Venetian Encounter - Closed for Cowgirlhat

[LiteTouch10]

Venetian Encounter

James Maxwell – Max to his friends, looked out of the hotel window taking in the exotic setting of Venice-a collection of ancient buidlings, tall spires, palaces and canals. It was dusk. The scene was mysterious, romantic, exactly what he had hoped for. Buildings bathed in the warn evening glow of the setting sun, and flickering lights were reflected in the darkening waters of the Grand Canal below. Boats with a few early season tourists chugged by weaving between the black gondolas whose gondaliers called out for trade, or carried passengers out for their romantic trysts. He felt a stirr of excitment and anticipation. This was it, just as he had imagined. He had escaped the pressures of being a successful international writer and the demanding London scene for a few weeks and intended to make the most of it.

Max was here for new material and wanted personal experiences as a basis for his next undercover novel. The other James Maxwell who wrote hot, hard edged erotica under the name of Dick Hardcock. He had heard that Venice was quite a place behind those shutters and closed doors-a place where anything and everything could be discovered. A heady mix of ancient rites and ceremonies, secret societies and ‘all earthly delights’ as a friend had put it, could be found if you knew where to go. Anything from a kinky body massage to dark and dangerous practices that made even his own erotic writing seem tame titillation. Yes Max was on a mission. No stranger to the world of exotic sex, now he wanted to dig deep,as deep as he could go.

He stretched his lithe 6’2” frame, brushed fingers through his light brown hair and his blue eyes glinted in anticipation. Draining his glass of champagne he chuckled, pocketed his hotel key and wallet, then headed for the lobby. ‘Venice and all earthly delights’ he muttered under his breath, ‘here I come.’

When he stepped out into the weaving tangle of narrow passages and streets he realised it was now dark. Night had fallen. He only spoke a word or two of Italian, but his friend had given him the address of a district down by an old canal where the bars were busy and with the right word and introduction, he should be able to find some exciting night-life. But it wasn’t as easy as he thought. Everything was strange, one shadow of a building soon looked like another, one flickering street corner light much the same, and the more he walked, the more lost he became. And the lanes were narrower, darker too, the noise of tourist venice now far away. And then it happened.

Turning a corner, there were three of them waiting in the doorway of an apartment building. He sensed the danger, but it was to late to turn and run. The attack was swift, no words spoken, one struck from behind, a glancing blow to the head and he was down. Another kneeled, a knee on his chest while hands expertly searched. Then a kick in the ribs for good measure and they faded silently into the night. Welcom to Venice Mr Maxwell.......No money, no passport, no hotel key. Fuck. His friend had warned him of the lightening attacks. But now he sat crumpled in the doorway of what looked like a smart apartment block, his head bleeding from the blow, his ribs ached, his fashionable casual wear torn and soiled. Yes, he was fucked, and he didn’t know what the heck to do.

 

[Cowgurlhat]

Little did Max know how close his apparent savior would be, and that she could also be a key to the deeper secrets of Venice. Genevieve Albero, the middle daughter of three, living just a stone's throw away from her parents, was returning home from her day of working at the market. She knew they lived on the more dangerous side of Venice, but she knew how to fight back if ever it was needed. Keeping her head up high and her eyes straight, she walked forward with purpose, an arm securing her purse to her side.

Rounding the corner, she noticed something odd... there was a figure laying right across the door of her apartment building. From here, she couldn't exactly see why he was laying there, but she could see he was a tourist. A drunkard losing his way to the hotel, perhaps? Well, she knew just how to fix that. " Va bene, alzati, questo non è posto per voi!" she shouted to him, hoping to startle him enough into moving on. Seeing very little reaction, she stepped closer and repeated, "Alzati!"

Shaking her head, she stepped around him, intent on just going inside anyways, when she noticed the blood and torn clothes. Genevieve froze with a gasp before speaking rapidly in Italian, kneeling down next to him and shaking his shoulders. She gently cupped his head and rose it from the ground, tilting it to look into his eyes. They were beautiful and blue, exotic to her, and just as enchanting... who was this man?

 

[LiteTouch10]

He just slumped there in the dark shadows trying to come to terms with what had happened. His head pounded and his ribs hurt. One minute he had been full of excitement at the thought of exotic adventures, and the next he had been attacked, mugged, violently assaulted and dumped in a doorway somewhere in the dark alleys of a strange foreign city. And from what he could work out, the place was shitty, the wall smelt of piss and the stone steps were cold.

