0 comments/ 8844 views/ 0 favorites Holly By: wouldloveto Holly got up to brew some tea never bothering to put on any clothes, I followed her to her little kitchen and spooned her from behind telling her that that was the most amazing encounter I had ever had. She turned to me and said that she had imagined it for months but could never have imagined how good it would be. Holly told me she had never cum multiple times like that and that she was so turned on when I shared both her and my cum that she just about lost it. Well, this made us both hot and while the water was boiling for the tea I bent her over the counter and fucked her again, twisting her nipples and clit till she came and almost collapsed on the floor. She told me I had to stop before she succumbed to dehydration and fatigue so I sat in a chair as she put tea bags in the pot. With out asking she knelt and sucked me cock while the tea steeped but I was nowhere near ready to cum and I told her so. Holly took the teapot, cups and some crackers, cheese and fruit back into bed with me close behind sporting a huge erection and a big smile on my face. We sat in bed, nibbled on the snacks, sipped tea and talked about all the things we wanted to do together. We talked about much more than sex, life goals, short term projects, philosophical subjects and even politics. But, we also talked about the kind of BDSM lifestyle we both wanted, and amazingly it seemed we both wanted the same thing; we wanted to explore both top and bottom and see where we ended up. Soon it was quite late and Holly asked if I would like to spend the night, I of course said I would and she said that I could only if I asserted my dominant side to her. Well, well, well, I did not hesitate and quickly cuffed her wrists and bound her ankles just as she had done to me. Then I left her that way while I searched her suit case, room and house for suitable devices to impose my will on her. Not finding the rope I desired I teased her with her crop for a bit as I dressed and then left her as she protested when she realized I was going to leave to find what I wanted. I rushed home, collected my ropes, pulleys and some toys and then rushed back to find Holly fuming and pissed that I had left her. I just chuckled but I was concerned that she was truly pissed off, but I decided to work with it, running her crop over her cunt, ass and nipples as I verbally teased her. Holly hissed and cursed me, saying I was irresponsible and a fuck up to leave her like that, so I hit her with the crop. I started on the soles of her feet, then her armpits, then thighs, then tummy, then tits, then cunt. All the while she cursed me and demanded to be released but I could see that her nipples where huge and hard and her clit was poking out of its hood and, most notably I could smell her pussy oozing its gnarly aroma. I then pulled out my rope and began to bind her, replacing the cuffs and her ankle bonds till I had her trussed into a hog tied position that gave me full access to her tits, clit, slit and ass. Now I got nasty, attaching nipple and labia clips (which she had never experienced), pushing the well place knots against her clit and anus and pulling her lovely hair back and attaching it to the nip and lip clips. She was in exquisite agony when I left her to feel it and explored her computer in full view of her. Holly cussed me as I looked through all of her nasty folders, revealing some of her deepest and darkest fantasies as I commented on all of them. I found that she harbored fantasies of degradation by just exactly what I had already done, plus mud, urine (which I had no intention of doing), and public humiliation (which she could not afford to do). I also found that she desired another woman, and that she had experience with one (which apparently led to her breakup). That she wanted anal sex but had never had it, that she wanted to try fisting, that she fantasized about a gang bang and that she wanted to butt fuck me... yes me specifically. That really turned me on but I did not let on that I found that. By the time I was done searching her computer and telling her what I learned she was squirming in her bonds and cussing me out to the nth degree. I responded by moving her to the edge of the bed so that I could put my cock at her mouth, at first she refused, but as I whipped her asshole and cunt she relented and started to suckle my now limp cock. As it grew she started to get into it but I pulled away and made her lick me ass which she resisted again but with some well placed crop whacks and a thumb rammed in her ass she complied and was soon rimming me so good I thought I would cum. I instructed her to suck my balls, taint, anus and cock while I thrashed her ass, asshole and cunt with her riding crop and was soon surprisingly rewarded with her cumming in a wild thrashing and oozing climax. It was awesome to see and feel as she sucked on my cock with abandon while it occurred. This made me cum too and I was able to pull out and cum on her face which I do not think she liked, but when I licked it off she came again. After that I untied her, undid the clips and an cuddled with her till we both fell asleep. Holly Man has a quick forgettery. Carl Sandburg said so. Not true when it comes to Holly, the sylph I have gratefully surrendered to. No matter how wizened my brain becomes, my forgettery is incapable of such treachery. In our tiny, licentious kingdom, I am king. Holly is my lone subject, a shameless wench compelling me to commit mortal sin at every opportunity. How was it possible? I shake my head considering this remarkable woman, the best of the lot I have fucked during my somewhat checkered history. Two insignificant specks out of billions salted across this big blue marble, serendipitously intersecting. An average fellow whose mug is saved from insipidity by a ponderous beak mapped with broken veins, a mostly resolute chin. Nothing special about me, not even a whopper of a wanker to brandish. Nor am I the smartest guy in the room. Even in a small room. Past fifty, well past it. Gray plays havoc my flaxen hair. Printed words appear as hazy, petite medicine bottle script, hence the reading glasses. Not