“The Blue House on the Corner”

[Graybread]

“The Blue House on the Corner”


The Blue House on the Corner is not really a house at all, nor is it blue. It is in fact, an old University building that has been renovated for its current purpose. Which is to fill the sexual fantasies of those that choose to visit?

It is owned and operated by, Pierre LeFébvre, multimillionaire and entrepreneur. A second-generation son, whose Grandparents, escaped France during the Nazi occupation. It is one of the stories told by Pierre’s Grandfather that inspired the name for the house.

As the story goes, venereal disease was rampart within the German troops in France. The Nazi Hierarchy believed this was caused by the enlisted men and officers frequenting the same prostitutes. In order to stop the spread of disease among the officers they separated the prostitutes into two separate classes. The enlisted men to go only to the lower class while the officers to the upper class. In order to distinguish between the two, red lights were hung on the doors of the lower class, bringing about the term ‘red light districts’. The officers were to frequent only those houses that had a ‘blue light’ hanging at the door. One of the more popular of these ‘blue light’ house was on the Avenue Marceau just a few hundred meters from the Arc de Triomphe. It became known as “The Blue House on the Corner,” because of the inventiveness of the prostitutes working it.

Pierre, or Peter as he is known to almost everyone, has spent millions renovating the house, brining up to local codes and beyond. It has a five star restaurant with a fully stocked wine cellar. Smooth jazz and R&B is piped throughout the posh lounge and lobby area. (If you would like, use these areas in any ‘quickie’ that you want to write). There is also a full staff to help you with all your needs. (Use them as NPC’s) You may also use Peter as an NPC if you would like. Just remember, what every you can think of, it’s here in the house.


I only have four rules:

You must follow all the standard SRP guidelines.
(I guess that really isn’t my rule).

Ok, I only have three rules:
Use the ‘Quickie’ thread for all your requests for a writing partner.
https://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=199792

Please, do not use this thread for any OOC; again use the ‘Quickie’ thread.
The only exception being. If you are looking for comments on something you posted, put an “OOC comments please,” blurb at the bottom of your post. The comments should go to the ‘Quickie thread as well.

Last be most important, HAVE FUN.

If you can think of anything else to improve the house, let me know.

Peter LeFébvre, aka Graybread

 

[spiritual_love]

closed...enjoy reading...~s~

Casting aside her cell phone, pager, and laptop along with all the other annoyances of life, she entered the house. Walking through the quiet foyer the atmosphere of the house settled around her. It seemed lust and desire scented the air, along with the delectable scents coming from the restaurant. She wondered if she were alone, as no voices immediately caught her ear. The thought caused her to smile, because it was exactly what she longed for.

Blissful solitude.

Welcomed to the lounge by the purring, husky voice of a singer mingling with the slow jazz music filtered into the room, she smiled, pleased with the set up. The lights were dimmed giving a feeling of darkness, yet giving you the ability to see perfectly, only a few shadowed edges which would cause one to look more closely if they desired to truly seek what lay within them. And that's exactly where she was headed.

She felt her limbs loosening, the worries of a hectic day rising from her soul. Making her way towards the back of lounge, fingers deftly unclasping the buttons of the black double breasted skirt suit as she sauntered towards her destination. Breasts threatening to spill from the low cut edge of the virginal white corset that lay beneath the jacket now exposed. It had been delicious wearing the boned and laced garment throughout the day. It had never failed to remind her of the pleasures that were promised after a hard day of work. Hips dancing enticingly from side to side, nearly shaking to the music as it played in a continuous loop. Already, she could feel the moistening lips of her sex hiding beneath the black skirt. They had swelled in anticipation of this "playtime".

A large leather chair greeted her as she reached the dark shadowy area of the lounge. She inhaled deeply, allowing the scent of freshly oiled leather to flare her nostrils. A myriad of pleasureable jolts shot up the curve of her spine simply from the smell. Such a pleasure for the senses. Turning upon the heels encasing her feet, she dropped into the plush chair, letting it swallow her form. She couldn't help but laugh softly at the immense pleasure she was experiencing.

 

[Graybread]

Peter

Peter noticed the movement on the security camera. He watched her as she walked through the lounge, unbuttoning as she went. He smiled to himself.

Looks like she had one of those days.

He picked up the phone, pressing the intercom button to the kitchen.

“Jèan,” he spoke into the mouthpiece………Take a bottle of the Bordeaux Blanc, the Château Franc-Pèrat out of the chiller, and make sure the temperature is correct. I’ll be around in a minute to get it.

He stood from his desk, straightening his grey silk tie, lifting the rose boutonnière to his nose, before leaving his office. He made his way to the kitchen and picked up the ice bucket with the wine. Then out through the lounge door and grabbed two long stemmed glasses off the rack.

“There’s a lady in the back Sir,” the bartender said.

“I know,” smiled Peter.

As he made his way to the back, he could see that the waitress had already approached her.

“Susan,” he said softly. “I take care of the lady, thank you.”

“Yes Sir,” Susan said, smiling, stepping back and quietly leaving.

“Pardon the intrusion Mademoiselle, but he look as though you could use a light sweet wine. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Pierre LeFébvre, owner of the Blue House. My friends call me Pete,....please.....call me Pete.” He said by way of introduction.

He sat the two glasses on the table, took the cork screw out of his jacket pocket, and began to twist it into the bottle.

“An ’89 I believe. So, now that you have heard all the French I know, tell me, what brings you to the Blue House Miss……?”

 

[spiritual_love]

Finishing the gentleman's words, "Miss Sanchez, but do call me Amilia."

