Pulsing Torment - [The sequel to Salacious Homework]
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by Max Ibach
Category: Erotica/Erotic Romance/Romance
Description: This sequel to Salacious Homework has sufficient narrative force to keep you up long past your usual bedtime. Axle Manheim is a wealthy landowner whose wife has been killed by terrorists. His grief drives him from their ranch home, where he encounters a woman with killer sex appeal. They become entangled in a torrid journey from one bedroom to another all across the United States. After they get to Vancouver the woman slips away in the night, leaving behind a note and eight weeks of carnal memories. All successive liaisons are meaningless until he meets Amy Archer. Seething encounters between these two change the course of both their lives. Their firestorm of pleasure leads them back to his Texas ranch, and a return the terrorists to his life. The more-than-just-a-fling plans of two lovers must be temporarily set aside while their fascinating lives bleed with eye level intensity.
eBook Publisher: Double Dragon Publishing/Double Dragon Publishing, 2010 Double Dragon eBooks
eBookwise Release Date: September 2010
1 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [413 KB]
Reading time: 271-380 min.
I pull in behind her at the motel where I sign for double occupancy. The desk clerk gives us a suspicious look. That's probably because we arrived in separate cars. Key cards in hand, we drive to a back unit at the far corner of the establishment. The parking situation provides a pair of slots adjacent to an entry door. Everyone else was checking out, while we were checking in. We carry minimal luggage up the stairs to our room.
The key card works, even though I think it never will. We enter into the two-bed compartment where Eros awaits. Surely, he will extinguish the fever we feel.
Just inside the room she drops her bag to surge hard against me, before I can get the door closed. Her arms slide around my neck as she stands on tiptoe to laminate us forcibly together. The room whirls a little as the drama-rama begins. Amid the clinch and flurry of groping hands, she turns us so she nudges herself backward against the door causing it to bang closed blocking both entry or exit. A mutual sigh escapes us at the same time. The sound from me is garnered by the satisfaction of being alone with her at last. We are away from the prying eyes of the outside world. The thought makes my teeth chatter. My breath comes in labored gasps, as though I'm oxygen deficient.
The knowledge she is here to give herself to me is overpowering. Hypoxia is only seconds away. The symptom is affecting my decision-making process. Here I am in a motel room with a spectacular woman I don't even know, but am about to. I'm so out of control I can't decide which bed to use. We luxuriate in tonsil hockey while writhing against the door.
Perverse desires devour us before we break for air. Then our clothes fly in every direction. The impassioned kiss has produced a white-hot heat in us that deletes all conscious thought. We launch ourselves toward nakedness, as though our clothes are aflame and we need full exposure to save our lives. In the interest of speed we undress ourselves.
I quickly discover why her fiancee will want her back. She has wow-worthy physical traits sufficient to make any man traverse all manner of natural or unnatural barriers to find her. The undressing is accomplished in short order, but we cheat. By design I retain my supporter and she her thong.
For me to do otherwise might discourage further contact. The appearance of Chadwick might frighten her until foreplay creates enough delirium to cast aside the desire for restraint. Loretta wears no bra, so when she strips her top my vision is of her marvelous twins. Their nipples are rigid with their areolas fully curdled in desire. Finally, she strips the thong to stand naked before me on improbably tall heels. I visually explore the pleasure-trail leading downward to an improbable hollow between prominent hipbones.
Her erect clit stands fully functional at the top of her pubic crease. She is totally bare below. The aesthetician that performed her de rigueur muff-cut allowed only the remnant of a small heart shaped thatch near the top of her cleft. What pubic hair remains is the color of young corn silk.
Not wanting to risk scaring her off, I retain the supporter as I move to sit on the edge of the nearest bed. If she is disappointed by jockstrap retention she makes no sound of opposition. Once seated, my lips explore her while she stands in a proud posture between my well spread knees. I hold her with trembling hands by her narrow waist before pulling her closer for better access. When she is properly positioned my worshipful mouth snuggles onto the cone of a marvelous breast.
The initial touch creates a sexual mini-crisis for her. While my tongue savages the nipple, her hands hold my head to guide the effort. The effects are sexilicious. With her face looking down at me she fully succumbs to an artfully applied foreplay.
The tender strokes were taught to me by professionals. I glance up to find the same vixenish veiled look of 30 minutes ago arrested on her pretty face. My joy may be short lived once she discovers the shocking size of my monster cock. Being inexperienced, the way she claims, Chadwick will surely frighten her. Perhaps then our glorious mood will collapse.
