Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

The Only Rules That Matter: Exploration (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

Jack sniggered, then took a bite of the spinach pie he'd ordered for breakfast. It wasn't the funniest story he'd heard Jenny tell about her one-night stands, but it was close. "Small and boring? Love, I thought you had better taste than that. No, no, I know you have better taste than that. So what made you..."

"And--oh my God..." Jenny gasped, staring over his shoulder.

jack took another bite. "He's here, isn't he?"

"He just walked in," she hissed. "I don't want to have to explain everything that's wrong with him--I don't even know where to start--and I don't want him to see me and start bragging. So let's just finish up quickly and go."

Nodding, Jack glanced at a painted mirror on the wall. The man was handsome enough, he supposed. Handsome enough that he could see why Jenny had taken a chance on him last night, at least. A dark-haired woman walked next to him - not stunningly beautiful, but attractive enough to rate a second look. And even a third. She didn't look happy, though, and in a moment it was easy to see why. The two young women - young enough to be his daughters, he guessed, and pretty in a vapid sort of way - that accompanied him.

He shook his head in disgust at the man's antics. Not that there were four of them, mind. His own relationship with Jenny had seen them enact similar scenes at breakfast over the decades. But they'd always all looked happy to be there, and the older woman, probably his wife, most certainly did not. Which made the man's antics despicable. "However did you end up with him?" Jack asked, signaling the waiter.

"Oh, I wish you'd been there Aeode," he heard the man say. "That strumpet was willing to do anything for me."

Jack froze, listening intently.

"Could I have had her?" the woman he was pawing giggled. "I know how much you like that..."

"I'm sure you could have," the man said, laughing at his wife's expression of disgust. "The red-headed slattern was begging for it. Begging, I tell you! She'd have done anything I asked..." He paused. "Anything."

"Red-headed slattern..?" Jack hissed, voice dangerous. "He's talking about you, isn't he?" He started to rise. "I'll be right back. I'm going to go kick the living shit out of him."
 
Jenny watched their reflections in the window as they took their seats, her lip curling in disgust at the way the man carried on. She shook her head when her husband asked how she'd ended up with him. "Well I didn't know he was married!" she protested. "And how was I supposed to know he was small and boring? Look at him!"

But then his voice began to raise and both Sparrows froze. "Slattern?" Jenny flushed, clashing magnificently with her hair, when they started talking about how she'd apparently been begging for it. "I did no such thing!" she protested in a whisper. "We flirted then went back to his house. There wasn't even foreplay!"

But John began rising from the table and she caught his wrist. "Jack, no!" She knew very well by now the difference between Jack and John. "All he'll do is drag me through the mud and we'll have to leave. It's warm here. I'm even getting a bit of a tan. Leave it, hm? Pretend to be a mugger later, or fuck his wife or something." She waved her hand carelessly, indicating that she didn't really care what he did so long as it wasn't here and now. "Let's just finish breakfast and leave."
 
With a grimace, Jack flopped back down into his seat. "Son of a bitch needs to learn some manners," he growled, picking at his pie. "Calls my wife names, treats his own like garbage... someone should have taught him some manners years ago." He chewed a bite of spinach and egg without tasting it. "I'm the son of a pirate and a prostitute, and I've got better manners than that."

Another bite, and he brooded as he chewed. Then, he smiled. "Actually, that's not a bad idea Jenny." He chuckled at her quizzical expression. "Fucking his wife, I mean. He'd brobably shrug off a beating and a mugging, and tell lies about what happened. But if I hit him in the pride..?" He laughed softly. "He'll remember it, long after any bruises heal."

Sipping his tea, Jack waved off any objectios Jenny might have tried to make. "No, no, it's not a pity lay or tossing a bag over her head and thinking of revenge. I mean, look at her. I'd be interested in her anyway. Humiliating him is just extra spice." He finished his tea, carefully filing away the comments he heard from the table for future use, and poured another cup.

"So," he asked, adding a lump of sugar. "Any suggestions on how to approach her? And, do you want to share?" He wasn't sure she would, because she seemed to vacilate between enthusiasm and guilty refusal over the decades. And he wasn't sure where she was in her moods right now. "Or have me arrange so you can watch?"
 
