The Best of Lucy Felthouse Page 2

  “I’m coming baby – now.”

  The feel of his muscles contracting inside me gave me that final push. My own orgasm ripped through my body, more powerful than the last, making spots dance behind my eyelids and my back arch, pushing his cock yet deeper into me. We rode out our simultaneous climaxes, limbs entangled and breaths coming fast and shallow. He dropped down on to me, exhausted, his lips seeking mine for a tender kiss. I felt his heart beating madly against my chest, even through our clothes.

  Conscious of where we were, we couldn’t afford too much recuperation time so we kissed one final time and reluctantly began to rearrange ourselves.

  Once decent, Matt held his hand out to help me out of the truck.

  “Think you can keep your hands off me this time?”

  “Looks like I’ll have to.”

  A cough behind Matt drew his attention to a stern-looking older man approaching us. He looked as though he was in a senior position, and therefore Matt’s boss.

  “Charlene Collins?” The man questioned. I nodded and held out my hand.

  “General Leadbetter, ma’am. I trust Corporal Stokes has been looking after you?”

  “Oh yes, General. He’s attended to my every need.”

  A Lucky Man

  As a guy, I’m occasionally asked, ‘Are you a leg, breast or bum man?’ My usual reply is a smile and a shrug. Perhaps I’m then mistaken for a homosexual, because my response generally makes the poser of the question walk away in disgust.

  It’s not that I don’t like women; far from it. It’s just that I don’t know the answer to that particular question. It shouldn’t be such a difficult one, I know that. The problem is I like all three. So much so that I can’t even begin to choose between them.

  I like my women voluptuous. So to be asked to pick a favourite from an ample pair of breasts, spilling out from a corset, a fine ass in a figure-hugging pair of jeans or a sturdy pair of thighs capable of … well, use your imagination – it’s just impossible.

  I have a lady. I’ve actually just described her pretty well. She has the most magnificent pair of tits I’ve ever seen. I’m not a small chap and yet her breasts more than fill my hands as I knead, pinch and slap them. Likewise with her ass. It’s firm yet pliable, and I love nothing more than to grab great handfuls of her bottom as we kiss, pulling her to me so our bodies mash together. Her thighs also drive me wild with desire. Those milky-white expanses of skin hold so much promise. They’re capable of turning me into a pile of mush as she grips, tenses and bounces on me when we make love.

  But I couldn’t pick a favourite of the three. Her lovely legs, breasts and bum are part of her; they make her what she is. And I desire her more than anything. My sexy lady.

  She issexy, you know. She never believes me when I tell her, but she is. I look at her with her long, wavy chestnut hair, impish grin and startling green eyes, and I want her. Those stick-thin models and celebrities with jutting bones and concave tummies do nothing for me. Give me my beautiful shapely lady any day.

  I love nothing more than to lay her down on our bed and worship her. I’ll kiss her until we’re both panting with lust, and then I’ll start to remove her clothes. I start somewhere different each time, just so she doesn’t know exactly what to expect. My favourite, though, is starting from her feet.

  Say she’s dressed casually: a jeans and T-shirt ensemble. I’ll remove her socks, caressing her feet as they are revealed. I’ll then slide a hand up each of her trouser legs, my fingers gliding along her smooth calf muscles. She always complains that they’re too big and that she can’t get long boots to fit, but I think it’s nonsense. No skin and bone here, just beautifully smooth flesh and nicely tapered ankles, perfect for locking together around my back as we make love. I don’t know what she’s complaining about. Crazy woman.

  Next I’ll remove her jeans, flipping open her belt and button, then easing down her fly. I’ll reach underneath her to grab the waistband, and she’ll wriggle as I pull, revealing more and more of her tantalising flesh. Once the jeans are discarded, I’ll lie flat on my front and bury my head between her thighs. My hands will be roaming, grasping at her buttocks and her thighs, pulling her fragrant pussy closer to my face. I’ll inhale her scent through her scanty underwear, and groan appreciatively. My cock will already be rock hard.

