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The throats of the orange-red flowers seemed to swell as they drank greedily of the sunlight’s golden sweetness. My eyes tracked a couple of bees flirting from blossom to blossom, slipping deep down the flowers throats to gather that sweetness for themselves, only to emerge seconds later, launching back into the air in search of the next source of nectar.

Glorious day, I thought, as I closed my eyes and let my head loll against the back of the chaise. I could feel the breeze tickling my skin, teasing the sun-kissed flesh, making my nipples harden. Sighing, I shifted a little and licked my lips. The sun was making me hot and the wind was making me hotter. I found myself wondering how I could entice my lover into the shadowy interior of the beach house for an afternoon of lazy love-making.

“Are you ready for some food?” Kurt asked from somewhere above me.

I opened a lazy eye and spotted him.

“Mmmm. Lunch. What a good idea,” I said, thinking how providential it was that his stomach decided it was empty in the same moment I’d decided I needed filling.

I lifted my hand and he took it, pulling me upwards, out of my chair. I leaned into him and slipped my arms around his waist. I pressed my lips to the skin exposed by the vee of his shirt and inhaled sharply. His unique scent commingled enticingly with the salt-tang of the air, flooding my senses. I slid my hand down his arm and taking his hand in mine, stepped toward the house.

“Life’s uncertain. Let’s have each other for dessert, first.”

“Oh no you don’t,” he tugged back. “I said ‘food’, not ‘fuck’, you insatiable wench.”

I pouted at him, then smiled, realizing we’d be going inside to eat, and once there I could use my hands and mouth to convince him to feed me what I wanted–bent over the kitchen table. My clit twitched at that mental image and a small shiver ran through me. But he knows how my mind works, Kurt does. He smiled down at me, and there was a slightly cruel edge to his voice when he spoke.

“We’re going to Seabiscuits,” he said, naming a busy little place that was a combined internet cafe and lunch stop. He knew I liked their finger sandwiches, iced coffee, and free wifi.

A bead of sweat formed between my breasts and hung there, trembling with each beat of my heart, each breath, making me extremely aware of my skin, my breathing, my pulse.

My need.

Just as I was preparing a protest, my tummy grumbled. I rolled my eyes and capitulated. He crooked his arm at me and I looped mine through his, and off we strolled toward the main street of the little beach town.

As we walked past kite shops and candy stores the wind flirted with the hem of my sundress, which worried me a bit, since I wasn’t wearing anything under it. I decided to pretend I was wearing a thong, a mental trick to keep me from feeling too exposed. Not that I mind being exposed, but I prefer to initiate it myself, from a playful space.

Kurt noticed, of course. I figured the bounce of my breasts caught his eye. “I thought you had your swimsuit on under that,” he said with a bit of a frown.

“No, I just threw it on when I got out of the shower, remember?”

He nodded and we continued walking toward our destination. Hot and thirsty, I picked up the pace, which made my breasts bounce even more under the loose-fitting sundress. My nipples rubbed against the fabric, which made them hard, and which in turn made my clit twitch. It is a blessing and a curse, having sensitive nipples, and this was one of the cursed times. The friction was heightening my arousal, and I knew Kurt would make me wait. My past lovers wanted me to come quickly and often, but not him. He is perverse that way, making me wait, keeping me on edge sometimes for hours, until I am mindless with the urgency of it and begging for release.

Preoccupied with such thoughts, I would have walked past our destination if Kurt hadn’t given me a tug on the arm. We stepped into the blessedly cool, dark interior of Seabiscuits and goosebumps immediately pebbled my skin, making my nipples tighten even more. I ordered a tall glass of iced coffee and triangular little finger sandwiches with wasabi cream cheese, cucumber, tire escort and avocado. Kurt ordered salmon teriyaki and a pint of the local microbrew, and we sat down at our usual table, where the tabletop is inlaid with a checkerboard for playing chess or checkers.

We are well-matched at chess, Kurt and I. We rarely ever finish a game, because they often go out 30 or 40 moves and that can take hours. So we play for the love of it, and to polish our opening moves.

On this day my mind was not on the game, and I made a stupid move with my king’s knight that cascaded into me losing badly. Not that I minded losing, but Kurt was grinning far too widely, relishing the fact that he’d mated me in 14 moves. So when my king surrendered, I decided to get my revenge, determined to mate with him in less time than it took him to checkmate me. I figured I had about 30 minutes.

While I was trying to decide on my next course of action, I picked up my glass of iced tea. It was rather slippery, beaded as it was with moisture, and as I struggled to maintain my hold on it, a bit of the tea spilled on the tabletop. I mopped it up with my napkin and went to get a fresh one.

On the way back, I sat on his lap and slipped my arm around his shoulders. I brought my fingers up to squeeze the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and made a sighing purr. I shifted ever so slightly on his lap, pressing my mound against the front of his shorts. He tilted his head back, looked at me through narrowed eyes.

