Underneath Her – #MasturbationMonday

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underneathThis picture is used with permission by Little Switch Bitch

This post is part of Masturbation Monday! https://masturbationmonday.kaylalords.com/masturbation-monday-228/

I was only able to look up at her. Fitting, as I did, indeed.

“No touching me.” Her voice was like a soft caress and somehow a paper cut. “Touch yourself.”

She granted me permission. I needed it. My cock was only just free of its cage. It had been bound for days. Trained as I was, I immediately and tenderly touched the tip of my shaft. I could have come in three strokes, I was so bottled up. I also knew as much as she had to order me to touch myself, she would have to order me to come.

I swirled my fingertip around my urethra. The helmet of my cock glistened in the low light of our hotel room. I hissed at the sensation. I turned my eyes to the cleft between her legs. The place I desired with every iota of my being to taste. I imagined what it would be like. Would there be a hint of leather? It would be sweet.

My index finger and thumb made an O and I moved it up and down, only barely glancing against the fringe of flesh at the base of my cockhead. I was still too close to actually stroke my foreskin. I groaned. Even this barest friction was almost enough to cause my eyes to roll back into my head. That would have meant taking my eyes off of her. My left hand pinched hard at my nipple and then pulled at the piercing there. It was a risk since no permission had been granted.

She eased one hand into her panties and began to touch her clit. Her moan was a sign of approval. An echo of my own arousal.

After a handful of seconds, I gripped my shaft lightly. The smell of my own arousal mingled with hers. Sweat trickled down her legs and from my brow. It felt like an oven in our room. The tip of my tongue slid out like a snake’s and tasted the air. I began moving my hand agonizingly slowly up and down. I wanted this to last for hours or days, but I knew I had only minutes if I was lucky. My cock was the thinnest of silk covering millions of nerve endings softly polished with sandpaper until they gleamed red and silver.

She pulled aside the crotch of her panties and a few drops hit my skin.

I would have been shocked that they didn’t sizzle and evaporate, but I was too eager to taste what I could. I swiped my finger through the moisture and touched it to my tongue. I was right. So sweet and just a hint of the animal musk, either her natural flavor or influenced by the touch of hide. Now my eyes did roll back, momentarily. I allowed myself to imagine her riding my hard length and moaning.

“Open your eyes.” There was that voice again. The whipcrack of command.

I did as bade and increased the pressure on my cock. Now I worked faster. At any moment she could tell me to stop. The leaden ball of my orgasm had begun to form.

She squatted and exposed more of her sex. Her fingers moved faster and she continued to sigh and moan. “I want you to see me come before you let yourself come.”

There it was. I was so close. Too close? Could I hold back? I had trained for this. She had molded me. Her words had power. I watched her fuck herself. She became the center of my world. My own stroked were a near second.

More of her essence spattered across my skin. It rained on me, little drops hitting a summer blacktop, the smell of rain and ozone in the near distance. “Close.”

That word gave me permission to move faster. I pinched my nipple again. “Fuck.” I whisper groaned.

Her grunting chuffs of air and the now stillness of her fingers told me she was coming. The rich smell intensified. “Come on my feet.”

Still moving my hand, I managed to get to my knees and aimed my throbbing cockhead at her high heels. “Yes, mistress.” I focused on gleaming leather and grunted like a pig as my load shot out all over those beautiful shoes. Three long, thick spurts of pearlescent white painted the surface. I started to bend over to lick them clean as was our habit when she stepped forward.

“Lick me.”

I looked up and saw her cunt, dripping and waxed, peering at me from those shiny black panties. “Thank you, mistress.” My lips and tongue painted her with my saliva as I received the first taste of her flesh in our relationshiop. It was as fulfilling and amazing as I’d hoped. Her flesh quivered under my tongue and her fingers dug into my hair. I brought her to a second orgasm as I lapped harder and faster. My brain exploded with joy and tears beaded and ran down my cheeks.

She fucked my face for ten more minutes before putting the leash on me and bringing me to her bed for hugs and clean up. Truthfully, it was the best night of my life. Serving underneath her was the highest point in the universe.

