|posted on 9-Jun-2002 1:48:02 AM by behrhugs|
|Title: Phone Fantasy|
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Just a quick one parter that I think you may like. Max has been away with work for a while and has a phone call with Liz. Hope you enjoy!
Dedication: To J, you are always pestering me for plotless nookie girl, well here it is!! hehehe
“Tell me about your fantasy, Liz”, he cooed over the phone line. It was a game they had played before, many times. “You were talking about Romans.” Actually, he’d been the one to raise that subject today, but Liz didn’t bother to correct him.
“Tell me about it,” he invited.
“I’m a queen,” she said. “Royal blood on both sides of my family, married to a king - a king who died fighting for us. So I’m head of the tribe. We hate being under Roman rule, obeying their laws and unable to guide our people. Except . . . there’s one. One in particular. I’ve noticed him looking at me. Under my law, his look would be forbidden; under their law, I have no choice but to suffer his gaze.”
“How does he look at you?”
“He wants to have me. I can see it in his eyes.”
“What does he look like?”
Liz stretched out on the bed and closed her eyes. “He’s tall. Broad-shouldered, from his time in the Roman army. Strong thighs, flat stomach. Good muscles. Dark hair, curling into the nape of his neck, and this one bit that comes down over his forehead in the most
alluring way. Oh, and the most gorgeous hazel eyes I have ever seen, and they’re flecked with gold.” She just realise she had described Max, right into his ear! But she couldn’t stop now, her imagination was running riot and her sex was growing hot and wet.
Max chuckled as he realised who she was talking about. “And you’re attracted to him.”
“Oh, yes,” she sighed. “Though my people would never forgive me if I made love with the enemy. I can do nothing about it.”
“Mutual attraction, held apart by war.”
“Yes.” Her voice sank to a whisper. “I dream about him at night. I touch myself, pretend he’s the one touching me.”
“Why can’t he sneak into your quarters, at night?”
“It’s too difficult. Too many obstacles to overcome.” She smiled. “I didn’t tell you. He’s their commander.”
“Ah,” Max paused. “So I... he could command you to submit to his will.”
“But he doesn’t want to risk an uprising. My people will revolt if he takes me by force.”
“Unless you transgress their law. They’d understand that.”
“Exactly,” she said. “So that’s what I do. Something minor - but enough to give him the chance to teach me humility.”
“Nice,” Max breathed. “So what does he do?”
“He calls a gathering of the whole tribe - and his troops, too. He challenges me with my crime. I admit to it. And then he tells me what the punishment will be. He pulls down the front of my dress, exposing my breasts. I can’t help myself; the excitement of what he’s going to do to me makes my breasts swell and my nipples harden. I know I look good, the creamy flesh and rose-dark areolea, and he can’t help a sharp intake of breath
when he sees me for the first time. I know he’s hard for me, just from this. And it’s only going to get better.”
“He touches me. Very, very lightly. It sends a shiver through my body, the way his fingertips brush my flesh; my sex is wet by the time he’s finished, and I’m sure he can smell my arousal. And so can everyone else. His troops, my people. They all know: but none dare challenge me. Or him.” She paused, unzipping her jeans and pushing them down to her knees with her undies in one swift movement. “And then he makes me go down on my knees before him. He releases his cock from his clothing and I was right. He’s hard for me. He looks good. His cock is long and thick, swollen with desire for me, and the tip is plum-coloured. He thrusts a hand into my hair and pushes my head down. I make a show of resistance, because my people expect it - and so do his - but we both know that I want to do this.
“I take the tip of his cock into my mouth, swirling my tongue round his glans. I make my tongue into a hard point and flick it against him until he’s shuddering. Then I take him as deeply as I can into my mouth, sucking hard. His hand is in my hair, and he’s pressing hard against my scalp, wanting me. He can’t help rocking slightly, pushing it into my mouth. I cup his balls, stroking them and the soft silky skin just behind them, and it makes him even harder. I can taste his arousal and I know that the eye of his cock is weeping clear fluid for me.”
“Oh, yes.” Max’s voice left Liz in no doubt of what he was doing. She knew that he was leaning back in his recliner, his jeans unzipped and his cock freed; his fingers were curled round his shaft and he was stroking himself gently, imagining himself in the Roman’s position. Just as she had one hand working between her legs, stoking her own desire.