“Is that appropriate here?” he asked. I could tell by his tone that he thought he knew the answer.

I let my gaze wander the cafe. There was a young couple reading books on the bright red couch near the storefront window. He was sitting, and she was reclining with her head pillowed on his thigh. A gaggle of college-aged girls were seated around a circular table, their faces avid and their voices low, punctuated with giggling outbursts that caused the boys at a nearby table to look nervously their way. The boys were playing a role-play card game and they appeared to have demolished a hefty lunch, based upon the number of plates they’d stacked up and pushed aside. Two elderly men, dapper, sun-browned, and stoop-shouldered, argued amiably over a game of checkers. And finally, three solo males, each with laptops that they seemed intent upon, completed the scene. I don’t think any of the patrons had noticed me sitting on Kurt’s lap, and if they had, they’d not skipped a beat.

I leaned forward until my mouth was close enough to his ear that my breathy moan could only be heard by him. I tightened the cheeks of my ass and wriggled it. In response, I felt something in his lap twitch. I gasped into his ear and leaned into him, pressing my breast more firmly against his chest.

“Kay…” he said, warningly.

I looked into his eyes. I smiled slowly and squeezed his shoulder. My fingers played with the muscles there. Kneading them.

Needing him.

“Kurt,” I purred back at him. “I want you, sweetie.”

His cock thumped against the front of his shorts, causing the fabric to stir against the lips of my bare sex, already slick with juices. I let the fingers of my other hand tease his collar as my eyes scanned the room. Every place my eyes alighted, a delicious vision came to mind. I wanted him to lean me over that table, there, where those college girls giggled, and fuck me hard and fast. Oh imagine their shock! The round ‘ooo’ of their mouths and eyes as they witnessed pussy plundered by cock! I wanted to sit on the edge of the sun-streaked couch and pretend to read a book while he buried his face between my thighs. I imagined myself standing on the table where the older men played their game, bumping and grinding my hips, the hemline of my dress riding up my thighs. What a commotion that would create! My pussy clenched at that thought, but I decided to settle for a discreet snake dance, instead.

“Scootch forward a little, would you?” I asked him.


“So I can ride you once I’ve gotten your shorts unzipped.”

He froze, closed his eyes, and sighed. “Are you out of your mind?”

I just looked at him with escort tire lust-glazed eyes.

He shook his head at me and said, “We should go.”

I grinned wickedly and twisted in his lap so I was straddling him. The sundress rode up my thighs, and they glowed whitely in the semi-darkness, my plump thighs did, splayed as they were over his own khaki-clad ones. My hands gripped the back of the chair for balance. “I want you here, Kurt. In the cafe.”

Something changed in his face. The glimmer of amusement faded. “No,” he said. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to get arrested.”

“Oh, the police wouldn’t arrest me,” I said airily.

“No? What makes you think you are immune to charges of public lewdness?”

“The police would never arrest me because I can’t cum quietly.” I said, grinding my pussy against his erection as I enunciated “can’t cum quietly.”

He groaned at my bad pun, then grinned reluctantly. “When I get you home you are going to be in so much trouble, you evil wench.” His hand lightly slapped one of my ass-cheeks.

I squirmed in his lap. Caught his eyes. Saw that he was serious. He wasn’t going to budge. Very well then. I looked back at him, a level look, cool, calm, collected. The dance was over, the board cleared. Time to let the King know exactly what he was going to sacrifice…

“I don’t want to wait until we get home, Kurt. I want you here–now–or not at all.” Check.

His head jerked back a little. Now I had his full attention. I’d made a bold move with my queen. He could take her, or flee.

“Just who would that be hardest on?” he hedged, his eyes flicking a look at the tight nub of my nipple. His expression was fierce, and it thrilled me.

I met his gaze and defiantly ground myself against him. Queen taps King. Check, your move, remember? “You appear to be the hard one,” I answered.

And with that, he made his move. He frowned deeply and half lifted, half pushed me off his lap, setting me on my feet. I pouted at him, thinking that my gambit had failed, but my pout quickly transformed into an amused grin. Kurt gave me a quizzical look and I pointed to the slick wet spot on the front of his shorts. His hands fell from around my waist and slapped against his thighs. He cursed under his breath and glared at me.

Once again my eyes searched the cafe as I pondered our predicament. Then it came to me. Yes! The perfect solution.

“Stand up and follow close behind me,” I told him.

“Why?” he asked. His suspicious tone hurt a little, but I knew he had every reason to suspect that I was up to something.