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The Deadly Bombshell (Part Four) – A Chris Gunn, PI Case

Mysterious woman in black hat
Portrait of mysterious beautiful young woman with wonderful skin texture in black hat. Trendy glamorous fashion makeup. Sensual lips. Black and white image. Art photo

This is the ongoing story of Chris Gunn, Private Eye and the Deadly Bombshell.

The Deadly Bombshell (Part One) – A Chris Gunn, PI Case
The Deadly Bombshell (Part Two) – A Chris Gunn, PI Case
The Deadly Bombshell (Part Three) – A Chris Gunn, PI Case

When Chris got to her door, she heard a moan. Pulling her pistol, she opened the door slowly. She closed it behind her and inhaled. The smell of sex still lingered in the air, even this long after her tryst. She smiled when she heard the panting and the rhythmic, wet noises coming from the direction of her couch. She rounded into the little alcove and slid her weapon back in its holster.

Fran lay on the couch, legs spread wide. Three fingers on her right hand were buried to their hilt in the delicious valley between the blond woman’s legs. The index finger on her left hand was busy rubbing the little nub just above it. Her face was screwed up in painful ecstasy.  

“Shall I help you out?” Chris closed the distance between them and bent to her knees. She inhaled more deeply and moaned at the intoxicating aroma.

“You could. Or you could just watch.” The words were breathy and her voice husky. “Either way I’m almost home.”

The detective bent forward and moved Fran’s left hand. She placed her lips where the finger had been and sucked the stiffened pearl into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it as she did.

Fran clamped her hand on the back of Chris’s head and pushed the stocky woman’s face into the treasure.

The angle was a challenge, as Chris was beside her legs, not between them, but she was equal to the challenge. Within a minute, the chained bombshell was screeching out the filthiest language. Chris was too busy following instructions like “eat me out” and “keep sucking on my bud, you cunt loving bitch” to think about how the socialite learned such language.

When Fran pulled her fingers free from her swollen lips, she sighed. Her feet were still twitching and the sweat covered flesh of her belly and thighs quivered. “Oh, yeah.”

Chris stopped long enough to suck the woman’s fingers clean and then moved those long, lovely legs so she could drink directly from the source more easily. She lapped and sucked at the swollen folds which were still giving up quite a bit of honey.

“Stop. Oh god, that’s torture. I can’t… I can’t… Oh fuck, don’t…” Fran panted out the words.

Chris didn’t stop, intending to continue this sweet, sweet cruelty until her own thirst was slaked. She pushed her fingers in, where her tongue had been. The muscles of those slick walls were still clenching and seemed to greedily suck in the detective’s thicker digits. “You’ve been a bad girl, Fran.”

“What, what are you talking about?” Fran looked down her body to the woman between her legs. “Oh god, please stop. I can’t focus.”

“I don’t want you to focus. I want you to tell me the truth and I’ll fuck it out of you if I have to.” Chris stretched her three fingers out and then worked in her pinky. “I’ll bury my arm up to my shoulder if I have to.” She grinned wickedly.

Fran moaned and thrashed her head back and forth. “Oh that hurts so good, baby. What do you need to know.”

Chris looked up from biting Fran’s mound after admiring the indentations her teeth left. “You were staying over with your fiance’s partner. I found evidence.”

“Oh my god, oh my god oh fuck.” She panted and groaned. “You went over to his…” She let out a panting screech. “His place.”

“Are you going to tell me what really happened?” Chris folded her thumb over and turned her hand. Slowly, she worked her whole hand into Fran’s slick entrance. Chris wanted to rip her own clothes off. She was as hot and sweaty as Fran. Maybe she’d sit on the blond’s face once this was all done. She had built up her own desire and was ready to let someone else take care of her needs for once.

“Yes. Yes, stop breaking me in two and I’ll tell you, but let me come first.” Her blue eyes blazed into Chris’s. “Will you do that for me?”

Chris shook her head and pulled her hand out, wiping it on a nearby blanket. “No. Not yet.”

Fran balled up a fist, or tried to. She was too weak to really do anything about the sudden void left behind. “God damn you.” She weakly smacked at the couch.