He hadn’t heard her approach. Maybe the clicking of heels had stirred him, that he didn't really know, or care. Then someone was standing over him and there was a stream of angry female Italian. He didn’t understand, in fact he didn’t care a shit.......to hell with the bloody place, he just wanted out, wanted his hotel, a warm bath to relax in, a stiff drink and............Damn.

The voice had stopped, he was aware of a woman kneeling beside him, he caught a slight drift of scent...exotic, sensual, light but.....Her voice had softened, she was just a shadow, long hair cascading down, brushing his cheek. Then delicate but strong hands gripped his shoulders, for a moment he braced himself ready to respond-even attack. But the grip turned to more of a caress as she cupped his face, and dark eyes met blue.

“I’m sorry, I have been mugged, help me please..........ouch.” The words were mumbled, and the last flinching sound was more a groan. He had tried to stand, then felt a stab of pain in the side, his head pounded and he leaned against the wall trying to regain some sort of composure. Max was fit, he kept himself in good condition, usually a thump or two, a hard tumble or fall when ski-ing was nothing. But this was different. The surprise, and now the dilemma had left him winded, uncertain. He took a deep breath, straightened, focused on the girl, and tried an ironic smile. “I’m sorry.......stupid of me.......muy stupido, non parlo...italiano...englese. Thank you........er esta Taxi a la hotel?” He felt for his wallet, it was gone, of course............they had mugged him, and damn, his hotel key too.........what the heck.........what bloody hotel, he couldn’t remember the name even. Grand???? Oh God.

The light from the door caught her face, she was beautiful. Dark eyes, her face framed in dark hair, her full lips. Even in his state Max could respond to a sensual woman. He was breathing easier..........heck, no good staring at her, he would have to make a move away, get himself fixed. Another time, he would have wanted to know more, maybe make a pass, invite her for a drink. He smiled again, a little easier this time. Maybe she had a telephone.........for what he didn’t know. ‘telephone please?’ He tried to take a step, then felt his head spin, putting his hand to his face he could feel it wet, sticky, he was bleeding. He grinned ruefully at her...’this is a fucking mess eh, I’m sorry signorina, god you look sexy’ and with that,, he sat down on the step, looked up at her to clear his head. “Que sera sera” he tried to say with a shrug. He realised he was looking at her legs, nice slim, elegant legs that seemed to slink upwards to round full hips. Max realised he was as happy here just looking at her as doing anything else just now. Hello Venice......’I’m Max.hello, James Maxwell...could you help me a bit please’ he didnt realise he had even said it, but something told him it was the right thing to say. Those legs were......Hello Venice, maybe it’s not so bad after all he thought.

 

[Cowgurlhat]

"Ah, Englese," she repeated softly, helping him sit up so she could further examine him. "I speak English," she then confirmed, though with a strong accent. "You have been mugged? Did you see them?" Looking at his overall state closer, she firmly shook her head. "No, no taxi, not while you are hurt." It wouldn't do well on her conscious to just send him off to a hospital in some random taxi, not while she could help here.

Though she was getting second doubts as she saw more of him-- slurred words, unfocused eyes, and they never seemed to focus straight on one thing. He seemed to know his own name, which was good. Perhaps he was just winded from the fight? And probably in pain... Now convinced, she drew closer to him. Under the tinny smell of blood, she caught a noseful of a very fresh and clean soap, a welcome change of the overpowering spicy colognes she was used to. She pulled one of his arms over her shoulder, wrapped one of hers around his waist. "Mr. James Maxwell, we must stand now. I will take you to my apartment, but you must stand for me." With more gentle encouragements, she helped him stand and walked the two of them over to the elevator, sliding the wooden door down into place before pressing the button for her floor.

Walking back to the end wall, she leaned him up against it, gently clashing her hands to his face again. "Mr. James Maxwell, my name is Genevieve Albero. Do you know which hotel you are staying at? Where are you from?" On and on the questions came, prompting the man to stay awake and coherent during the ride up. Once her floor was reached, she opened the door before returning to him, putting their arms back around each other. "Come now, my apartment is close, and I will let you rest in there."

