Falling For Mr. Handsome


"That sounds....like a splendid idea. Perhaps I shall", I said, smiling up at him.

I met Cousin Russ back at my car. He was leaning up against it with his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face. I blushed from head to toe. How was I to even face him now, after he saw me in such a compromising position?

"What are YOU looking at?", I snapped.

"My very horny cousin, apparently", he retorted.

Mr. Handsome Gets Busy (Part III of the Mr. Handsome Saga)

I was stretched out on my bed, clad only in my fluffy white robe, watching TV and pumping my right breast. I could finally look forward to a baby-free day, since Wyatt was celebrating his birthday today. He was turning one.

The electric pump I was using felt good. It stimulated the nipple, but was also very gentle, which may be why it didn't produce much milk. When it comes to expressing milk, a mouth beats a machine every time.

I had just closed my eyes and was enjoying some relaxation when my cell phone rang. "Hello, love," an Englishman said in a deep sexy voice. "What are you wearing?"

"A fluffy white robe," I answered.

"Ooooh.....and what are you wearing beneath it?"

"My birthday suit," I responded.

"Mmmm...I've seen parts of that birthday suit, and I must say, it fits you splendidly....like a glove, in fact. The fabric is so very soft, and I love that double-breasted look. I would like to come over there and try it on...or better yet...you should come here. Are you free today?"

"I am, actually. Wyatt is having his birthday party today. He is one!"

"Splendid! Now perhaps he can begin eating more solid food and stop sucking the life out of your poor tender nipples....that's MY job."

"If he stops, there won't be any more milk," I observed.

"I'll handle the demand, if you provide the supply," he offered.

"Well, that could work....but you'd have to feed several times a day at least," I advised.

"I can live with that," he assured me. Come visit me today, and I'll prove to you what a hard worker I am," he promised.

"I don't even know where you live," I observed.

"I've a place in the Hamptons. That's where I'm staying right now. I'll send a car for you at 11:00," he asserted, with more authority than he had a right to. "I'll await you with great eagerness, love."

Click. He hung up without giving me a chance to say "Yes, no, maybe or go fuck yourself." I guess I'm going to the Hamptons, I thought. How intriguing. I would be near the ocean...how sexy is THAT? Even in the fall, when it's too chilly to sunbathe or swim, a walk on the beach is what I love above all things. So, off I go.

I began to dress, and then wondered if the 19 year-old boy next door was home. Our bedroom windows opposed each other, and we exhibitionists never miss an opportunity to flash. That's the Number One Rule of exhibitionism. I made sure the shade was completely up, and then stripped off my robe right in front of the window, hoping he got a good gander.

11:00 a.m. arrived before I knew it, and I found myself slipping into the back of a black stretch limo, where a bottle of chilled champagne awaited me. It was a bit early in the day, but what the heck? We live once.

I carefully wore a short black dress that permitted easy breastfeeding access. I knew what Ian liked by now, and my breasts needed to be suckled, not only because they were engorged, but because I was desirous of it, and when I am, my very large, very sensitive nipples cannot possibly get enough attention. Ian, I knew, was only too happy to oblige.

Apparently, Ian Kensington, a.k.a. "Mr. Handsome", had plenty of money, since he had no problem sending a limo to fetch me to his home...his home in the Hamptons, which was apparently not his full-time residence, since it is nearly two hours away from the park where we met. Apart from his name and the fact that he loves my breasts, and loves watching me breastfeed in public, I know nothing about Ian. Well, I know he's an incredibly handsome Brit who loves to watch as I expose my breasts publicly. Thanks to our one intimate erotic interlude, I also know he's very good at using his talented mouth to stimulate their arousal, and he's willing to spend a long, long time at it, if that makes me happy...and it does...happy, and hot.

So I relaxed and sipped my champagne, quietly anticipating what might happen today....what Ian might do to me...and what I'd like to do to him. After my third glass, I was feeling a buzz. Oh dear, I really shouldn't be consuming alcohol while nursing a baby. I'd completely forgotten in my nervous anticipation of the adventure ahead of me. I stopped drinking immediately, hoping my milk would be alcohol-free after today...after Ian sucks the entire day's milk supply from my large, eager nipples. Perhaps HE would be a bit tipsy from consuming my spiked milk, but young Wyatt would be spared that experience.