Watching as the bottle was being unscrewed, the two wine glasses waiting to be filled. She wondered if she had been watched or was this just a coincidence. But then again, he was the proprietor of the establishment, he probably greeted all the guests in this manner.

Her smile easily parted the hold of her painted lips. She was more comfortable now. The lapels of her jacket strewn open exposing the soft white satin of the corset. Stockinged legs crossing politely, able to feel the tug of the garters holding the thigh high stocking up. The plump hold of her lips parted once more as she squeezed her inner thighs inconspicously.

"MMMmm....well..I'm here to relax, Pete. And I do believe your french is excellent."

Gentle peals of laughter mingling with the music as she teased him, reaching forth for the glass of wine prepared for her.

 

[Graybread]

Peter

“It is a great pleasure to meet you…Amilia. And relax you shall,” Peter said taking his jacket off and tossing it over a chair.

He loosened his tie and pulled a chair around to face her. He noticed how she had sank into the supple leather chair she was in.

“I find the feel of leather to be somewhat…..erotic.” He said. “Almost as if you’re sitting in the hand of some mysterious sensuous beast perhaps.”

He smiled as she worked her shoulders and back farther into the leather seat. His eyes moved slowly from her satin clad cleavage, down her front, to the lace at the top of her stockings, exposed under her skirt. He made no pretense of hiding his gaze, she was offering and he was himself an admirer of beauty.

“May I……,” he asked though not waiting for an answer.

He reached down and took her foot in his hand, slipping the heel off and letting it fall to the carpet. He laid her calf across his thigh as he began to work the ball of her foot with his thumbs, pushing from the center out.

“Mmmm god,” she whispered as she sank deeper into in the leather, pushing her foot farther onto his lap.

He continued to massage her foot, his thumbs working the tension out of the arch. He held the top of her foot in one hand and the hell in the other, pushing her foot back and forth, causing the calf muscles to stretch. He worked his fingers and thumb around the heel and up the tight tendon stretching up the back of her leg. After a moment, he worked both thumbs hard up the sole to her toes then back down again.

He smiled again as she lifted the wine to her mouth, her eyes closed as she sipped the wine. The sweet liquor leaving a wet sheen on her red pouty lips. His fingers moved back to her toes as he started on the first one and gently work his thumb around the bottom of it, before moving to the next one. He could hear the joints pop as he worked them. He did each toe in turn, then moved back to the ball of her foot working his thumbs hard into her sole. He slipped his hand up the back of her silken calf and squeezed as he worked his way to the back of her knee, then back down to her heel again before starting back up.

He sat her foot back on the floor and lifted the other to his lap to begin the whole process over again, slowly, gently he worked the tension out of her feet and legs. He skirt had ridden up her thighs, exposing the lacey tops of both her stockings. The garter straps disappearing under the dark fabric. He let his eyes travel up and down the length of her shapely legs coming to rest on the white satin triangle of her panties. The movement of her hand reaching for the wine glass caused him to look at her face. Her eyes were dreamy but they were defiantly on his. One corner of her mouth was turned up in the barest of a smile as she brought the glass to her lips.

“Come,” he smiled. Setting her foot back on the floor. “I must show you around.”

He stood and reached for her hand, gently pulling her out of the chair. She got a pouty look on her face, like a schoolgirl being dragged out of warm bed on a cold winter morning. He refilled her glass then paced his hand on the small of her back and began to lead her around the house. He showed her the spa area, with the hot tubs and saunas, they peeked in the door of the indoor pool. Then he took her to the open elevator with its wrought iron gate and accordion door. They ascended to the second floor where he showed her various rooms.

“This is the ‘Scarlet’ room,” he said. “I think Margaret Mead would approve. Don’t you?”

“Mmmm nice,” Amilia agreed.

He continued to show her three or four more rooms before coming to, what he called the ‘Empire’ room. A neoclassical style prevalent in France during the first part of the nineteenth century, obtaining its name for the first empire of France in which Napoleon Bonaparte was the emperor.

“And this Amilia, is the boudoir of Marie-Rose de Tascher de la Pagerie,” he said. “They say that Bonaparte last words were, “France, the army, Josephine.” He added.

He slipped the jacket off Amilia’s shoulder and tossed it on a nearby chair, and deftly flipped the button on her skirt, and the sound of the zipper was like the hiss of a serpent. He let it drop to her feet. He placed his hands on her hips and stepped close, pressing his body against hers. He kissed her softly on the shoulder then on the neck.

“If you listen closely, you can still hear the soft moans of Josephine,” he whispered in her ear, his hands sliding up the front of her smooth satin corset to hold her breasts in his hands.

 

[jaylene]

Rebecca Stewart

CLOSED FOR JAYLENE AND MS JONES

“Oh my god Sandy, this place is beautiful,” exclaimed Rebecca as she and her good friend entered the lobby of the Blue House.

“You can explore a bit while I check us in,” said Sandy. Rebecca watched her friend walk up to the front desk to see about their room. Rebecca felt so lucky to have a friend like Sandy in her life. Sandy was her rock, the person she could always turn to when she needed someone to lean on.

It had been a hell of a week. Brad, Rebecca’s husband of 5 years, had worked late every single night that week, leaving Rebecca to contend with the 3 children all on her own. Normally she watched the children all day, and when Brad got home from work she had time to run to the gym for some alone time. Renewd and refreshed she would come home, cook dinner, and together they would wash and put the little ones to bed. But with Brad working late, she was left to it all by herself. After spending every minute of the day with the toddler twins and the preschooler, Rebecca was at her wits ends.