“And then he stops me. I know that this time, this first time, he wants to make it as long and drawn-out as he can. He wants everything - in case it’s the last time. Although we both know that after this, he will be able to come to my quarters when he likes, as of right. He commands two of his soldiers to bring a bench and he places it before me, making me kneel over it. To the the tribe, it looks like he’s pushing me into a position of
indignity. I know that he’s doing it to support me, because my knees will give when he finally enters me.
“Then he pulls up my skirts, flinging them up to bare my bottom. He commands me to part my legs, and I know that everyone can see my sex. Everyone can see how swollen and wet it is, everyone will know of my desire. And yet it doesn’t matter. Somehow, it is permitted - because this is show of mastery by the Romans. If it was rape - well, my tribe would revolt, and there would be bloodshed. But this - this is ritual enough to satisfy both the Romans and my tribe.”
Max groaned softly. “Oh, yes. Liz, yes.”
Liz’s voice cracked slightly as she continued. “He draws one finger the full length of my sex, and holds it up. Everyone can see my juices glistening there. He licks the finger clean, as though he’s eating honey, and then he kneels down behind me. He places his hands on my butt, squeezing the globes gently, and then he nuzzles me, breathing in the scent of me. I’m almost screaming with anticipation. I can feel his breath warm against
my skin, and I want to feel his tongue, his fingers, his cock. I want him to fill me and fuck me. Stretch me. I don’t care about the audience, I just want him.
“He makes me wait. He warns me in a low voice not to move - I cannot be seen to enjoy my humiliation. I must just submit proudly and in silence, like the queen I am. It’s almost as if he already knows that I’m a noisy lover, that I like to cry out my pleasure and demands. And I have waited so long for this, so long. I have worked myself to fever pitch every night with my hand, squeezing my nipples and rubbing my clitoris hard, pushing three fingers deep into me, and I know he’s done the same, rubbing his shaft and crying out as he comes. How can we be restrained? But we must.
“Then, so slowly, I feel his tongue move the full length of my slit, top to bottom and back again. He flicks his tongue over my clitoris, teasing me. Then he presses his tongue into my sex. I dig my nails into the ground to stop myself writhing against him and pushing back.”
Again, Max groaned. Liz could picture him at the same time as her Roman leader, the same expression on their faces. Max and the Roman. Max kneeling behind her, touching and tasting her sex, teasing her . . . She shivered, and her hand worked harder.
“Then I feel his finger penetrating my sex. He moves deep inside me, sensitising me and making me desperate to be filled properly. It’s groan, lying still and pretending to be regal and haughty. I want to scream out like a servant maid. He pushes my skirts up still further, flipping them over my head to cover my face, and I’m grateful. He knows that my face will be too expressive, that I won’t be able to hold out, and he’s giving me a
chance to cover myself. The Romans and my tribe will take it as a sign of mastery, but I know the truth. It’s mercy, giving me some privacy.”
“Oh, yes. So you are bared to everyone?”
“Everyone,” Liz acknowledged.
“And what are they doing?”
“Just watching. Maybe touching themselves, maybe just thinking it, wishing themselves in my place - or yours. His! I don’t know. I can’t see them any more, and they don’t matter. All that matters is the way he’s touching me, the way he’s rubbing my clitoris and pistoning his finger in and out of me. He’s determined to make me come at least once before he enters me properly. And I do. I can feel the heavy swell starting in the soles of my feet, a warm rolling sensation that gathers pace as it sweeps up my calves, making my thighs tremble, then roaring into the pit of my stomach. I come, my internal
muscles clutching at him. He bends over me, seemingly to whisper an order, and I feel his lips brush the back of my neck, a light caress of desire and affection.
“Later, in private, I know that he will kiss me all over. He will have me kneeling again - but this time on soft lambskins, by the flickering light of an oil-lamp and completely naked, so that he can worship my body with his lips and tongue. For now, we will make do with a more restrained coupling - because he, too, must show no emotion. He is merely doing his duty, showing a subject queen that he is master.
“I can hear him licking his fingers, savouring my juices. And then, at long last, I feel the tip of his cock pressing against my sex. It feels as good as I’d hoped. He eases it into me, very slowly, and I almost come again. He fills me completely. He stays there for a moment, letting my body grow used to the feel of his, then he begins to thrust. I know he has stamina, from his time in the army. This will last as long as he chooses.
