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Floor Time Summer Of Jack And Sara (chapter 2)
The Summer of Jack, as the Old Sara referred to it, consisted of some incredibly intense encounters. Jack Gordon, Sara now knew, was always tan, fit, well-read, and easy to talk to, generous with his advice, time and cock-just as long as he remained in control, of course. There was never ever a time when she felt like he wasn't completely into her, and into the moment they were having right then, totally in tune with her needs as a woman and his ability to fulfill them. His failing was emotional. He had so many different attachments, on so many levels, to so many different people: literally hundreds of buyers, nearly as many sellers, fellow agents, his poker buddies, golf buddies, hunting buddies, that he spread himself very thin. She believed that he never felt a need to go beyond the surface, even if that surface involved some extremely intimate moments with her. Since they were never in a position where chatting about their parents, siblings, up bringing, or other personal issues seemed appropriate (like on a real date) she had no concept of the life that had brought him to this point. All she knew was that he really and truly hated losing control, which she had managed to make him do more than once, leading to some real fireworks between them. While she had convinced herself this did not matter, it became the excuse she used to break it off with him.
One of Jack's very favorite locations for sex was in other people's houses. As Realtors, they were in other people's houses more than their own and so this was not a difficult thing to arrange. Sara's second encounter with him involved an empty house, an alarm system and open house guests plus a million dollar view.
It was about a week and a half after the hallway incident and the New Sara's body while a bit sore in certain areas, was craving more of what Jack had to offer. She tried to convince her Old Sara self that once was enough and that she shouldn't expect anything more from him.
He had driven away that first night, after they had grabbed Mexican food together, him feeding her jalape§os with his fingers, and laughing when her eyes watered at their strength. She had leaned into him as they sat together in the booth, kissing him boldly, sharing the peppery essence and running her hand up the inside of his leg. He kissed her back, seemingly amused at her. "I think I'm going to like this New Sara," he said, taking a sip of his beer.
She started, her scalp tingling, looking at him. How in the hell did he know that she felt herself splitting in two-becoming something like an Old and a New Sara? Old Sara would have never let him do what he had just done to her but that new creature loved how he made her feel-and wanted it again. But she was a bit unnerved at his ability to discern the divided nature of her very being at the moment
Jack had used every bit of his resolve not to invite her back to his house. He would have done anything to lower her down onto his king sized bed with it's gazillion thread count sheets and made her sing with pleasure, to cry out for him again and again. He felt his cock stirring starting to stand at attention again. But something told him to wait, to save that for another time. Let her sleep on the office quickie, see how much more she wanted. He had a feeling she'd be back. Besides, he was not completely comfortable with his own responses to her. It wasn't, well, natural for him to feel this way and he wanted some distance from it.
It took everything she had not to invite him back to her place. He didn't seem inclined to want to be invited once their meal was complete anyway, so she adopted his breezy manner, gave him a discrete peck on the check and turned to get into her car. He was standing so close to her open door that she could hardly squeeze herself in behind the wheel. He stayed there a bit, then shut her door, leaned into her open window, grabbed her by the back of the neck and guided her lips to his for a better good night kiss. She closed her eyes and let the New Sara make promises with her mouth. She could taste the beer he had with his meal, and a slight echo of salsa and it was delicious. The smell that all Mexican restaurants take on in the parking lot (a mix of old nachos and beans) wafted over them as he broke away, touched her on the nose in a curiously tender manner and said, "See you soon, yes?"
"See you soon, Jack, yes," she replied demurely, started up her car, enjoying the throaty motor of her new Beemer.
"Oh, and stop buying these Nazi cars, will ya?" he grinned. "This is Michigan you know-buy American!"
And he turned and disappeared into the night.
She didn't hear from him for nearly ten days, which was odd, considering how much they had been talking about their deal, but since the tough part was essentially over between the two parties, she guessed he had moved on to other deals, other clients, other agents. She tried not to let the thought of that disappoint her, but it did. But she was not about to reach out to him-no way. New Sara was not happy but that was too bad. Control must be maintained with a guy like this.
He finally called, but she ignored him. He didn't leave a message or call back. At night, alone in bed, she spent several hours reliving that extremely hot night in the hallway, using her own fingers to try and recreate what he did, to bring her to such a shuddering earth shaking climax. It never worked.
She got to Sunday, and did the usual prep for her open house. The house this week was one of her white elephant listings-a funky, sixties-built raised ranch, in a premium location overlooking the Huron River. It had an amazing one-eighty degree view of the river and park below from the wall of windows across the back and the screened porch on the side of the house afforded an even more panoramic vista. She had it listed for eight hundred thousand, which was crazy she knew but it came with three acres and would make an incredible building lot if new owners couldn't tolerate the floor plan of the current house. The sellers were friends of hers, actually, a couple she went to college with, who had gotten married right away and launched into a whirlwind of reproduction with two kids nearly within a year of each other and were now gleefully expecting a third. She shuddered, glad that was not her, but admitting to herself that she really did wonder what it would be like; to actually care about someone so much you'd want to carry their child and raise it together. . . .
She had her brochures out, her buyer's guides, business cards, an a large bottle of water, plus the book she was currently reading, something about vampires and a girl in Louisiana, which was turning out to be sort of good, and not a little bit sexy. She sighed. No fair for him to create this New Sara and then abandon her to her fingers and her vampire books! Snap out of it! Old Sara admonished her. Focus, and sell this damn house today or at least snag a new buyer who could afford it.
She checked the slightly temperamental alarm system one last time to make sure it would not go blasting off when a potential buyer entered the house from the side door instead of the front-something that had happened the last time she held this one open. Glanced at herself in the mirror (Ralph Lauren slim tan pants, bright teal linen top, high heeled open toed Ferragamos, freshly pedicured feet, light makeup and lipstick-check) ready to roll.