Chris stood and smiled, smugly satisfied. “Talk to me, when you get your breath back.” She produced the handcuff key and unshackled Fran, dancing out of the way of another weak blow.

Fran looked at her with just a hint of murder in those blue eyes. “Fuck.”

Chris brought the chair over from her desk. She wouldn’t sit within arm’s reach of Fran for while. “Yes, I think I’ve established that you’re good at that. You fucked your fiance. You fucked his partner. You tried to fuck me.”

“Water?” Fran looked around.

“I’ll get you water in a little bit. I’m not feeling very magnanimous.” Chris tapped the butt of her pistol.

They sat there in relative silence, Fran’s ragged breathing eventually normalizing. “Yes, I slept with him, at least a few times a month. I suspect Monte knew about it for a long time. He got possessive of me and made stupid threats. Drew didn’t take very kindly to that. They fought.”

“Over you?” Chris grinned and shook her head.

Fran chuckled. “No. I wish I was more than a plaything for either of them.” The sadness in her voice seemed legitimate. “It was over the business. There’s something illegal in what they’re doing. I don’t know what it is. I just know Monte had threatened to go to the police. They fought and Drew killed him.”

“Why frame you for it?” Chris was sure she knew the answer.

“Convenience as much as anything, I suppose.I was there and as much as Drew loved me in the sack, he can find another.” Tears started to flow down Fran’s cheeks.

Chris drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair. She wasn’t buying any of this, but hopefully her contact would be able to tell her something about the ledger. He wouldn’t be available until tomorrow at the soonest. “Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to go check into a hotel. One where no one but you and me is aware of. We’re gonna eat room service and then tomorrow I’m going to find out what your boys were up to. I’m going to get enough evidence to put Drew away and clear you if you can be cleared.”

Fran started to stand up, but couldn’t quite make it.

“And then, once this is all over, you’re gonna pay me. I’m sure your man has left you some money. Then I don’t think I want to see you again.” That last bit wasn’t true. As much trouble as Fran was and was in, there was something about a girl in trouble that always got Chris and tied her in knots. “Now get dressed.”

Fran stood, finally able to do so without looking top pitiful.

Chris watched her dress, and then the pair walked into the waning afternoon light.

Mirror, Mirror – #MasturbationMonday

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mirror mirrorThis picture is used with permission by Nikki at LoveIsAFetish.com (the original post with the picture). Nikki is a sexy sweetheart and you should follow her blog and follow her on Twitter.

This post is part of Masturbation Monday! https://masturbationmonday.kaylalords.com/masturbation-monday-227/ It’s a work of fiction, FYI. 😉

It’s a piece of advice that I’ve heard from time to time. If you own the equipment, you need to know how it operates. It’s what my dad used to say (and yes talking about my dad and my pussy is weird). Put more plainly, people with vaginas should know what they look like, respond to, and how they work. As a lifelong vulva haver, I was woefully ignorant. My therapist told me to get a mirror and get to know myself.

“Make it romantic,” she said. “Light some candles. Burn some incense. Seduce yourself.”

It sounded ridiculous, but I’d always had issues having an orgasm and my doctor cleared me from anything physical. “Will I have to use a toy or anything?”

She did that “would that bother you?” thing good therapists do.

Ultimately, I decided to go simple. Barry White played in the background. I stood next to my bed, white sheets turned down. All I had was my makeup mirror, but it was good quality. I could see everything I needed to when put to ordinary use. This wasn’t ordinary. I had poured a glass of wine and drunk half. I breathed in the cinnamon scented candle.

When I started, I was dressed in a lacy peignoir. I loved the feel of it against myself. I untied the silk strand and let the front of the garment fall open. It brushed my skin as it slid down. Black lace pooled on the floor. I cupped my full breasts, still restrained by satin. I love my boobs. Some women don’t. Mine had always gotten attention but they weren’t too big or too small. My nipples are sensitive and long. I tweaked them through the material of my bra. I was self-conscious, but I couldn’t deny that it felt good.

“I’m beautiful. I’m desirable.” The mantra I’d decided on felt silly coming from my lips. I didn’t feel either of those things, even prettied up as I was. I undid the front hook and let the cups fall away. My olive complexion against the dark fabric was pretty sexy. I really looked at my arms and my breasts as my hands moved over the supple skin. I hissed as I pulled at my nipples. I was gentle with myself. At first.

