn next to a walkway between buildings before a middle aged woman on a bicycle rode cooly by within inches of his pulsing buttocks as if they weren't even there. She even grabbed him once in an overgrown graveyard, but he didn't perform that well.--She said: "Fear of the dead?", but he knew it was 'fear of ghosts'.....

......She especially liked doing it as nasty as possible at work after hours. Something about the hustle and harassment of the work day being over, the clean, pristine work-only desks and spaces previously virgin, and then suddenly available was a turn on. The thought of all her colleagues and superiors watching; files left open, computers warm and able to quickly heat up any bare buttocks and spilled juices. The delicious prohibition of it all was a definite aphrodisiac.

Her dance studio was even more fun. Spreading her taut thigh-wings across the ballet balance beam at ay angle she liked, she could flutter and more perfectly edit and control the depths that he could reach. Exactly hip-high, it allowed a lowering and raising herself just slightly above his vertical pointing member for total control over his excitation. Back arcing, clutching his shoulders for better balance, she could prolong everything for hours if she wanted.

Probably it was as much about the fear, danger, and adrenaline rush of being caught in the act as it were at any moment that created such a delicious tension. He wouldn't have been the one completely shamed, as prohibitively, there was alway someone present at his work site.

Both preferred it in broad daylight or well lit rooms. He especially appreciated her domineering tendencies when she would stand or kneel, and squeeze her thighs tightly and straddle his face. As she undulated above his lapping lips in ecstasy, his untouched hardness increased by watching her rounded dual swollen orbs bounce as their pinkish swollen centers pointed skyward; wet peristaltic pushups galloping a balance just above his nose.

But once she had orgasmed, she was much more juicy, open and amenable. His game often was to wait on her first explosion to have more options available. They both loved it especially standing up. Neither of them were especially tall, but she was small and light enough to make it easily erotic. He would cup his large hands around her flexing butt and lift her before prancing proudly about the room. She would clutch desperately to his hardened biceps or pectoral muscles for leverage against his dancing pelvic thrusts. She especially loved it when they'd put on some music they both knew well so that she could anticipate exactly when he would swell at her, and she could arch her back off his stiffening rod. Beat thrusting and rhythm rebounding, they were an in perfect synch, a carnal metronome.

He'd stand there clutching her full rear lifting her upon his penis, knees bent, head rushing in a fog, He'd feel like a hirsute, mythological heavy hoofed satire, Pan or Priapus. In this position the seesaw was more tilted in his favor. No matter how firmly she clutched his pectorals or vein rippled biceps, arching upward off him with all her might, she could barely escape the gravity assisted downward impalement. Dancing about the room with her glued to his podium, her body tensile and hardened, writhing, she fought him off even more wildly, trying to gain advantage and elevate above his ever spelunking big dick. As long as he could hold on, he loved watching all her muscles tighten and undulate while her tits would expand ever upward into his face, balancing helpless off his happy wand.

- - - - -

But, after so many playful unencumbered encounters he wondered whether it was his abandonment fears rearing up, or whether he had slowly begun sensing a growing distraction and ennui in their lovemaking of late. Her body was certainly fully engaged, but he feared her mind and excitement was perhaps wandering just a bit.....?

"What do you fear most about a close relationship?.... Is it getting bored and growing slowly apart; realizing you could do better; being deceived and being heartbroken; or, your partner slowly becoming more and more dependent on you?"

"Wow; that's a tough one. Why; are you computing one of those choices or something?"

Gently stroking her long hair through its length; "No, no, sorry, maybe too heavy. None really; but being heartbroken sure would feel shitty I guess."

Both lying exhausted across his bed after an especially aerobic sexual workout, he felt a need to probe into her thoughts deeper as well.

"OK, OK, never mind. How bout this? What's some of your favorite sexual fantasies?"

"So what are we playing? Seven naked questions here or something? My sexual fantasies?.....Um, I don't know." As she grabs the bottom of his cock and shakes it about, then staring right at it. "Let's see.... this one here is pretty perfect; if a bit too long, but maybe.... OK; how bout standing in front of a group of military guys in uniform, or maybe firemen. And as they undress in front of me, I get to review the ranks and pull out my favorite appendage and then discipline him appropriately? Demand that he obey! Perhaps something like that; ha ha."

After a short silence following their laughter; "Although I do actually fantasize at times about doing it in front of a captive audience or something. A sexual stage for my polished expertise I suppose;" as she dramatically brushes her eyelashes upwards with a self-preening cartoonish, exaggerated flare.

"So what's yours?"

Without missing a beat: "You."

Laughter again shared, yet he's wondering why he's feeling a little unsettled by the discussion he's started as he gets up to the kitchen to retrieve a beer.

He would soon learn though that her fantasies were never too far from bursting to the surface.

- - - - - - -

One of their first primary social engagements together was an invite to her graphic studio's 10th anniversary party. After her rather deprecative descriptions of her employer, his question was more why she even wanted to go. Hers was mainly what to wear.

But on the night of the affair, gazing at her long silken, skin fitting black dress, pearls framing a plunging cleavage, he understood the stage of her desire. Arriving at the gala, very quickly he saw how she fit into the scheme as snugly as she had fit into her dress.

Diamonds, fancy brocades, carefully coiffed curls, shinning white teeth, spike-heeled shoes, over starched suits, low cut dresses and copious pourings of champaign was the artifice of the evening. A Polynesian theme framed huge flashing projected images on a wall of various graphic designs the company had celebrated throughout the decade. This was the one rare chance for employees to strut themselves, rather than their visionary ideas and artwork on display. And while he was a bit distracted by all the glitter, bless her heart, she kept her eyes focused primarily either on him, or straight ahead.

With the generic over-polished band, crappy food and strong drinks from the open bar, it became a festive affair rather quickly. After she became aware of and even a bit reticent of all eyes glued to them,(well her) on the dance floor, she steered him to the edge of the desert table in the corner. Camouflaged by by the fake palm tree beside the table, she leaned back upon him and quietly observed the scene.

Pressing and flexing her buttocks firmly into his groin, he didn't even notice at first that she had hiked the back of her skirt up to her waist, until reaching down with his free hand he felt the cool of her cheeks. Making a kind of tent with her dress, she stretched her underpants fully over to one side. Past the elastic seam, she guided his hand into the soft waiting warmth her her insides, spreading her lips wet and wide.