Two o'clock became 2:45 with no guests. She made it through half of her water and nearly a chapter of the hot vamp book. Getting up to walk around a bit she saw out of the corner of her eye a car pulling in to the long gravel driveway. At the next moment, she registered that it was an early model Corvette, just like Jack's-oh yes, it was him in all his glory. She watched as he unfolded his tall frame from the car, stood up, circled his arms about as if prepping to race Michael Phelps, moved his neck from side to side, and turned to reach into the passenger's seat of the car to retrieve something. She admired the look of his ass in the jeans he was wearing. It struck her that she had never seen him in anything but a suit or at least dress pants, shirt and tie. He looked good enough to eat, the New Sara thought, as she pressed her thighs together in anticipation. But surely he didn't think she would just leave her open house an hour early. What was he doing here now? Was there a problem with their deal? He stood up and she saw he had a shopping bag from Whole Foods in one hand. He saw her looking at him and grinned.
"Hey babe, I thought you might be lonely all the way out here and we should have a picnic, what do you say?" He said as he made his way to the front door. He had on a plain burgundy T-shirt, those jeans that hugged his front just as nicely as his rear, and simple driving shoes. She was momentarily blinded by desire, and fought the impulse to pull him into the foyer and make him fuck her until she was spent. Nice, she thought, very nice. The guy brings you a picnic and you want to skip right to the after-play? But she couldn't fight the feeling of weirdness about him showing up half way through her work day on a Sunday at a stranger's house bearing food and whatever else he had in the bag.
She turned and headed back into the house, having not even said anything to his picnic suggestion, assuming he would follow her. She had to get control of herself before talking or her voice would surely betray her blatant need for him. It was now three pm, and she had to focus on her job for one more hour. Let him wait.
Jack had sincerely hoped that the two weeks away from Sara would have cooled his ardor a bit. Not that he wasn't looking forward to a long trip to fun-town with her this very afternoon-and had planned and packed accordingly. But he could not get the vision of her standing in the doorway of this fucked up house out of his head now. He hadn't seen a woman look that good in a while, and knowing full well what her body was capable of didn't help. He sighed a bit, watching the pleasant view of her retreat-he was an ass man, no doubt about it and this lady was really doing it for him in that department.
"Don't you have an open house of your own?" she asked a tad more irritably than she intended to.
"Nope," he approached her, walked right into her personal space, brushed her hair off her neck and kissed her, in that spot near her ear where she was convinced nearly eighty percent of her erogenous zone must be located. She shivered, and he held his hand on her neck, just under her hair, gently stroking almost absentmindedly as he looked around at the house. Jack closed his eyes, taking in her scent once again, and the pleasant feel of her skin under his fingers. Christ, he thought, here I go again-what is it with her anyway? He broke away with some effort and put his focus on the house for a minute, determined not to lose control.
"Shit, that view rocks," he crowed, setting his bag down on the floor and striding into the front bedroom suite. He bounded out of that room, took in the high cathedral ceilings made of light ash wood, whistled, picked up his grocery bag and walked into the kitchen. It was one of those custom made rooms, where the counters were tall, like they were designed for tall people, like Jack. His quick eyes took in the skylights, the new gleaming stainless steel appliances and the tile floor. "Nice, babe, but it's sort of cold in here, isn't it? Maybe some color, some flowers or something would help?" he offered.
"Fuck off Jack; I don't need your help. Why are you here anyway?"
"Easy, tiger, easy," he leaned on the counter top. "I know you know what to do. I can't help it, its second nature for me to say something about the house first." He loved that she felt possessive about her listing. That was a sign of a professional. It occurred to him that perhaps one of the reasons she held such incredible appeal for him is that-she was a fellow real professional. Not just doing this job for some extra money while her spouse made the real dough.
She caught herself clenching and unclenching her fists, and stopped. Damn this guy anyway, she couldn't even stay mad at him. "It's a shit listing. I don't get any showings, hardly any new buyers from open houses and the sellers could care less that it sits here and gets stale," she sighed. She felt herself relaxing a bit, only to have the desire for him rush over her like a tidal wave. She moved away a bit hoping that would help. He turned to attend to his grocery bag, pulling out various items and setting them on the counter.
"What the hell am I going to do when a guest shows up, Jack? Put that stuff away and we can go to my place after or something."
"Its OK babe, we'll just say we rolled out the red carpet for our potential buyers with these nice strawberries, some cream, a dab of honey, oh, and this jar of hot peppers!" he pulled the last container from the bag with a flourish.
"You are insane, you know that," she stared at the stuff on the counter.
"You won't think that when I show you this amazing bottle of wine I found down in my collection. I forgot I had it." He pulled out a green bottle, with a French label of some sort (she was a three-buck Chuck girl so its fabulousness was lost on her), two wine glasses and a corkscrew.
"Um, yeah, well, I'm not really comfortable doing this here, I mean, it's not my kitchen," Old Sara stammered, taking another step away from him to get his smell out of her nose.
"Sure it is," he said, as he worked the cork out of the bottle, allowing her to admire the amazing definition of his arms as they strained against the task. "I'll bet you've spent more time in this fucked up house with the million dollar view than you have in your own house since you listed it. I mean, you do opens, you refill sales brochures, you check on the lawn, what else? I mean, tell me I'm wrong." He triumphantly pulled the cork free, splashed some golden liquid into each glass and handed one to her, not realizing that she had made her way nearly six feet away from him.
"Dear, I do not bite," he coaxed, holding out the glass to her.
Jack resisted the impulse to adjust his cock as it stirred reflexively when he got a look at her across the kitchen. She was backed up against the windows lining the front of the house, staring at him, raw desire in her eyes-he knew what that was when he saw it. He grinned, unable to stop himself, raising one eyebrow as he held out the wine glass to her. Her face adjusted a bit at the sight of him apparently gloating-she was pissed now, but he knew that wouldn't last long. This might be even more fun that he had thought.
She surged forward, as if to prove she wasn't afraid of him. Grabbing the glass and continuing past him into the main room of the house, the one with the amazing view. She left him standing there, but sensed he didn't mind. He sipped his wine and licked his lips. "Nothing quite like an excellent 2005 vintage white burgundy," he declared, slowly following her into the room with the amazing view.
Sara had already positioned herself at the far end of the room, facing out to the river, contemplating her options. On the one hand, her pussy was twitching and her nipples were so hard they ached anticipating his touch. She could not wait until this open house was officially over and they could retire someplace like her condo, private and quiet. On the other, she was quivering with the anticipation of what his plans were for a "picnic, " right here at this house, where she didn't even feel welcome to use the bathroom, much less host some sort of kinky food sex session.