I've lived this stressful social situation countless times before. The experienced ones reach for Chad, the others snatched up their clothes and bolt for the door. Will she be frightened, or will she pause to consider the challenge of such an implement? If she stays, I know she won't be returning to the CPA anytime soon. My oral project quickly results in her throwing her head back.
She wails, "Dear merciful God."
Her reaction to fire starter friction causes me to utter a desperate moan of my own. My sounds add to her pleasure, because she draws me closer. Everything about this creature is irresistibly seductive. When both her nipples have assumed the hardness factor of tool steel she issues the dreaded order.
"Trade places; now it's my turn."
The comment further stirs my passion, but I fear her next reaction. I stand; she sits. What will happen when she strips aside the supporter, and Chadwick leaps forth to display his powerfully engorged presence? The sight of his substantial form will probably end a certifiably sensual moment. So far, listening to her bedroom serenade has alerted every dirty desire in me. I lean down and capture her lips, as she is about to discover the contents of the supporter pouch.
"Time to confirm your pendant reading," she whispers hoarsely.
She positions me astride her lovely legs that are held tightly together. She grips the waistband of my jock and pulls it down. My cock explodes from confinement causing her to gasp. There is an extended pause. I forget to breathe, as she evaluates the situation. Her hands abandon the waistband that is lodged firmly behind my scrotum. There is a look of awe on her face, as she slides her hands up to touch the forbidding phallus. Her hands perform a gesture of decadence, as I notice her abs tighten in speculation.
At last, she murmurs, "Somebody mis-measured. What you have here requires a handler, and maybe even a license. Your equipment will create a near mortal wound in me." There is another pause. "What we have here is every woman's lifelong fantasy."
"Are you at all interested?" I whimper.
The next several seconds are crucial. She claims to be a seldom-bedded woman. If that's true, then the current visual must give her cause to reconsider. The evaluation that follows will end in a decision to either continue or desist. Even Ursula had hesitated the first time before venturing forth to become addicted. Of the women who've seen Chad, some chose to be mortified and leave. I suspect Loretta may be one of those. Others followed the moment of revelation with transformation intercourse. I pray that will be our fate. Loretta sits holding my cock in one hand with my scrotum in the other while barely breathing. Finally, she looks up to smile ruefully before addressing our situation.
"Don't be silly. I'm engaged in every woman's to-die-for moment of discovery. Holding a cock this big makes me want to whimper. The sight has created a treadmill of desire in me. I feel thankful that you knew something about corroded battery cables." Her smile becomes more certain. "Do you want me to kneel in supplication, or just fall down with my legs spread? I'm willing to do either or both."
"Are you sure?" I ask, as I gaze into her lovely eyes.
Her look tells me we have found common ground, and that she is about to fulfill a lifelong ambition. I disengage before moving to the door where I hang a do not disturb sign on the outer doorknob. The door clicks shut before I place the inner security lock in place. After that, I resume a stance that provides her total access.
"Are you sure about this?" I ask again, as I renew conversational habits. "Once you begin, I won't be able to stop."
"You'll be able to stop after an orgasm...or two...or three, won't you?" she says, in a breathy whisper, while reviewing the thick ruthless cock-head before her.
Her response rekindles the memory of a certain tightness as Chadwick assumes the rigidly of a porcelain water fixture. Her lack of fear arouses a suspicion in me. I believe she has not been entirely truthful concerning her experience level. The enduring characteristics of an inexperienced, semi-virginal woman would seem to warrant fear of a larger than normal male mechanism. I sense she's more experienced than I have been led to believe. On the other hand, maybe she is involved in the mindless pursuit of sexual discomfort.
While she stares up into my eyes, she offers the ultimate decadent gesture. She presents her lovely mouth for a personal exploration. Her saucy, generous lips have been my fantasy since I first saw them. Now they draw me in with a slow dedicated plunge. Initial entry consumes as much of Chad as is possible for her to take. The thick head snubs against the back of her throat. She makes a noise like a cough before stroking in and out. Experience indicates that about four and a half inches can be inserted in a woman's mouth, unless she is a remarkably able cock tender. Since there are not many Coke-can thick cocks around, she would have trouble practicing what she is about to perform.
My cock-head again pummels the back of her throat. Once more there is the cough sound. I consider the composition of Chad lodged in her face. The sight creates a visual I am thoroughly in love with. It's the ultimate desire of every horny man to have a beautiful woman sucking his dick.