  I’ll nuzzle at her now-damp crotch, teasing her sensitive flesh, a promise of what’s to come. She’ll start to moan, craving her release, but I’ll unhook my hands from their fleshy playground and manoeuvre myself so I’m kneeling on the bed.

  I’ll hold out a hand for her to give me hers, and pull her into a sitting position. I’ll whip her T-shirt off, sucking in an appreciative breath at the sight of her. A pastel-coloured stone will twinkle brightly from the middle of her gently rounded tummy, and her fantastic tits will threaten to pop out of her bra. They’re traffic-stoppers, those. A danger to society. And what’s even better, they’re all mine.

  By this point, I’ll already be desperate to make love to her. There’s just something so tempting about her. Her warmth, her softness, it all adds to my longing. I just want to plunge my cock into her, hear her moans in my ear and watch her beautiful face contort as she comes, pussy contracting around my cock.

  But I’m getting ahead of myself. When I’ve managed to get a grip on myself after setting eyes on her heavily burdened bra and its contents, I’ll slip a deft hand around her back and pop it open. Sliding the straps down her creamy shoulders, I’ll plant kisses on each millimetre of exposed skin. Shoulders, arms, hands. Décolletage, breasts, nipples. Hips, waist, pubis. I’ll slip my fingers into the sides of her pants and slip them down, my mouth heading southwards too.

  She likes to style her pubic hair. Sometimes there’s not a single hair there, and my tongue trails over naked flesh, delving lower until it slips between her nether lips and tastes her sweetness. Other times there is a landing strip, or a full but short bush. I’m not fussy. As long as I get to dip my tongue into her juices and make her writhe and gasp beneath me, I’m happy.

  For the purposes of this particular tale, let’s say that her pussy is completely bald. My tongue will practically trip over itself in its haste to pleasure her and hear those sexy noises she makes. The bare skin is even more sensitive and if I have stubble on my chin, she loves to feel it scraping against her, the abrasion inspiring a pleasure-pain reaction. She may gasp, but her pussy can’t lie. It oozes juices, which smear across her ample thighs, and glistens, pink and inviting.

  I will dip my tongue between her fleshy folds and taste her. Her natural lubricant is sweet, and the taste and smell simply act as an aid to turn me on more. My cock will definitely be making its presence known by this point, straining against the confines of my underwear and jeans. But it’s not about me, it’s about her. I am nothing if not a gentleman; I like to know my lady is satiated before I seek my own release.

  My tongue will play in her pussy, smearing her juices all over her puffy flesh and swollen clitoris. I will lick and nibble and suck and tease, anything my lady desires. Should she arch her back in passion I will grab her ankles and push so her knees are bent up to her chest, exposing yet another erogenous zone.

  Her tiny puckered hole resides between the finest buttocks I’ve ever seen. Smooth, pale globes of flesh, which silently scream at me to play with them. Grab them, squeeze them, slap them, part them … The latter is what I will opt for on this occasion, giving me easier access to her ass.

  By now, it will be slick with the juices that have run down from her pussy. My tongue will delve deeply into the crevice between the ample mountains of flesh and seek the hidden treasure. Her simultaneous tensing and gasping will assure me that I’m in the right place. The tight ring of flesh will be trying to suck in my tongue as I probe and delve deeper, stimulating her sensitive nerve endings and causing her pussy to contract and expel yet more wetness.

  One of my hands will slide up to her clitoris, gathering some lubrication on the way. I�
�ll smother the swollen nub of flesh with her liquid arousal and then stroke it lightly at first, then will increase the speed and pressure as I continue to torment her ass. I will sense that her climax is imminent and replace my tongue with my fingers, sliding two straight up her now-relaxed hole, and my tongue will go to work on her clit.

  She loves to have her ass played with. Whether during foreplay or penetration, it doesn’t matter. She once confided to me that it speeds up her orgasm, and increases its intensity. That, my friend, is a valuable nugget of information that I have utilised again and again, for mutual benefit.