And to top it off, on Thursday night, Brad had the nerve to first criticize dinner and then request sex. Now granted, Rebecca had bit her tongue and laid with her husband, hoping that maybe an orgasm would help her relax after such a crazy week. Do you know what happened? The man had pleasured himself and promptly fell asleep, leaving her high and dry!

That night, while Brad dreamt blissful dreams, she called Sandy and asked if she wanted to go away for the weekend. Although Rebecca loved her husband and children, she definitely felt she needed a break from them. She wanted a weekend doing things for herself, not doing things for everybody else. Her and Sandy could spend the weekend doing whatever they pleased, shopping, chatting, and relaxing. When Rebecca talked to Sandy, Sandy said she was also dying for a weekend outside of the city. Sandy said she would take care of all the arrangements. That’s how the two of them had ended up here, at the Blue House.

Rebecca and Sandy were led to their room on the second floor. As Sandy opened the door to let Rebecca in, Rebecca gasped. The room was absolutely divine!

The first thing Rebecca noticed were the old, hardwood floors that stretched from one end of the suite to the other. Richly colored Persian rugs were tastefully laid on the floor anywhere a guest might be inclined to walk barefoot; by the bed, by the sitting area, by the vanity.

To her right was a gorgeous fireplace, with a fire already roaring. The fire was the only light in the room, so it tinted everything beautifully gold. In front of the fireplace was a plush loveseat perfect for cuddling in front of the fire. On the coffee table laid an assortment of treats, including two bottles of wine. AH, Riesling, her favorite.

Directly in front of them were French doors framed by violet curtains that accented the lavender walls. The doors opened up onto a patio, which gave a wonderful view of the elaborate gardens. To the left of the French doors was the door leading into the powder room.

“There is only one bed, so we’ll have to share,” said Sandy, “I hope you don’t mind.” Rebecca eyes sought out the bed. It was a well-made, king-size, four-post bed.

“Not a problem. I think we could easily sleep us two and another couple,” Rebecca said with a giggle.

“How about we crack open one of these bottles of wine?” asked Sandy.

“That’d be great. Do you mind opening it? I want to wash up a bit and then slip into one of these robes.” Hanging in the closet were two complementary women’s robes. Rebecca reached in and grabbed the pink chiffon one.

After Rebecca had bathed and dried herself, she reached for her robe. This was curious. She realized that inside the sheer robe was a very sexy baby doll nightie. Oh well, what the hell she thought as she slid the nightie over her head.

She looked in the mirror and was pleased by what she saw. If anything, Rebecca thought she looked better at 35 having borne three children. Her reflection showed her to be a voluptuous woman with ample, full breasts, curvy hips, and a round, shapely derriere. She let her blond hair loose from her pony-tail. She could already see that this holiday was renewing her spirit. Her gray-blue eyes were sparkling again, and her cheeks were rosy.

She open the door to the bathroom, and sashayed into the room. Sandy was reclined on the love seat in front of the fire. She had a glass of wine in her well-manicured hand. Rebecca saw that Sandy too had discovered a baby doll. Rebecca was captivated by the sight of Sandy in such sexy attire.

“She is perfection,” though Rebecca. Her eyes caressing her long slender legs, flat tummy, and perfect breasts.

“Can you believe these?” asked Rebecca, doing a quick twirl for Sandy, which caused her nightie to flutter up around her waist.

“Well the pink just looks gorgeous with your tan,’ said Sandy. Smiling at Rebecca’s antics.

“Oh yeah, that’s from all my work in the garden. If Brad new I like to garden in my skivvies he’d have a fit,” Rebecca said curling up on the coach next to Sandy.

“Well what Brad doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” said Sandy with a flirtatious smile. She handed Rebecca a glass of wine.

 

[Ms. Jones]

Bec and I have been friends for a long time and it kills me that she’s so devoted to her family. It’s her best and worst quality. We met in college at a party and I was drunk and hit on her. She was shocked of course but later the next day we met again sober, and hit it off as friends. She thought that I hit on her because I was drunk. Well, that was part of it, usually I don’t hit on anyone where I live or work.

I am the Vice President of Marketing at a Fortune 500 company and I get to travel abroad a lot on business. That’s where I indulge in my bi-sexuality. It seems to be better for my business and personal reputation to keep it away from my hometown. My mother would have ten cows if she knew I liked men AND women.

Bec had become increasingly tense the last few months and her sessions at the gym weren’t cutting it for her. That’s why I invited her to spend the weekend being pampered. I planned to keep her in our room all weekend and everything she wanted or needed was being brought to her. She wouldn’t have to lift a finger.

I’d been to the Blue House before and was so thrilled with the ambiance and the attention to customer satisfaction. I arranged with the owner to have everything we needed in the room by the time we arrived. I purchased special lingerie for us to wear (and pretend it compliments of the house). And there was a small refrigerator hidden in a wall unit that stocked enough of Bec’s favorite wine to keep us both drunk for a fortnight!

When we got to our room, Bec was in heaven! She couldn’t believe the place could be so beautiful. I knew it would be, though I’d never stayed in this particular room before.

Bec went to freshen up and change into one of the peignoir sets I bought. I was glad to see she took the pink one – it suited her tanned body. I opened some wine and started drinking – thinking of Bec’s body was making me hot. I changed quickly into my own peignoir set, a deep rich green that matched my green eyes and brought out the red highlights in my chestnut hair.