I return to reality with the certain knowledge I am in the hands of a master fellatrix. One of her hands extends her lip line by the length of an enclosed fist while the other revolves my testicles. Her oscillating head movements indicate she's done this before, and often. The results are immediate.
She snubs Chad against the entrance to her throat again with no gag reflex this time. Her actions remove me from my in-control condition. Being in control has been replaced by a feeling of sexual anxiety. Her sizzling sucks send me racing toward utopia. I stand with my back arched away from her while she tends my goods. For the next 60 seconds nothing in the room is a distraction while I bask in the warm, wet heat of her willing mouth.
Loretta awards satiny caresses that bring on a rush of desire to further our moral decay. While she performs her magical art, I develop new language skills. My hands grip her shoulders as I execute long smooth thrusts aligned with a vocabulary reduced to single syllable words. I'm unable to suppress the uncontrolled sounds that emerge from my throat. Her ministrations hold the right balance between butterflies and devotion. Cock tending provides a suitable first contact for her to dance around. As things are, she wields the ultimate feminine influence.
Women long ago discovered an ability to capture a man mind, body, and soul through the ancient art of fellatio. My frenzy quotient is quickly established by her performance. While she rages around me, I consider her devotion to the ancient art. The fact she knew what my nine-to-the-third-power pendant meant indicates an experience level no prospective young bride would know. Or maybe she's a natural, like a great running back is a natural. Her fiancee apparently doesn't have a worthy cock, and so she had found him lacking.
With the CPA unable to hurdle the first hedge for his prospective bride she had set about obtaining both a second and now third opinion. She encountered a cock of fantasy with her second try, but the guy either wasn't interested or was already spoken for. I wonder why any man would lack interest in claiming this beautiful creature with her marvelous talent. With his rejection she set about prosecuting further transgressions. Could it be she saw my pendant in the restaurant before she saw anything else? That would have made the conversational decision for her.
And so here I stand in a strange motel becoming number three on a growing list of seductions. I glance down at her engaged in the ultimate heat of seduction. With my last burst of mental coherency I surmise she can't be a day over 26.
She revolves the kids with a practiced hand that develops brilliance in an imploring fashion. Her mouth is invasive in a manner I would not have imagined for a woman of her age. When my chaos meter indicates an advancing ejaculation she withdraws. While I tremble with urgency, she leans back on her elbows to admire her handiwork.
She announces, in a muted voice, "Now you know my sinful secret: I dearly love giving head, as you will soon discover."
"Why?" I moan. "Most women even hate the word fellatio."
My comment is delivered in a wailing moan, while I grip Chad hard to stave off climax. I want to deny further conversation, so she will continue my erotic pleasure. Before she takes the next dive, she will make conversation until I recover.
"Because it allows me to control you so completely you will become my willing slave."
Her admonition is issued as the ultimate testament to her knowledge of oral gratification. She gives a subtle moan before resuming additional torment. The harmonic vibration of humming while I'm inside her face thrills me to the core. Following the hum, she ceases torment again. There is another period of discussing what will happen to Chad next. Her comments are nearly as pleasurable as when she is suckling my cock. Her utterances continue for a while. When the convo concludes she resumes cock tending in her most pleasurable manner. The thrill of her ability furnishes the idea that Tom has taught her well. Within seconds of that association I reconsider; he didn't teach this one anything, nobody did. She was born with the knowledge. That's how she won a ring and a promise.
"Hm," she intones again, while fully involved. I lunge into her with total obsession for the task at hand. Before I can achieve termination she disengages, leans back again, and looks up at me. "Now we've come to the part of the program where I fall down with my legs spread. I want that big bastard inside me for a quick fix. Later I'll give you what you crave."
I lift her upright by her shoulders before scooping her up. We move to the head of the bed. My need blocks out everything in the room except her. I turn us to our left, leaning forward. She uses a flailing arm to bare the sheets. The edge of the spread sails past the foot of the bed. I lay her at an angle across the mattress with more than coitus in mind. By now we both have a mental fixation on what should occur next. I look down at a praise-worthy woman from a much-preferred gene pool. My God, she is lovely. For my next act I go in search of the personal lube in my small carry-in bag. She lies supine and alert.
"Hurry," she begs, in a persuasive voice.
From the midst of a raging testosterone attack, I offer assurance.
"Don't move. I'm not going anywhere, but back to you."
From past experience I know personal lube will be required for penetration in someone her size. I enter the bathroom, slick myself down with balm, toss the tube onto a sink counter, wipe my hands on a towel, then drag two more towels from a wall rack before returning to the penetration site. She watches my approach
"Finish my fantasy for me."