  On this occasion, my fingers will be doing their work, thrusting in and out of her tight ass as I suck and lick on her pussy, teasing her to the brink of orgasm. I know, though, that I won’t be able to keep her on the edge for long. I try to tease her and keep her teetering, but I know that soon my fascination will win out. I will grant her release and watch, transfixed, as her face transforms into one of agony and divine happiness rolled into one.

  At the same time, I will be unearthing my cock from the confines of my clothing, ready to slide it deep inside my stunningly beautiful lady. It will be hot to the touch and oozing pre-cum. Both of these states will be increased further when I push into her tight velvet hole.

  Seconds later I’ll bury myself deep inside her. We will rock together, our bodies intertwined, her luscious flesh sliding against mine. Her erect nipples will scrape against my chest, providing extra stimulation for us both. We’ll fuck in this way for a while, until I become frustrated at the limitations. From this position I cannot worship her in the way that she deserves. Her beauty is hidden beneath me. I will flip us over so she is astride me.

  What I see when she is on top of me never fails to take my breath away; not to mention flood yet more blood into my shaft. Her luscious chestnut hair bounces around her shoulders, framing her face, which is all smiles. Her tits immediately catch the eye – how could they not? – hanging full and tempting like delicious fruits. I cannot resist a taste, licking, sucking and biting at them. She gasps and thrusts her jiggling flesh more forcibly into my face, inviting more, harder.

  When I am done devouring her breasts, my hands reach around her hips to grab her ass – I can’t help it. Her ass is full, yet firm, and it tenses and relaxes as she lifts and lowers her delectable cunt on to my cock. I’ll squeeze and stroke her cheeks, maybe pull them apart and explore the tight little ring nestling between them. I daren’t do it for long – if I trigger her orgasm, I’m done for. There’s no way I can hold off when her velvet walls start to spasm and milk my cock for all it’s worth.

  Instead, I will move on to my last but not least love: her legs. All I can reach from this vantage point is her thighs. Planted either side of mine, she continues to rhythmically pump up and down and I feel her muscles tense and relax; the ample flesh is soft and oh-so-inviting. We are connected in the most intimate way and yet I want more, I always want more. I cannot get enough of my buxom babe.

  Another reason I adore my lady’s figure so is that it is strong. Feminine, and yet solid. I know that we can play rough and she can take it. She loves it as much as I do, if not more. I’ll grab her hips and force myself up into her. My cock sandwiched between her engorged folds, her juices sliding out and smearing over my lower abdomen, her clit brushing against me.

  We are on the verge of a frenzy. Once we cross the line, there’s no going back. It’s a race to the finish line, except we aim to cross it together. I’ll reach between her legs and stroke her clit – it doesn’t take much. Soon she is crying out and her pussy is driving me to my own climax, its tight squeezing and releasing causing me to spurt my own violent release.

  I’ll pull her down for a kiss as we ride out our orgasms, my hand tangling in her thick mane, our tongues deeply caressing one another’s mouths. Her arms will come to rest on either side of my head, her tits squashing against my chest. Then I’ll roll her gently off me onto the bed and position myself so my head rests on her shoulder, her arm around me. From here, I can continue to caress her; my fingertips drift across her breasts, her stomach, an aimless pattern that relaxes us both.

  This is a blissful ending to a perfect session. We have both enjoyed each other’s bodies, and now we are taking comfort from one another in a companionable silence. I reach over her with my free arm and crush her tightly to me, silently expressing my affection and love for everything that she is. My love, my rock, my passionate and beautiful woman.

  And after all that exploration, I still can’t decide. Leg, breast or bum? My lady has all three, and they’re all mine. I’m a lucky man.

  Posh Boy

  I’ve always been a sucker for posh accents. I think it’s because they tend to be associated with well-educated young men who are polite, gentlemanly … and just waiting to be corrupted. That’s where I come in.

  One of my favourite fantasies has always been to fuck a posh boy, just to hear him say dirty words in his sexy accent. Unfortunately, living up north, there aren’t that many of them around. So it was a fantasy that lay dormant. That is, until Nathan came along.