He was quiet, taking in the view along side her, sipping his wine, his breath calm and controlled. "What's the basement like?" he asked. "I mean, are there more rooms down there? There is really only one bedroom on this main floor-that's a tough sell, even with this view." It was not a lie to say he truly did revert to discussing the property as a reflex. He would walk into his own friend's houses to play poker or pick them up for golf and automatically start cataloging the problems with the place in his head. He didn't get to this level of earning on one hundred percent commission for nothing.
"Mmmm, yeah, there are two beds and two more full baths down there plus another great room, walk out with an enormous fireplace." She told him sipping her own wine. She glanced at her watch. Three twenty-five, just about another half hour and they could lock this place up and be on their way.
She turned, and looked at him, as he gazed out on the gardens and the river. He was truly larger than life, and he knew it. Tall, black Irish with his jet black hair and blue eyes, with seemingly ever present stubble as if he hadn't shaved yet that day, he soaked up the energy in any room he entered. His torso was V-shaped and strong, with prominent muscle definition in his arms, shoulders and back, leading down to a God-Help-her completely grab-able ass, strong masculine thighs and calves. She let her eyes travel downward, along his arm which held the wine glass, his muscle definition standing out. His hips were cocked to one side, at rest, the dark blue of the jeans hugging his ass in way she wished her hands were. It took every ounce of self control not to cross the room, and kiss him and stroke him through the denim until he begged for her pussy and release. She could do it, she knew that now.
Abruptly, he turned to her and said, "OK, work is over, let's play," and turned to cross back into the kitchen, expecting her to follow him. He had figured by now that no one else was going to visit her open house and he had some plans for her that necessitated a bit of privacy, but not so much that he wanted to abandon this house just yet. He could have cut diamonds with his dick by now but he needed to do a bit of prep work in the kitchen first.
She waited for a count of twenty and sure enough, he poked his head back around and asked, "you gonna join me or what?"
She rolled her eyes, and slowly made her way across the room, but before she could enter the galley style kitchen area, he had brushed past her, carrying a tray from God knows where, full of his picnic items.
"This view is the best part of this piece of shit house," he declared. "Let's not waste it!"
And she slowly followed him into the screened porch are where he plopped the tray down on the small square table she had made her sellers leave, along with the three slightly ratty chairs gathered around it. He motioned for her to sit next to him, and began dipping the strawberries into the bowl of cream, one by one. "Sit back babe," he told her, in that low voice she remembered so well from a week ago. "Relax, I told you-work time is over."
"But, it's not four o'clock yet," she stammered, her body already declaring it's allegiance to Jack's apparent program. New Sara whispered to her-fuck the open house, let's see what he has planned.
"Ok, but wait, let me lock it up and set the alarm. That way we'll know if anyone shows up at the last minute," she dashed out of the room under his bemused gaze, locked all four doors, and set the alarm; now, safe and sound. She sat back down in the chair, picked up her wine glass, and kicked off her shoes, ready for his next move.
He gazed at her a moment, taking in her flushed face, the unconscious way she bit the corner of her bottom lip with her teeth and felt his own skin flush with anticipation and the pleasant agony of his stiff cock imprisoned by denim and a zipper. Good God almighty but he could not wait to get inside of her again. But he was determined that this would be no quickie.
He picked up one of her legs, and held her foot on his lap in both of his hands for a moment, gazing at her in apparent amusement. "Here, Sara, eat some of these strawberries with me," he said, handing her two that were drenched in cream after releasing her foot. She left it where it was on his lap.
She took the fruit, not breaking eye contact with him. Those eyes, the deep blue of them, she could drown, honestly. She felt the cream slowly drip down onto her fingers and began to lick it, unselfconsciously, watching his reaction. Shit, this was some sort of triple cream, something she hadn't allowed herself to eat for over ten years! It was incredible! She licked her fingers as if famished. And he watched her. The strawberries themselves were fat, even bloated with sweetness, which exploded in her mouth at every bite. She felt like she hadn't eaten in years, and held her hand out for more from him.
This was going better than he thought. He figured her for a fairly hard-core dieter--the type who would deny herself anything that might suggest serious calories. He had chosen the very expensive cräme fresh-a European delicacy-on purpose. And it had the desired affect. She looked like a kid who hadn't seen the inside of a candy store in years, and he loved it that he was the one who would provide this pleasure for her. He dipped two more in the thick, heavy cream and handed them to her, grinning at her eagerness to get at them, lick their goodness and gorge on their sweetness. He leaned back, and began to rub the foot that was resting on his lap. He kneaded her instep, and moved up to the toes, giving each one some special attention. She moaned and leaned her head back, having never felt such a sensation before. The release of tension in her neck and back seemed directly proportional to the spot on her foot he chose to rub at the moment. She eased herself down further in the chair, allowing more of her leg onto his lap, coming closer to the growing bulge in those amazing jeans.
Jack allowed himself a small measure of satisfaction at her obvious pleasure. He truly loved nothing better than to see a woman's face relax at his touch. He got off on his ability to please. The sight of Sara's face as she ate the food he had brought and as she felt his hands on her legs and feet brought him an immeasurable sense of well-being. Jack was nothing if not an incredibly generous giver of orgasmic ecstasy, and he felt today would be one for the record books. He smiled reflexively, having to adjust himself once again-shit, he should have worn looser pants. The damn zipper felt like it was biting into his cock, holding it prisoner.
He continued to rub her foot, stopping for a moment to allow for more strawberry dipping and distribution. The combined sensations of the rich, sweet cream, and the tart strawberries with the relaxation he was creating via her foot were nearly too much. She started to sit up, worried about losing control, yet again, to Jack's magic.
At that moment the alarm boomed through the house, indicating that a door had been opened. "Fuck!" she yelled and lurched up, knocking over her wine glass.
"It's cool, babe, calm down, I'll see what it is," Jack stood up; seemingly unaware of the impressive bulge he had on display and walked over to the door of the screened porch.