Jenny frowned at the idea. "Jack, just because he insulted me that's no reason to use h--" He waved off her concerns, claiming that it wasn't just for pity or revenge. The woman did seem his type...

"Alright," she acquiesced, "but be careful. You know how rich men are about their property, and there's no doubt he thinks she's his property." Her lip curled in disgust as she watched their reflections. "If you get shot or stabbed again--or strangled or poisoned or clubbed or anything else," she added quickly, seeing his look, "--I'm not going to be the one making excuses for you this time. You get yourself out of your own mess. And not like in Haiti where you started that zombie scare!" She'd been seen with him that time, and they'd been run off the island. In another twenty-five years or so there oughtn't be anyone who remembered the incident and maybe they could go back. Calypso had been particularly displeased with them then and had sent them to the northern coast of Siberia for three years to take the souls of gulag prisoners as punishment.

"So," her husband asked as he stirred sugar into his tea, "Any suggestions on how to approach her? And, do you want to share?" Seeing Jenny shift uncomfortably he added, "Or have me arrange so you can watch?"

She shook her head. Jenny was in one of her moods where she felt guilty and sinful for being attracted to women, for sleeping with them. Watching she could usually justify by claiming--to herself, at least--that she was watching her husband and not the beautiful women. But even if it wasn't a mortal sin, even if she were acceptable as an abomination in the eyes of God, this time was different.

"Beautiful women need to know that they're beautiful," she said, glancing over her shoulder at the quiet brunette beauty, "that they're desirable. He's taking her for granted and she clearly doesn't think that she's desirable because her husband whores around on her. You could make the homeliest ragged farmgirl feel like a queen, like the patron goddess of beauty." Jenny smiled and took his hand with both of hers, bringing the back of it to her lips. "You should show her how beautiful and desirable she is." She squeezed his hand then kissed it again. "He spends most of his time at the bath houses, or in the taverns. It shouldn't be a problem to approach her in the middle of the day while he's out with his whores, pretend to be a traveling performer or something to gain entry to their home then seduce her with pretty words and divine truths." The view of the coast had had Jenny feeling a little poetic and she kissed each of Jack's fingertips as she laid out the scene for him. "She'll take you to her marriage bed; if she doesn't then she just doesn't like men, plain and simple. Either way you hit him in the pride."
 
"You mean I should be a gypsy?" John laughed, teasing his wife. She'd told him long ago about her attraction to the wandering Ion, who had in so many ways done a better job of being a husband and father than he ever had. "It should work, though. I'll just need to make a few preparations first..."



For all his madcap reputation, enlarged on and exploited by his descendents, Captain Jack Sparrow was actually a careful planner whenever possible. Even if Barbossa would never have believed it. Or Will or Elizabeth. Or Gibbs. Or Sean or Peter or, well, anyone. But the point was, this time at least, he was planning. He spent two days shadowing Aristotelis Latsis and his lovely, neglected wife Diamanti. It wasn't hard to establish a routine, either. A bath, then the office, lunch with his mistress or a whore, work, dinner and humiliating his wife, then more time with mistress or prostitute while his wife returned home alone.

Not that Jack had anything against mistresses or prostitutes, precisely. He wasn't a hypocrite. But he and Jenny had agreed to what they did. When he had dinner with a new lover, it wasn'!t done with the desire to humiliate her unless she'd requested it, of course. But even then, it was in the spirit of fun.

But he was woolgathering, when he should be getting ready. So he adjusted his hat as he waited on the sidewalk, half a block from the restaurant a half-block from the fancy restraunt where she hadn't been enjoying her meal, and began strumming his guitar. A few passers-by stopped to listen, and some of them tossed coins in his hat. Then, when he saw Diamanti, he changed his tune. Literally.

"My love is like a red, red rose," he sang, catching her eye.
"That's newly sprung in June
"My love is is like the melody
"That's sweetly played in tune."

She stopped, looking at him with a sad, wistful expression. He smiled back, winking quickly. "As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
"So deep in love am I
"And I will love thee still, my dear,
"Till all the seas gang dry."

