Claiming Poppy

"Ugh, my feet hurt, I can't wait to get in that big bath tub and soak." Tessa groaned as she scanned the key card and let herself and her three friends into the hotel suite. The group of four American travelers were staying in Sheffield while visiting England for the week.

"We should go down into the hot tub together" Alison, a blonde, forty-five year old woman with natural curves, sharp features, and piercing blue eyes, suggested.

"Hmm, that's a good idea." Tessa considered, "I've been wanting to wear my new bathing suit in Europe, after all." She grinned, feeling quite fancy for a small-town girl from Middle-of-Nowhere, America.

"The hot tub sounds great to me" said Jennifer, the oldest of the group, an Italian-American with natural beauty and grace, walking toward her suitcase and getting out her bathing suit.

"What about you?" Tessa turned her large, ocean blue eyes on Poppy. Poppy pursed her lips and looked down, shrugging before mumbling "I don't know... hot tubs give me a headache... The chemicals... And anyway, I've really been wanting to look around the city at night."

Tessa stomped her foot. She stood 5'10" and had medium-length, dark brown hair that caused her blue eyes to stand out all the more. She was forty-five, going through menopause, and feisty as hell; however, Poppy could hold her own.

"You are NOT going to WANDER around ENGLAND at NIGHT by YOURSELF, POPPY!" Tessa accentuated specific words, her foot stomping. Her overly-protective nature coming out on her friend she considered her sister.

"I'll be fine. Don't worry. I can take care of myself" Poppy smirked, making direct eye contact with Tessa. They both knew that despite Poppy being short -- 5'3" -- and despite her soft voice and gentle brown eyes, she was fierce. She was sweet but fiery, an untameably independent free-spirit. She was the reason the girls were brave enough to come to England -- to get on that airplane and fly across an ocean. Poppy's enthusiasm for life and her happy nature were infectious. So here they were, all tired from the travels around England, and Poppy was ready to go back out into a foreign country. Alone.

"You damn reckless young'n" Tessa conceded in a slightly Appalachian drawl, only half-jokingly. Poppy was the baby of the group -- 30 years old -- while the rest of the ladies varied from 45 to 69.

"Don't worry. I have my phone on me. You can track me using the Find My app" Poppy reminded Tessa, then watched as Tessa physically relaxed.

"Fine. But if your signal disappears, I'm calling the police." Tessa glared as Poppy smiled, grabbed her bag, and walked back down the hall and to the elevators, a small and suspicious skip in her step.

Poppy pressed the elevator's down button as she took her cell phone out of her bag and opened Skype. She pulled the name Sam up in her contacts and began typing:

Poppy: Hey, I managed to get away. Are you at the bar... er, pub?

Sam: Great! Yes, I'm here, sitting at a corner booth. Lucky seat.

Poppy: Nice. I'll be there soon.

-- - - - - - - - - - -

Sam sat in the corner of the quiet pub, his leg gently bouncing with nervous tension as his thumb flicked through his phone, scrolling to distract his mind. She would be here any second. They were finally about to meet.

He saw movement in the corner of his eye, glanced up, and locked eyes with her. He smiled. Poppy wore her long, wavy auburn hair down, flowing until it touched the middle of her back. Her warm, caramel eyes were smiling, shining, but with a nervous tension. Her small, pouty lips were cherry red, making Sam's mind spin with some interesting ideas. His eyes gazed down and lit up with excitement -- she was wearing a golden Wolverhampton jersey, his absolute favorite football team. Adding femininity to the jersey was a black, flared skirt that reached the middle of her tan thighs. He looked at her legs and his cock twitched. She was wearing black and gold striped knee socks. Her small feet were in a pair of low-heeled black suede boots.

Sam quickly stood up before she reached the booth, standing almost a foot taller than her. His blue eyes, flattered by his dark brown lashes, gazed down at her as he nervously rubbed the few days' stubble on his chin. "Hello, Poppy" his voice deep, his British accent like honey in her ears. Poppy took a breath and swooned -- he smelled delicious, masculine and warm.

"Um.. hi there," her voice was soft, sweet, her American accent making him grin. She looked him in the eyes, then glanced down, then looked back up again, nibbling her bottom lip. He melted a bit.

"Come on, have a seat" Sam gestured to the booth and Poppy slid into the seat, scooting over towards the wall. Sam sat in the booth next to her and smirked. Her body was turned towards him, her right leg propped up on the seat and her foot shaking nervously. She was looking everywhere -- absolutely everywhere -- except at him. He turned his own body towards her and got a whiff of her -- her scent sweet, feminine, luscious.