fat, not flabby, not overly fastidious, firm and muscular enough by God. Boyish good looks scoured away, in minute increments, my visage is un-fraying into an old man's soft edged, drippy mien. From the herd Holly collected me. I am so much the better for it. I am transformed from myopic, occasionally hypertensive, Joe Average into god. A lower case deity, one with an attitude, a Jack Nicholson wannabe with arched eyebrows and skewed take on the world. Oklahoma born, bred on Sooner football, raised with niggardly affection, meat and potatoes fed, always good natured now. No booze needling me into good humor. Naked, head pillow tilted, legs, one grazed long ago by an expiring bullet, bracing Holly, her voracious mouth pouring on the coals, never letting up. I on football played out knees, mouth molded to her muff, tongue tricking across her clit, Holly pulling my ears back. This is the truth and consequence of our propitious meeting. All powerful, a towering, growling behemoth captured inside me, my eyes, sleepy looking ala Robert Mitchum, glaze over. My lower rung ego, counted average in any accounting, swells magnificently, fills Holly's marauding mouth. This is so every time. Pre Holly, my non-elated, limited dimensions humbled me as nothing else did. Holly suggesting a blow job, summoned to her quickened body, emboldened my unassuming manhood with a bull's proud musculature. Trapped in Holly's rowdy mouth, natural or manmade disasters register as no more than pesky annoyances. Say a meteor barrels into earth, wipes the slate clean, I trust Holly is getting me off. Holly's merry, intrepid mouth, her other equally audacious ports in action, akin to watching a devil may care test pilot jerking a new high performance bird through the heavens. Sex, its traditional configuration, its kinkier genre is good anytime anywhere and getting head rules. Yet nothing is finer than to be in a vagina with one's mouth. Holly's genitalia, bonne bouche for my face diving satisfies this other appetite. This blowjob ideation and proclivity for muff diving originated in my chilly matrimonial bed. My wife's refusal to engage, even consider such acts, sparked a compulsion in me for women sharing my fixations. In her narrowly conventional mind, sodomy was sinful, wore the same filthy mantle as bestiality, other unnatural acts most suitable for the barnyard. On one memorable occasion she took me in her mouth enough to immediately spit me out. For the next hour, toothbrush in perpetual motion, mouth frothing white, mumbling through globs of toothpaste, swearing, I think. No more blowjobs the final outcome. Made melancholic by my thirty-eight month marriage, nonetheless honoring my marital obligations, I had not stepped out on the little, clinched legged woman. Not once. I lusted in my heart, did no rutting with cheaply available women. Divorced, when opportunity presented itself, I got and gave head. My solitary-eyed snake found favor with gifted women begging to suck cock. I reciprocated in kind. For twelve months, such appetites unfed. In those early post-September 11 days, stationed where mountains are highest, the wind is coldest, everyone is Moslem and a good many are mad about it, I mourned the scarcity of such sustenance. Outfitted in desert camies including a rakishly tilted bush hat, most often chewing Black Jack gum, I hunted, harmed to death desperados crazily murdering, killing by the gross, for their nasty spirited God. Damn their evil, misdirected, satanic souls. Maybe I am reckoned for damnation too if Allah has a say in the matter. Living not so comfortably, I worked out of jury-rigged camp of prefab tin huts and sandbagged bunkers confined by concertina, emplaced machine guns and belted with Claymores. In this forbidding landscape, Rudyard Kipling's former stomping ground, we had the amenities of home. A commercial sized, Swiss made latte machine was available inside a pavilion furnished with rattan furniture and potted orange trees. A three hole golf course but don't go too far off the fairway, step into the mine field. Internet was an amenity. A pipeline from this wearying, primitive place straight back to the world I represented, a country chock-a-block with Wal-Marts, McDonalds, ATM machines and Bluegrass. A Tuesday, evening had come on; starlight punctured the sky's black velvet hood, gunfire in various calibers popped in the distance. I had retired to my compactly ceilinged bunker malodorous from a community of pack mules quartered nearby. Restless, contrite following my recent incautious behavior in the field, I brooded over my stupidity. In company of my dust beset computer, searching for solace, I trolled the Internet. Tapping the laptop's keys, cursor flying fast as greased lightning, sucking breath mints from a red and white tin of them, sipping scotch from several succeeding tiny twist cap bottles, the empties, salvos of them, fired at a plastic lined pail next to my table. Rough grained, pitted, the table's surface darkly stained in sanguinary memory of chopping off a squalling mujahedeen's right leg with a stropped knife. This instrument, the most coldly murderous and bloodiest I had seen proved inadequate. Going here and there, grossed out once or twice, and finding Holly after a dozen or so clicks. There she was, head tipped insouciantly, smiling coyly. Sumptuous breasts begging to be licked and manhandled, bare mons pubis catching my attention, roundly etched hips doing so just as nicely. All given in such excess struck my perverted soul at its very marrow. Holly fetchingly tilted against a black wing chair. Clad in semi-transparent red shift not quite up to the task of covering her hard buttocks. Breasts, their majority conveyed from under the gauzy material. Gloriously long, shapely bare legs more so in flamboyant stiletto heeled red mules lathered in scarlet feathers. One spicy shot out of a gallery of twenty such shots. Another one she wore a turquoise chemise engineered to focus attention on her breasts, linger lovingly on her buttocks. Another delicious sex bomb pose clicked into view after a God awful amount of time. One pitched with a raining cats and dogs theme. Dripping wet, decked out