A Kept Woman(8)

By: Daryl Devore



Both gasped as he slid into her. His hand reached around her hip and continued to caress her clit. He pumped into her with a languid rhythm. She met his thrusts, back and forward, back and forward. Squeezing her vaginal muscles to tighten her grip on him, she didn’t allow him to leave her.

“You feel so good. I wish I had more time.”

Arianne responded with a moan of delight. His pace increased. Her pulse raced. The pleasure was building between her legs. Her breasts swayed with the pounding in her body. She was no longer able to match his rhythm. He would increase to a driving speed then slacken to a leisurely pace. Her focus snapped to her groin. The pressure was intense. The sensations were overwhelming. “Oh my God! I’m cuming… I’m cum—”

He pounded himself deeper into her. Arianne gasped and shuddered with the explosion of her orgasm. A few thrusts later he tensed, inhaled deeply then slowly exhaled. While reveling in the moment of her bliss, Arianne felt the gush of hot thick semen pour into her. After a long, low groan, his thrusts slowed until he stopped, still buried deep inside her.

Carefully, she spread her knees apart and lowered herself to the bed. She felt him slip out of her followed by a gush of hot liquid. She was aware of him moving around, but was unable to move. It felt as if her muscles had melted. Smiling, she lay sprawled belly down.

She yawned and blinked. The darkening of the room attracted her attention. Rolling over she checked her watch - 5:30! Damn, I fell asleep. Grabbing a bed sheet she wrapped herself in it and searched the apartment. He was nowhere to be found. On the dining room table was an envelope - inside - ten one-hundred dollar bills. On the outside was a simple message: Next Tuesday, 2 p.m.





Chapter Four




Four Tuesdays later.

With her stomach crushed against the back edge of the couch, and upper body draped over the back, Arianne felt him slide out of her, followed by his semen oozing down her inner right thigh. A few moments later she was aware of three things. In rapid succession she heard his fly zip closed, saw the envelope land on the cushion and heard the woosh of the elevator.

She pushed herself up off the back of the couch. “It’s 2:15 and he’s come and gone.” Giggling at her little pun, she picked up her clothes and envelope. Written on the outside was Derek’s cell phone number and a request for hers. She grabbed her cell and dialed. The call went straight to voice mail. When she heard the beep, she left her number, then took a shower and headed home.

* * * *

Taylor pounded on the bathroom door. “Hey you. I found your rich stud. You said his name was Derek, right?”

Arianne ripped the door open. “Yea. Where? Who is he?”

Taylor sipped his morning coffee. “You were looking in the wrong place, babe.” He placed the folded newspaper section on the edge of the sink. “Here in the social section - Mr. Derek Davenport, wealthy businessman and bachelor, auctioned off at the fifth annual Save the Whales - Buy a Date Fund Raiser. That’s him right?”

After spitting out her toothpaste, she nodded as she wiped her mouth.

Taylor continued, “Gawd, he is gorgeous. Doesn’t happen to be bi? We could share the action so to speak.” He followed her into the kitchen.

The fresh aroma of Taylor’s coffee filled her nose as she filled her I don’t do mornings mug. Arianne laughed. “Sorry. That man is straight with a capital S. Damn him.”

“What? Damn him?” Taylor grabbed Arianne by the shoulders. “Oh good heavens, no. No! Don’t tell me you’re falling in love with the guy. You’ve had…what? Four sessions with him. None of it involved passion or—“

She wiggled out of his grasp and headed for the kitchen. “But there is something special about him. Okay yesterday was rushed. I’ll admit that. But he said he was in a hurry. Had a meeting or something. But now it seems he had to get ready for a date.”

Taylor continued the conversation while he followed her into the kitchen and grabbed the coffee pot. “So he pulled your clothes off, fondled your breasts, spun you around and did you over the back of the couch. And this is some special guy?”

“Yes. Well no, but yes.”

“Drink more coffee.” Taylor filled her mug. “You’re not making sense.”

“He’s like a lost little boy. He has a toy and he plays with it.”

“That’s you?” asked Taylor. “You’re the toy?”

“Yes his toy, but I meant his cock. He plays games because he’s tired of getting hurt. I’ve spent some time thinking about this and I think that whoever he dated last, really pissed him off.”

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