Bec walked back into the room and twirled for me. My heart almost stopped! She turned so fast that her shortie nightgown rose up and gave me a perfect shot of her soft furry pussy and her round tight ass. My own pussy twitched automatically. I downed the wine in my glass quickly and poured us both a glass.

“Sandy, this place is like a palace!”

“Fit for a princess like you.” I said. I swallowed my wine quickly again as Bec joined me on the loveseat. Having her so close was driving me nuts. I wanted to rip her nightie off and bury my face between those round luscious tits.

“Hey, you’re going pretty fast with that stuff aren’t you?” she asked.

“Baby, this weekend is an anything goes weekend. If I want to get drunk on my ass and piss off the balcony that’s what I’m gonna do!!!”

Bec laughed and drained her own glass. I filled hers up and went to the fridge to get another bottle. We had about 4 more glasses each and were feeling pretty good.

A maid knocked on the door and when I let her in, she wheeled in a cart of small sandwiches and a big bowl of cut up fruit, some cheese and crackers and of course some chocolates. When she left, I picked up a piece of chocolate and holding it out I walked over to Bec.

“Yummy…look what I have. It’s your favorite!! Godiva chocolate fit for a princess!” Just as I got near her I dropped the damn piece of chocolate. It landed smack in the middle of her pussy lips. She hadn’t noticed that her nightie had ridden up and as she sat there prim and proper, I could seen that delicious cunt. Now there was a nice round piece of dark chocolate just waiting for someone to eat it.

We looked at each other and giggled.

“Let me get it.” I said.

I dropped to my knees in front of her.

 

[prometheus 2]

Quickie for McKenna and Prometheus 2

Hank tipped his hat back and hooded his eyes with his hand as he squinted into the early morning sun. It was a beautiful fall morning and he smiled when he made out the rustic lodge just to his rignt at the bend in the path. He had a good feeling about this weekend retreat he had signed up for. So many of them had been a disappointment to him, ending up to be composed of ancient old ladies sitting around in rocking chairs reminessing and writing about the past.

Not that he was looking for any action just a weekend away from the frantic pace of the city. A place that would stir his creative energies and inspire him to continue writing.

This place appeared to be everything the brocure he had received a couple of monthes ago in the mail.

A perfect place to get away from it all and explore your creative genius, Hidden deep in the mountains miles away from civilization, you will find our rustic atmosphere condusive to productive writing . Don't look for fancy frills or modern conveniences. Come prepared to become self sufficient, prepare your own meals stoke the woodfired stove draw your water from a hand pump. there will be no telephone, tv, internet or newspaper. No interference from the outside world.
A back to nature atmosphere will help you get in touch with your inner self.

"Perfect." he had said and called for reservations. Now he was here holding small bag contained a change of clothes and his writing material he would need little else except the clothes he had on. His favorite pair of jeans well worn, snug, a pair of cowboy boots a blue cambray shirt and a cowboy hat would get him in the mood for doing the kind of writing he enjoyed.
Adventure romance, short stories and poems set in the wide open spaces of Montana, Idaho, and Wyoming. Country that he had grown up in and loved.

He was 36 now, Tall, lanky. Light blue eyes and a generous amount of dark hair that covered his ears and touched the collar of his shirt. to look at him one wouldn't thjink of him as a writer but that had been his bend since early in his life.

Stepping through the door he removed his hat and stepped into the front room of the lodge. "Peter I assume." he said to the man at the desk, his voice a little raspy from the dusty trail he'd traveled down to get here.


Leave your automoblie here the sign had said a mile back get ready to get away from it all.

He hadn't minded the walk even though the path was dusty the woods that it led through was fille with an amazing variety of plants, birds and animals that he hadn't seen since he was a young boy.

The man smiled, 'You must be Hank." Welcome, It looks as if you could use a drink." He pointed to pitcher and a hand pump along the wall. Hank smilled walked over and pumped a pitcher full, He filled two ceramic cups returning to hand one to Peter.

"Feel free to wander around." Peter had said as Hank set his empty glass down. He waved towards the main room and the kitchen beyond. Bedroom are upstairs. garden out in back, an orchard is just down the path and a trout stream, fishing gear is availabe if you wish to catch your own breakfast in the morning. There will be no schedualed events you're on your own. As far as writing goes if you wish you can exchange ideas and information from the other particpants or keep to yourself. Theres ample room and the group is small. Sleeping accomadations are a bit cramped though, we like to kep it simple and as you came alone we will be asking you to share a bedroom with another writer"
Hank shrugged his shoulders. "No problem he said amicably, I just came to write." He saw Peter smile relieved perhaps that Hank didn't make a fuss and a strange feeling came over him when Peter added

"I think you'll be pleased with her." Shes up
there now geting settled in. First door on the left.

Somehow Hank knew he would be, that this retreat would offer him a bit more than just the usual get away. that even if this woman writer in his room were little more than charming company he would be pleased.

He decided not to visit the gardens and the stream until later. His pace became anxious as he took the steps upward two at a time. He heard the rustle of cloth as he pushed the door to the first room on the left slowly open.

He was pleased, very pleased.

 

[McKenna]

.

 

[spiritual_love]

Amilia had enjoyed the tour of the house, yet she was rather enjoying the attentions of the proprietor as he led her from room to room, sharing with her the intricate details of his estate. Her body had already warmed nicely from the generous foot massage and the delicous wine that he had provided. The glass was still cradled within the cup of her palm as they stood within the "Empire Room". The decorating was phenomenal. In all of her travels, she had never experienced such luxury, not even within France itself. She imagined many of the pieces had been imported drawing together a perfect creation for this neoclassical masterpiece.