The sensation gradually travelled from my breasts to my belly, pooling there like molten gold. I let myself continue to breathe and examine myself in light of the words I said. Yes, I was overweight. Sure, I had some stretch marks. “I’m beautiful. I’m desirable.” The words were breathier now. Those things were as true as the knowledge of my body. I let my bra slide from my arms and join the peignoir on the floor.

I crawled onto the king size bed, just me and a broad expanse of cool, clean cotton. My kids were away. My ex was far, far away. I lay down with only my panties on and legs spread. I could see the black fabric covering what was ‘down there’. Time to get to know her a little better. I pulled the satin away from my right leg, showing one full lip and a few wisps of hair. I had trimmed my bush, so the view wouldn’t be obscured but it wasn’t all gone. “I’m beautiful. I’m desirable.” The husky sound of my voice and the dampness I felt between my legs made the words less of a formality and sounded more like a realization. I flicked at the lip and teased it with one fingernail. I hissed at the sensation and used my left hand to continue pulling on my nipple.

I whimpered as I continued watching myself. It was like someone else touched me. Their skin was as dark as mine. Undeniably a woman, a fantasy I’d had since high school. I focused on that silver circle. She pushed a finger into the sensitive flesh peeking out from my panties. I was getting wetter by the second. Still, the finger encountered some resistance. I wasn’t ready yet.

Time for the unveiling. I grabbed the waistband and pulled the black fabric over my mound and large, round butt and down my legs. I’d shaped my bush into a triangle and spent a few seconds running my finger through the curls. I really got to know the feel of the skin and flesh under the hair. I brought my fingers to my nose and inhaled. My odor was a little musky, I think that’s the word for it, but it was clean. I liked it.

“I’m beautiful and desirable.” More certainty crept into those words. I returned my fingers to the task at hand. I spread my lips open and looked at the pink flesh between. The difference in color was a little shocking. I’d often heard pussies referred to as flowers and I really saw why. I’d never looked at porn and have only ever seen other women’s vulvas and mounds in passing. You didn’t stare. That wasn’t polite. So, I’d never gotten a good look. My well-manicured nails trailed over the slickened flesh and I hissed and moaned again at the arcs of pleasure.

I’d looked up the names for the various parts. Some I knew, some I didn’t. My clit didn’t look like the pictures. It was bigger and stood out from the hood, but it was pretty. “I am beautiful and desirable.” I could smell my arousal and could feel it too, letting the pads of my fingers spread the wetness around. I explored until I found a rhythm that felt good, still thinking of the fingers as someone else’s. I flicked at the clit and slid my fingers into the vagina. My vagina. It was hot. I looked pretty damn amazing. My moans and breathing grew heavier and closer together. All the while, my brown eyes stared into a part of me that was a stranger.

My orgasm started to build. I’d had one or two before, so I knew what the first stages felt like. The fluttering was a little more intense than I remembered but it had been a while. I focused the work of my right index finger on stroking the clit and soon it was big enough for me to pinch between finger and thumb. I would have laughed. It was like a tiny penis. But it felt too damn good. I slid two fingers on my left hand into my folds. This time there was no resistance. I was wet as fuck.

I didn’t close my eyes, though they slitted towards the end. As my orgasm built and built, I wanted to know what I was doing so next time I could imagine it. My lips got bigger and opened more to my eyes. It took time, but I reminded myself I wasn’t going anywhere. When my orgasm came on full force, I had to close my eyes. I bent my knees and brought my feet to me ass, opening myself up to my explorations. The clenching was powerful, and it felt like an explosion of heat and color up through my core.

“I am beautiful.” *pant pant scream* “And desirable. Oh my god. Oh FUCK YES, I AM!”

 

Giving Thanks – A story of submission

likeaprayer This picture is used with permission by Nikki at LoveIsAFetish.com (the original post with the picture). Nikki is a sexy sweetheart and you should follow her blog and follow her on Twitter.