Still strumming, he made a show of looking her over. "Something must be wrong with my eyes," he declared. "For here stands before me the loveliest woman in all of Greece, and yet she stands alone!" Borrowing a trick he'd seen before, he kicked his hat into the air and allowed it to land in his head, then rolled it down his arm so he could doff it as he bowed dramatically. "Johnathan Sparrow, my lady. And, if my vision is unimpared and you are alone, may I buy you a drink? It will cost me my dinner, but to feast on beauty is better than meat.x
 
Diamanti eyed the street singer. He wasn't shabby like the others, which was nice, and his dark, roguish charm instantly attracted her attention. When he introduced himself she curtsied politely, but blushed when he asked to buy her a drink. She wanted to--God knew she wanted to!--but if anyone saw her about with someone else Aristotelis would have her head. He'd shoved her down the stairs once simply for looking too long at their waiter, Heaven knew what he would do if she were seen talking to another man!

"I'm afraid I've drunk my fill, Johnathan Sparrow," she said regretfully after some thought. "But I've food and drink to spare and all it would cost you are a few more pretty songs." Diamanti smiled at the younger man. That was all she was inviting him for, she'd convinced herself, was to sing to her. She spent long, lonely nights while Aristotelis was out with his women. "Will you walk with me?" She held her hand out for his arm.

As they walked Diamanti introduced herself, but constantly looked around for anyone looking at her, whether she knew them or not. Quickly, still glancing around nervously, she hurried John inside as soon as they reached the Latsis estate. Ringing a bell, she summoned a servant loyal to her and bid him fetch them food and wine before leading John into the parlor.

"Where is your home, John?" she asked eventually. "Your accent is so...interesting." It was only coincidence, she told herself, that she was sitting so closely to him on the couch.
 
"Pretty songs are my stock in trade," John said cheerfully. "And I'll take all you wish to offer, and freely give them in return." He strummedva few chords. "Beauty, inspired by beauty, and it would be a delight to walk with you, Lady..?"

"No lady," she corrected him. "Spiros. Diamanti Spiros."

He took her hand and raised it to his lips. "Diamanti," he murmured. "And not Aphrodite? For surely a goddess has descended to earth this evening." Slinging his guitar over his back, he linked his arm with hets and ket her lead the way. As they walked, he observed the way she glanced at alleys and refkectiins in darkened windows with worried eyes, and he wondered if he shoukdn't return to his original plan of knifing her husband.

Sadly, that was off the table. He'd promised Jenny, and he hadn't broken a promise to her. Not since his return from the Locker. And he wouldn't start now. So he pretended not to notice, varrying the conversation with compliments and bits of song and pleasant nithings, until he found himself sitting in a drawing room with a glass of wine and a platter of cold meats and cheeses at hand. And a lovely woman sitting comfortably close to hand as well.

"Where am I from? I am come from going to and fro on the earth, and from walking up and down on it." He sipped his wine, which oroved to be an excellent vintage. "And it was my fine, good firtune to have rested upon the roqd this evening." He let his eyes wander just a little, appreciating her without leering.
 
He was eyeing her, but not in the way she'd seen her husband eyeing other women. It was more...appreciative. The way he looked at her made the neglected woman sit up a little straighter and feel a little more beautiful. When he mentioned that he rested on the road she shook her head.

"You will not rest on the road this evening," she insisted, "not while you're my guest. We have a wing and plenty of warm beds there for you to sleep." Diamanti's fingers brushed his as she reached for a piece of cheese. Her husband wouldn't be home until late anyway, and if someone was in the guest wing there was no way for him to know. She could sneak John out before he rose tomorrow.

"So...you are a gypsy?" she asked, dark eyes flicking over John's dark features. He certainly looked the part. "It must be a fascinating life. I have only left Greece once, to go to Italy. You must tell me of all the places you've been."
 
"My lady," John declared as he reached for some cheese, letting his fingers brush over hers in the process, "it is a generous offer. It has been many a long day since I slept in a warm bed. More commonly, the stars are my blanket, and they are beautiful but distant. And cold."