He tried not to appear alarmed as he made his way through the door back into the house. Frankly, the interruption was not completely unwelcome. This woman was up in his head, no doubt, a feeling he truly had not felt in a long time-he didn't really like it much. He'd have to give it serious thought at some point, after he got her off that is-and after he got rid of whatever stupid asshole had just walked in on them. He met the young couple at the door, with a big grin on his face, holding out his hand to shake and an apology on his lips.
Sara sat and took long, deep breaths, willing herself to calmness. Jack was a professional and had been at this job way longer than she had. He can handle whatever it is.
It took about fifteen minutes for him to come back into the porch, quietly shutting the door behind him.
"What," she squealed? "Did someone want to see the house?"
"Yeah," he laughed, "you forgot to pull in your signs when you locked the place up. These poor saps thought they could just walk right in and so they did. I showed them around a bit, and have an appointment to meet with them tomorrow to discuss other options. Sweet couple," he smirked.
"You utter ASSHOLE," Sara stood up prepared to call this little rendezvous finished-he stole her buyers!! He could just not turn it off, could he?
He intercepted her on her way to the door. "Hold on, hold on, we'll share them I swear," he declared, grinning like a crazy person. Christ but she was incredible-ready to blow off a perfectly amazing afternoon in his capable hands over a stupid buyer? Yeah, she took this job seriously all right and he wanted her even more because of it.
She now understood that what really turned Jack on was connecting with people who would make him money because that incredible erection of his had NOT deflated at all. The poor woman who was looking around with her husband had no chance-of course they agreed to meet him. He absent mindedly looked out onto the gardens of the place, and then snapped back to the present, focusing on her, sitting dejectedly in her ratty chair surrounded by discarded strawberry tops and a spilled wine glass.
"Poor baby, here, let me help you," he soothed.
He kneeled right in front of her. "Let me make it up to you," he said as he reached over to the table without taking his eyes off of her. He dipped a berry into the bowl of cream, and without much movement, brought it to her lips. She stared at him, amazed at her body's reaction to this jerk off who had just stolen perfectly good buyers right out from under her nose. She was determined to rebuff him, reject his little power play with food. But found herself opening her mouth slightly, as he placed the tip of the berry inside. She licked the cream from the end, sucking slightly, and he placed more of the delicious morsel inside her lips. She bit down hard, and he laughed, and winced all at once. As she chewed the berry, relishing the tart and sweet bursts of flavor that flowed down her throat, he took his finger and dipped it into the bowl of honey. He took that finger and put it near her lips so she could smell the flowery, buttery essence of the thick liquid. Staring at him, drowning in his eyes, she felt her body relax again, eager for his hands. SHIT I couldn't even see his eyes in that dark hallway a week ago, she thought. They were one of his most incredibly sexy assets and he used them well.
Jack fought the urge to close his eyes and kiss her. Those lips of hers, hovering just over his honey-coated finger. . . he wanted to kiss them until she begged for more. Her amazing deep green eyes looked like two priceless emeralds, snapping and sparking his desire for her. He could not take his eyes off of her. He felt that weird stirring in his gut again, like he had felt that night in the hallway of her office. That feeling that was long buried in his psyche. Where it fucking needed to stay, he told himself sternly, deciding to elevate the fun with food a bit. This afternoon was about convincing her that he was worth more than a quick hallway screw. He mentally shook his head, trying to clear it, when she reached out tentatively with her tongue seeking the sweet honey that was just out her reach. She brushed his finger with it, allowing herself a small taste. "OK, baby, I see what you like," he muttered, deeply in his throat, indicating his desire.
He took his finger and swept a huge dollop of honey, and brought it straight to her mouth, allowing her to taste, suck and swallow the golden elixir. He was leaning over her a bit now, his breathing becoming a bit ragged as she held his eyes, and sucked, took in the last bit of flowery goodness from his honeyed finger.
Jack watched Sara's eyes darken with desire, as she sucked and pulled at his finger. He felt himself become slightly mesmerized by them, widening his own eyes at the sensation of her lips, tongue and teeth against the skin of his finger. He wasn't going to wait any longer for those lips. . .He scooped another huge dollop of honey and put his finger into his own mouth, to taste it and leaned down to her, placing his elbows onto the arms of the chair so that he could reach her mouth. She opened her lips to take him in and was jolted by the sweetness that flowed from his mouth to hers. His tongue probed her as they shared the honey between them. She reached up to grasp his neck, his hair, to bring him closer to her, but he drew back, resisting her. He stood back up on his knees. Jack's head was spinning a bit; he had broken their contact on purpose, just needing to pull back to regain his composure. Holy shit, he thought, looking up at the sun porch's ceiling, noting a need for a new paint job, trying to re focus on something-anything-that would keep him from completely losing control. At that moment, Sara reached out and unzipped his jeans, releasing him to the cool air of the screened porch.
"Shit, Jack," she suddenly proclaimed. "Did you pull in the signs?" She was panicked picturing another alarm disaster as their session progressed.
He was leaning back slightly, one hand grasping the table. "Huh? Oh, yeah, babe, it's all good, no more open house for you today, I promise," he growled. And he took her neck and guided her towards his swollen penis, throbbing with a need for her touch. She observed his body, taking it in, his highly sculpted pecs and abs - products of many hours of work, as she well knew - the light scattering of dark body hair across his chest, which formed into a dark line below his navel, as it made its way down. . . .down towards his amazing cock, thick and firm, and ready for her. She leaned in, licking her way down.
Ok then, Jack thought, this was fine. He was a connoisseur of blow job perfection, and while he hadn't really planned to be on the receiving end today, he wasn't about to stop her mouth as she made her way down from his stiffening nipples, kissing her way down his stomach, her lips making soft, wet circles on his skin. He sighed, giving into her. . . for now.