I closed my eyes for only a minute, it seemed, when I realized the driver had just pulled up to an iron gate and punched a numeric code on a keypad, causing it to open. The huge double-door gate bore a letter K in the ironwork on each side.

I still felt buzzed, but sat up straight. I was anxious to have a look at the grand house a gate like that one must be protecting. I was not disappointed.

The long drive ended in a U at the front entrance. The house was huge and beautiful; its stately brick exterior looked almost imposing. The driver opens my door, and I step out onto the brick pavers. I'd never been inside a house this grand; I wondered how big it was....5,000, perhaps 6,000 square feet? I couldn't imagine. I climb the three steps leading to the double doors at the front entrance and ring the doorbell. I'm dizzy. I stared at the beautiful matching autumn wreaths that graced the front doors. I had to wait only about 15 seconds for the door to open.

And there he stood...in all his handsome glory. Ian Kensington, a.k.a. the incomparable Mr. Handsome, filled the doorway with his glorious half-naked self. Well, he was almost half-naked. He wore a long sleeve white shirt, untucked and completely open down the front. His tanned chest was happily smooth, bronzed and hairless, but his otherwise boyish face bore the usual shadow, which probably represented only a few hours growth. I found it sexy that he tried to remain clean-shaven, but his manliness would not be tamed, and the shadow of beard growth was the only feature that lent a sense of maturity to his delightfully youthful appearance. A small white gold mariner's cross hung from a rope chain around his neck, and a thin, narrow trail of dark-blonde hair lead the way from just under his belly button to where it disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. Yummy.

Now it was my turn to be rendered instantly stupid. I think my IQ plummeted at least 85 points below what it was before, and I was unable to speak for a few seconds. I stared openly at his narrow waist, washboard stomach and well-developed pectoral muscles, absently wondering why it was perfectly legal for beautiful men to parade about naked to the waist while we women had to cover up. Did anyone honestly think women weren't aroused by a sight like this? Why, he should be thrown in the slammer for looking this good....and I should be the renegade cop, slapping the cuffs on him and...frisking him...thoroughly...before locking us both in a cell and strip searching his handsome ass for contraband.

My train of thought was suddenly broken when his hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the grand foyer where, after closing the door behind me, he pulled me against his bare chest and began kissing me...on the neck, the lips, the face. His left hand reached 'round and squeezed my bottom, pushing my belly up against his already hardening erection. My breasts were pressed against his hard chest, and my sensitive nipples responded instantly. I smelled his neck. He smelled so good. I opened his shirt a bit further so I could have a look at his armpits. I like looking at male armpits, odd as that sounds. Oh, yes. Why was I surprised that they too were perfect? The soft, dark-blonde hair covered the centers, while well-developed muscles framed them from the back. He was a fair-haired Adonis, and he was all mine...today at least.

"What are you looking at, Minx," he breathed.

"A half-naked you," I responded dreamily.

He arched a brow. "Oh? Do you like what you see? Would a completely naked me hold any interest for you?"

"Oh, yes," I responded, running my palms over his bare chest and down his belly, where I allowed my left hand to linger...and rub gently. I looked up into his face and watched his aqua eyes smolder with passion and change to an icy blue. I knew, if I'd let my hand slip lower, I'd have found him rock-hard at this point. But, I just gently rubbed his lower belly; I'd much rather tease him. He looked at me so hungrily, as if he wanted to bite me, to devour me. "You look smashing in that dress," he remarked.

I then gave in to an overwhelming desire to simply smell him. I kissed his bare chest, and just inhaled his fragrance. It wasn't only his aftershave; there was something more...a scent that was very male and very much his exclusively. I licked his skin just in the small area where I was sniffing. I wanted the entire multi-sensory experience; I wanted to experience all that was Ian. I wanted to taste him, smell him, feel him. I was so turned on.

Apparently, so was he. With a growl, he lifted me off my feet and carried me out of the foyer and to the large kitchen island, which looked out over the great room and sat me on it, facing him. I felt the cold stone on my bottom, as my dress rode up. "Are you going to make love to me, right here on the granite countertop," I queried.

"It's marble. And yes, the thought had occurred to me," he murmured into my neck between kisses. "But first, I've something to show you," he announced, as he pulled a folded sheaf of papers from his back pocket and handed them to me.