You know, sometimes I see a picture and it just says “use me to write a story”. This was a case where I’d seen the picture but there was a tweet that reminded me of it. She reposted it, and this was our exchange:

Soooo… Like I do, here’s “Giving Thanks”.

My SO and I aren’t traditionally a religiously observant couple. Truthfully, we’re not traditionally anything. We tend towards the sacrilegious on occasion, not out of disrespect, but just because it can be so damned fun. Cut to the other night when I decided I’d put on a little School Girl cosplay inspired by my own personal Goddess, Madonna. Needless to say, he loved it.

“God, baby, you’re just so beautiful.” His husky voice was as much of a turn on as the bulge I spied in his jeans.

I smiled. The words and the love behind them still made me gooey after ten years together. “Thank you!” I smiled. With hands clasped in prayer, I looked up at him. “How can I please my god, tonight?”

He closed the distance to me and sat on the floor in front of me. “You can start by opening those legs a little wider and stand just like that. Don’t. Move.”

I was already damp with desire. Those blazing green eyes of his could do that without a word. When he used the Voice, well, I did as he asked, maintaining my attitude of prayer.

He leaned his face in, now just level with my belly button since I was squatting. “I can smell how wet you are. What would you like me to do to you?”

“I want to suck you into my mouth.” I started to answer.

He stopped me with a glance. “No, I didn’t ask what you could do for me.”

“I want you to fuck me with those hard hands of yours. I want you to lift my skirt up and spank my round ass.” Saying the things I wanted him to do out loud still felt a little naughty even after all this time. Each word warmed me up a little more.

He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, squirming out of them. His cock was hard and full, already a little moisture gathering at the tip. “Go on. But remember. No coming until I say so. And don’t stand or scream.”

If I had known all of the details before I’d committed, I wouldn’t have taken such a deep stance. But it was what it was. I wouldn’t complain. “I want to feel your tongue between my ass cheeks.”

He reached out and felt under my skirt for the wet split between my thighs. He liked me to keep my pubic hair trimmed but full, so there was nothing between him and my entrance.

As his thick middle digit entered me, I drew in a sharp breath. “I want you to push your tongue inside me. I love being filled front and back by you.” I also wanted to thrust against his fingers, but I’d been told to hold still. His hand was moving with agonizing slowness. This was going to be delicious torture. “Fill my pussy with your tongue and my ass with your f-f-fingers.” The fingers in question would brush my clit every two or three strokes. He couldn’t get too deep unless he moved closer.

As he looked into my eyes, burning with passion for me, I could tell he wanted to stay where he was. He stroked his cock in time with the folds between my legs, slow and easy. “Don’t look down. Look up.”

I did as I was told and was rewarded with another finger. I wanted to run my hands over my breasts and squeeze the nipples pressing against my shirt. But if I did that, the game would be over. “I want you to tongue my clit until I’m screaming.” Speaking of screaming, my legs were starting to talk to me. The pain and pleasure met where he fucked me. “I want you to bend me over the table once I’ve come all over your face and I want you to fuck me hard, jolting my body while you slam into me.” Ohgodohgodohgod, but did his fingers feel so good inside me. Were his strokes increasing in speed? I heard the telltale noises of his cock getting slicker. It was so hard not to start bouncing up and down on his hand. I could feel my moisture leaking down the insides of my thighs.

He groaned as he continued to drive me crazy. “You make me so hard.”

“You’d slap m-m-my ass while you fucked me harder and harder.” I loved his hard hand raining blows on my flesh. He knew just how hard and where to hit me so that I’d carry the bruises for a few days, but no one would know the secrets of those marks but me. It made me horny as fuck to know he’d marked me where no one could see. “You’d grab my hair and pull back it while you started to shoot inside me.” My arms, neck, and legs burned but not as hot as the fire in my belly. I could feel the first contractions start. Now the real challenge would be not to come or make any noises until he told me to.

“I love coming in that wet cunt.” His voice had taken on that gravelly tone I knew well. He was close. Closer than I was maybe. The scent of our mutual arousal mingled in the air.