"So..." Sam started, causing Poppy to look him in the eyes. Sam's breath caught when he saw the absolute need and lust in her eyes. He touched his hand to her thigh when suddenly the waitress appeared.

"Good evening, I'm sorry for your wait. What can I get you to drink?" the waitress, a woman in her twenties with curly red hair and striking green eyes, asked in an accent Poppy could only distinguish as Irish.

"I'd like a pint" Sam answered, his eyes locked on Poppy, his hand still gently touching her thigh, feeling heat radiating off of her.

"Um... can I have a pina colada?" Poppy asked, looking up at the waitress. Her heart was racing, her legs aching. The heat and weight of Sam's hand on her thigh causing her to swoon.

The waitress cocked an eyebrow, then smiled. "Sure, that sounds good. Want some chips?" she offered.

"Yes," Sam responded calmly, smiling up at the waitress.

The waitress nodded and walked away, leaving the two alone for a few minutes.

"So..." Poppy mumbled, looking down at his hand on her thigh.

"So..." Sam responded, stroking his hand up and down her soft leg, teasing along the top of her knee sock, then sliding back up to her skirt hem.

"You're driving me crazy!" Poppy whispered frantically, the need evident in the breathlessness of her voice.

"You wearing this is driving me crazy" Sam replied with a smirk, glancing down at her outfit. Here she was, the woman he was crazy about, wearing his absolute favorite football team's jersey and colors. He groaned, his cock resting uncomfortably against his slim-fitting jeans. Everything -- her body, scent, skin, voice, outfit, blush -- was driving him mad.

"I need to kiss you," Sam grumbled as he took her chin in his hand and leaned into her, claiming her lips with his. His tongue slid along her gently closed lips and they responded by opening, welcoming his tongue to explore her mouth. His groin responded by twitching, hardening far past his comfort zone given the restriction of his pants.

Poppy, feeling Sam's tongue explore past her lips and tickle her own, dampened with excitement and felt her nipples harden against the lace of her bra. She brought her hand up to the back of Sam's head, her fingers gently grazing his soft hair, pulling her petite body against his.

Sam groaned, loving witnessing this uninhibited side of Poppy in person. He craved this so much for so long. Had fucked his wife countless times, came down her throat, imagining it was Poppy, instead. His sweet American secret. The muse of his constant hard-ons. The only thing his cock wanted from the night they first messaged each other.

"Pardon me" the waitress cleared her throat, smirking at the two of them. Poppy quickly pulled away, resituating her clothing and hair, gaining her composure. Sam grinned, not the least bit embarrassed, rather proud to have been caught claiming her.

"Thank you, sorry" Poppy whispered as the waitress, who Poppy noticed from the name tag was named Anna, placed the beer down in front of Sam and the pina colada down in front of Poppy. Poppy's eyes lit up at the sight of the drink, garnished with a pineapple and coconut shavings.

"Don't apologize, it was kinda fun to watch" Anna replied in a hushed whisper before walking away, the same smirk still on her lips.

"Oh, this looks delicious!" Poppy squealed, bringing the drink to her lips and taking a sip off the top, savoring the whip cream and testing the alcohol content. Her eye twitched. A bit strong, but given the situation, that was probably a good thing.

Sam smiled, his eyes soft while watching her expressive reactions. He watched as she moved the glass from her lips to the table, and his groin twitched yet again, his eyes devouring the sight of her -- eyes, bashful; lips, covered in the whipped cream.

"Your lips..." Sam hinted, then watched as her small tongue danced along them, wiping them clean. Oh, fuck. How he wanted those lips. That tongue.

"How's your beer?" Poppy asked, her eyebrow rising at his untouched glass.

Sam cleared his throat and took a sip, then put the drink back down. "Oh, yeah, great" he answered her, the preoccupation evident.

"Mmm. Good." She replied absently, focusing on her own drinking, obviously trying to chug it down quickly. He smirked. She had told him before that she didn't like alcohol, preferred weed, but wasn't going to risk traveling with it internationally. Now he watched as the slightest hint of a blush appeared under her tan cheeks, the warmth of the alcohol getting to her.

"Will you come sit back closer to me?" Sam asked, gently patting the spot next to him.