Then he chuckled at her questions. "No. I have known many gypsys, and I'm welcome in their caravans, but I was born an Englishman. I've trzveled far and wide, though. Egypt and Africa and India. China and the Carribbean, and the American continents. All are lovely and exotic in their ways, but Greece?" He looked at her frankly again, wondering how she woulc look unclothed. "Greece holds the most magnificent wonders of them all."

Sipping his wine, he continued. "What tale should I tell, Diamanti? The time I scaled the rounded peak of the sacred Mount Fuji? My descent into the Valley of the Kings?" He let his gaze linger on her cleavage, just for a moment. "My exploration of the lush, hidden glens of Ireland? The time I lingered in the Nile delta?"

He offered a secret little smile. "Or would you prefer a song? I play well upon my instrument. What do you wish? You perceive that I await your pleasure."
 
Diamanti thought for a moment, letting her eyes roam his body as his roamed hers. He drank in her eyes, let them linger on her cleavage, the way her husband never had. In an instant she wished that she were just a common girl so she could run away with this handsome stranger. But Aristotelis would hunt her down. He didn't want her, but he didn't want anyone else to have her either.

"Sing me a song," she said at last, "since you may become too drunk later in the night to play your guitar as beautifully as you do now. Later you can tell me all of your stories, but right now play for me a song of everlasting love." She smiled and leaned back, watching him take a minute to tune his guitar before his clever fingers played over the strings. She could only imagine how they might play over her body.
 
"I've been told I can hold my liquor better than most, Diamanti," John said with a laugh. "But I've never been one to deny a lady her desires or her pleasures. So...". He picked up his guitar and tested the tuning. "A song it shall be."

The strings whispered under his fingers as he strummed. "Let me think... ah. Yes." He fingered a few experimental chords, reminding himself of the melody, and began to play.

"When Januar’ wind was blawing cauld,
"As to the north I took my way,
"The mirksome night did me enfauld,
"I knew na where to lodge till day."

The tempo picked up a little as he adjusted the tune, raising the pitch and making it a little flirty.

"By my good luck a maid I met,
"Just in the middle o’ my care;
"And kindly she did me invite
"To walk into a chamber fair.

"I bow’d fu’ low, unto this maid,
"And thank’d her for her courtesie;
"I bow’d fu’ low unto this maid,
"And bade her mak a bed for me."

Sure, he knew he was pushing his luck with this song. But he'd wager that she was looking -or at least hoping - for something a little daring. A little flirty. Something to make her feel desired. And she had requested a romantic song...

"She made the bed baith large and wide,
"Wi’ twa white hands she spread it down;
"She put the cup to her rosy lips,
"And drank, “Young man, now sleep ye soun’.”

"She snatch’d the candle in her hand,
"And frae my chamber went wi’ speed;
"But I call’d her quickly back again
"To lay some mair below my head.

"A cod she laid below my head,
"And served me wi’ due respect;
"And, to salute her wi’ a kiss,
"I put my arms about her neck.

“"Haud off your hands, young man,” she says,
“"And dinna sae uncivil be:
"Gif ye hae onie love for me,
"O wrang na my virginitie!”"

He slowed the tempo again, meeting her eyes as he sang directly to her.

""Her hair was black as midnight,
"Her teeth were like the ivorie;
"Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine,
"The lass that made the bed to me.

"Her bosom was the driven snaw,
"Twa drifted heaps sae fair to see;
"Her limbs the polish’d marble stane,
"The lass that made the bed to me."

Now to really push his luck. Sure, he could claim the whole thing was an innocent song about meeting a young and pretty woman. But it was about to get harder to make that claim.

"I kiss’d her owre and owre again,
"And aye she wist na what to say,
"I laid her between me and the wa’ —
"The lassie thought na lang till day.

"Upon the morrow when we rase,
"I thank’d her for her courtesie;
"But aye she blush’d, and aye she sigh’d,
"And said, “Alas! ye’ve ruin’d me.”"

Much, much harder.

"I clasp’d her waist, and kiss’d her syne,
"While the tear stood twinkling in her e’e;
"I said, “My lassie, dinna cry,
"For ye aye shall mak the bed to me.”