“Once you’d come inside me. Once I stopped quivering and screaming. Then you’d put your mouth on my sex and eat out everything you spilled in me.” GODGODGOD I wanted to come so bad, but I held it in, bottled it up. I knew it would be sweeter for it.

“That would taste so fucking good. Ah. Ah. Oh, fuck it’s happening.”

I knew I couldn’t look down but I could hear and smell and imagine. “I’d come around your tongue and fingers again and again.” I let the smallest whimper out as I felt his fingers shift, afraid for a second that he’d pull out. Instead, he’d slid forward and hit my g-spot. My skirt lifted as he put his mouth to me.

“Come for me”

With those words of encouragement and his talented tongue and fingers working just right, I let myself fall over the edge. My cunt clamped around his fingers. I cried out his name over and over. Soon it was just a mash-up of meaningless syllables. I let my weight fall on him, as he held me up in his arms.

Quivering. Feet and legs nearly done, I broke my attitude of prayer and grabbed thick fistfuls of his hair. I ground against his lips and chin. “ILOVEYOUILOVEYOU!”

He lowered me to my back, careful to avoid our coffee table. As he continued to please me with his tongue, I clawed at his back and neck. We would both feel this session the next day. Finally, drunk from our orgasms, he moved beside me on the floor and spooned against my back.

Kissing my hair and stroking my belly, he whispered into my neck. “I thank the universe for your love.”

Our worship session concluded, we partook in the communion of kisses until the floor was no longer comfortable. Then we adjourned to our bed where I could give thanks to him properly for tonight’s wonderful beginning.

REVIEW AND GIVEAWAY! “Watch and Learn – A Lesbian Story” By Ava Sterling

watch and learn Synopsis

She learns from the best on how to be a lesbian.

When Rhia and Ashleigh go dresser shopping at a yard sale, they find the perfect piece. It’s a gaudy thing, but then, that’s to be expected when its original owner is a filmmaker.

Once they have it inside, Rhia is putting away clothes when she notices a mysterious knob inside a drawer. When she opens it, she finds a stash of lesbian movies.

 
I was recently introduced via Twitter to Ava Sterling, anotehr fine erotica author and was assured she would be right up my alley. We chatted via direct message and she offered me one of her short stories. She also gave me some codes to give away. Will you want one? I think so!

The Goods – I love the set up. You have two friends. They’re very close, but not romantically so. There’s some tension between them and a potential for attraction. How do you get them in the sack? Surprise porn! The sex which follows is hot and very well described. I love how Ava ties in the movie they watch, which teaches them a few techniques. I appreciated the glimpses into the ladies’ minds, letting us know how unexpected and delicious this all is. This story definitely had me squirming in my seat.

The Bads – When I review a story, I always want to be transparent. I’ll let you know things I don’t love. There’s not much present for me not to like. The only thing that jumped out to me was the movie itself. The story sets up the film maker to be talented. I’ve watched a LOT of porn and I have to say, the movie within the story seems uninspired. That’s not to say it isn’t hot. It is! Thanks to my recent story gigs, I’ve gotten to watch some really artistic stuff. The one in the story would be suitable for a well made mainstream adult film. Now, I’m left fully satisfied by the story itself, and the girls only went through one film, so perhaps if there’s a part two we’ll see something like the movies at Bellesa.co or Frolic Me. (I hope you, dear reader, go watch movies there.)

The story is also short. Which was well worth the price tag of $.99. I’ve seen stories twice this long I wouldn’t pay half that much for. Just know that this serves as a taster for Ava’s other works, and a delicious amuse bouche it is!

RecommendationGo get this story! I give it four out of five licks of flame. Hot enough to return to, but truly just needed a bit more to get that extra flicker. I will definitely be checking out her other works! It’s worth a brief note as well, that for an indie piece of erotic fiction, this was free of a lot of the unfortunate errors I’ve seen. The plot, spelling, grammar, and other building blocks of what make good writing were all present and accounted for.

Giveaway – If you’d like a free copy, just comment below. I’ve got three copies and so the first three people who request one will get one! You should also go to her site and sign up to follow it!