Inside the apartment looked more spacious with strategically placed furniture. She led him into her bedroom, where she knew it was comfortable and she could keep an eye on him. "Come James, you can rest here. You are safe now," she encouraged, sitting him down on her bed and laying him back. As she adjusted his legs to make him more comfortable, she toed out of her heels and set her purse on the dresser, collecting a first aid kit and a pair of towels from the adjacent bathroom before returning to him. One towel went under his head, protecting her pillow from his blood and the rubbing alcohol that would soon treat his wound.

 

[LiteTouch10]

It was a voice he would have chosen for one of his characters. It was a voice he could imagine talking of love, talking of sex, talking dark and dirty. It was sensual, husky and light at the same time. It flowed and eased, but seduced too. And now she was close, so very close.

Somehow it was unreal, being taken, held, guided by the arms of a stranger. And yet there was an intimacy too. As yet unspoken, but strong, even tense, an air of expectation that it would happen, in whatever way, it was inevitable. Their bodies would entwine, taking their hunger, satisfying strong and dark. She was a woman he already felt a thrill for-but knew nothing. A woman whose body had come close, pressed against him as she steered him into the lift, and was now stretching him out on a bed. Her touch, her voice, the soft look of concern, and now as she eased him down onto the bed, from the look of it her bed, he felt a full breast press against his arm, again he caught that drift of perfume. Yet at the same time he was still dazed, his head pounded, he felt he was floating, not quite connecting with reality, part drugged, part bewildered. Usually he was in control, a decisive together sort of guy, but for now he felt completely out of it. And yet he didn’t care, in fact he rather liked it.

When she returned with the towels, he watched her cross the room and tried to sit up. He watched the way she glided silently over the carpet towards him. The light from the bathroom framed her, framed the way she moved. He could see the outline of curves, the fall of her hair, the whole situation had a sensual voluptuous feel. If his head wasn’t pounding so much they could have been an intimate couple preparing for.......... Blue eyes held dark, there was no need to speak...it would happen.

‘Ouch’ he grunted flinching from a stab of pain in his side and fell back on the pillow looking up at her. ‘My ribs, I think they’re bruised’ And then she was leaning over him, placing a towel under his head, her breasts just inches from his chest. He tried not to look down, look and see the shadow of cleavage from two full lush breasts. ‘I feel such a fool, thank you for helping me Genevieve.....that's such a lovely name- it suits you........Ouch.....I’ll pay you back when I get to the hotel..............’ His voice tailed off as he felt the touch of her hand on his head, he liked that. Then he groaned....’damn......I can’t remember the name of the hotel.’ He wanted a drink, his head still ached, he wanted to sit up, smile and look at her, thank her, for underneath all the hassle, he was realising that what he really wanted was........ he wanted more of her.

 

[Cowgurlhat]

Sometime in between her bringing this stranger into the apartment building, and returning to his prone figure with towels in hand, the look on his face changed. Oh yes, he was grateful, that she could see. But there was a yearning, and a hidden, deeper level of lust that she could see. She was familiar with such a look, but was perplexed as to why it would be on this man now. Did he truly find her attractive? She had no makeup on, nor some of her more extravagant clothes! How could he?

In between gasps of pain, he complimented her name and thanked her profusely. While she blushed for the former, she scoffed at the second. "It is nothing, I simply couldn't leave you like this, you poor man. Do not even remember your hotel... lost, and now hurt..." She tended to the wound on his head first, encouraging him to lay still by placing her hand on his chest, the slow thudding of his heart pressing against her palm. "Surely there is someone you can call on, back at this hotel?"

While she didn't know what to do for bruised ribs, she still wanted to check him further to see if anything else on him was injured, and his pride wouldn't allow him to tell her. Expecting a fight, she tugged up his shirt, looked at his stomach and ribs... and nearly started drooling right there. "Dio mio!" Genevieve softly moaned, her insides growing weak. She could enjoy the looks of a nice and well formed young man, but an older gentleman of experience trumped that. An older gentleman with experience and a great body on top of that? This James Maxwell had to be a gift from God to ease her suffering of too long without sex!