"She took her mither’s Holland sheets,
"And made them a’ in sarks to me:
"Blythe and merry may she be,
"The lass that made the bed to me.

"The bonnie lass made the bed to me,
"The braw lass made the bed to me;
"I’ll ne’er forget, till the lady I die,
"The lass that made the bed to me!"

As the last chord died away, John rinsed his dry throat with a swallow of wine. He doubted he'd misread her intent, but if he had? He wasn't getting thrown into the street thirsty.
 
Diamanti listened as the wanderer played a beautiful tune. But if she listened carefully she heard a bawdy sort of tale which made her blush. Was he really being so bold? Already? He'd hardly been in her house ten minutes! Still, it was nice to have a man paying attention to her, for once.

"What a pretty song," she said at last with a small smile. "It sounds like the lady didn't think it too pretty, like she regretted the passing of a pleasant night."

Well that was sending all sorts of wrong signals. She took a sip of wine to gather her thoughts. Diamanti hadn't flirted in so long, it was a little difficult to remember how. Her dark eyes roamed over Jack's fine face and figure as she took her time savoring the wine and swallowing it.

"A night passed in pleasure should never be regretted. Don't you agree?" There. That was better.
 
"I don't believe she regretted it at all," John replied as Diamanti took a drink. "I believe she was merely protesting for forms sake. She could hardly, in her situation, have admitted she spent the whole night with him for the sake of pleasure." He watched her explore him with her eyes as she drank. "She would have needed an excuse."

Diamanti nodded. "A night passed in pleasure should never be regretted? Don't you agree?"

"Oh, whole-heartedly," John said, nodding. "But there are some who disagree. And some who wish to spend a night in pleasure, but are denied the opportunity. Often, those people must find a way to balance desire and duty."

He refilled his glass, then leaned forward and refilled hers. "Be careful," he said with a wink. "It wouldn't do to let yourself grow drunk."
 
Her dark eyes glittered as they spoke. They were talking about the same thing, she was certain of it. When he leaned forward to refill her glass she leaned forward too, giving him a pleasant view of her ample cleavage.

"Mister Sparrow, I never let myself grow drunk," she replied with mischief in her voice. With a smile she leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips before leaning back again, hiding her surprise at her own brazenness. They looked at each other for a long market and she scooted closer to him.

"What would you do then," she asked, "if you were the man from the song?"
 
Her lips tasted of wine and hunger as she kissed him, lingering over the act before drawiing awayy. Then she shifted closer. Close eniugh that he could feel the warmth of her bidy against him. "What would you do then," she asked, "if you were the man from the song."

John leaned his guitar against the wall. "Well," he said as he made sure it wouldn't tip over. "The lyrics would require me to put my arms around the neck of the woman. Like so." He let his fingers slide iver her skin as he drew her closer. "Assuming you were the woman from the song, that is."

He smiled a crooked little smile at that, then made a pretense of thought. "And then, the lyrics would requure me to kiss her over and iver again..." He tightened his arms, enough that she could feel the strength in them as he pulled her soft bidy against his, and found her lips with his own. The first kiss was a mere playful peck. The second was longer and deeper. And the third?

For the third kiss he pressed her back against the couch, his tongue pressing at her lips. She parted them and he thrust into her mouth, his tongue sliding iver hers as he explored her. Then, gasping a little, he pulled back. "If I were the man fron the song, that is."
 
When John held her in his strong, young arms Diamanti nearly swooned. She allowed his bold kisses and moaned when he thrust his tongue into her mouth. Cautiously she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer the way she hadn't in so, so very long. Diamanti squirmed a little and brought one leg around the outside of his body, pressing her thigh gently against his hip. It wasn't exactly a subtle invitation.

"If I were the woman from the song," she said slowly, "I think I would want you to touch me a little lower than the neck, to wrap your arms elsewhere. After all a night spent in pleasure often requires these sorts of things, do they not?"

