A Quartet: ...four Short Sexy Stories

Coming Home Early

I was horny as hell, standing on the outside of the door, fitting the key into the lock.

The past week had been spent guest lecturing at Washington University, St. Louis: American Art in the Late 20th Century. Two extra days had been on the schedule, but I had gotten really horny. Oh, there had been opportunities, but I had a brand new bright and shiny boy back home. Elijah was younger than me, but god damn, he was good!... Surprise him, I thought, get home a couple of days early, surprise him. I caught the next flight home. Now, here I am, standing on the outside, fitting the key into the lock, horny as hell.

Inside, closing the door behind me. I was pissed!

The place, MY place was a wreck!... A couple of cases of beer cans and bottles strewn about;

pizza and pop corn boxes. There had obviously had been a party, a hell-of-a-party.

I was pissed.

Elijah emerged -- wide eyed, wild eyed -- from the hallway.

"You can't be here yet!" he said. "... I was gonna clean up before you got here!"

Then he was behind me, reaching around me; then he was licking my neck, sticking his tongue

into my ear. I was still pissed.

He caught my ear lobe between his teeth, tugged on my ear. Licked the juncture of my ear and my neck. He bite my neck where it came out of my shoulders, on both sides.

I was STILL pissed!... And, I was getting wet, I getting horny.

"We can always clean it up," he said.

He caught a mouth full of my hair, breathed warm against the nape of my neck. He caught the hem of my skirt, bunched it up around my waist... Did not touch me, ( except to slip my panties over my hips and down my legs ) He just licked my neck, my ear.... I knew that soon I would be laying on the heavy wooden coffee table (God, I was pissed!... At least I HAD been pissed!) propping myself up on my elbow, the better to watch him, his face, between my spread open thighs. (God, I was horny!) Watching him lick my pussy; me reaching one hand behind his head, pulling him tight against me, my wetness.... Closing my legs tight against his face, capturing him there.... Feeling his tongue searching inside me,

God, he was good!

**_**

Red Wine, Nipples... And No Panties

Nico came to her out in the cork trees.

She, Amelia, was there first. Of course she was there first; her family had owned this

particular montano since before the time of Prince Henry the Navigator, it was home. Millions of bottles of wine had been corked from this grove.

The low lying sun at her back, she watched him materialize from the shadows. She

watched him stop, shift the canvas shoulder bag he carried, watched him study her; she saw his quick smile.

"You still do it to me," he said. Not, 'hello' or 'gee, it's good to see you.' He just said,

'you still do it to me.'

"I hope so," she said. She shifted her foot, turned slightly; knew the fading sun

highlighted her body, She knew her legs were silhouetted inside the sand colored linen skirt. "I hope I still do it to you," she said.

She knew the effect it had had on him; she knew, remembered, the times on the boat

those twenty and more years ago. Remembered the empty coves and the blue water of the

Balearic Islands. The naked swims at dawn. She knew, remembered, the proud hardness of him when he had watched her stand against the light, it turning the ends of her pubic hair red, the skin at the top of her legs translucent. She remembered, those years ago, seeing him change from flaccid to erect; remembered him not being shy about his growing hardness, relishing her attention.

She physically felt his eyes on her, felt the wetness come to her from knowing he was

looking at her, her standing between him and the sun, the beams of light coming between her

legs at the top.

"God, I love to look at you," she heard him say.... I always loved to look at you."

"I know,"she said.

He had walked to within touching distance; added the wine he carried to the collection

already there. She turned, offered a cheek.

"You aren't wearing panties," he said; focused on her eyes for a reaction. It could have been a statement, or.. a question.

"I don't believe I said," she teased him. Then: "... How could you say such a thing?" Her

eyes, the set of her mouth was mischievous; toying with him.

"On the boat," he said. He poured them both tumblers of a Malbec. "On the boat you

never wore panties....Well, almost never."

"When your friend Levi came with us I did; at least that time he brought your sister."

Nico watched her, sipped the wine. His attention shifted, he sipped again.

"You know this wine?" he asked.

"Of course,: she said. "Alentejo.... They are our neighbors."

He dipped a finger into the wine, touched the wetted finger to the corner of her mouth, then licked the red drops from her.