The breeze kicked up then, as if on cue, ruffling his hair and hers, and cooling them off a bit. She took her own scoop of honey and let it drip down onto the head of his cock, just watching it, not touching him, aware of his reactions. He moaned a bit, but otherwise seemed to be enjoying the cool breeze, eyes closed, head slightly back, breath under control again. She was determined to change that. She put her mouth over the head of his cock, and sucked, hard, relishing the incredible tastes that flooded her senses. The salty semen that had begun to seep out was overwhelmed by the amazing sweetness of the honey. The differing taste sensations caused her to want to try more, so she reached over to the table and took a bit of the cream and rubbed it down the shaft, and that really got him. He began to moan in earnest, and make slight thrusting motions with his hips, as if he could already feel her velvety pussy enveloping his great, thick cock. In spite of all of her self-described prowess as an oral sex practitioner, she had never really wanted to take the whole of someone's cock into her mouth, possess it, like she did right now. She craved it like she were dying of thirst and he offered the only water around. She covered the head, and leaned forward to take as much of him as she could into her mouth, never more grateful for her previous experience taking a man's cock all they way down, swallowing him, moaning with the incredible sensation of his amazing thickness filling her mouth and throat. She began to move, up and down, along the delicious thickness of him, reaching out occasionally for more dabs of honey to coat it. He tangled his hands in her hair, gently, not forcing but certainly encouraging her actions. As she had done in the hallway last week, she began to picture them, on this screened porch with its panoramic views of the river, in a total stranger's house, her mouth on his cock and his hands entangled in her hair. New Sara came roaring up, taking control.
She cupped his balls in her hand, feeling them contract at her touch. His soft moans reached into the very core of her being, and she felt an incredible desire to satisfy him-to wipe that silly grin away from pure unadulterated desire for her mouth on his pulsing rod. His thrusts became slightly more intense, and she sensed his body positioning itself for release. She increased her suction, and reached around to grab his amazing ass with both hands, allowing one finger to explore further, knowing full well the reaction she'd get. He groaned loudly, and reached around to encourage that finger to explore further. She found his tight hole and began rubbing, with slight pressure. His hips on a whole new tempo now, and she pushed in, feeling his anal muscles tightening around her fingertip, allowing herself the pleasure of pleasing him, as he blew an amazing load into her mouth, yelling out with pleasure at the same time. She drank him down; shivering with desire He shuddered as she took her mouth off his cock, her pussy on fire with need, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, watching him. But she guessed she'd be waiting until next time based on her previous experience with men in her sex life. One blow like that and they'd be on the couch, snoozing away for an hour.
Jack stared at her, his entire body like one big nerve ending, twitching and twirling in the aftermath of her incredible attention to his cock. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and closed his eyes a moment. Something in him knew, just knew, that this-whatever it was they had-was either going to kill him, or make him into something resembling an honest man. And he was not sure how he felt about that. One thing he did know-now it was Sara's turn, and he was just the man for that job.
He took both of her hands in his and kissed them on the palms, looking up at her, a bit of amazed delight in his eyes. She leaned back, and put her feet out in front of her, stretching and releasing a bit of her tension. He took a moment, leaning back on heels, his cock at half-mast, but still impressive, to gather himself. After a few seconds he sat back up on his knees, zipped himself back up into his jeans and stood up. She began to stand, assuming that this particular session was done. He placed his hands on her shoulders and sat her back down, firmly, in the chair.
"No baby, I owe you big for that one, so please just sit back and enjoy," he muttered, barely understandable, as if still in the final throes of his own climax. He stood up and walked back into the empty house, HER empty house listing, she marveled as she sat quietly, allowing herself a quiet buzz of anticipation. He returned with the wine bottle, retrieved her empty glass from the floor and poured her another portion. The distant sounds of traffic from the Huron River Bridge blended with the slight hum of insects hovering around the screens. She could smell him on her, mixed with the sticky sweet odors of the discarded berries and the slightly sour bowl of cream. She took a deep breath, taking it all in, the New Sara reveling in all the sensations and the Old Sara still open mouthed with terror that someone would walk in on them-maybe even the owners of the house who had moved into a McMansion about five miles away.
Jack sat back down on the floor in front of her, the look in his eyes completely unfathomable as he contemplated her. He leaned up, breaking eye contact. He gently took her legs that were stretched out on front and crossed at the ankles and bent them, his hand guiding behind each knee as if he were some sort of physical therapist and she recovering from surgery. He made a sound low in his throat and said, "You're so tense, Sara, please just relax." He positioned himself between her bent knees and began rubbing her thighs, gently at first then deeper, getting into her tissues with his strong fingers. He leaned back again, straightening out one of her legs and working his way upward from her calf, rubbing in a borderline painful massage that nonetheless caused her to lean back in the chair again to give in to his ministrations. He took the other leg and paid it the same careful attention.
"You should go to yoga, you know? It helps runners with flexibility." He said clinically as he watched her face as it finally eased into a more relaxed state. Yes, that was more like it, he thought, and he was pleased to feel that familiar somewhat gloating satisfaction sensation wash over him. This was a feeling he could handle-the knowledge that he was about to be responsible for this incredible woman's mind blowing trip to orgasm-Ville. He grinned, unable to stop himself. Glad his momentary lapse of sense post-blow job was easing up a bit.
He leaned back in towards her, once more between her legs, and took the decorative zipper on the front of her shirt and began to ease it down, and with each centimeter of skin exposed he kissed, light, butterfly kisses, tempting and teasing her flesh. She realized she was still holding the wine glass and so reached out to place it on the table. The zipper went all the way down the front of her shirt, allowing him to open it up like a jacket, exposing her matching teal bra. "Let me see if I remember right," he muttered against her stomach. "I'm pretty sure you like this," his lips trailed back up as he reached around back and flicked open the catch like the expert he was. Her exposed nipples, large and pink, reached out to the cooling air of the porch, as he pulled her bra out through the arm holes of her shirt exposing both of her breasts to the breeze of the sun porch. He immediately took one of her nipples in his mouth and gently sucked while her pussy resumed its urgent hum and twitch. "You have the most gorgeous nipples I have ever seen," he said, moving between her breasts. "They're like these strawberries, only better."
Her breath was ragged again. She could feel his warm body leaning against her as he reached around to hold her with one arm, the other still propped on the chair. He pulled at her nipple, loving it, but released her to reach back over to their picnic table. She figured it was her turn to wear the honey, but when he reached back to her he held one of the small circles of cut jalape§o pepper between his fingers. He glanced at it, then at her, grinned and said, "Open your mouth, Sara," in a way that offered no other option.