in lustrous black leather g-string and corset, black hose, stilettos. Wet hair smoothed down, sparkling as though plaited with strands of diamonds. I saw no safety or succor in her eyes. Something deliciously degenerate swirled like smoke in her green eyes. In the rakish tilt of her chin, I perceived a swashbuckler's daring, zealotry for fleshy pleasures. Seconds before snapping this shot, a cock had been properly engaged in her. Obvious signs of such habitation drove me mad with desire to be so positioned. Holly in dishabille, imaging her and me routinely doing normal and nastier sex acts had me aching for quick relief. Glancing at the black plastic tarp covering my doorway, not expecting any interruptions, I promptly ripped my trousers open. Slumping forward in my squeaking brown vinyl chair, my hand made a merry band around my unrobed hood. She knew how to attract one's attention. I was eager to engage in her hot pursuit. Yet I retreated, hesitant. She'd never answer me. Not this wench. No way would she cotton up to me. It was absurd. Amidst such negativity I cast seeds, hoping for a miracle to gestate. Not to mention my little head, a powerful little bugger when properly taunted, squashed my big head's sensible opposition. I fired off an email after shooting a wad. Most of which missed the computer screen. Taking my time, composing what I hoped was a lucid, winning and honest word portrait of my particulars. Punched up with active sentences, turbocharged with energetic words, I added several shots of me to the missive, sent it traveling. Proud of my composition, not so conceited about the pictures, I could do no more but wait. Inexplicably, this pretty, provocative woman answered me. Promptly too. This lass was interested in me, a plain looking White Anglo-Saxon Protestant with meager means and much mileage. In my favor I was ex military, one of the good guys, a confident fellow with more successes than failures tallied on his slate. She was no sunshine patriot, a beefcake maven, a shallow pretty boy seeker. Across the vast distance we plied each other with the facts of our histories, facets of our personas. I surmised she was normal. An inference based on wishful thinking, guesswork and libidinous aspirations not any real proof. Under her spell, common sense was cast aside. My less than prudential behavior was impermeable to any doubt relating to Holly's authenticity. In my noggin she was no cyber mirage, she was real and all good things to boot. I gambled, did no faking. I grew up as Axel Campion and Axel Campion was given to Holly. Axel Campion, the brow beaten, roughly handled son of an unsuccessful high school football coach. A blizzard of spicy emails populating my in-box inflamed me; kept me at a fever pitch. Desire stirred my dulled roots with spring rain the poet once scribed. Attracted, admiring my service defending America, appreciating my enforced horniness, available, an instrument alleviating my sorry state. Her body offered as reward for my selfless sacrifice. Holly explained her circumstances, articulated her intentions. Comfortably fixed, circumspect, home ground bound, Holly trimmed her flesh in all things provocative. Flirtatious, face meticulously painted, beaming a chatoyant smile, impudent body exciting interest, exclaiming look, don't touch. Gaze all you wish, glare if you must, grin if you like. Fondle from a distance. Watch the rude remarks. She loved challenging men in public venues to not notice her scornful eyes, her scorching body, then conjuring impromptu open-mouthed amazement and sudden outbursts of erections. I imagined this superlative standard bearer of her sex, ankles turning in tangerine or polished oxblood high heels, wrapped in something giving her figure a good turn, briskly striding somewhere. Encamped in pastel leaves burbling against her handsome, silky legs, sleek body merrily flouncing beneath, men halted in their tracks. In the wake of whispering silk, flashes of thigh, flaunted breasts, sensible, serious men were deluged by such a scintillating spectacle. Hearts pounded and pricks whipped and snapped until Holly passed out of view. Away from home, far as the Czech Republic and Venezuela, the little devil closeted in her runs free. Stage managing exposed flesh, baring her midriff, often wearing spiked heels, she'd bend over, break out her private stash, bits and pieces of flesh not often seen in the local coffee house, the cluttered, exotically scented aisles of a village bodega. So she said in one email I often beat off to. She titillated from afar. Steamily kitted out, she'd lean on some poor sod; feel him shipping around in his trousers, feed him a caress here, a poke there. Guy's stewing in his juices, his discomfited eyes beating the fuck out of her practically bare breasts, some other exposed body part the day's special. Dude's mouth, tremulous, gaping, imitating a floundering fish and just as helpless. Fending off grouping arms, too easily fixed for intimacy, bedewed by languid petting tongue, bedeviled by a word, an impromptu sensation and her hard breathing, sweat soaked body was in free fall toward the thing she only wished to fascinate not fuck. Her aloof amity altered with astonishing suddenness to boundless admiration for this particular cock. She wanted it with an addict's craving. She'd fight like hell to get her mind off this firm proposal put up to her body. Inflicting torment not being impaled on her petard was the name of the game. Leave them high and dry, struggling with agonies her provocative body did nothing to placate. Fooling around on such dangerous ground made Holly cantankerous, out of sorts. To a fortunate few -- too few for an adequate circle jerk - Holly sallied forth, exhibited her smoldering body, and conferred her formable company up close and personal. Presently, exchanging bodily fluids, she eradicated those dreary feelings boozers know so familiarly, the gut ache assuaged only by a good snoot full. She got her snoot full, felt better—for awhile. This cadre fucked Holly. Nothing more was expected. She saw no incentive in courting; all the rigmarole men practiced previous to putting it to a woman was wasted putting it to