The Deadly Bombshell (Part Three) – A Chris Gunn, PI Case

Mysterious woman in black hat
Portrait of mysterious beautiful young woman with wonderful skin texture in black hat. Trendy glamorous fashion makeup. Sensual lips. Black and white image. Art photo

Part One
Part Two  

Chris would have waited around for Patterson, but in spite of the secretary’s assurances, she didn’t think he’d be in today. After all, a man doesn’t murder his partner late in the evening and simply show up to work as if nothing happened. There was covering up to be done. If Patterson wasn’t at his office then he’d be in his penthouse apartment. Chris knew where that was.

She hailed a cab and soon found herself at the base of Douglass Towers. Stepping past the doorman and into the expansive foyer, she considered the best way to get to the top. She produced a ten and a business card from thin air and palmed them. Once on the elevator, she gave her best thousand-watt smile to the elevator operator.

“What floor, Miss?” The older man didn’t miss a detail.

Chris held out her palm and the old guy shook it, reflexively. “Penthouse. I have a meeting with Mr. Patterson.”

Making both disappear into his coat, the man made the metal box soar heavenward. “He’s a very important man.” Glaring down his nose at Chris, he sneered a little. “You don’t seem to be the sort who usually visits him at home.”

“He’s the kind of man who only conducts certain business at home.” Chris produced a twenty from where she’d palmed it. “You’d be smart to keep this little visit quiet. I’d just break your jaw. He’d make your job vanish as easily as this bill.” She made it disappear and reappear in a blink.

Marty, so said his name badge, took the bill before it went away again. “Strange how I’m riding up in this elevator all by myself.” He glued his eyes to the arrow showing what floors they passed.

The doors shut behind her and she stood in front of the doors to the penthouse suite. Producing her lock picks, she had the door unlocked in a few seconds. It was a good lock, but she’d yet to meet the tumblers she couldn’t trip. With that, she eased off her jacket and draped it over her left arm and unsnapped the strap that held her pistol in place. Then she pushed open the door, using her jacket covered hand.

It eased open into the palatial living room and the smell of brandy and expensive cigar smoke tickled her nose. With no yells at her intrusion, she stepped in and closed the door behind her. The distant sound of running water let her know someone was at home. She passed through the dining room and soon stood at the door to the master suite. She knew it was, thanks to the now discernible sound of the shower running.

The next door to her left would probably be the office away from office. Still using her jacket clad hand, she opened this door and saw quite the tidy working space. A phone, a ticker tape, and several shelves of books as well as quite an impressive globe were as functional as they were ostentatious. She scanned the desk but this man was a beat freak. Not so much as a pen or scrap of paper marred the expanse of wood and leather.

Her ears picked up on the sound of the water ceasing. She could leave or she could wait him out and get a look in the bedroom. Of course, the third option was to go see him now while he was certainly unarmed and unaware. The idea of seeing what he looked like right out of the shower appealed to a part of her but now wasn’t the time. She braved it out this far. If he had anything incriminating it would be in his bedroom. She rifled quickly through his drawers while keeping an ear out.

Her search was rewarded with the hollow sound of a secret compartment. She pulled out her switchblade and with the tip, pried up the false bottom of the drawer. Hidden under the wood paneling was a notebook, a leger of some kind. She grabbed it and tucked it into the waistband at the small of her back. Now to get out of here and see if it was relevant to her case. If not, it could probably give her some leverage.

She snuck to the door and listened. The rustle of cloth preceded the opening of the bedroom door. Footsteps padded away from her thank goodness. Once she could no longer hear them, she opened the door and peered out. No one there. She eased out of the office and into the bedroom. Where neatness had reigned in the office, chaos was lord of the bedclothes. She could smell recent sex coming from the sheets and kidded herself that she could tell to whom the female fragrance belonged.

A brief examination of the closets and dressers revealed no female presence. There were toiletries in the still steamy bathroom that only made sense if there were an occasional female occupant. The eau de toilette did belong to her reluctant guest. So it wasn’t just a one-time occurrence. She made a habit of coming over here. But not enough so she needed a change of clothes.

A thorough search of his bedside tables revealed another hidden compartment. This one would have held a gun of some sort, its shape still evident in the recessed pillow. She returned everything as it had been and started back towards the door. When she heard steps approaching, she stood behind the door. There was a fifty-fifty chance he’d choose the office. Luck was with her this morning. Once she heard the door close, she moved with quiet speed out of the bedroom and towards the door.