And that instantly brought some of her favorite books from her smut collection up. An attractive and helpless tourist, being rescued by an equally attractive local who takes the tourist to their apartment for a night of "healing"? It sounded like the beginning of the next dirty plot for a Dick Hardcock novel. Her mind fixed to a single track as her palms slid up his body, under his shirt, which soon bunched up around her elbows. "Do you hurt anywhere else?" she asked, keeping her cover up. Leaving it collected up on his lovely pecs, she slid her hands back down and stopping just shy of the waistband of his pants, bringing herself closer while staring at his body. "Where do you ache?" Genevieve purred, channeling her inner Dick Hardcock heroine.

The skin over his ribs did look angry and red, starting to color a darker shade in the center. Poor, sexy man, she whispered in Italian, leaning over him to press a couple of feather soft kisses to his injury. She straightened and pinned him with an inquisitive look, waiting oh-so-innocently for an answer.

 

[LiteTouch10]

Her hands on his body, the touch of fingers, more a caress than a medical examination were electrifying. Was this really happening, was she really stroking him intimately, were her nails just dragging a little over his chest. He hardly dared to move, let alone look at her, for his eyes would have signaled desire, would have signaled a hunger for her to continue, for her to trail over his chest, then down to his ....................damn. Even as he thought it, she seemed to be of the same mind. This was crazy, if he made the move he wanted to, what might happen. He was in a bad spot anyway, and she had been kind to help. Now he feared that if he made a pass at her, reached out and touched her, ran his fingers through her hair, pulled her down, cupped a breast and kissed her, then the tension might be too much. She might take fright- scream, call the cops. Then there would be one heck of a scene as he tried to explain his innocence.
But she was almost tugging at his shirt, there was a sense of her passion if he wasn’t mistaken. And his body responded. Blood hot, pounded and he felt the familiar warm flush and stirring of his cock. Geeze, he was getting a hard-on. He tried to relax, tried to stop thinking this way, the way he wanted her to keep touching, keep caressing. Was she so bold? how far would she go? Did she realise the effect she was having on him?

And as she seemed to gently search his bruised ribs, he imagined the feel of her lush body, the fullness of her breasts, the hardening of her nipples between his lips. He was holding his breath, her husky voice speaking. He wanted to trail his fingers over her, feel the silky sheen of her skin, excite her, follow his fingers with his lips, a touch, a kiss, another touch as he slowly explored and aroused her. It seemed they were in a sensual world of unreality....but his feelings were real – his mounting desire was real. And then she kissed him and all he could do was groan....and hiss......'Yessssss. You know where I ache he growled. Don't stop'

 

[Cowgurlhat]

Genevieve had watched as she slowly stroked James, paid attention as every move she did seemed to turn him on more and more. He didn't look at her, however, but kept his eyes closed instead. To keep his head level and in the moment, or to imagine someone else? It took her kissing his sore ribs to note his reactions, a hissed plea to not stop, and a growing bulge in between his legs. "Oh yes, I do know where you ache," she murmured, lowering her body over him again, and gently touching her lips to his side again.

In an effort to keep her balance, she rested her hand on his firm cock.

She smiled, half teasing and half delighted at his reaction to her, before she had to force herself to stop. The poor man had just been mugged, and now here he was in her bed, being happily molested! While comfort was nice, he needed care first. With that thought in mind, she smoothed her hands up his torso, coaxing him into relaxing again. "Shhh, there will be time for that later," she told him as much as she told herself. "Let's heal your wounds, first."

The blow to his head looked a lot worse than it actually was, but he still seemed too dazed to sit up on his own... leftover effects from the fight? Or from her play? Pondering this, she excused herself momentarily to grab a glass of water and an ice pack for his sore ribs. Try as she might, her thoughts didn't stray too far from the bulge in his trousers. It had stayed noticeable, but didn't grow anymore now that she had eased from her teasing. Oh, how it would feel when hard as stone and sliding inside of her... how wet she would be to make that first glide so easy, so delicious!

Shaking her head, she stepped back into the bedroom, setting the newest items on her bedside table before leaning in towards James. Her breasts slid a considerable amount forward in her bra and top, but it was too often an occurrence for her to realize and adjust herself accordingly. "I will help you sit up a little, James," she informed him before she did so, her lithe body pressing up against his. With careful maneuvering, she sat him up enough to slide her own form behind him, relaxing the two again with his head settling right at her breasts, and her legs framing his own. It wasn't intentional, but she wasn't going to exactly stop, now was she. Retrieving a couple of aspirin, she held those and the water up to him, silently asking him to take them.