her. Her cup of tea was transitory alliances, fast lane fornicating, randy rabbits ripping into each other, straining, staining the sheets and briskly moving on. Hit and run. Bedding a man, she was a cold-eyed, hot on the trigger gunslinger. I was most fortuitously in her gun sight, a plane trip away from settling in her tiny colony of fuck buddies. I was muy simpatico. Who wouldn't be? I said so in more than one missive. As a young man full of piss and vinegar I dreamed of such hit and run encounters? Older, a seasoned letch, no less enthusiastically, I wished literally and figuratively to come upon such loose women. Finding an insatiable woman with no qualms about hopping into bed with all possible dispatch, no whispered sweet nothings expected, effortless, non committal free form fucking. Tete-beche or sixty-nine accorded highest priority. Shots of head action paid to her and me. A day or two, a week of hectic sexual congress, kisses exchanged, ultimate blow job, final cunt licking as valedictory to kissing each other off, dissolving their interim confederation. Single for a long time, footloose, fancy free, amiably disposed to Holly's terms, eager to commence our journey however abbreviated. Two days before getting out of Dodge, a camp called Fort Dodge matter of fact, Duncan Hymes, our best and least dapper communications tech, sheared my hair. Duncan, slender once, stolid now, gray ponytail, a pennant on his back, beer gut prominent as a pregnant woman's belly, gold hardware buried in his fleshy ears and nose was no hair stylist. He cut hair short or not at all. Last morning in country, freshly shaved, Old Spice scented, "enough is enough" looping in my brain, I debouched from my bunker. Pale strips of blue overhead were pulverized by wide swaths of luminous pewter and bands of greasy looking gray clouds. Everywhere sky scratching stone citadels, coarse terrain asserting little vegetation, presided over by small and large boulders, sliced by crevices, thriving with crags. Mountains bumping mountains, their loftiest reaches snowed under or obscured by clouds. I paid little heed to this brittle, forbidding landscape, author of such misery. Not this morning. My mind having moved stateside, to Holly, her soft, supple figure promised me. Momentarily I was distinguished by my impending departure. Handshakes and backslaps all around, final cup of coffee quickly sipped and a helping or two of the Frenchman's hand-made, powdered sugared beignets adrift in powdered sugar. I tossed back the last morsel of the ultimate beignet, savored it, a lackadaisical smile akin to Mona Lisa's creased my mouth. Maybe I'd cart a ten pound sack of the Frenchman's sugar back, pour it over Holly's nakedness and lick up every granule. Toss cinnamon on her cunt, her nipples. Bald headed Boone-known as Dan'l and horsey-faced, frog eyed Davis-both sporting Fu-Manchu mustaches and M-16s-jauntily cursing me in a stream of profanities, escorted me across the hard pan to my steed. Merrily chewing two sticks of Black Jack plucked from one of three packs tucked in a pants pocket, I clutched a scratched, beaten up valise, all my possessions therein, a Sony lap top and several paperbacks, snug in a black saddle bag in the other hand. Shining tube mocs, a long time not on my feet, dust covered in three or four strides. Magnificent, alone, inelegant, dull gray, painted in dust, door guns manned by camouflaged helmeted men in aviator sunglasses, blades lazily twirling, threatening to drive dust into deviltry. I, one of three passengers, was clad in sharply creased dark blue trousers, pale blue shirt, blazer, another variation on blue. My ensemble was wrinkle intolerant, bought on line at an emporium catering to the frequent traveler. I was definitely one of those. Most often at government expense and usually to places any sane person would recoil from visiting. Including this sweeping pustule of hard ground where every rocky purchase and pinnacle witnessed man's infinite brutality and limitless butchery. All things near eastern heeled backwards traveling by beaten up helo, raunchy looking, down in the mouth turbo prop —helmed by a disheveled pilot sporting a pink aloha shirt and faded, sweat stained fedora — finally packed sardine tight in a jumbo size shiny silver jet where I fell asleep early on after several shots of straight gin. The plane's great sized tires screeched touching down; Nervous, clear-headed, the booze buzz tuned out by my liver before the plane entering American airspace, I deplaned, shot out of the jet way like a fleeing purse snatcher. Brief stop at a crowded head to purge my bladder, broken field running through clots of travelers, Holly not standing where she said she'd stand. Mild anxiety sundered by fear. Had Holly come to her senses, seen the error of her ways? No, I was nothing more than one more sad-faced schlep teased by Holly. The only difference my distance. I faced a boring interlude in an airport well off my beaten path. That was I what I had flown to with such enthusiasm. Saying "damn, damn, damn" under my breath, passengers gathered round to retrieve luggage. In the commotion of banging luggage, disgruntled babies and chattering adults, a marvel of acoustics, the sound of glass doors tracking backward in a sonorous whish, boomed in my ears. A knot of people stepped through the doorway; their heads swiveled to the rear, trying to see something. The object of their interest following closely on their heels, sauntered into the terminal. Holly had arrived. Eyeballs clicked in a loud thunderclap. So it seemed in my ears. Men's eyes licked her, memorizing, many this night in bed or bath, cocks in hand, eyes closed, seeing Holly as she was now. Breathless, rotund males trying to streamline their portliness sucked in their guts. Little fellows dwarfed by taller travelers nearly leaped from their footwear seeking Holly's notice. Women less impressed, less impressive themselves, their envy thick as tree sap, stared daggers at Holly, shook their heads, several loudly threatened slaps to their mates if they did not promptly look away from this trollop. Holly ignored the furor, concentrated on me, made a bee line my way. She