"What's this," I asked, as I unfolded the paperwork. I saw the name of a lab on the letterhead, and I realized it was some sort of medical lab work report. It was blood work he'd had done only two weeks prior. "What in the world...?"

"I wanted you to know that I am completely free of sexually transmitted disease", he said emphatically. "I don't want you to worry or to feel apprehensive about having unprotected sex with me." At this, my brow shot up. "And look here," he said, as he shuffled the papers around. "Here is a statement from my urologist that shows I've had a vasectomy." He picked up a drink from the counter and swallowed some of it. The ice cubes clinked together as he put it down.

I was very surprised. "Ian...this is all very considerate of you, but I did not return the favor..."

"It doesn't matter," he insisted. "I just wanted you to be easy, and know you've nothing to fear. I know in my heart I've nothing to fear with you," he said confidently.

"So you didn't want any children then?"

"I have two," he informed me. After a pause, "They're with their mother...in London. We are divorced."

I was relieved to hear he wasn't married and he didn't dislike children, since I had one, though she was already a teenager. "I see. Well...so you planned this...planned to have your wicked way with me," I inquired, smiling.

He looked at me so seriously again, his eyes smoldering. "I want you. I want all of you. I want to drink again from your magnificent breasts...but I want more." His hands moved up my thighs, and he spread them so that he could stand between my legs. He whispered in my ear as his hands roamed ever higher. "I want to be inside you. But first, I want to lick every inch of your silken flesh." He was sniffing my hair. My belly was full of butterflies, it seemed. This man could get me hot without even touching me; his voice was the sexiest sound in the world to me. I was already wet. "I want to suck the sweetness from those delectable nipples of yours..."

"Oh Ian, they are so sore...", I moaned.

"What? Oh, no", he pouted. "Poor darling...we can't have that; can we?" He began unbuttoning the front of my dress. "Let's have a look, then."

This was exciting, this business of him undoing my buttons and looking at my bare breasts. He made quick work of the long row of buttons that went all the way down to my belly, then spread the dress wide open. He was now looking at my cleavage, no doubt noticing the tan lines, and the tops of my areolas, which peeked out above the black demi-bra. His hands moved slower and more deliberately now, as he carefully unhooked the front clasp of my bra, baring my breasts to his intense gaze.

"Magnificent", he breathed. He gently pushed the dress off my shoulders and downward, until my arms were free of the long sleeves, the bra completely off, and I was naked to the waist. It was a chilly day, and my nipples involuntarily puckered up and pointed impudently at him. "They look very red today...well, they are red on the tips," he said quietly, as he allowed his knuckles to lightly brush the ends of my nipples, "...but the rest is a nice, rosy pink." With that, he picked up his drink and took a sip of the icy cocktail, all the while looking into my eyes. Then he did something I wasn't expecting. He swallowed the sip of his drink and immediately covered my left nipple with his icy-cold mouth. I inhaled sharply from the shock of it. His mouth was so cold, and his tongue was laving my nipple ever so gently. It was all at once soothing and sexy. A breathy "Uh" escaped my lips as the unexpected sensation pulsed through my body. This was so hot. I mean, it was so cold...but so hot! It was awesome. I could feel the roughness of his face against my breast. I caressed his thick, shiny blond hair, holding him close to me as I did so. Oh my God; don't stop, I thought. If I had been standing, I would have fallen to the floor in a heap, so weak were my legs. I was almost naked; my breasts and belly were exposed, and only my panties and the bottom of my dress hid my bottom from view, and Ian's wandering hands were working to change that. I was too weak to remain sitting. I lay back on the huge countertop, allowing him to do whatever he wanted with the front of me. He kissed me all over my breasts and belly. I felt his tongue invading my belly button. The sound of ocean waves made me turn my head to the left, where I noticed one of the floor-to-ceiling windows was slightly open.