 

[LiteTouch10]

Eyes locked, blue and brown. Silent but telling everything. There was no need to talk, they knew what game they were playing..if it was a game. Talking about it might break the spell, bring the dullness of normality back. A mugged guy who needed to call the police, find the hotel, phone his bank, thank the girl and leave. But that was not the plot now.....maybe it never had been. They knew where this was leading and their eyes spoke of hunger, pleasure, lust and more. So why talk when their bodies and minds were speaking....except togrowl and moan and say words like....... yes, god yes, more, do it, longer, slower, deeper, harder, fuck..again and again. After all isn’t this why he had come to Venice to find something he craved, some new experiences for Dick Hardcock. This was no longer the stylish, elegant Eton and Oxford educated James Maxwell..This was Hardcock, aroused, feeling the surge of desire in bed with a sinuous, knowing Italian beauty. Hardcock Maxwell being seduced, encouraging her, damn he’d plead if she wanted that and later when he felt he needed to, he’d turn the tables and show her just what pleasure really meant.

He wanted to rise, wrap arms round her, slowly strip her, slowly arouse and explore her with his tounge. He wanted to raise and excite her, hear her moaning, feel her shivering, pleading to cum. He wanted his now thick hard shaft to feel the pleasure of her. Was he in fever, drugged, or just incredibly turned on by it all. He didn’t need answers, he knew how the night would pass.

He could probably have helped more, by shifting position on the bed. But as he would always remember, and write about later, the way she returned, moved him, touched him, pressed feather light kisses on him, then snuggled up against him, was one of the most erotic seductions he had ever enjoyed. He was rampant. Damn he still had his trousers on although his chest was bare, she was still clothed, the bra brushing his cheek, but she had sort of manouvered tham so that one hand fell on on the curve of her hip, and the other was free. He could feel her own tension as she offered the asprin. He drank swallowed, and smiledhanding the glass back to her. Then after she took it, he trailed a finger over her lips, glided it slowly down her neck, down the valley of her breasts, paused and then cupped her breast with his palm. It was full, soft, warm. The feel of her was like a sigh, as if their bodies were yielding, begining to entwine, beginning to want more. And they both knew where this was leading.
He squeezed her breast harder and slid his other hand over her tummy pressing gently, he lay quietly holding her like this, letting the heat and desire build. There was no need to speak, no need to rush, this was going to take some time, they wanted it bad, but thay wanted it good.

His clothes felt tight, constraining, he wanted to strip them both

 

[Cowgurlhat]

Genevieve paused in the process of picking up the ice pack, feeling one of his fingers press against her lips, down her neck and chest, before cupping a full breast. She watched his hand as it played with her body, easily making it respond to his touch. The stretch of visible skin broke out in goosebumps while her nipples budded, slowly peeking up through her top. Her legs shifted as she started to feel herself grow damp in between her thighs, the slow seduction developing between the two of them beginning to affect her as well.

A firmer squeeze to her soft flesh made her softly moan and arch into the touch, a cat happy to suddenly receive attention. His other hand rested low on her stomach; it was clear he wanted to touch her. While she was a woman through and through, she pushed down the urge to lay flat below him, wriggle out of her clothes and beg to be filled. No, to quote one of her more interesting friends, having sex was like cooking: it was best to let some things simmer.

Her own hands went into action, trailing feather light touches over his body while avoiding his more noticeable area. She traced the line of his biceps, smoothed over his strong shoulders, played down his abs, and shifting to the side to avoid touching his cock again, scratching her nails over his thighs so she could be felt through fabric. Her own legs shifted and repositioned, feet flat on the bed and knees up, her body looking like she could readily accept if he turned over and grind himself into her. She cursed the decision to wear slacks instead of a skirt, knowing full well that she would definitely be flashing her panties for him by now.

A hand lazily drifted up to her top, undoing a couple of buttons before sliding over to his hand, tracing down his arm and the lines of the muscles underneath again, leaving him to explore this new discovery however he wished. Finally, her head turned towards him, close enough for her lips to brush against his as she whispered, "Is this what you desire, James? To kiss, taste, feel... take?" Try as he might, she wouldn't close the final distance between their mouths, nor allow him to remove anymore of her clothing, wanting to test how long she could tease before they both had to absolutely have each other.