moved with the confident gait of a high wire aerialist. Unhesitatingly, she slipped into my arms with a dancer's supple elegance and fluidity. Holly "Welcome home Popeye. Finally, we meet. Do I live up to your expectations?" Popeye was Holly's unoriginal appellation for me since I told her of my long ago sailor stint. Liked it better than Pops as the spry youngsters I worked with called me. "Oh yes, yes indeed." Words not popping from my mouth quickly enough, terse speech not saying how truly astonished I was. Feeling her warm, curvaceous body fitted around me, my cock doing handstands pressing against her. "Popeye feels like he is nearly pleased right out of his pants. Wait until we get somewhere more private before you drive that puppy into me?" Holly's voice, a series of nots: not shrill, not pitched too low, not flung to high, not nervous, not overly excited. Her speech resonating warmth, each clearly articulated word heard with greatest acuity at the tip of my foreskin free cock than in my ears. Even if my ears had gone too long in not hearing such provocative words said so sharply and definitely. We held our embrace, kissed amidst a throbbing mass of smiling, happy folk claiming baggage and each other. Here in the west lots of cowboy hats and boots. Even a coiled lariat and taupe saddle on the trundling baggage belt. Families fell into familiar orbits, lovers kissed, children buzzed about. A friendly and serious feminine voice barked advisories, threats from loudspeakers. Bogie did it in The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. I had also struck gold. No grinning, Mexican banditos stealing my loot while I shifted around on my feet looking for safe egress, knowing in my heart of hearts I was dead and my gold was good as gone. Holly saw me not as treasure but as a means to an end, seemed pleased with me as a tolerable terminus. Holly was and more. Striking, lean, shapely, she was shy four or five inches of my six foot height. Cloud of brunette hair practically pitch black cut close, feathering her neck, framing her finely chiseled features. The only hesitation in her handsomely engrossing, exuberant countenance was the snub nose. Full lips dressed with bubblegum pink gloss professed acumen giving what I craved for many months. Her green eyes twinkled like distant harbor lights. Our bodies pushed together, she knew what sensations she shot into me via my various senses and how she enthralled me. Shoulders bared in a panorama of radiant, creamy pink flesh, the pleasing effect of her navy blue trapeze dress. Chic metal hardware at the shoulders and Y-back held up the dress. A couple of tugs and the dress was history. Her spectacular breasts showed a majority of skin perched in the garment's shelf bra. The dress managed to flair in momentary bursts before grasping her figure all the more. The surest sign of the dress's dramatic sexual tension, her torrid sexuality, a white-haired priest did a double take as did several other men giving Holly the once over with covert glances. Gold bangles, a series of them, hung on her slim arms, sparkled. Gold open-toed shoes with heels four inch high corded her bare, suntanned perfectly turned out legs. So precipitously inclined, the shoes nearly jolted me out of my loafers. Her pudendum was waxed bare; nothing between its depilation and the dress sent another jolt merrily on its way. Holly, the winsome frock, the sin promising shoes, her forecast of fellatio skills whispered in my ear, I was set to make a spectacle of myself, risk arrest here on the baggage carousel in front of God, country, its shocked, gaping mouthed citizenry. Outside, noonday, the sun blazed from a seamless blue American sky. I squinted. Holly, tortoise shell sunglasses now featured on her face, didn't. Hand in hand to Holly's car parked a thousand miles from the terminal or so it seemed. In the emerald blue Saturn SUV detailed to a high gloss, the stout, pervasive citrus scent of lemons slugged me in the nostrils. Holly's parking distantly from the pedestrian stream, the added bonus of tinted windows, afforded us freedom to shout our randy natures before shoving off and steering home. Little talk, lots of busses, guttural moans and bumping. Not fucking but the next best thing. I rather enjoyed my trousers stretch across my rusty cannon, the firm and lively contours of Holly's body under my arms, her perfumed neck sliding against my lips. The dress of such provocative design had to be enchanted. I imagined this garment stored with magical properties. The dowdiest female cloistered under its charming weave transposed to sexpot, her body sculpted to centerfold specifications soon as she stepped into it. Unabashedly, drawing down the captivating dress, her bust popped into view. God bless those breasts. Exposed, fantastically big, florid pink, with riveting russet nipples staked in cocoa-colored fields. Breasts of such magnitude never failed to delight me. The scintillating dress, the bared breasts, the gold stilettos delighted me right off the scale. Stowed in the rear of the vehicle next to a sealed cardboard box, squash racket and one visible Puma sneaker was my Sony laptop gotten in Frankfort. My bag with its many zippered pockets, an irascible towing handle was there too. I was home. An eager, sexy vixen was next to me. I'd soon learn if this woman with such spectacular accoutrements was my salvation or something more sinister. It was exciting, edgy. If she buried me under the geraniums, I'd die happily after getting some licks in. Fingered her, I dipped, licked her deforested gash brushed with lilac, stretched long underutilized muscles and nearly threw my back out. Did she swoon? Damn right. Her head lolling back against the bucket seat's headrest, legs spread, beseeching me for more. Her tremulous voice reminiscent of Oliver Twist holding forth an empty bowl, pleading for porridge. Poor little Oliver got the heave ho, I too desisted, drew back my tongue. Leave her wanting more. "You are mean." No matter how often she said it, I loved hearing these words. Just as hearing "Give me that hot stuff", did, her legs wrapped round me as she neared orgasm. Not holding a grudge, Holly