The silence between them was heavy with lust, dripping with an intense hunger. She could taste it upon the tip of her pink tongue along with the wine as the glass found its way to her lips once more. The whisper of the jacket leaving her body caused her to shudder with utter delight. She didn't truly know what to expect from Pete, but she felt a sexual intensity streaming from his soul like none she'd ever experienced. Even within her years of submission, from delving into the world of sexual deviance to the straightlaced vanilla copulation, she had a feeling she was on the verge of a completely new experience.

It was lovely standing within the boudoir in the tightly laced corset as he drew the jacket form her body. Her waist was cinched into a narrow column, easily giving his hands a perfect handle of her body, her full hips flared into a swell of such feminine beauty she couldn't resist, travelling her free hand upon her hip. As the zipper's teeth to her skirt cut into the air, she gasped. The black material swept along the curve of her legs, the tiny gstring cradling her freshly shaven sex was revealed.

Almost shyly, her eyes fell to the floor, observing the carpeting cradling her feet. His strong, masculine hands laid to rest upon her hips as his body drew into hers from behind. Eyes closing, her head lifted, falling back against his shoulder. The full length of a man's form pressed upon the backside of a woman was a body tingling luxury. She could feel every sharp muscle along her scantily clad form. Exactly what she needed after such a long day emersed within the real world. Now it was simply time to let all the drama of the day go and enjoy the heat that the evening was promising.

“If you listen closely, you can still hear the soft moans of Josephine,” he whispered in her ear, his hands sliding up the front of her smooth satin corset to hold her breasts in his hands.

She reached over and rested her glass upon a small table, now wasn't the time to have such items within her grasp. Eyes remaining closed as she listened to the whisper flooding her ear. It drew intimate images of bodies intertwined, she could hear the moans as he described them, but also the slapping of bodies riding together, the sounds of toys buzzing, whips blazing, strangled cries, greedy sucks.....

"Ohhhh...." Amilia cried out loud. Everything was hitting her at once. The images banging within her mind, the slow glide of his hands along the boned corset. Her heavy breasts, nearly spilling over the edge of the material as she once again took a deep, shaky breath. The curve of her slender back arching into his hands willingly, offering her breasts to his capable hands. Her own finding his hips, holding his body flush against the juicy curve of her ass as she nestled into him. Her own softly hesitant, husky whisper dancing forth, "Touch me...please."

 

[Why]

Rhovan and Why.....

..........

 

[prometheus 2]

Hank and Emma

He stood there, unable to move, his one hand holding his bag the other still attached to the door knob, his eyes glued to her eyes, her dark warm eyes.
" A man could get lost in those eyes ." He thought..

He shivered and squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to break the tension he was feeling.

He heard her exclamation of surprise followed by the rustle of cloth and when he opened his eyes he saw in a flurry of motion, pale white skin being covered by her soft shirt. He turned his gaze to the window, as she finished dressing and when she began to speak again he turned back, to respond to her introduction.

"It's safe to look now." he thought." still shook up by her magnetic presence.

It was, until his eyes focused and the pale white skin he had a glimpse of before, this time as the soft full curve of two very voluptuous breasts came into view. He had managed to remove his hand from the door knob and raise it to take hers, but was again transformed into a immovable statue.

For Gods sake Hank, whats got into you. You've seen georgeous women like this before and in a much more compromisng situation. Why is this one any different? get a hold of yourself.

He took a deep breath, and managed to find her hand. Taking it briskly he firmly shook it. "Hi I'm Hank, Hank Marlow."

The sound of his own voice brought him out of the trance he had been in and he smiled. "I guess we're bunk mates." he said amicably., "That must be mine over there." He pointed at the bunk on the other side of the room. He saw her smile back making him feel like she'd gotten over the discomfort of their impromtu meeting. He walked over and tested the springs. 'Don't seem very sturdy to me.' he said. "Hope it don't break down in the middle of the night.' He tossed his bag onto it and walked over to the window. "Nice view." he remarked. 'You can see the garden from here and off behind it, the orchard and the trout stream.' His hand pointed out the window. "Have you walked down there yet, oh thats right, you just got here too, came up here to change. Right? He hesitated remebering the sight of her half dressed again. By the way I'm sorry I burst in so suddenly, its just... well I knew I was bunking with someone of the opposite sex..I mean,.. a woman... I just didn't expect someone so ...He turned and looked at her. Saw the light from the window in her dark hair, wondering what it looked like down, down around her snow white shoulders. "I just.." he continued...." didn't expect some one so doggoned pretty... mam.... Emma... I mean. damn I don't really know what I mean. Lets take a walk, the fresh air will do us both good." He had noticed that she had blushed again at his directness and figured he better change direction before he got himself in more trouble he could handle.

He saw her nod and breathed a sigh of relief. "Come on then, it's a beautiful day, nothing like a brisk walk to get the creative juices flowing."

The main hall was empty when they descended the stairs. He watched her move down ahead of him, her round firm bum under her tight jeans stirring again at his primal juices. He wanted to reach out and just touch her. He held back the urge until they were about to got through the back door and then not being able to contain his need to make some physical contact, he took this opportunity to gently guide her into the doorway with his hand low on her waist. As they stepped into the sunlight he took her hand.

"Be carefull." he said. "The trail looks a bit rugged."

It was, in fact, well trodden with just a few obstacles, rocks and an occasional fallen branch, enough to excuse his need to continue to hold her hand.

They visited as they roamed through the garden sharing their writing experiences, their reasons for being here how lucky they both were to find someone they could relate to.