“A wicked impulse fills me, and I flex my internal muscles, tightening them as he withdraws and then relaxing as he pushes back into me. He knows what I am doing, that
I am trying to make him lose control, and he has his revenge. I feel something pressing against my back entrance - it’s the tip of his spit-slicked finger. He presses it into me, and I nearly scream out, it feels so good. Had it not been for my covering skirts, the
whole of my tribe would see my face, realise what this is - a mutual coupling, performed in public as though it were penance, when it’s really for the pleasure of both me and the commander. I would be seen as a collaborator, but this way I retain my noble standing. I
am merely submitting to our overlords, to save my people from punishment.
“I long to push back against him, but I cannot be seen to do this. All I can do is let him dictate the pace. Fast, bringing me close to the point of crisis, then slow again, bringing me down and soothing me. Fast again, and that penetration of the forbidden place, making me pant beneath my covering. And slow, slow, easing me into it.
“Just when I think I can take no more, I feel his cock throbbing deep inside me, the rushing warmth of his emission. And then he withdraws without ceremony, restoring order to his own dress and leaving me exposed. I am to remain there until he dictates
otherwise. My sex is bare, and they can see that I have not come.
“His seed runs from me. Finally, he pulls my skits back down and helps me to my feet. In his eyes is one word: later. And we both know that later, he will continue where he left off, but he’ll take it to the full conclusion, let me climax, with my quim rippling round his cock. And my cries will be buried in the lambskin - or in his shoulder, as we couple face-to-face. Because tonight, he will take me in every position I know, and every
position I have not yet dreamed about . . .”
As Liz finished her tale, her sex contracted sharply round her fingers, and from Max’s breathing, she could tell that he’d just come, too.
“Like it?” she whispered huskily.
“You know I did.” His voice was equally hoarse. “When are you coming home, again?”
“I’ll be on the next flight out,” she promised.
“You’re one wanton woman, Liz Evans.”
“Don’t you know it,” she growled in his ear.
[ edited 4 time(s), last at 20-Jun-2002 6:52:26 AM ]
|posted on 18-Jun-2002 5:46:53 AM by behrhugs|
|Okay, okay, I bow to public pressure, and there WILL be another part, but ya gotta wait a couple of days - sorry, but I promise a new bit by Thursday (my time), Wednesday board time....|
Thanx for all the WONDERFUL f/b!
|posted on 20-Jun-2002 3:21:35 AM by behrhugs|
|Okay, here is the long-awaited (by at least one person anyway hehehe) Max's fantasy..... I hope you like!|
Title: Phone Fantasy - Max's turn.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Rating: Definitely NC-17
Dedication: To J - my mentor, proofer, and my very good mate! THANX!
So, without further ado, here it is.....
Liz dialled their flat. It rang six times, seven, then the receiver was snatched up. “Hello?”
“Max,” Liz purred.
“Hi sweetheart, how’s the project going?”
Curiouser and curiouser,” she said with a grin. “Oh, but this bitch, Tess . . . agh!”
Max coughed. “You’re not usually bitchy about people.”
“Bitchy? Max, she’s one of these women who switch from vamp to vulnerable and back again, God, she is so - so - I can’t even verbalise it!”
Max hooted in laughter. “I wish I could’ve seen that! Tell me.”
“If you think I’m fuelling your sordid little fantasies -”
“Oh, there’s nothing sordid about my fantasies, where you’re concerned. Though, I admit, you’d have to be with a red-head I think, to contrast with your hair.”
“Tess is blonde and fluffy. Even if I were tempted by the idea of another woman - which I’m not, Max, it leaves me indifferent, so the lady doesn’t protest too much - it certainly wouldn’t be her.”
“You’d rather have the butch dominant type?”
Liz sighed. “No. I don’t understand why men get so worked up about the idea of two women together, I really don’t. Anyway, how come we always end up talking sex, when I intend to call you about work?”
“Because we can’t help ourselves,” Max said matter-of-factly. “What did Tess do to you?”
“Sat on the arm of my chair, pouted at me, gave me a come-hither smile - then took my hand and told me how soft my hands were. Then she kissed the tips of my fingers, sucking them. Routine stuff, really.”
“But a very nice thought,” Max paused. “I would have liked to see her take it further. See you respond to her.”
Liz moved over to the hotel bed, settling herself against the pillows and closing her eyes. “Okay. Talk away.”
“Sure about this? I mean, you’ve always said it doesn’t do anything for you.”
“It doesn’t - but it obviously works for you. And I always enjoy having this kind of phone call with you, knowing exactly what you’re doing as you’re talking to me, I can picture it, and THAT turns me on.”