dipped too. Unzipped, I popped free. Limber as a rubber bodied Romanian gymnast, swopping down, sweeping me into the haven of her mouth. Captured, a brief spell of sucking, a snack to placate my appetite. She left me wanting more too. Ten or fifteen minutes such fondling, reluctantly separating, we regrouped. Raiding her clutch purse, Holly removed a brass Mickey Mouse key ring, tracked down the right key, and pushed it into the ignition. Starting the car, she tenderly kissed me on the cheek, looked intently at the vanity mirror attached to her visor, made minute make-up adjustments, tuned the air conditioning and fastened her seat beat. Actions watched with the greatest interest. Anxious to lay into her, a sentiment she had from a distance most vociferously seconded time and again, I resisted goosing the accelerator, peeling rubber, plowing into pedestrians, rowing over them out like columns of corn. South paw gripping the wheel, north paw's several fingers busy betwixt Holly's long legs. Pubes, shaved the day before, smooth as an infant's rump, index finger doing all it could to animate her clit. Her left leg bumping the center console where a tiny soccer ball, a stress ball actually, rolled around in a tray next to the gear shift. Right leg slapped the door. Amidst moderate traffic, we cruised, making small talk. I talked. Holly mumbled all the while I fingered her. Years earlier, the first Bush president, in D.C., working out of a cubicle, a soft, tense free job as salve for surviving a fete in Monrovia where a reed thin, acne scared, grinning warlord got his kicks playing a sword across the back of my neck, I fucked Erica Johansson more than a few times. No brainless bimbo. She was a brilliant linguistic analyst, a busty blond with heart-shaped pubic patch and a quarter-sized yellow smiley face tattooed on her right breast. In the course of one fuckfest, I did something kinky. Erica said, "Axel, you are one imaginative cocksucker." At this particular moment, my fingers heartily rousing Holly, my praiseworthy mind's eye engaged; saw her naked pink body in a placid place, me registering something equally kinky. Get her to say "Axel, you are one imaginative cocksucker." So went our transit from airport to apartment. Thirty-three minutes later, we arrived at Holly's apartment complex; a garrison of one and two story dun colored adobe boxes loaded with exposed wood beams, black iron lattices, recessed windows and ebony doors looking like the tops of brass trimmed treasure chests. Parking, my cock never more keyed for action, we raced to Holly's second floor apartment. Behind Holly, my eyes feasting on Holly's rump, the perfection of her flying legs. As firemen run into harm's way we ran too. Our flight was not the least altruistic however. Her stiletto heels not slowing her. Her shoes serenaded my ears. Drumming against the hardwood floor, each heel click louder, sounding sexier as we closed on the bedroom. Dread, a soupcon of it, clouded my sunny disposition at the closed bedroom door. Skinning knives, ritual murder and mad women using the former to carry out the later fleetingly crossed my mind. I sallied forth anyway when Holly opened the bedroom door. Dictates of my dick overruled demands of self-preservation. Holly, showering me with an off the chart smile, kicked in the lights, showing off the large bedroom where sable curtains blacked out the windows, walls bled red. The crudest passions were savored here. Across the room in line with the door, snug between a pair of ebony colored nightstands, the king-sized bed, a cube covered in a red counterpane. Left of the bed, pushed against the wall, a pitch black chair plumed with a scarlet cushion, its back and flat arms fashioned with lewdly shaped curlicues. It was a throne later put to good use when the bed needed to cool some. More ebony, a dresser and a bureau, situated in accordance with mistress' wishes. Two doors dressed with the same recessed square panels, brass knobs and black glaze as the entry door. Access points to the bathroom and walk-in closet I assumed. Holly to the bed in an eye blink, on knees and elbows another blink, sunglasses tossed aside, dress gathered around her waist just as snippily. Holly furiously wriggled her ass. "Come on. Hurry. Fuck me." Shoes flung aside, one heel cupped in the throat of the other, blue-checked briefs inside my trousers, a pennant hanging from the side of the bed. If I had a nickel for every time my pants landed on a lampshade, haphazardly draped a bureau or knocked a cute teddy bear from a shelf. Thirsting for Holly, thrusting into her cunt's moist mayhem, my testicles slapped home, huddled at her welcoming doorway. In, out, I went. I marveled. My mandate was total. I conquered, possessed her wide open city and thrived in its accommodating welcome. In her container of candy, what the French call a bonbonniere, I was squeezed, pummeled and grasped. Was I on offense or defense? Under such unrelenting pressure, my cock stood its ground and sang out with the sweetest feelings. From friction sensation boiled over. "Baby, fuck me good and hard with that big, thick cock." Neither big nor thick. Average but bless her for saying it with such zeal and aplomb. Secured halyard fast, we pushed at each other, met in the middle, me swollen with semen, she simmering, spilling over with juice. "Hump the fuck out me," she said. Bold lyrics my marching orders. Affably connected, Holly twined between aggression and acquiescence, sound and fury versus silence and stillness. I hung on; handling whatever motion or mood she came up with. The dress, so formidable a short time ago now huddled around her waist, managing some coverage of her belly button. My hands migrated to her shapely flanks, I spanked away, watched red blossoms bloom as I jabbed my cock in. She cried out. Twisting her head, tongue between teeth, eyes aflame, she shifted back on me. Smack me harder, she commanded. I complied. She did this one incredible thing as I fucked her. Rotating her hips, shaking her booty, softly squeezing, seriously pumping my shaft. Her cunt trembled; this whispered fluttering clobbered my cock. It had to be some kind of far eastern