Without giving him much of a chance to answer she slid her hands to his neck and pulled him in for another long, deep, hungry kiss. She hadn't kissed or been kissed like this in ages, and her husband had almost never touched her the way John was touching her. Her body ached and her heart yearned for more: more contact, more kisses, more of him.
 
John grinned as she pulled him in for the next kiss, her fingers running through his hair as she did. The touch if her tongue was gentle, almost furtive, as she touched his lips. He opened them, allowing her to explore, and at first she was shy. But she grew bolder as he murmured sounds of encouragement.

"Lower, Diamanti?" he asked with a husky voice as she broke away. "Like this?" His hands, which had cupped her face as they kissed, slid down her cheeks and over her throat to her shoulders. "This is lower," he whispered, kissing her again as he toyed with the straps of her evening dress. Fingers slid beneath them, stroking smooth skin.

His lips drifted lower as well, feathery kisses following the line of her throat. "You asked what I would do," he whispered, "if I were the man in the song." He eased the straps, exposing more of her shoulders as he nipped lightly at the base of her throat. "I laid her between me and the wa'..."

His lips found their way into the valley of her cleavage. "The lassie thought nae long till day..."
 
Gradually Diamanti grew bolder, her kisses more eager and demanding. At last she had to break for air and John asked her whether she wanted him to go lower. She nodded breathlessly as his warm hands slid over her skin. Goosebumps raised on her arms when he began to toy with the straps of her dress.

"That...is lower," she agreed shakily. Gradually John eased the straps of her dress from her shoulders, tracing his lips lightly along the contour of her throat and down. God how she wanted him! If he took her her and now she wouldn't protest in the least! But the servants...

"Th...this isn't right," Diamanti stammered as he explored her cleavage. "I...the song...How would you know what you would really do if you were the man in the song, when that man had a bed?" She slid off the couch, knees weak in arousal and anticipation, and pulled John behind her. "I mean, we must be true to the song, mustn't we?"

She led him through the winding halls to her bedroom. The room she shared with her husband. Still a little shaky she closed the door behind them before standing in front of John. "Well?" she prompted. "Now that we have a proper setting I must know what you would truly do."
 
"What would I truely do were I the man in the song, you mean?" John asked with a smile. "I suppose I would do this." He pressed her into the door, kissing her hungrily as he pinned her between the polished wood and his own hard body. Sighing into her lips as she melted against him, he ran his hands over her hips and up her sides, then hooked his thumbs in the straps of her evening dress and pulled them down over her shoulders.

"Her bosom was the driven snaw," he whispered against her throat, shifting so that her dress could slip down her body, "twa drifted heaps sae fair tae see." Her hips were generous enough that the dress didn't slip lower, and he gripped them gently as he kissed lower. His lips explored the softness of one breast and then another as he rocked against her, letting her feel his arousal as his hips pressed into hers.

His tongue slid teasingly over one hard nipple, playfully caressing the tender flesh before retreating. Then he turned to the other, sucking lightly for just an instant. As he continued to tease her, his hands worked at the fabric of her dress, bunching it up around her hips until first her calf, and then knee, and then mid-thigh were bared.

Unexpectedly he lifted her, kissing her deeply as she wrapped arms and legs around him for support. Carefully he turned, walking towards her bed. When he laid her across it he followed her down, his fully-clothed weight pressing her half-naked body into the mattress. "But what would you do, I wonder?" he asked, looking down at her hungrily. "If you were the lass in the song?"
 
When the stranger kissed her, pinning her to the door with his hard body Diamanti moaned into his kiss. Her arms draped around his shoulders and her fingers curled his hair around them, moving only to let her dress slip off over her shoulders and to her waist. She gasped at the feeling of his long, hard length pressing between her legs through her skirt. Even when her husband had deigned to pay attention to her he'd never come to her with anything like that! As he suckled at her breast her fingers played in his hair and her head leaned back against the door.

She squeaked in surprise when John lifted her, but wrapped her legs firmly around his waist and her arms around his shoulders. She could feel his erection move against her as he walked and Diamanti nearly stripped him naked then and there to have her way with him. But this night was to be savored: who knew if she would ever have another one like it? She bit her lip and looked at him coyly when he asked what she would do.