The morning sun was high in the sky when they reached the orchard and the bright red apples that adorned the trees. "These are for us arn't they?" Hank said suddenly, The thought of a juicy apple making his mouth water. Not waiting for her answer he looked around as if to see if there were anyone watching and quickly snatched two from a nearby tree. he handed one to her and bit in to the
other. It was sweet and juicy and he grinned as he watched her take a bite from hers. A trickle of sweet syrup ran down her chin and he reached into his pocket and pulled out a red bandana handkerchief.

Instead of handing it to her, he stepped closer and gently wiped the trail of moisture from her chin and throat. He left his hand there for a moment feeling her pulse quicken watching the colour come into her cheeks.

" I gotta do this now, or I never will." he told himself.

And then he kissed her.

 

[Rhovan]

Richard

I pulled into the parking lot of the blue house. Shutting the expensive sedan off, and climbing out of the car I stood, straighting out my suit pants. A brush here, and a tug there and the pants hung straight, with crisp creases on the front and back. The suit was expensive, well made and italian. Classic black, and lacking some of the extra frills such as a tie or a cummerbun.

My movements were cocky, a definate strut to my movements. I had won the last three times in a row, and I intended on winning yet again. It was a source of pride, the proveribal notched belt so to speak. Or perhaps a notched headboard? My hand passed through my close cut, blonde hair, just enough for my wife to put her fingers thought. If she could only see me now! A smirk on my lips, and a glint in my eyes I headed for the door of the building.

My entrance was as brash and cocky as my swagger, moving into the lobby. My eyes raked across everything in the room, viewing it, catalouging it, and discarding it. I was used to swanky digs like this this. Hell, I had a swanky dig like this. So rich me and the wife couldn't spend it all. So I spent some of it on little dalliances like this. Little 'visits' to take my mind off the rigors of my day.

Peter moved into the room, approaching me with nearly as much swagger as I had myself. Only Peter was contained, and his arrogance was muted. He didn't grate on others as much as I did.

"Good evening Richard, your lady friend is here already for you." A huge smile and a raise of my eyebrows was the only signal I gave that I had even heard Peter's voice.

"Ahhh...perfect! Our usual room Peter?" I asked, moving towards the room already.

"Yes Richard..." Peter sighed. He watched me walk away, and he moved back to where he started at. I was too busy making my way to the room. The room with the most beautiful woman I had ever met. If only my wife could see me now!

My knuckles struck the door in the same bold and brash way that my attitude has struck Peter. Then, as I was not the most patient of souls, I opened the door, stepped in and shut it. A flick of my wrist and the bolt slid home, sealing myself and the woman in with me, for our night of pleasure together.

My eyes dragged across the room, the red covered bed, the table with the little treats, the single wine cooler. My hand moved to my inside jacket pocket, and pulled out two straws, which went immediatly into the wine cooler. Picking it up, I moved to the table. A simple white table, circular, with two comfy chairs to either side of it. A single bare bulb swinging back and forth over the table as if it were an interogation room. I smiled.

"I see the items are prepaired, and as always, you can go first Constance." Placing the wine cooler on the table, a straw bent towards the two chairs I hold out my right hand. "Stand...let me see you in all of your glory."

 

[Why]

Constance

............

 

[Graybread]

Peter

Peter continued to hold one breast in its satiny cradle, as the other slowly traveled down the front of Amilia, across her tight stomach, over her lower abdomen and into the front of the black g-string. He curved his fingers over her moist sex and held them there, neither probing nor exploring, merely holding her. He kissed lightly across her shoulder again, and up the side of her neck, his tongue darting out, tasting her delicate skin. He moved up to her ear as she tilted her head to the side, his tongue tracing the outline of the soft pink shell.

“Do you hear her Amilia? Do you hear the longings of Josephine?” Peter whispered softly into her ear. “Touchez-moi mon empereur. Prenez-moi, prenez-moi maintenant. Touch me, take me now she begs.”

Peter tugged at the string in the front of the corset and it relaxed around Amilia’s body as the tie came loose. He slipped his hand inside and lifted her breast free, his other hand began to pull her body tighter against his, his fingers pressing into her. He rolled her nipple between finger and thumb until it became swollen and rigid. His pressed his pelvis against her, his hardness pushing against her ass.

Gently he removed both his hands from her and began to loosen his tie, tossing it on the chair. She turned without stepping away from him and with lacquered nails began to undo the buttons on his silk shirt, he held her at the waist, watching her. She pulled the tails of the shirt out of his pants, her hands spreading the shirt open, long fingers gliding through the hair on his chest. He dropped his arms and the shirt fell to the floor behind him. He reached between them pulling the belt back, freeing it from the buckle, then slipped the pant button back through the buttonhole.

Amilia reached down and lowered the tab on the zipper and the pants fell in a crumpled heap at his feet. She lowered herself and slipped the shoes off his feet, her cheek rubbing against the hardness through his boxers.

“Touchez-moi Josephine,” he whispered down to her.

 

[McKenna]

.

 

[Rhovan]

Richard

"She refused my command,' I thought. "She is going to play it like this is she...as if she doesn't already know that she has lost. As soon as she accepted the challenge she was lost." I thought. Her reply to my command was icy, but not so much as to make me think she had lost interest. Lost interest in me? Ha! Not likely!

“I prefer to sit thank you.”