sexual ritual taught to a select few. "You wicked, wicked wench. Where did you learn that trick?" I said. She added torque, agitating me all the more. Sweet release, the little death spoken of by Frenchies deeded us gamboling in the red silk sheets. It was a coming to write home about. Immediately, no less eagerly, surer of my ground, I took her again. I on top, the dress still was banded around her hips. Kissing, touching, her legs around my waist, the splendid come fuck me pumps nailing my back, breasts mashing my chest. I punched in. She pinched me. After sometime, too short a sometime, I erupted. The pleasure of this second coming was no less shy setting me down in the tall cotton of sexual bliss. Holly's post coital vibes, her oath uttered in a whisper, said she shared the sentiment. We separated. Before flopping down on the bed like a swimmer collapsing in the sand after crossing the channel in record time, Holly leaned down, licked my cock several times. She conferred in me my former youthful self. Two fucks full of commotion Holly disabusing my middle-aged body any notion of hoary ineptitude in the sack. By sunup, I'd be non-grayed, ungainly, a dumb looking, stupidly smiling boy. If not physically so my spirit stated in such adolescent fashion. In the messed up bed, scrambling about each other, not once did she rise up, screech an incantation, plunge a bayonet into me. No geranium planting this day. No mercurial moods noted. No talking in tongues. No weird fussing signaling mental meltdown. No marshalling of temper or crying jags, sure signs of emotional frailty. No worries, no drama, nothing of the outside world intruding, interfering. Our attraction no less incessant, we played and partied. An endless cycle of thrills tapped from each other's geography. Day segued into night. We continued. Not keeping count, just doing it. Her cunt surely sore, my cock certainly so, did not matter. Not yet. Her muscled thighs reined me in. My snake, its own muscle inside her no less rigorously. We were punch drunk with lust. The bell rang, we kept banging away. Again, again, again, she managed to stiffen me into action. Stone cold dead, she'd coax me into another go; get another spot of fun from me. Fortunately in the doing, I did not die. Finally, pausing, opening champagne Holly retrieved from the kitchen, sipping it. Eating cheese and crackers also brought in from the kitchen. I had not yet gone the distance or seen Holly's various come fuck me pumps in action. Eventually I'd purchase a Stetson, hand tooled boots and wear them back to wherever the outfit sent me. A colleague seeing me so dressed, deeming himself a wit, revealing its dimness calling me Cowboy or Tex. Just before dawn, finally spent, we slept in each other's arms. So it went for me, a man of average distinction and a matchless female named Holly. Supinely. Standing. Straddling. First to last, Holly delivered herself heart, soul, opened cunt and cock sucking mouth. Mr. Sandburg, my forgettery is just fine. Thank you very much. At this moment it is particularly important. Holly Holly a woodland fairy spent her days in the woods playing with the other fairies. Holly had strawberry blond hair and wore a dark green dress that was very short and showed a lot of her sexy legs. The dress was also low cut in the front and her breast where nearly spilling out. She wore her hair down and it flowed between her wings. Holly loved the woods and loved playing with the other fairies they would always cause mischief when they where together. Holly liked to be alone some times you could often find her Dancing and singing through the forest. But above all Holly's favorite pastime was to tease and play tricks on the travelers that passed through her woods. One day a young man walked into her woods He was handsome and wore a White shirt with a green vest and brown pants. Holly was attracted to this man he was not like the others who came and walk through her forest. Holly watched the man for a long time. She came down out of the trees and started to play ticks on him. She would cast spells and create strange sounds or sounds of someone yelling for help but when the man got there he would find nothing. She would giggle and laugh at the mans confusion. She took off her tiny panties which where no more then a few strings and a patch of green fabric and left them hanging on a low branch for the man to find. When the man did find these panties he had a surprised but wiry smile on his face. This turned holly on a little bit. At one point she passed in front of his trail in full form winked at him and then disappeared into the trees when the man approached her. This went on all day finally the man made camp to rest for the night holly decided to give him a break after one more tease she floated into his campsite said hello to the man who stood there shocked and lifted her skirt to show him that the panties he was holding in his left hand where indeed the ones she wasn't wearing. Holly had a nice little bush she liked to keep it trim with only a small triangle of hair. Holly then turned without saying another word and walked away give the man a nice long look at her bare ass. The man chased after her for a bit but holly knew these woods well and was able to lose him pretty quickly. After all this playing holly decided to go to her favorite little pond which was not far from here it had a small little waterfall and the moonlight reflected off the surface of the water like a mirror. She undressed, pulling her dress down over her breast as soon as her nipples felt the cool night air they became erect she sighed slightly as she rubbed her nipples with her hands. Holly loved to play with her self too. She was thinking about the man who she just teased and she moaned slightly louder. She shook her head to get the thoughts of him out and slowly slid her dress the rest of the way off over her firm ass. Holly stood in the moonlight completely naked for awhile just staring up at the moon. If someone was watching, this would have been a sight to see.... Someone was watching her the man had caught up to holly and was sitting watching in the bushes on the other side of the pond he had seen