"As long as you behave yourself" she replied innocently, easily scooting along given the soft fabric of her skirt. Sam smirked, knowing that when she said that, in that particular tone, she never meant it. He moved his hand to her thigh again, this time venturing his fingertips past her skirt line and up to her panties - or lack thereof. Instead of finding a soft fabric barrier like he expected, his fingertip slipped into her wetness and he heard her gasp.

He groaned, pure animalistic desire, as his finger slid softly through her wet lips, feeling her heat, her slickness -- excessively wet and slightly creamy. She was soft, smooth, and within seconds his hand was completely soaked in her arousal. His eyes, hungry with desire for her, landed on her face -- her eyes, half-closed in bliss. Her small lips, slightly parted, small whimpers escaping them. His eyes dropped down to her chest, her breathing heavy with desire.

Suddenly, Sam cleared his throat, a warning signal that the waitress was returning, and Poppy again sat up straighter, although the hand between her legs stubbornly remained there, just better hidden. Teasing her. Tempting her.

"Here's your chips" Anna smiled, placing the basket down on the table. "Thank you" Sam responded, and again the waitress walked away, leaving the pair alone.

Sam focused his attention back on Poppy, slipping his middle finger deep into her warmth, watching her eyes close and mouth open, watching her tense, hearing her soft, exasperated giggle at the sensation.

Poppy's head spun with pure desire, her normal, professional, well-behaved self having disappeared and been replaced with someone lustful and desperate. His long fingers felt so good massaging her most sensitive parts. She was soaked. Drenched. Her nipples ached with the desire to be touched. While giggling softly in euphoria, her hand wandered to the bulge in his slim jeans and she moaned, eager to be fucked. She stroked his hard-on from outside his jeans, squeezing the head gently between her fingers, causing him to groan, as well.

"Want to go to my place?" Sam asked, his low voice raspy with need.

"Mmm.. yes, please, before I make a bigger fool of myself here" Poppy answered, the lustful cloud clearing from her eyes and replaced with excitement -- she was eager to see his home. To have him in his bed.

Sam finally removed his hand from between her legs, leaned forward, and pulled his wallet out from his pocket. He laid some money down on the table, chugged the rest of his pint, and grinned. "Ready?"

-- - - - - -- - - - -- - -

The car pulled into the quiet, dark driveway and Poppy got out, gazing up and down the street. Cute, cozy, classy. She loved it here. She looked at Sam, who had walked around the car and came to her, taking her hand in his.

"Welcome to my house" he said, guiding them up the steps and onto the porch. They removed their shoes and Sam opened the door, leading them inside.

The living room was tidy, with toddler toys tucked neatly along a wall. Poppy glanced at the wall nearest to her and saw a wedding portrait -- Sam and his wife, Hailey. She paused, taking in the picture -- Hailey was beautiful, her light features contrasting Poppy's own dark ones. The couple looked so young, happy, in love. She frowned, guilt tearing at her heart, making her sick to her stomach. The weight of her own wedding rings suddenly painfully heavy.

Sam watched Poppy's demeanor change, going from standing upright and seeming cheerful to suddenly drooping, her hands coming together, her fingers absent-mindedly spinning her engagement ring. He grabbed her hand and she turned to him, her eyes reflecting her hurt. Their relationship was just supposed to be a fantasy. Two married people, a little bit lonely, a lot a bit frustrated. By chance, they found each other online, and the immediate chemistry was startling. They had both accepted the fantasy, but neither would've expected it to turn into a reality. Yet here they were. Alone. Slightly guilt-ridden. With arousal, intense sexual tension, weighing heavily between them.

Sam knew there was nothing he could say to make it right. They were both being unfaithful. But he needed her. It started as a want, sure, but as he got to know her, his body had a constant ache with the desire to have her. To claim her. To make her his. And now, seeing her in that damn outfit, in the dimly lit room, under the roof he shared with his wife and child... the sight, the emotions, the taboo, and the smell of her lightly lingering on his fingertips. It was too much. All they'd had for so long was words. Tonight, he could finally do more.