She remembered the countless times she had watched him anoint her nipples,

remembered his mouth on her. Remembered the coming wetness between her legs.

He saw in her eyes the remembering, the days and nights on the boat. "Unbutton your

shirt,"he said.

Her nipples hardened, pushed against the sleeveless blouse. Her eyes dilated. "Later,"

she said. "Maybe later."

He fed her olives. From the days and nights on the boat she remembered the hardness

of him in her mouth. In the fading summer light, under the cork trees, she sucked his fingers.

He poured red wine into the hollow of her throat, licked it from her. She unbuttoned her

blouse.

"There's more Malbec," she told him. "For my belly button."

She loosened the linen skirt at the waist. "I like red wine."

Nico did not say, "... me too." His attention was elsewhere. He was focused on pouring

drops from the newly opened bottle onto her belly, licking it away. He did it several times.

She was not wearing panties.

**_**

Una Distractions di Primo Mattino...( an early morning distraction )

The sweat, his sweat, fell down onto her backside; her face down, face and shoulders buried in the pillows -- her fingers clutching the sheets, tits mashed down into the rumpled fabric.

The slam of his pelvic, his cock, hard against her raised bottom, her ass up in the air -- knees, thighs spread wide apart.

... Slap...

His balls swung against, slapped against the point of her buttocks, the top of her legs.

... Slap...

The perspiration wet his stomach, his chest, his shoulders leaning over her... The sweat

dripping down onto to her.

... Slap...

Testicles smacking against her, against the top of her pussy. She reached a hand back, touched her swollen clitoris. She was aware only of herself, the sensations coursing through her -- and his distended dick driving into her, reaching deep into her.

... Slap...

... And -- the slap of him against her legs, her hips, her pussy.

... Slap...

And then... then the eruption of his cumming deep inside her.

She clawed the sheets, buried her face in the pillows. Her moans, her muted screams heard though out the house, out the open windows, out into the market place.

The nearest vendor, the old woman selling olives and spices smiled a secret smile; remembered when it was she with her spread legs and hips raised in the air, uttering those early morning sounds.

He fell over to the side, rolled her over with him; his sweat covered body pressed against her. "Good morning." he said. Felt his hardness diminish, but not slip out of her.

They both felt their combined wetness ease out of her, around his member still inside her. Not mindful of the wet spot and them both lying in it... Mindful only of the una distractions di primo mattino.

**_**

Meet Me In The Shower

He stood there, the water running over his body and down through the wooden slates of the outdoor shower.

The body was young and black and athletic and sculpted. His cock hanging semi-hard out in front, him running his soapy hand along the length of it and then underneath to cup his balls. His eyes closed, faced turned up into the sun: toward me.

I had gotten a heads-up call two days earlier. "Clair," my friend and the owner of the beach house next door said, told me, "A couple of the guys from Todd's swim team will be at the house this week. We'll be there next weekend. See you then."

She was an attorney in Charleston, not one to chat when there were clients, when there was money to be made. She was like a new big sister.

Eli and I were summer time, weekend, residents; the new kids on the block, so to speak. He was back in The Up State, had patients scheduled all week. The two girls were at summer camp. I had a stack of books to read: the proverbial beach books: South of Broad and so-forth. Houses on our stretch of beach had only a dozen feet between them, they were all three floors high. Our widow's watch deck looked conveniently down onto the walled-in shower of the house next door, Ellie's house. Mostly, in the summer, beach goers washed off the sand at these outdoor showers -- without removing bathing suits: mostly.

Ellie, when she wasn't in Charleston making money and when she knew I was the only one home on our side of the fence, was certainly prone to strip down. A damn fine body for a lady pushing fifty! Sometimes late of an evening her college age kids and their friends might share a mid-night shower, un-mindful of my night vision binoculars! They seemed to have other things on their minds. It was not unusual for me to see naked people in Ellis' shower.

His, my new neighbor's, shower didn't last long enough. He shut off the water, ran the towel over his body with some degree of insouciance, walked into the house. His dangling cock swinging to and fro, bouncing off his muscled thighs. Left me with a wet and throbbing pussy.

Reading was no help. Pat Conroy hit the floor, even Melanie George didn't do it for me.

Fabio, my usually reliable silver bullet dildo, was scant help; left me wet and trembling, but not satisfied.