 

[LiteTouch10]

Her closeness was heady, he was now fully aroused. There was no doubt in his mind, he wanted her, wanted to feel her, explore her, excite her. It was no accident that James Maxwell wrote of Hardcock. He would have been Cassanova in another age, for Max loved all things sensual, food, wine, the arts, but most of all women. To him sex was his drive for everything. And not just simple lust and release. To him sex was an art form, from the gentlest caress to deep dark almost depraved erotic couplings he was a master of the art. And to him the highest experience of all was the trembling, moaning cry of delight as a woman reached her orgasm. As she felt her mind and body transcend everything, floating on shivering sensations she could not control- just letting herself go in greedy hunger and release again and again.

This would be Genevieve’s reward, and his to. To fuck and share letting their bodies give and take. As she whispered he slid his lower hand over her mound and squeezed, at the same time pinching a nipple. Then he trailed his lips from hers giving little nips up her neck to just below her ear and began to whisper in reply.

As he whispered, he slowly squeezed and released her mound in a slow rhythm. And at the same time, trailed his fingers sensually over her skin, the skin she had revealed. And he whispered the words of Dick Hardcock. Not crude or raw, but building a picture of what he wanted to do with her, telling her how he wanted her slowly undressed, how he wanted to trace his mouth over her body, how he would play her with his fingers, how he wanted her to unzip his pants and feel his shaft, how he wanted them naked, touching, feeling, discovering. Not in greedy haste, but slow and sensually. How he wanted to eat her, so she would cum before he fucked her, when she would cum again.

His voice was a quiet growl, he spoke slowly, let his hands trace her clothed body, felt her respond, and touched her again. Without being able to move, he was making love to her, his fingers teased, and he continued to squeeze her mound pressing down on her pussy. He knew she would be wet.

His voice was hypnotic........'help us get undressed' he said, then kissed her full and hard on the mouth. The kiss of lovers, the kiss of sex, his tongue probed and swirled over hers. She would feel it was time.

 

[Cowgurlhat]

The first touch of his hand over her clothed mound made her gasp sensually into his ear. Paired with a squirm as he pinched her nipple, she was now starting to feel completely turned on around this man. His words, spoken in a dark husk of male virility, spun a sinful delight of a picture that would have kept her writing on her bed for hours, her hand between her legs and her body bathed with sweat and a fiery arousal. This man wanted to take her slowly, completely, and not leave any doubt in her mind as how he could fill and excite her, make her crave more. She arched her hips into his hand with every squeeze, moaning into their kiss as she grew wet for him.

She finished removing his shirt before starting on her own, undoing the rest of the buttons of her blouse before tossing it off to the side. Her bra, a blue demi cup with black lace covering it, was loosened shortly after, removed while sensually shifting her breasts up to his touch, giving him a greater handful of flesh as it was unveiled. Letting it drop over the side, she then removed his hands from her body-- though she didn't want his warm hand to leave her aching pussy-- and pressed hers fully against him. "Come, show me," she softly requested, letting his hands cover hers as they slid down his waist, the two of them working together to unsnap his pants and slowly, so slowly, slide the zipper down his aching shaft. Sliding them against his fingers, her own eased his pants down enough to hook her thumbs over his boxers. Those slid down his legs as he arched his hips enough to remove them. She did the same, sliding them forward so she could keep pushing his clothes down, leaving them around his knees.

What she saw made her mouth water and her gut clench, as if she could already feel him inside her. It took both her hands to explore him, one busied with his fully aroused cock while the other cupped and hefted his balls. Of course, she had to prompt his hands into staying on her own, letting him show her what he liked. "You ache here, yes?" Genevieve teased, breathing into his ear before taking a lobe in her teeth. "Does this feel better?" she continued, thumb brushing over the sensitive head.

She kept stroking him for a few more minutes until she stopped, smoothing their hands down to his waist and completely off his hardness. She shifted in her seat, set to more stability on her end, before taking his hands in her own once again, directing his movements as she them on her knees, pulling so they'd slide up the inside of her thighs and meet on her mound. "Come, let me show you," she invited, manipulating his hands to loosen the top clasps of her slacks, smoothing one over her lower stomach as the second closed over her zipper. It slid down over her mound, but she didn't work to slide it down over her hips. Instead, she moved their hands back up and down the inside of her thong, touching soft skin covered with neatly trimmed hair. She dipped her fingers in, spreading her wet lips apart and inviting his fingers to explore her more intimately.