That's when I saw him...a young, olive-complected man with thick black hair. He looked Italian and rather handsome, though nothing to my Ian. At first he looked startled, then interested, then guilty when he saw me watching him...watching me. He was wearing a plaid flannel shirt, and I thought he must have been a landscaper or gardener. He looked as if he might bolt at first, but when he realized that I was relaxed and had no intention of blowing the whistle on him, I believe he decided to continue watching. I liked it that he was watching; it got me even hotter, if that was conceivably possible. I writhed beneath Ian's attentions to my naked flesh, and I felt his hand beneath my dress, tugging at my panties. He got them off. I didn't see where they went, but before long, felt his beard stubble brushing the inside of my thigh, where he kissed and licked his way up to my hot liquid center. He stopped and took another drink from his glass. I saw him chewing some crushed ice. Then he continued his journey between my legs, and when he made it to the top, I felt his icy tongue caressing me THERE....in my special place.

I was now wetter than I'd ever been. I realized, to my embarrassment, that I was panting and writhing, as Ian's icy tongue worked its will on the wet folds of my inner flesh. It made me temporarily forget the dark stranger at the window...until I opened my eyes and saw him again. His arms were crossed over his chest now, his head cocked to one side. He couldn't look away. I just knew he was very turned on. I wondered how Ian would feel if he knew this man was watching. I looked down at the top of Ian's head. He was busy. Indeed, he seemed to be enjoying what he was doing so much, he didn't notice the man, and I wasn't about to blow his cover. I was lost in lust.

I began frantically clawing at Ian's shoulders, trying to bring him up to me. He stopped kissing me there, and I saw his left hand move downward and begin fumbling with the button on his waistband. A moment passed, and I felt something round and smooth rubbing against my entrance. By this time I was wild with lust and only wanted him inside me, but he held back. "Do you like this," he inquired.

"Yes," I breathed.

"Does it feel good?"


His breathing sounded somewhat labored. "You are so incredibly wet. I can't believe it.

"That's for you," I whispered.

This seemed to really excite him. "What do you want? Tell me."

"I want you."

But he wanted me to be more specific. "What do you want me to do?"

I looked into his eyes. They had turned that icy blue again. I allowed my eyes to stray to the window for a second. The dark man was still there. "Fuck me," I whispered.

Then I felt his first thrust, and it elicited a cry from me. He was so big and so hard, like a steel rod covered in velvet. He filled my void...but he stopped there. He wanted me to beg. "Please," I whispered.

"Please what?"

Damn him. I looked directly into his eyes. "Fuck me...hard," I begged. Another thrust, another cry. He was watching my face, and I knew the dark man was watching us both. I grabbed Ian by the shirt and pulled him close to me. "Please, Ian...fuck me....Faster!"

"Yes, Ma'am", he replied. And, he did. His thrusts came harder and faster, 'causing my breasts to bounce wildly. I chanced a covert glance at the window. The dark man was staring very intently. My moans and cries grew louder, and I knew he could hear me through the open window, but I didn't care and was unable to quiet myself in any case. Each thrust elicited another cry, and the cries escalated into screams. I screamed out my climax just as Ian closed his eyes and began shuddering, grunting and growling through his throws of passion. When his eyes opened, his head was turned slightly toward the windows, his breathing labored, and I saw a startled moment of recognition pass over his face. He had seen the dark man.

I stole a glance just as the man saw Ian looking at him and fled. Without a word, Ian gathered me in his arms and carried me to his bedroom, where he gently placed me on the bed, removed his shirt, and laid down beside me, spreading a down comforter over both of us. He wrapped his arms around me, and I rested my head in his underarm. I could still hear the ocean waves crashing on the beach. I felt safer and more content than ever in my life. We remained this way, silently resting for a minute or two. The afternoon sunlight shone through the floor-to-ceiling bedroom windows, revealing a tattoo inside his forearm of a black, star-shaped compass. Very nautical, I thought.

"Who was that man in the window," I inquired.

"That was Mario, my gardener," Ian replied. He did not appear troubled by his presence, though I had trouble reading his emotions.

I quietly played with the pendant that rested against Ian's chest. "What made you choose a mariner's cross," I asked him. "Do you have a particular fondness for the sea?"

"I do, indeed. I spend a great deal of time near it...and on it, as I own a boat," he explained.

"How delightful. We share a passionate interest in common then, because there is nowhere I'd rather be than as near to the ocean as possible," I declared.

"Do we? That's very fortunate, because I'd like to take you out on my boat sometime, if you've no objection. Would you care for a stroll on the beach in a while?"

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