  I met him through a friend. Well, I say ‘met’, but it was all done over the telephone. It was my friend’s birthday and I’d called him up to wish him a happy birthday. He and his mates were already drunk and boys will be boys – they all started yelling down the phone, thinking I was Nick’s girlfriend. One voice in particular stood out. The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them – “Who was that, Nick?”

  “Who?” he shouted over the din, “There’s loads of us here.”

  “The last one. With the posh accent.”

  “Oh,” said Nick, obviously remembering my penchant, confessed during a drunken night in the flat we used to share, “that’s Nathan. Why, do you want to talk to him?”

  “Is he single?”

  “Find out for yourself.”

  I heard shuffling and laughter in the background. Then suddenly, “Hello?”

  My heart began to thud and I felt a warmth between my thighs. Wow, I’d forgotten how much those accents got to me.

  “Hi, Nathan.”

  “Nick said you wanted to talk to me.” It had gone quiet now. The other guys were either so intent on listening that they’d shut up, or he was now alone.

  “Yes,” I wondered what to say, then decided that I’d probably never lay eyes on this guy, so it didn’t matter, “I just thought you had a nice voice, that was all. A sexy accent.”

  “Thank you. So do you.”

  I giggled. “Yeah, right.”

  “No, really. It’s got a lovely lilt to it. In fact I reckon I could listen to you all day.”

  And that’s where it began. Nathan and I exchanged phone numbers and started chatting regularly. We had lots in common with books, films and our love of the outdoors so we were always laughing and talking rubbish, and got to know each other really quickly. Soon, the talk turned dirty. We were both single and bemoaned the lack of sex. There’d been no talk of meeting up, so I felt free to let rip with my wildest thoughts and fantasies. It wasn’t doing anybody any harm, so I just enjoyed it.

  One evening we were having a conversation and I asked how his day had been. His response wasn’t entirely what I’d been expecting.

  “Well, the guy upstairs has been shagging his missus. They’ve been at it like rabbits for ages and, frankly, I’m jealous and as horny as fuck.”

  I laughed out loud.

  “Sorry, old fruit (yes, he really said that!), was I a bit too honest there?”

  “No, it just wasn’t what I was expecting you to say, that’s all.”

  “Sorry. It has been a while though.”

  “Well then,” I replied, feeling the same way myself, “you need to get laid then, don’t you?”

  “I do. I just wish you didn’t live so far away.”

  “Me too. I’m sure we’d have a great time together.”

  “Oh, we would. I’d show you what you’ve been missing. Those idiot
blokes round your way clearly haven’t got a clue.”

  “Really?” I said, knowing exactly where this was going, “And how would you do that then?”

  “I’d lick you and make you come until you ache, then fuck you until you’re sore.”

  I had to admit, it sounded like a good offer. I suddenly wished we didn’t live so far apart, as well. My mind wandered, thinking of the possibilities when Nathan piped up, “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

  “No, but with an offer like that I wish I had yours between my legs right now!”

  “I bet your pussy tastes gorgeous. I could lick you all day. Do you like being rimmed?”

  “Can’t say I’ve ever tried it. Into that, are you?”

  “Oh yes.”

  It appeared the posh boy was also deliciously dirty.

  “I would love to lick your tight little arsehole then stick my tongue inside and feel it twitch around me. Then when I’d got it nice and slippery, I’d stick my cock up there and ride you hard.”

  I couldn’t deny his words were having an effect on me. I felt a heat between my thighs, almost like a blush. I suspected that if I looked in a mirror my face would be red too, and was glad he couldn’t see me.

  “Wow,” I said, more to fill the silence than anything, “you certainly like anal play, don’t you?”

  “And so would you if you tried it,” he replied, not missing a beat, “I’ve known women to squirt from anal sex alone, with no other stimulation.”

  “Honestly?” I was intrigued. I prided myself on my open mind, but wouldn’t it hurt?

  “Yes, honestly. And done properly it won’t hurt a bit. Plenty of lube and even more patience is all it takes. I’d love to take your anal virginity.”

  I giggled. “I never thought of it like that. I certainly wouldn’t say no to trying it. But I’d still want to be fucked in the traditional way, too.”