Poppy squeaked when Sam suddenly became forceful, taking her hands and moving them above her head, shoving her up against the wall next to his wedding picture, and pinning her wrists above her. She moaned, feeling her breasts rise in this position, the desire in Sam making her ache with need. She heard him groan, then suddenly felt a cold draft as the jersey was swept off her and dropped to the floor. Her eyes became hazy with need, seeing Sam's eyes hungrily appreciating her exposed cleavage. Her black bra, lacy and lifting, caused her breasts to swell into beautiful mounds on her chest. She smiled, the guilt disappearing and the desperate, primal need to be fucked taking over. She moved her hands to the front of her bra and unclasped it, then dropped her arms so her bra fell to the living room floor. She kept her eyes on Sam's the whole time -- watching his reaction, savoring it. The grin, the need, the change in breathing. He pushed her body gently back up against the wall, lowered his head, and began suckling on her breasts. His tongue flicked over one nipple, and then the other, his hand kneading whichever breast his mouth wasn't clasped to. He started to suckle harder, with Poppy gasping in pleasure, her hands running up and down his back, small moans escaping her.

"Mmm... I need to fuck you." Sam grumbled, standing back up, scooping Poppy into his arms -- which she obliged to by jumping up and wrapping her legs around his waist, feeling his cock through the jeans pressing against her bare groin. She leaned in, her arms around his neck, and kissed him, feeling him carry her up the stairs and into a room. Suddenly, she felt herself going through the air before landing on a bed and gently bouncing to the sound of a soft squeak. She glanced around the room. The walls were a beautiful, almost wine color. The comforter she had just been tossed onto was gray, matching the several shades of it in the room that were softly highlighted by the lamp on the nightstand. She scooted back, leaning against the gray wood headboard. She smiled, looking at Sam as he removed his shirt.

Sam's cock ached with how much it needed to be buried inside her. How long he had wanted to fuck her. The naughty, dirty thoughts and fantasies they shared. And this one -- fucking her in the bed he shared with his wife -- about to become a reality. He undid his belt and jeans, pulling them, along with his briefs, down. His cock stood painfully erect, precum glistening from it. His cock twitched when he saw Poppy eyeing his erection, her tongue licking her bottom lip when she noticed the fluid.

"Be a good girl and take off your skirt" Sam ordered; Poppy moistened at the command, the aggression in his voice. She quickly obeyed, removing her skirt, leaving her in nothing but her knee socks.

"Touch yourself for me," he commanded next and watched as she smiled naughtily at him and wiggled her body down some. All he could do was stand back and stroke his cock while he watched her get comfortable.

Poppy took the pillows and propped them against the headboard, then rested back on them. She took her breasts in her hands and, feeling bashful and lustful, she spread her feet apart so that Sam had a nice view of her- the knee socks, leading into her tan thighs, leading into her soft, bare, moist pussy. She was so wet that her thighs glistened; Sam felt precum ooze from his head as he continued to watch her. One hand moved from her breast to her clit. She slowly closed her eyes as she began twirling two fingers against her bud, her hips swaying ever so softly, "yes daddy" she whispered obediently, causing his cock to twitch.

Sam couldn't take it anymore. He crawled from the foot of the bed to between her legs, nestling his head between her thighs. He took his large hands and pressed them down against her thighs, using his thumbs to spread her pussy lips apart so he had the perfect view of her clit. He glanced up at her, watching her half-closed eyes on him, her hands squeezing her breasts. He groaned, inhaling the scent of her, then took his tongue and ran circles around her clit before taking it into his mouth and sucking on it. Fuck, she tasted heavenly, completely feminine with a touch of sweetness. His tongue dove into her, savoring the juices that came out of her. He listened to her whimper, her moan, her soft giggle when he sucked on her clit in just the right way. His fingers dove into her, first one, then two, rubbing deep inside her, finding her sweet spot while his mouth clamped onto her sensitive bud.

Poppy's hips bucked against the bed, her hands squeezing her breasts as she gasped for air, the sensation becoming too much. She knew they had chemistry, but the things he was already doing to her body -- how he knew exactly what to do, how to do it, when to do it -- she shivered, her teeth chattered, and she felt the explosive wave of euphoria sweep through her mind and body. She screamed out, her hands leaving her breasts and grasping the back of his head, holding onto his blond hair, her hips grinding her pussy deeper against his lips, his fingers rubbing her sweet spot over and over, carrying the orgasm into continuous, elongated waves of ecstasy. Her body convulsed, her legs ached, and she tried to clamp them together -- but felt Sam's strong arms forcing her legs open, leaving her pussy open to him, for him to continue devouring her. She looked down and watched him, watched his tongue lower from her clit to her entrance, lapping up her cream. She whimpered, shivered, convulsed, until her body went numb and she lay there -- content -- the only sound her breathing and Sam's soft, appreciative moans as he kissed between her legs just a few more times.