holly's nipple get erect, he had seen her play with them and now he was staring at her beautiful naked body in the moon light. He couldn't move if he wanted too. He watched her enter the water; he watched her wade through the water which just licked the bottom of her ass as she moved toward the waterfall. Holly stopped for a split second then dove under water. She arouse out of the water near the falls and the man saw the water flow off her like ribbons down her neck over her breast. He watched as the water cascaded off her breast being cut into two streams by her nipples. She looked very sexy naked she looked gorgeous wet and naked. He watched holly wash herself watched as her hands ran over her body cupping her own breast and rubbing her thighs. He heard her moan slightly and he realized that holly was starting to play with herself. He couldn't believe his luck. He already had a hard on from watching her bathe but now his dick was starting to throb. Holly had one hand on her left breast and was squeezing her nipple her other hand move down her body and stopped just below her bush she started to rub her clit with one finger, she moved her hand down lower and put two fingers inside of herself. She moaned louder. She took her now wet fingers which where dripping with pussy juice and licked them. She then switched hands and started playing with her right nipple more vigorously as her left hand moved down to her clit. She took two fingers and started to rub and massage her clit. She moaned even louder. She squeezed her clit between her two fingers as her legs shook she couldn't control herself anymore as both her hands moved down between her legs, she let out a scream of ecstasy as her body orgasm and she collapsed to her knees under the waterfall. If holly wasn't screaming in ecstasy at that moment she might have her someone else doing the same. On the shore line in the trees, the man could not contain himself anymore as holly started to masturbate he undid his pants and took out his long cock. He was well endowed with a thick piece of equipment that was throbbing and needing a release. He started to masturbate himself, never taking his eyes off holly. He wrapped holly's panties around his dick as he masturbated and they came almost in unison. They both laid there for awhile holly floated in the pond and the man lay on the moss next to the tree. Holly eventually got out of the water and sat on a rock near the little beach completely naked letting the air dry her. She got dressed lazily, Holly liked being naked and if she didn't have things to do would have stayed naked for the rest of the night. She left to find the man and his campsite to see what he was up to. The man saw holly leave and got up himself and slowly followed her to see what she would do next. Holly got to the edge of the campsite to see that the fire had died down and that the man was nowhere in sight. She creped closer to inspect his tent to see if he was in there sleeping. She got down on her hands and knees and crawled partway in the tent. The man was watching her from the edge of camp he saw holly's sexy round ass in the air and her pussy lips still glistened with moister as she crawled into his tent. He was immediately hard again and could not control himself as he rushed forward and grabbed her. Holly screamed a little out of surprise. The man said "what's your name fairy?" Holly answered "holly" "You're such a little tease I wonder if you are willing to make good on your teases" the man said Holly didn't answer but she did look over her shoulder and give the man a wink and sly smile "You make me so hard I want to do you right here up against that tree" the man whispered in her ear "Well you caught me so I guess I have to do whatever you want." said holly slyly. With out another word he picked her up and carried her over to a near by tree. Holly faced the tree and bent over slightly bracing her hands against it. The man lifted holly's dress from behind and rubbed her ass then he gave it a quick spank, holly moaned in pleasure. He spanked her a few more times as he undid his pants. She looked over her shoulder and saw his big dick and she started getting wet again. He teases her ass and pussy with the tip of his dick and he reached around to squeeze her breast. She moaned some more. He slowly entered her dripping wet pussy and slowly pushed deeper and deeper into her. She moaned with each little push. The man paused for a second and then started to move in and out of her using all 8 inches of his dick he would pull it out almost all the way and then plunge back in. She had never had this big of a dick inside her and it felt so good. She had an orgasm quickly holding onto the tree for dear life as the man increased his pace she screamed with pleasure as the man came inside her. They both slid down the side of the tree and collapsed. They rested next to each other. But Holly wasn't done yet she had gotten a taste and wanted more she reached over and grabbed his limp dick and started playing with it. The man smiled as holly move to a kneeling position and started to lick and kiss his dick. It became hard again in her hands and she happily went to town on him. The men reach over and grabbed her ass as she sucked on his balls. He spanked her hard. Once... twice... three times holly had to stop sucking for a second because she was moaning. But she continued as they got into a rhythm of sucking and spanking. He exploded into her mouth and she licked up all the cum that had missed her mouth. They lay exhausted there for a little while both had big smiles on their face. The man eventually fell asleep. The man awoke to find that the fairy was not there. He looked around but couldn't find her. He wondered if it was a dream he had been thinking about the fairy since he had first laid eyes on her at in the road. After a quick search he had breakfast and packed up his things. As he was getting ready to start traveling again he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of little green panties. He knew then that it wasn't a dream he looked around one more time and then started to travel down the road, hoping that he would bump into holly again.