I timed myself, could not stay away from the overlooking window for more than three minutes, checking to see if he, my new next door neighbor, had made another appearance. Mid-afternoon: he materialized. The cold surface of an ice-filled glass of Ginger Ale ran along the insides of my naked thighs without my knowing that I was even doing it. I had not checked for maybe two minutes, went to the window and there he was: on the chaise, a stack of text books close at hand. The heat of the afternoon sun struck him directly between spread legs, warmed his crotch.

Warmed mine too! I said to myself.

His books were cast aside. '... his intentions are better than his resolve!' I thought. The

strong hands with long fingers grasped and squeezed a turgid cock through the smooth fabric of his shorts.

'I can relate,'I whispered to him. '... horny too!'

Binoculars in hand I headed out onto the widow's watch deck, looked directly down onto this fine specimen of a young male body. Sweat beads stood out like diamonds. The leisurely squeezing and relaxing of long fingers filled the field-of-view: the juncture of legs and torso.

Strong black legs. The eyes were closed, when I checked. (Close as I was, the image I saw did not reach both face and cock/hands at the same time.) The lips were slightly pursed, showing the tip of tongue and incredibly white teeth. Wet had focused itself between my legs. The hand and long fingers that were the focus of my attention moved with more intensity. He was going to cum!... Me watching, watching him cum.

'Oh, god!... don't waste it!' I wanted to shout out. I'll be right there!'

But I didn't. Didn't go right there, didn't shout out. He wouldn't have heard me anyway.

Sounds of the Buena Vista Social Club filled his space through the ear-phones. Without, it seemed, his hand making any overt move, the head of his cock appeared. The quintessential diamond at the very tip. A finger appeared, lifted the drop of nectar, moved to his mouth (my fixed stare through the glasses following the movement) to the tongue licking the finger. Sucking the finger into his mouth.

Then: he was looking directly at me! His brown eyes coming through the lens directly into mine.

"Meet me in the shower," the words formed on his lips. I couldn't hear them. I didn't need to. I knew what they said. "Meet me in the shower."

His eyes looked directly at me.

There is no recollection, in the recesses of my mind, of me getting down three flights of

stairs and across the space between the houses. It is just that suddenly I was there. He was in

the shower, the water already running. Running down the hardness of his shoulders and torso,

his mid-rift. Running over the cream colored silk running shorts, dripping off the head of his cock protruding from the leg on the left side.

He clutched the tail of my white cotton shirt just at front of my cunt, lifted it... the buttoned tail of my shirt... exposed the red hair that covered my slightly protruding mound.

"I never fucked a white woman," he said. "Todd told me you were a fox... said you would be watching.... We won't tell him I fucked you, fucked a white woman."

He did. He fucked me. With his black cock he fucked me. He sucked me, sucked my pussy.

Stuck his tongue deep inside me and sucked on my pussy... Fucked me again..He put fingers in my ass while he fucked me, rubbed the hardness of his cock in my cunt through the membrane that separated the two. He filled my mouth with cum, me unable to take all of his length.

"I never fucked an older woman," he said. "I always wanted to fuck an older woman."

We swam naked at mid-night. He licked my wet, dripping cunt on the beach. We danced to slow and old and dirty blues music that he had: us both with just a shirt on. His cock exposed between his legs, my pussy hair showing. He poured expensive red wine onto my belly, licked it out of my navel. We grilled breakfast outdoors, him wearing only a running singlet, my tits jiggling in the morning sunlight. Me not feeling especially old at forty-six!

I rode him like a cowgirl at her first rodeo. I sat on his face, watched him work his tongue the length of my pussy; starting at the hole of my ass, finishing the stroke at my clit... sucking it in between his lips. Nip it with his teeth. I stroked his beautiful cock with my hands (it being too much to hold with just one!) all the while feeling his mouth on me, tasting the taste of me. I watched the first drop of cum appear at the tip, licked it with my tongue. I stuck my tongue deep inside his mouth. My upper lip was sore, him sucking on it in the midst of kisses.

Suddenly it was Friday. Ellie would be showing up for the weekend. Eli driving like a mad man to my doorstep: Wanting to be fucked as soon as he finished his first glass of single malt Scotch whisky.

Me wanting the young black boy to fuck me, fuck my cunt.