The request is issued in a soft voice from a sitting position with her arms outstretched. I kneel inside them between her legs where the cycle of passion renews. Following a slow penetrating kiss, I suckle both her breasts. She lies back while I flutter kiss my way south along her body. The roving contact covers the entirety of her superb torso. My caresses continue until she is seethingly hot, hot, hot. Only now is she ready for penetration. She arches, and makes a gasping comment as my tongue licks her clit.
"I hope your big boy won't be too disappointed," she moans, in anticipation.
I slide down between her legs kissing everything that suffers kiss hunger. As I move over her, the pendant drags along her slender body offering a hint of the seismic event to come. While I tour her treasures I have the stupid thought. It's been so long, what if I've forgotten how to satisfy a woman? My mind poses an unuttered longing. I am about to become a sexual participant only by dint of good fortune.
With that thought guiding me my adoration level multiplies, as my lips drift in search of every tender fold. She is about to become a non room-service meal. I pause at the apex of her Y marveling at what her aesthetician allowed to remain as a formal introduction to her pet. The heart-shaped rendering gives her mons the appearance of a yellow leaf above a shaved peach. My intent becomes fully realized when I produce a pillow, place her feet on my shoulders, and have her lift her hips. The pillow goes beneath her superbly contoured bikini butt. The thick cushion raises her to a more desirable angle.
I mount a strategic nibbling campaign along the inside of both thighs. At the top I kiss my way across her tummy. Finally, I return to her swollen vulva. Her clit is ignored. The fully blossomed projection is allowed only glancing torment in passing. When the periphery of her cunt has been rimmed, full cunnilingus is in order.
My arms encircle her thighs while placing my thumbs in a position to compress inward just above her feverish clit. I nibble the swollen nub above the entrance to her sex. Nibbling allows me to witness every writhing body movement. Her sounds provide me paramount inspiration. Her vocal pronouncements are the sounds of a screamer about to receive a little-known form of introduction.
When the proper amount of delirium has been achieved I push my thumbs inward and upward just above her clit. The enfolded top of her clit rises up to lean back, and allow the tiny inner fond to spring forth. I begin to suckle the small angel hair like figure towering alertly before me. Her reaction to the caress indicates nobody has unveiled her clit before.
The squeal of, "Oh God," relates total sexual intoxication.
Her gasping scream conveys unendurable sexual suffering. I would need a gibberish translator to understand what she is cawing at me. Although I understand not a word, the meaning is clear. Her vocabulary may be unintelligible, but it carries all the attendant knowledge of a soul-searing ignition somewhere within her. Her body suffers through four raging orgasms before thrashing out of my grasp. She rolls away where she comes to rest on her side with her legs pulled into a fetal position. Both her hands cover her treasure while she bucks against them, and moans hysterically. Her sounds serve as an appreciation of what has happened to her.
Weeping cries of adulation are added to her knowledge of cocks. We have yet to achieve intercourse, but already she is in the throws of sexual hysteria. I roll her back toward me. She comes without resistance. I offer continued attention, but her tiny fond has returned to its hidden position. With the storm of orgasmic passion a lingering memory I seek further oral contact.
Taste bud stimulation produces renewed protestations, but the denials are halfhearted as she welcomes the consequence of additional rapture to follow. She lies limp, but her hands hold my head in an attempt to ward off further oral contact. The effort is less than ardent. Her legs have resumed their place atop my shoulders. From that posture she begins to sob softly. I rise up to find tears streaming down her temples into her ears.
"What's the matter?" I ask, afraid I might have injured her in some fashion.
"That's the way the first time was supposed to be, but wasn't," she wails, as she turns her head to the side.
More sobs follow. I brush her tears away, while wondering if she will decline further contact. Without additional conversation I return to nuzzling the entrance to her pussy. This time I show compassion by not summonsing the five-legged Genie from its burrow. The tiny appendage remains stowed, and yet the slightest application of tongue anywhere near its hiding place produces a cry of hysterical pleasure. Her head and neck are arched up off the bed. While she watches my effort she holds my head in place. Her grip is as though fearing I might escape.
Her abs form a wide ridge of muscle at eye level while she strains in pursuit of my next offering. From deep inside her a voice arises with the same concert of gibberish I spoke in wild satirical riffs short minutes before. Her body is frozen in an urgent arc of desire with me at the apex. Her legs are fully extended with pointed toes as though she is performing a splits maneuver around her pleasure center.