She obeyed, and he popped the seemingly innocuous morsel into her mouth. She had always had a thing for hot food, usually choosing to eat peppers mixed in with other things, but since their Mexican restaurant interlude last week, she had taken to reaching into her fridge and grabbing these very peppers out of the jar she kept, eating them slowly to savor the complex spice that spread heat through her face and down her throat. She chewed this one slowly, realizing it was fresher than she thought, having not been preserved but simply stored in the jar he brought. He watched her, stroking the sides of her breasts, cupping them, merely brushing each nipple with his thumbs.
He loved watching her skin flush from her neck down as she ingested the hot peppers. He had never felt such a need to make a woman come-and hard. Usually, given his level of experience, orgasms for his sex partners were a given. He had even found himself a bit bored lately with the usual manipulations and necessary effort. It had become...what? Mundane? Routine, even? Well, lucky for him, fate had plopped this female in his path to break that up for certain. What he was trying hard not to admit-that this particular female was doing something else for him; something he wasn't sure he wanted but seemed helpless to fight no matter how hard he tried.
He reached out again for the peppers, holding her eyes with his deep blues, and placed a pepper in his own mouth, took a bite to release its juices and placed his lips on hers. Between them, their lips were mostly numb but she relished the sensations of feeling his bold tongue exploring and seeking out hers as their bodies took in the naturally occurring heat that passed down their throats. He was balancing himself on his arms next to her in the chair, not pressing down, only touching her with his lips and tongue, her body arched up to his, begging him to hold her.
He instead took his lips off of hers and began trailing them down her neck, nipping and licking and leaving a slight feeling of numbness from the pepper's juice. The numbing sensation increased as he moved from one side of her neck to the other, nipping harder now, causing her nipples to harden into even tighter nubs, aching for his attention. He sat up, grabbed another pepper and quickly chewed it, while fucking her with his eyes. "You know, I read once that a woman can come without even being touched," he said as he swallowed the hot morsel down. She glared at him as he pondered this concept. "Wonder if I could do that for you, baby, hmm?" His voice was even lower than his usual deep tone, growly, his eyes darkening as he leaned in again, his arms on either side of her ass in the chair. "Just with my voice, telling you how you are feeling?" Remarkably, the thought of that, while interesting, was not what HE wanted right now. He wanted-no, incredibly enough, he NEEDED to touch her-he needed it bad.
She felt her clit engorge further, and her pussy began its pulsing, indicating her need for contact. Stop proving the asshole right, she thought, angrily. She reached both legs up, wrapped them around his waist and pulled in back into her. "Maybe next time Jack, but for now, you owe me, remember?"
He grinned, reached down to unlatch her trousers. She had to release him so that she could slide them down and off, her ass lifting up and reaching out for him. "Oh my, did you forget something this morning, dear?" He mused as he pondered her bare pussy.
"Nope," she said, "don't like thongs and can't stand panty lines so I go like this almost all of the time." And I wax religiously she thought, leaving just the barest hint of pubic hair.
Jack felt the hairs all over his body rise, as his skin reacted to her. He was like some stupid kid, getting his first glimpse of bare snatch. He felt the breath catch in his throat, his nostrils flaring at the scent of her, warm, moist and spicy, mixed with her perfume and sweet smell of the strawberries.
"Well, that will give me something to think about heading to the office in the morning, now won't it?" his grin widened as he leaned back down to take her nipple in his mouth. He licked and gently bit one while stroking the other then switched, allowing both nipples the benefit of the pepper juice, which was slightly painful but incredibly wonderful at the same time. She grasped the arms of the chair ever tighter as she felt herself approaching orgasm without being touched. He made soft noises deep in his throat as he reached over to dip his finger in the honey bowl. He sat up, put his finger in his mouth and kissed her again, sharing the amazing sweetness that soothed her throat and lips that were raw from the peppers. He licked her lips for her, and then took that same finger to rub her amazingly swollen clit. She jumped at his touch, and shuddered, as he pushed his fingers inside her, achieving orgasm quickly, her pussy pursing its lips with spasms that nearly brought a tear to her eye. Embarrassing, coming so quickly, but a huge relief to her tense, over wrought self.
"Hmmm, not bad but what's your record?" he asked her still moving his lips around her neck as her body began to calm down. She had to be one of the most responsive women he'd ever encountered. His entire body was on fire for her but he held back, imagining his next move.
"Um, what? What do you mean?" Sara muttered, her eyes closed and head tilted back against the chair.
"You know how many orgasms in one session?"
"I don't count Jack, its quality, not quantity I'm after," she grinned up at him. "Why?"
"Because, I want to taste you now, suck your clit, spread your lips with mine, and then I'm going put my tongue deep into that amazing delicious pussy that I can feel throbbing against me right now. I'm guessing we will go for orgasm number two and perhaps three while I'm doing this, I was just wondering if you were up for it?" He brought his lips up to hers after this little speech, forcing his tongue into her mouth, grasping her neck and twining his fingers in her hair before releasing her, with a slight nip to her lower lip, to sit back and cross his arms as if at tough negotiation session with a client.
"Well?" he asked. "Are you game, or what?" Like most men, Jack was a visual guy. He liked to see the goods in order to appreciate them. He was a regular at a couple of the more upscale strip joints over in the suburbs, and knew when his favorite performers were scheduled to work. He sometimes worried that he saw it too much-that the sight of one more set of tits and ass would be just that-one more set of tits and ass. Hadn't happened yet, but that feeling of boredom he'd experienced more and more recently was worrying. But the purely sensual vision before him made him feel alive again, made his prick rear up to attention harder than ever. Bare from the waist down, her shirt shoved open with firm perky breasts exposed, those absolutely scrumptious nipples stiff and ready for his lips, Sara was watching him, he knew. He let her look, which gave him a moment to gather himself, to appreciate this for what it was.
She stared at him, taking him in as he gazed at her, sprawled in front of him like an all you can eat buffet, her shirt open, nipples rock hard, trousers cast aside and legs stuck out. He just sat there like a statue, the only indication he was at all interested in the vision before him the massive bulge that had returned in his jeans. But it didn't seem to faze him much, in fact he seemed to know that New Sara was drinking him up with her eyes as he slowly uncrossed his arms and ran his hands through his hair, and sat back leaning on those strong arms. She imagined herself taking in this scene from a distance. Fully dressed extremely hot middle aged man, seemingly just observing her while casually leaning back on his hands, his legs stretched out, sporting an immense hard on.