I smirked again, blowing a little kiss across the room. Then she did it. She played her first dirty trick of the night, and it was a dirty one. She crossed her legs, tight at the knee and her skirt rose just a fraction of an inch. Just enough that I could see the tops of her stockings and the straps to her garter. "Damn!" I cursed silently, she was going to try and trip me up with her wiley charms! But I would have none of that! My eyebrow starts to climb my forehead, apprently seeking safe harbour in my hair line as my eyes were forcefully drawn to her beautiful leg. The danity ankle, up the swell of her calf and then over her knee to the lushciousness of her thighs, wrapped in the lace and silk of her stockings.

"Damn!" My mind screamed again, the invective being my only call to power against her legs, that went on for miles and miles. It was like she could wrap them around you...twice. I grinned, the thought being devilishly enough for me to focus my thoughts on what could be gained from the night. Sevitude usually didn't come so easy, but for Richard, it was just par for the course.

“Now… Let me see if I can cut you down to size tonight sir…”

My eyes locked onto the pout of her red, full, and very talented lips. That smirk growing to a grin, as my boasting started already. "You have never been very good at drawing straws, have you Constance?" I placed the bottle to the side of the table and picked up a pen, centering and neatly stacking the pile of papers on the table.

"I go first...again...I wonder what I shall have you do tonight, when you loose.." My face takes on a far away look for a moment, and then, with an shake, I was back, in the here and now, ready to show her what it was like to loose, four times in a row.

My hand marks the board out on the paper in neat, swift marks. And down goes the first mark. Dead center of the board. Followed by that customary smirk again.

"Ready to loose? Standard rules, three of five, each lost game costs you an item of my choice, and vice versa," I offer up my hand, to shake on the deal, as was now the tradition. Offer up the hand shake that had delt the death knell to so many hopeful business men, and so far, had been the only preamble to a string of defeats for Constance.

 

[Why]

Constance

..............

 

[Rhovan]

Richard

I lost my first post, so I try again.

Offering my hand to Constance, she took it as I knew she would. Her long and elegant fingers resting in my palm, with her well maintained and manicured nails. Not fake nails mind, but real nails -- just like I liked em! And such talent that resided in her fingers...oh I could loose myself in the feelings, and I have on many a night.

If only my wife could hear what I was thinking now! But she couldn't...

Not only were her nails well kept, but so were her hands, softer than the skin of a baby's rump, and yet not opposed to the thought of hard labour. Constance was one of a kind, and her husband was a lucky man.

As it was now her turn to mark the board, I lean back in my chair, the picture of relaxation. Feet crossed at the ankles, both hands grasped together and behind my head and my long lean body stretched out into a line. The pen in my hand starts to click behind my head. Why? Because it raised Constance's ire, and anything to put her off of her game was needed. She was a devilish tic-tac-toe player, no matter what I said to the contrary. And we usually ended the night with a 3-2 score, just edging ahead at the end to win. Because I am a winner.

"She's toying with me," I think as she raises her pen, then sets it back down and gets up. Watching her walk by, I can't help but openly admire her form. I'd know Constance for years, but we'd only been playing this game as of recently. No matter how many times I lay with Constance, I am always amazed that she is both willing at the moment, and apprently willing again in the future. But why shouldn't she be? I am Richard! I deserve a woman like Constance! Right?

Watching the play of her dress over the silk of the stockings, covering the little flash of red from my sight. I suddenly ached to leap up and press myself close to Constance, but not yet. We had just started. It was still strictly competition now. But once I win the first match, and claim one of her garments for myself...then I would show my appreciation. But now I am just irked by the delay, as she retreives some strawberries and a bottle of wine.

“A drink first, Richard?”

"What ever you need to fortify your resolve, Constance," I said with a sweet grin. No matter how cocky or brash I acted, Constance knew where she stood. She was the greatest woman in my life, which was a considerable feat.

If my wife could hear my thoughts now!

Picking up the bottle of wine, I strip the foil from the top, then carefully and quickly pull the wire cage off of the cork and neck of the bottle. Grasping the bottle firmly and rocking the cork with thumb and forefinger, a loud 'pop' fires the cork across the room to land somewhere out of sight. But I wasn't concerned with the cork, I was concerned with the slight over flow which was poured into both of the glasses and the slightly smoking bottle was set down.

Offering one glass to Constance, and keeping the other for me, I watch her smile, sip and then munch contentedly on the strawberry. She wanted to take it slow, so I would too, leaning back in my chair in my previous pose, stretched out in a long line but with the clicking pen in one hand and the glass of wine in the other.

She considered, and finally made a circle on the right of the center line. As she leaned back, I immediatly leaned in, scratching an X into the lower left corner. I leaned back, and grinned at Constance. She had lost already, and she didn't even know it.

“Now I wonder, which item shall I chose when I win?”

"Well, once I win this match, I shall claim that which I always claim first..." A glint in my eye, we both knew what she was talking about. In theory the garter and the stockings were items that could be removed, but they always remained. Even if they spent the whole night in the room, those two items always remained.

Who am I to deny tradition?

 

[Rhovan]

OOC: This was supposed to be added to the last post, but I flaked. Sorry!

 

[Why]

..........

 

[prometheus 2]

Hank and Emma

Even before her invitation, even before she began to undress Hank had already decided that a swim in this hot springs with Emma would be the next thing he would just have to do.

The reason for that decision had come hours before that, after that first kiss. A kiss that told him, and her too he hoped, that there was something special between them. something that neither one of them could deny. That no matter what they did or where they went they would discover an adventure they would unconditionally share. He had known that this kiss would change both of their lives forever.

The hot springs was only a small part of that experience and when he had seen it he had smiled knowing that it presented an oportunity for him and Emma to explore this new path their lives were taking.