She could almost see his smile. “That’s good.”
“Tell me then. What do you see?”
“You, on a bed, in a pale peach room. Bare polished floorboards, peach coloured walls, white muslin curtains at the window. At night. The room’s lit by a dozen white candles. Vanilla scented candles. And there’s just you on the bed, lying naked on starched sheets,
just a couple of tones away from the alabaster of your skin. The bed-frame’s wrought iron, and your wrists and ankles are tied to it by black silk scarves. You’re blindfolded too, with a black silk scarf. And you’re just lying there, waiting.
“You don’t know how long you’ve been there. There’s no way of knowing the time. Your body’s tingling with anticipation, and adrenalin’s flowing through your fingertips. You’re excited and scared at the same time. Your nipples are hard and puckered, and darkened to a rosy pink. You’d like to touch yourself, but you can’t. It’s frustrating and even more arousing.
“Your sex feels warm and puffy. To anyone who’s watching you, it’s obvious that you’re aroused. Your legs are parted to reveal everything, the soft pink coral of your sex, the way it shades into dark red in the centre, the hard little bud of your clitoris. All glistening
with arousal, a pearly gold sheen on top, like the finest goassamer thread. You look beautiful, desirable. Anyone who saw you like that would want to possess you, man or woman. They’d want to crawl between your thighs, touch you and taste you and drink in the musky aroma of your sex.
“Then, finally, you hear something. Music. You don’t recognise the voice, but it’s a tenor singing an aria. The kind of music that makes your stomach melt, it’s so gorgeous. Haunting. You can also hear footsteps on the floorboards, very light, very soft. You have no idea who it is, because he - or is it she? - says nothing.
“You feel the mattress give slightly. And then, at long last, you feel a hand drifting along your abdomen. Just the fingertips, smooth, cool, such a light touch. That’s when you know that it’s a woman. You’ve never been attracted to other women - but you’re so aroused, you can’t help responding. Because the man who tied you up left you aroused. He talked to you before he left, painting a word-picture that had you wet within seconds,
wet and wanting. He even touched you, licking you nipples and teasing your clitoris with his tongue, inserting a lazy finger into you, until you started to writhe and beg him to take it further. Then he stopped and left you, saying that good things come to those who wait. And you’ve waited, Liz. You’ve waited for so long.
“Now you’re on fire. You don’t care who’s touching you, as long as whoever it is doesn’t tease you.” Max’s words grew husky, and Liz smiled to herself. This was turning
him on in a big way. His jeans would be down by his ankles, now, and he was stroking the long rigid shaft of his cock as he talked to her. She could tell every stroke by the timbre of his voice.
“What’s she like?” Liz asked softly.
“Beautiful. A red-haired version of you. Her hair’s exactly the same style as yours, her skin’s like yours, pale and creamy - and delicate enough to flush like yours does, when she’s aroused. Her body’s the same as yours, too. Lush and wanton.
“She wants you. Her lower lip is already full and red, and her nipples are hard, though she’s actually wearing something. A black lacy teddy that reveals more than it hides. The curve of her breasts, the valley between them, the hardness of her nipples and the deep rosy colour. The contrast between the lace and her skin and yours is startling. Poetic, almost.”
He paused. Liz knew that he’d just employed a delaying tactic, pressing hard at the base of his cock to stop himself coming. “She continues stroking you, in silence. Because you’re blindfolded, you have to concentrate on your other senses. And it’s so good. That beautiful music, that voluptuous scent, the whisper of her skin against yours. It breaks down your last inhibitions, and you tilt your pelvis upwards, inviting her.
“She knows what you want, and smiles. She lays her cheek against your stomach, you can feel her hair, so soft and silky, drifting over your skin, and you’re shocked at how aroused it makes you feel. Your sex heats even more. You want to feel that silky softness against your thighs, and you can’t help a moan of pleasure as you ask her to touch you. She doesn’t speak, she simply shifts between your thighs, kneeling there, and dips her head so that the ends of her hair brush against your nipples.
“It drives you crazy. You writhe within your bonds and she laughs, pleased with the effect. She does it again and again, teasing you and inciting you. You plead with her, beg her to use her mouth on your breasts. And then she does. She places her hands either side of your body, and lowers hers to yours. You can feel the lace teddy skimming your body, and the friction excites you even more. And then, at last, her mouth closes
around one nipple.