The wind kicked up again, rolling through the screened porch, reminding her of where exactly she was and she sat up, quickly, pulling her shirt together. "Shit, Jack, look at us, we could go back to my place, or yours, or something a bit more. . . I don't know, appropriate?" The wind blew her hair into her face and she brushed it back, trying to regain control of New Sara's urge to straddle that denim bulge and bring on her orgasm again.
He leaned his head back a bit, enjoying the breeze. "Sit down Sara," he said quietly. "I love fucking you here-it's a beautiful view, there is no one home but us, just relax. . . "
His voice trailed away and she sat as if hypnotized by it. She kept her arms crossed over her breasts and watched him as he sat back up, and leaned over to crawl to her on all fours. "That's right. . . .Just like that . . . only, I need those nipples back out . . . that's it," he murmured as he made his way toward her. She was again amazed at New Sara's reaction to this guy. His voice, eyes and general attitude nearly made her come with him still two feet away from her.
Jack was hyper aware of the sounds around him, the scents of Sara and himself, the desire that was oozing through the room, encircling them both. He was nearly dizzy with it. As he made is way across the room to her slowly he once again contemplated the distinct possibility that he was going to want more from Sara Thornton than this, but that THIS right now demanded his full attention.
She leaned back, let the breeze caress her newly exposed breasts and sighed. She found the table with her left foot and propped it up, exposing her pussy and it's wetness even further. "Now that is a lovely sight," Jack declared as he came close enough for her to feel his breath on her labia lips. "I have spent the last six days planning this, wishing to see you just like this, did you know?" He nearly smacked himself for admitting this to her. It was an unspoken rule that you should really not let on how much you anticipated being in a woman's presence-you gotta keep something a mystery after all.
He blew lightly on her now winking pussy, and she shivered. He took one the few remaining strawberries from its bowl and brought it to her lips. She took a bite, and he put his lips on hers, forcing her mouth open to share the sweet redness of the berry with him. He was tall and this close his crotch was just above her desperately twitching womanhood. She reached out for his zipper, dying to get her hands on it again, and put it inside her. Jack nearly gasped, but bit it back. Christ if she touched him he'd explode again. No, he needed to get this scene back on track-back on HIS track, not hers.
He drew back, "Oh no, my dear, not yet." She held back her anger at his need to control, her brain too fuzzy with desire to act on it.
He lowered his lips to each nipple giving them each a quick flick of his tongue, trailed a line of wetness down to her belly button and lower, reaching the small thatch of hair she allowed herself. He nuzzled this, reaching around to grab her ass with both hands. She arched up out of the chair, trying to force him lower onto her clit. He finally licked his way there, and she offered it up to him, engorged and throbbing. He moaned lightly and put his lips around it, allowing himself a moment to savor, then began to suck and pull at her, taking one hand to reach up and caress one nipple. She grabbed his hand and put it back on her ass, where she wanted it. She took both of her nipples in her own fingers and rolled them, pulled at them and began to move her hips to match his slow sucking rhythm.
He shut his eyes, drinking in her scent. He hadn't wanted to get his lips on any woman's pussy as bad as this in quite a while, and Jack prided himself on his oral abilities, having brought his fair share of women to their knees, begging for more from his talented lips and tongue. His head was talking to him: calm down Jack-give her what she wants-don't promise any more-just enjoy. But his body was arguing the point, and it took all he had not to throw her on the floor and fuck her fast and hard, own her, caveman style. Jeeesus, he drew a long breath where is THAT coming from?
He moved slightly, and she realized through her haze of pleasure that his jeans were finally becoming a bit too uncomfortable for his cock's swelling. She allowed herself a small smile, as she stared up at the ceiling of the sun porch and lifted her hips a bit, forcing his mouth lower. He left her now fully engorged and elongated clit and made his way down, parting her pussy lips with his tongue and taking small dips into her vagina, watching as it twitched and continuously spasmed under his gaze. He made his slow way down, both of them now breathing like they just ran the forty yard dash. She made small noises deep in her throat, she couldn't help it. The animal in her that was this New Sara was emerging. She kept lifting her hips higher, wanting more, as he brought one hand around and drew a finger down from her throbbing clit, past and briefly into her clutching pussy and finally to her anus. She flinched lightly but the New Sara had taken over, and she moved against that finger as it lightly rubbed around her tightest hole, making small forays inside just briefly.
"Hmmm, my Sara likes to play, eh," Jack muttered as he brought his lips back to her clit, to continue his lovely sucking while he began to use three fingers to fuck her with, slowly, gently but firmly. He adjusted his approach a bit, allowing one finger contact with her anus, the others reaching deep inside, towards her g-spot, which nearly sent her over the edge. Jack could feel her approach release, her pussy clutched at his fingers, holding them tight, oozing her juices all over them. She moaned loudly, "God, Jack, God, yes, don't stop, please don't stop," she heard herself saying. He smiled against her clit, not releasing his suction on that engorged nub, flicking his tongue across it, tasting the delicious essence of her. The sound of her moaning his name nearly caused him to lose it.
She felt that grin against her mound but didn't care this time, grin away lover, I'm about to blast off in a serious way. The orgasm nearly caught her by surprise in its intensity. She yelled out but wasn't aware of what she said. Her legs had made their way around his back and her heels were pressing him closer, more inside her, as her pussy clutched his fingers one more time, and her hips continued to thrust toward his mouth. Juices spurted-that was a first, the Old Sara actually observed-and he drank them in, licking all around her now extremely sensitive lips and clit. He reached down and unzipped his jeans again, unable to stop. He absolutely had to be inside of her, feel her incredible body envelop his again. He had pulled a condom packet out of his pocket and used his teeth to open it, watching her continue to writhe a bit in her chair, eyes closed, arms raised up over her head. Oh yes, he was going to have her. This was beyond his control but he made a mental note to get it back. . . .later.