 

[LiteTouch10]

His head still pounded and every time he moved to touch or stroke there was a sharp stab of pain in his side. Sometimes the shock made him jerk, arch his back with a grunt. But nothing would stop him now..........his cock was engorged, throbbing, its circumcised head gleamed, glistened with the pearls of pre-cum that she had smeared over his fat mushroom head with her teasing knowing thumb.

His grunts of pain merged with the growls of pleasure. In a crazy way, the pain helped him control and hold back his urge to just roll her over and bury himself- all thick length of his ridged jerking shaft up to his root grinding hard in greed and lust. No, the rampant Hardcock would take it slow, ease himself along the path of pleasure..and she would have to help. Did she realise that she could play this round entirely the way she wanted it. Did she know that one tap in the ribs would quieten him down, slow his pace, while one stroke, a caress, a feathered kiss could stirr this stallion into a gallop- that is if she was hungry to ride the cowgirl way.

One palm on her breast slowly massaging a nipple, while the other fingers played. It felt so right.......so turned on hot. Two strangers arousing each other...knowing what they wanted, knowing that the other would make the play too. Slowly he fingered her slick moistness feeling the folds of silky flesh, the lips that would part and let his cock enter and slide. He trailed finger tips, pressed sensing her responses, listening to her breath, following and repeating, stroke after slow, teasing stroke. But then he paused, moved finger and thumb and gently pinched her clit, squeezing and tugged it in a slow massaging rhythm. He knew how it would make her shiver, he felt her hips rock on his hand and grind down. “Take your jeans off and sit up here, I want to taste that pussy...like you want me to”. His eyes had a glint, a knowing twinkle. His cock was pole hard and standing, but he wanted to lap her first.

 

[Cowgurlhat]

Her soft, throaty moans filled the room as he cupped and caressed her bare breast while playing gently with her pussy. He was obviously well skilled with pleasing woman, she learned as her clit was pinched just right. Or was it him being so in tune with her that he knew what she wanted before she did? Either way, she knew how this night would end-- with great sex. And it couldn't come too soon!

Her brow arched and she smiled at his sexy command, slowly detangling his hands from her body, sliding out from under his body and helping to lay him back down. Once he was comfortable, she rubbed her breasts against his bare chest and kissed him, sliding her pants around her ankles and stepping delicately out of them. Her black thong was teased off next, slowly and watching his face the entire time. A heeled foot kicked them up onto the bed,a cheeky smile crossing her features all the way. "Open up," she instructed him, striding closer. "It is time for your medicine, Signor James."

Straddling his face as he relaxed on her pillows, she gave a last bright smile before her face was blocked by her slowly approaching pussy. Her heels hooked into the wrought iron headboard and her hands braced her body at an incline, resting on the bed instead of on his body. She noticed how he flinched in pain while she rubbed her hands over him, and felt somewhat guilty that she was sharing sexual activities with him instead of making sure his ribs stopped hurting him. Those thoughts chased from her mind as her sex connected with his lips and tongue,and he started lapping at her juices.

Oh yes... he was good. Very good. Her hips were arching and gently humping his face in no time, as he seemed to devour her wet pussy in so many different ways... even in some she never thought possible, or pleasurable! If she was having this much fun with just his mouth, then how good was he with his cock? Dios mio, she couldn't wait to find out! And speaking of, his poor neglected member was standing quite proudly before her, thick and engorged with his arousal. Pre-cum lined the tip, more starting to slowly drip down as it overflowed. Genevieve simply had to do something about that, having helped him out thus far.

Leaning over to her nightstand, she collected a couple of items, and continued to ride his face as she messed with them. Even though a very pleasurable lick threatened her to drop her newly acquired items, she eventually finished her impromptu project, leaning forward and laying her body on top of his. Her head stretched forward his cock... and watched as she pressed the towel covered ice pack to his hard cock, sliding it from his balls to his crown and back, smiling wickedly in preparation of his reaction.