“You almost come at that moment. Somehow, you hold back, and she begins to work on you. She sucks your nipple, drawing feircely on it, then making her tongue flat and swirling across it. She pulls back, letting your skin chill slightly, and blows on you. It excites you even more, it’s sensory overload. You want more, more. She does the same to the other breast, and you’re tugging against your bonds, wanting to touch her, wanting to push a hand between your legs and rub yourself.
“She moves up to kiss you, and you open your mouth under hers, letting her kiss you properly. Your tongue-tip duels with hers, and your pelvis tilts again. Your sex is so hot, so wet, you’re almost coming from the thought of what she’s going to do next. She breaks the kiss, and moves back down your body, kissing and licking and nipping. She caresses the soft undersides of your breasts, squeezing your nipples hard at the same time, the mixture of light and hard caresses excites you even further.
“And then, finally, you feel her hair brushing your lower abdomen, your thighs. You know that she’s going to touch you, taste you. The moment that she places the flat of her palms against your inner thighs and widens your stance, you come. She watches you, the way your sex contracts so sharply, oozing soft silky nectar, then smiles and dips her head. She laps at you, drinking your wine, and pushes her tongue deep into you. You’re
already so keyed up that you come again, your internal muscles spasming against her mouth.
“She shifts up to kiss you, and she rubs her breasts against yours, the lace creating a beautiful friction against your nipples and hers. She asks if you want her, you nod. She tells you that you have to say it, tell her what you want. Then you tell her. You say that you want her to touch you, to taste you, to fill you.
“So she does. She crawls back between your legs, and you feel her insert one finger, then another. The walls of your sex are soft and wet and velvety, you flex your internal muscles, teasing her back, and she grins. She withdraws her hand and you frown as you feel her climb off the bed. Surely she isn’t going to leave you like this, half-satisfied, your sex drenched and deperate?
“Of course not. She’s merely gone to snuff one of the candles and take it from its holder. A big, fat, warm wax candle - though you don’t know that. She returns to her place between your thighs, and dips her head again. She plays with your clitoris, flicking her tongue against the hard peak again and again and again, until you’re shuddering and trembling and begging her to do it harder, harder.
“Then you feel something pushing against your entrance. Something warm, but thicker than a finger or thumb. That’s when you realise why she climbed off the bed. You can picture what she’s doing to you. It’s lewd and wanton, and it excites you even more, to think of yourself tied spread-eagled to the bed, a candle protruding from your sex.
“She works you with it as though it were a cock, pushing it in so very slowly. You arch your back, and she changes rhythm, pumping it into you, back and forth, with short sharp thrusts. Then slow again, slow and deep. Fast and short, almost out of you then pushing back in, driving you to a higher and higher pitch.
“When you come, you’re almost screaming, it’s so good. Your sex clamps around the candle, the intensity of your climax making the wax cylinder shake. And then, finally,
when the after-shocks die away, she removes the candle.”
Liz was surprised to find just how aroused Max’s fantasy had made her. She realised that she’d unzipped her own jeans and her hand was flicking busily between her thighs. “Wow,” she breathed.
“I haven’t finished yet,” Max said quietly. “Because then, she unties the blindfold, so you can see her. She kisses you, and then she turns around on the bed, kneeling by your shoulders, and lowers her sex to your mouth. She’s excited by what she’s done to you, and you can smell the sweet musky tang of her arousal. As she lowers her face to your sex again, you stretch out your tongue and start to lick her - your first taste of another woman. You feel a little shy, a little insecure, worried that you’re not doing it right, until you hear her whisper softly that you should just do what you like being done to you. A little hesitantly, you tongue her clitoris, and you’re rewarded by a groan of pleasure. It
gives you confidence, and you do it again. Then you explore her thoroughly, finding all her furls and hollows with your tongue, bringing her to a peak at the same time as she does for you . . .” He paused and gasped. Liz realised that he’d come. “And that’s it,” he said softly. “Two beautiful women together, their bodies moving together as they bring each other the ultimate pleasure.”
“Hmm,” Liz said.
“It turned you on, didn’t it?”
She coughed. “Um - no comment.”
He chuckled softly. “When I see you, I’m going to make you admit it.”
“I always keep my promises, Liz.”
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, sweetheart,” he said. “Take care. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
She cut the connection and settled down further in the bed. It would be a long, lonely night without Max, but she knew she’d be home in his arms again, tomorrow. She only had to make it to tomorrow.