The room spun for a moment, the breeze blew and cooled her exposed and sensitive skin and she gasped as she realized that he had at some point freed his cock from his pants and had lunged up to penetrate her as she sat in the chair, his thick cock spreading her vagina wonderfully. She pushed back against his t shirt clad chest for a moment, breaking their delicious contact. "Protection," she gasped?
"Yep," he said. "Never fear, I'm like a boy scout," he muttered.
She needed him deep inside her now, she felt, in order to sustain the pleasure his lips and tongue had brought. He took one of her legs and bent it up toward her chest, allowing him deeper penetration, grunting with pleasure at the new sensation it brought him. She was amazed that she could continue to come, her pussy holding his thick shaft tight as he thrust harder and harder, faster and faster.
"Tell me, baby, tell me now, tell me you are gonna come again," Jack breathed against her ear. "Tell me what my New Sara wants."
"I haven't stopped coming Jack," she managed to say. "Shut up and keeping fucking me," she heard herself growl at him and she grabbed his neck, ran her hands up into his hair and forced his mouth down to hers. She captured his tongue and sucked, tasting her self, mixed with an amazing array of sweet and peppery essence.
God, Jack thought blearily, her mouth, her hands, her pussy was clutching at him, pulling him ever deeper. He grasped her bent knee, the other hand holding the back of the chair, his mind a haze of desire, sensation and need. I can't go here again, some small voice reminded him as he felt that familiar tingling in his lower back as his orgasm approached.
He broke away from her lips and groaned deep down, his hips moving in an unmistakable rhythm toward release. She reached around to grab his ass again, smacking it lightly, and made him move faster, faster, her clit relishing the renewed sensation of contact with his body as he moved back and forth. His cock clenched and spasmed, spurting so strongly she could feel it inside her in spite of the condom he wore.
He continued to move against her, enjoying his own after glow, then slowly withdrew, gazing at her in an almost speculative way. He stretched his arms up, his condom sheathed member slick and glistening with their combined juice. "You are amazing," he said, seemingly surprised. His eyes traveled the length of her, as he reached for himself, stroking absentmindedly. His brain was fuzzy, and he ran a hand over his face and through his hair, feeling a reflexive need to move away from her, to protect himself from the feelings he had held down for so long that were rearing up, threatening his long-developed emotional barriers to someone like her. He let his real estate brain take over a minute; anything to distract him from his bizarre impulse to sweep her into his arms and carry her off into the sunset.
She sat up a bit, her lower back sore from holding an awkward position for so long. "You have turned me into something I didn't know I was, Jack, someone who would play food sex with you in a house that I'm supposed to be working in." She brushed her hair back, sat up more fully as he leaned back.
"Six ninety nine," he said, firmly.
"What?" she asked as she stood up, shakily, searching out her trousers.
"That will sell this thing, babe. Six ninety nine," he stated as he discarded his condom into a napkin from their picnic tray, zipped up and began to retrieve the scattered strawberry tops and place them back on the tray.
My God, she thought. He was banging her brains out and thinking about what would SELL this house?
"Sure, ok, but tell that to my sellers," she declared, snapping back to reality. If he didn't want to acknowledge the earth shattering sex they had just had out in the open in someone else's house, so be it. She could play that game. She found her trousers and sandals. She hooked her bra back in place, zipped up her shirt, pulled her pants back on.
Jack had managed to put the entire tray back together, including wine bottle and glasses and had started towards the porch door with it in hand. "Sorry Sara, I have clients at six thirty tonight, gotta dash," he threw back over his shoulder.
So, that was a huge fucking lie, but the need to escape her presence was taking over, self-preservation becoming the dominant impulse right now. He knew he would regret this later, but also knew that if he did not get away, he'd be having her over, cooking her dinner, anything she wanted, and that was NOT where he saw this going-at least not yet. He needed to get his head back on straight and that meant vamoosing from the current scene and fast.
She followed him back into the house, feeling like a complete idiot and furious at him for ruining the moment.
"Sure, so I guess I'll see you around Jack," she threw at his retreating back. "I mean, next time you need to get off on a Sunday, that is," she couldn't resist.
He had reached the kitchen by then. He put the tray on the counter, quickly dumped the contents of the cream and honey bowls into the sink, gave them a quick rinse, put the remaining strawberries and their tops along with the few peppers into the grocery bag.
He quickly turned around to face her as she reached the opposite counter, learning against it in a seeming repose, but trying to control the shaking in her knees in anger at her own stupidity. In one short stride (this kitchen IS too small, Old Sara thought briefly) he had reached her and taken her face in his hands bringing his slightly swollen lips to hers. The gentle nature of his kiss took her by surprise, cooling the heat of her anger. His tongue explored, and his lips caressed, and he drew back a bit, looking deep into her eyes.
He fought the urge to moan and pull her even closer. He could taste her, the sweet strawberries and cream, the hot peppers, all of it on her lips. Jack was no fool; he knew what he was feeling for her was mostly physical, the thrill of fucking in someone else's house always a big one for him. But there was this annoying God damned voice in his head, whispering to him, urging him to act on his first impulse to get closer to her, to let her get close to him. He grasped her upper arms, as if resisting her, but gazing at her intently and honestly.
"Sara that was hands down the most amazing sex I've had in a damn long time," he kissed her again, lightly.
"I'm sorry to rush, but I'll see you soon, I promise you that," he touched her nose with his finger, allowing her to appreciate their combined smell, wondering if he would wash it off before meeting his clients.
As if he sensed her thoughts, he grinned that million-dollar grin and brought his own finger to his lips, giving it a light flick with his tongue. "I will show five condos to a newly married couple for the next two hours and they won't know where the sex smell is coming from-me, or them," he stated, mentally wincing as he perpetuated his own lie.
She stared at him from across the kitchen as he finished tidying up, replaced the bowls in their cabinets and put the tray right back where he found it earlier. He grabbed the grocery bag, hooked his arm out in invitation for him to join him on his way out the door. "See you Jack," she said breezily. "Go on, I should close up here."
She turned away from him, with some effort, missing his hesitation as he stared at her for several minutes before shrugging and heading for the front door without looking back. Once back in the car he opened all of the windows and cranked up the radio, letting the Stones drown his agony for the ride home. Fucking-A was this woman going to mess him up, or what?
End of Story