“Why? Because the restroom here provides an air-blower to dry hands instead of towels. We can use it to dry that wetspot on your pants. Or we can sit here and wait for it to dry naturally…”

He nodded and stood, taking a position right behind me, his hand resting on the back of my neck. I found myself shivering under the warmth of it, under the control he exerted over me with it. He followed me to the restroom, one of those big unisex handicap-accessible bathrooms done in tile. With a relieved sound he made a beeline for the hand-dryer, and while he was preoccupied with trying to position himself in such a way as to focus the hot air on the front of his shorts, I smiled triumphantly and I locked the door.

I locked the door and pulled my sundress over my head, and hung it on the hook on the back of the door. I’d said I wanted him here, in the cafe, or not at all, and I’d be damned if I was going to pass up this opportunity to get my way. Warmth flowed through me at that thought, and juices welled up between the seam of my labia, staining my inner thighs.

I sauntered over to the sink and stood before it, thinking it would make a good prop for what I had in mind. It was a long, low sink that jutted out a bit at thigh-height. Mmm… perfect! I leaned over it and put my hands on either side of the cold porcelain. My nipples tightened and I shivered at the contact. I cleared my throat rather loudly, and when Kurt turned to look at me, I met his eyes in the mirror.

The expression on his face was classic, and as soon as I saw it, I knew tire escort bayan I’d won.

“You are soooo bad,” he said as he moved toward me, already unbuttoning his fly.

I wiggled my ass at him and he gave it a good slap that made me yelp a little. The tile surfaces magnified my voice and reflected it back at us.

“Shhh,” he said as his shorts dropped and his warm hand splayed over my sacrum, holding me in place.

I could feel his weight shift and the heat of his cock pressing against me. He gave a hard shove and I hissed at the shock of it, at the feel of his head forcing its way into me, always a tight fit no matter how wet and ready I am.

I watched us in the mirror. There was something powerful in the juxtaposition of my naked, bent form and his clothed torso towering over me. I looked so vulnerable in that position, which exposed the long pale curve of my back to the bright light overhead, and the knuckles of his hands were visibly gripping my hips, holding me captive. I could see myself leaning over the sink, my breasts pointed downward, my nipples hard, so hard, and long, just aching to be tugged on. I watched, too, as my breasts began swaying in time with his thrusts. It was very hypnotic, that swaying motion, and I watched it for some time before I switched my focus to Kurt.

My study of his reflection showed that his head was bent, his eyes focused on that place where our bodies joined. His shirt was bunched up a bit around his waist, to keep it out of his field of vision. I wondered if it looked as good to him as it felt to me, the long slow slide of him stretching me open, the cling of my inner labia as he pulled back. At one point he pulled me hard against him and pumped deeply into me, his head thrown back and his eyes closed. I moaned and he shushed me as it echoed in the little tiled room. I tried to be quiet, but when the violent rocking of our bodies together caused my hips to slam into the edge of porcelain sink I was braced against, I cried out with pleasure and pain. It was erotic, hearing myself that way, hearing the bright echo of my cry, and I stopped trying to be quiet. In fact, I was downright noisy. I rode out my pleasure on the cock that impaled me, and I let myself give voice to it despite Kurt’s admonitions to be silent so as not to be overheard by the other guests of the cafe.

“Is this what you wanted?” he ground out his question between clenched teeth just moments after a particularly brutal thrust had made my eyes fly open and my breath catch.

“Yes!” I gasped, and then added somewhat defiantly, “And its–about–fucking–time!”

In response, he forced my legs farther apart with his own and tangled his hand in the hair at the back of my head. He tugged, pulling me upwards, and the shift in stance positioned my mound so that every thrust of his hips ground my clit into the edge of the sink. It sent pleasure-pain jolts through my body, and it was not long before I was coming, my pussy clenching and unclenching around his cock, my mouth open as gasps and moans and cries were wrung from me.

“Come for me,” I implored him as I rode that tide of pleasure, and he bent himself to the task. His eyes closed and his fingers tightened in my hair and he hammered himself into me hard and fast until finally, finally he froze, and emptied into me with a long, low groan. As his cock twitched inside me he pulled me up against his chest and took a breast in each hand. He sank his teeth into my shoulder and rolled my nipples, making me quake inside and out.

God, I love this man, I thought to myself, because despite his prudery about sex in public places, I could always entice him to indulge me. I reached my arm back and pulled his head down toward me. I kissed him, sucking on his bottom lip, scraping it with my teeth as I let myself relax into him.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he said, stepping away from me. I grabbed the edge of the sink for support and watched in the mirror as he walked to the door and took my sundress off the hook. He wiped himself off with it and then tossed it at me. I spun around and caught it, then gave him my best indignant look.

“Kurt!” I gasped. “I have to wear this!”

“Yes, you do.” He smiled at me, a short meaningful smile. “Consider it the price for getting your way.” King mated, he acknowledged.

I laughed delightedly and gave him a slow smile of my own. Yes, I supposed, a cum-smeared sundress was a small price to pay for a cafe-au-lay.

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