Her exuberance and playfull innocence, no doubt spurred him on. If it wasn't for the fact that he was enjoying the sight before him as she undressed, he would have been in the water ahead of her. However he had become mesmerized by the unpretensiousness of her actions as she revealed to him her nakedness. She wasn't showing off or making a big deal out it but just undressing simply 'cause that was what one did before they went swimming.

He wasted no time himself after he had finally gotten rid of his boots and his clothes joined hers in the same pile. As he stepped into the water behind her she turned and faced him. The look, the feeling of innocence was gone as she stared at him and smiled, her dark eyes flashed with passion. He was sure his eyes were showing her thesame passion.

"Oh Lordy, he said unabashedly. "Their... Its... Your... beautifull."

He was gazing at her, his voice vainly trying to describe every part of her that aroused him at this moment. her pure white skin, her dark eyes, her moist red lips, her full breasts with deep dark nipples, her trim waist and full hips, her slender legs, her mound gently rounded with tight dark curly hair. her hair... He walked towards her, stopping just short of touching her, reached up and held his hands just inches from her head.
"Your hair." he continued huskily. I wondered... ...the first time I saw you I wanted to see how it looked down. Emma, I wnat to let your hair down."
He watched her look up at him, at his big hands, fingers spread, above her head and when he saw her nod, he started pulling pins.

 

[McKenna]

.

 

[Rhovan]

Richard

"Ohh...she is good. She's good." I thought, as she leaned forward over the paper, as if a game of tic-tac-toe was that difficult. Just a hint of a gaze down the front of her dress, to the pale valley between Constance's breasts. A grin, very similar to the look a wolf would have when he got into the chicken coup, crossed my face. She talked a good talk, and she played a good game. Just not the game of tic-tac-toe.

"I have no need to fortify my resolve, Richard, it is strong, just like my libido, how is yours by the way?”

I laughed, it was soft and throaty. It wasn't ment to be condisending or annoying, but it was deep heartfelt humor.

"Oh my. How strong is my libido?" I was incredilious, but my thoughts ran right where she wanted them too. "I'm here with her, and when I'm done spending the night with her, I'll go home to give the ol' wife a little of Richy...and she's questioning my libido?!" Of course, my thoughts weren't expressed to Constance. She didn't need to know just how deep that quip struck me.

So instead I pull the sheet of paper to my side of the table, and make a mark in the bottom right corner of the board, blocking Constance's string of O's.

Actually, I would never block Constance an 'O,' but this is a game and I needs must win! Pushing the paper back across the table to Constance. "So...do you see your plight?"

It was the same voice I used in my business deals, the one that just reeked of 'ask nicely, and I'll use some lubricant before I fuck you.' Usually, it wasn't as literal a meaning as it was right now.

As I spoke I marked the paper quickly, placing a “X” in the bottom right hand square.

 

[prometheus 2]

Hank and Emma

The first kiss had ben important because Hank needed to know if the magic would be there.It had been and had released them to let the rest of the feelings fall into place.

The second kiss affirmed this magic and he knew that from here on there would be a countless number of affirmations. A number of times that this union of mouths, of lips, of tongues, would bring the magic into motion. Into motion that would stimulate other parts of their erotic nature, that would bring to the surface feelings they had never felt before.

Their bodies responded without their consent, their feeling overtook them and carried them beyond their comprehension.

There was no way that Hank could understand this experience as an adult to deal with it logically was impossible. to go about it in an organized sensible manner would be futile.

Emmas' dancing dark eyes and impish grin solved his dilemma, before he even knew it was happening.

"Sit here Hank, please?"

He had heard her say, and the way she said it made him feel very young ans vibrant almost like they were childhood playmates.

It wasn't a command, she wasn't begging. She might as well have said. "Hold my ice cream cone or did you see that red bird over there. The tone of her voice, the feeling she projected would be the same. Just a way of letting him know she was wanting a response. The difference was they were, adults filled with the desire to please each other with adult bodies and adult expressions. The similarity was they could share this in a unconditional and uncompromising way.

He had sat and now when he felt the first soft touch of her mouth on his manhood he shivered in antcipation. Just a whisper of a touch. He smiled wondering if she was teasing him or savoring the newness of him, his taste, his texture. Either way it pleased him, made him feel chosen. That she would choose this way to please him before finding pleasure herself. He moaned out his appreciation and pleasure when her tongue slid down the length of his shaft anointing it with the moistness of
her warm mouth. He moaned again when her small hand wrapped around the base and pulled the skin tight so that she could lick eagerly around and behind the right pink luminous head. He wanted to speak to tell her of his pleasure but not wanting to distract from the tactile sensations he was receiving, brought his hands to her shoulders to thread his fingers through her long dark hair, gently, slowly in time with the movements of her mouth, her lips, her tongue. Her hand had crept between his legs had found and cupped his fleshy hanging sac, her fingers gently caressing its contents. He moaned again and she echoed his enjoyment as she took more of him inside her mouth and eagerly stroked him with her lips.

Hanks hands left her shoulders to encircle her head. He gently tipped her head upward so that she could see his eyes, he looked down at her, her mouth still surrounding his shaft. He answered the queston in her eyes by saying.

"Emma, it's time for me to give you back some of this pleasure you are giving me."

Her head moved back to answer, her mouth releasing him .

"But I'm finding pleasure in pleasing you." she pouted, then giggled.

"I have other ways to please you.' he said and taking her hands in his pulled her upright above him.

Still seated he released her hands and plunged his head forward nestling his face in a sweet nest of pubic hair, drawing in her woman scent.