With every step she expected a bullet or a shout to follow her. Only once she was in the corridor outside did she let out her breath. She didn’t stop moving through and in seconds she was in the stairwell. The handle only let persons into the long, winding spiral down without a key. Once she was on a level where it might be possible to blend in with a crowd did she let herself out, using her trusty picks again.

Once she was street side, she hailed a taxi and then and only then did she take a moment to look at the fruits of her labor. It was a business ledger of some sort, but without a knowledge of accounting and perhaps some sort of code, she would be out of luck. Thankfully she knew a few people who could help her with this. First, she’d go back to her office and have a little chat with the troublemaker chained to her couch.

The Deadly Bombshell (Part Four) – A Chris Gunn, PI Case

Dressing the Tree – #MasturbationMonday

masturbation-monday-banner-1This post is part of Masturbation Monday! https://masturbationmonday.kaylalords.com/masturbation-monday-224/

It was inspired by the prompt picture as well as this hot number:

 

Christmas music played in the background as my husband decorated our tree. I vacillated between watching him and watching the hentai playing on a loop on our big screen. I caught him looking more at the screen than at the tree and saw that his Santa sleep pants were seriously tented. My hand slid down into my “Bad Girl” panties, the silk wet from a combination of my watching the animated antics and seeing my man get hard. I moaned as my fingers slid in between my thick, slick folds.

He looked over at me, blue eyes flashing. “Something you want my help with?”

I shook my head and bit my bottom lip. “You take care of yourself Santa Baby and I’ll watch. Just keep looking at the telly.” I watched to make sure he followed orders.

He did as he was told, taking his pants and boxers down and revealing muscular, furry legs and a cock that was as beautiful as it was thick. He pulled back his foreskin and ran a finger from the tip, underneath his length and down to his freely swinging sac. Christmas light reflected off of the slick trail it left. He groaned as he grabbed himself near the base and started stroking.

I left my panties up, but pulled off my tee shirt and tossed it at his feet, as much to tease as to catch any spills. Like a good boy, he kept his eyes glued to the set. I pinched and pulled at my already hard nipples. My tits were small and high on my chest, just the way he liked them. My other hand worked faster and circled my hard clit. I tried to match his rhythm.

“Fuck, baby, this feels so good. I can’t wait to come in your mouth.” The hand that wasn’t stroking his length was working his own flat chest, flicking at hardened nipples. He loved his nipple play as much as I did.

I panted as I watched the muscles in his ass flex. Hours spent running and lifting in the gym had given him such wonderful definition. “Maybe I’d rather you come on my tits. How about that?” I slid my middle finger into the parting of my labia and started fucking myself hard and fast so he’d hear how wet I was.

“You know how much I love spraying you with my cum.” He stopped stroking and spit into his hand. Once he returned to work, I wasn’t the only one filling the air with sloppy, wet sounds. “God damn, I’m so close already.”

“Don’t you fucking dare come before I do.” I scolded him. “Ladies f-f-first.” I was close. My second hand joined the first in my underwear, fingers stroking and fucking as I spread my legs wide. “God.”

He grunted, hips bucking. He fucked his hands, the bell end peeking out of the double fisted grip. “Where do you want me to come?”

“I want to see you. Just stand how you are.” I force my eyes to stay open as the first wave hit me. “G-g-god, my pussy’s so tight. Come for me.” My stomach muscles and cunt clenched and squeezed as I arched my back, never taking my eyes off of his magnificent cock.

Thick jets spewed from its tip, some landing on the nearby Christmas bulbs. His muscles locked up and he squeezed his cock in both hands. “That feels so good.” He kept fucking his hands.

My feet jittered and drummed on the couch cushions and I squealed as the orgasm continued to roll through my body.

He walked over to me and squatted down beside the couch. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” He kissed my stomach and up to my breasts. As he sucked a hard nipple into his mouth I looked over and smiled as the evidence of my effect on him dripped from our tree onto the floor.

“Merry Christmas, love.”