"If I were the woman in the song?" she repeated. "Well perhaps I would start with this, as this woman is so shy as to not just take what she wants." Slowly she unbuttoned his shirt, trailing kisses down his throat and chest then reveling in the feeling of his back muscles beneath her hands when she slipped it off of him. "Or perhaps she knows what she wants after all..." Diamanti undid his trousers and slipped a long, slender hand into the cloth, wrapping her fingers around his throbbing shaft and gasping as she did so. No, she would never have a lover quite like this again...
 
John sighed with pleasure as her hand gripped his cock, her little gasp of shock giving him a thrill of pleasure. He wasn't the most well-endowed man who'd ever lived - he'd seen a few of Jenny's lovers who made him look positively small - but he knew he had nothing to be embarrased about. "Is that what you would want?" he whispered against her lips, thrusting into her hand. He stroked her cheek as he kissed her again, slowly and lingeringly, fingers tracing her curves as he did.

"What else would you want?" he murmured, nipping at her throat again. He stroked her thigh, nails scraping lightly over skin before brushing against the hair that concealed her sex. "If you kniw what you want, tell me." His tongue circled a nipple again, and his fingertips traced her damp lips. Then he parted them, one finger stroking through the liquid heat within.

God, she was already ready for him. And he'd barely touched her. Watching her reaction, he brought his glistening fingertip to his lips and slowly sucked her flavor off. Then, still moving slowly, he kissed her. "Shall I taste more of you, Diamanti?" He thrust himself into her hand once more. "Butvyou seem enamored if my cock? Would you rather have that, now?"
 
When he thrust into her hand Diamanti tightened her grip a little and bit her lip. When he asked whether that was what she wanted she nodded fervently. "More than anything," she whispered back. He demanded to know what else she wanted. God...what didn't she want from him? She felt his fingers on her lips and mewled, needy and aching. "I want you to touch me," she managed. When he did she gasped and arched her back, clenching the sheets in her fists.

Diamanti hadn't known the tender touch of a man for years. Sure, every now and then her husband would try for an heir and occasionally get one. But he was rough and selfish with no thought for her pleasure. John's touch was confident and gentle, almost loving. When he sucked her flavor off of his finger her mouth dropped open slightly. She was certain he would do things to her that she didn't even know existed, and she wanted him to teach her everything she didn't know.

"I want all of you," she moaned, sliding her thumb over the tip of his cock as he thrust into her hand again. "I want you to visit upon me every pleasure you can think of, and receive every pleasure in return. Give me everything!" Diamanti leaned up to kiss him hard, her free hand sliding around the back of his neck and her inner thighs pressing against his hips. Anything he chose to do to her was sure to make her cum quickly and leave her begging for more.
 
"All of me, you say?" John pressed his body against hers, enjoying the feel of her soft bare chest against his own and moaned into her mouth as she stroked the tip of his cock. One hand slid down her body, over the dress bunched around her hips and caressed her thighs. Then he slipped it between them, stroking his fingers into her pussy once more. "Every pleasure, you say?" His callused thumb stroked her clit gently as first two and then three fingers filled her, stroking in and out in time with her hand on his cock. "Give you everything?"

He kissed her again, tongue stroking between her lips as his fingers pressed deep into her inner walls. The little gasp of pleasure she made caused his cock to pulse in her fist, and he stroked the tender flesh inside her. "Then I'll have to explore all of you," he murmured, kissing along her chin and down her throat. "If you want everything, then I'll need to sample everything." Little stinging bites mingled with soft kisses as he slowly made his way over her breasts, teasing the soft flesh he found. Then he moved lower, one hand cupping and squeezing the abandoned breast as the other stroked within her. Teeth and tongue scraped over her belly, leaving a trail of red marks on her pale flesh as he explored her body.

Without warning he rolled her over, positioning himself between her legs. His weight rested on her back once more, his cock an iron bar against the curve of her rear as he slid his hands over her arms. "I shouldn't neglect any of you," he whispered against the back of her neck as he moved against her, letting her feel the hair on his chest soft and rough against her back. He moved again, stinging her flesh with little bites as he pressed his length into the cleft of her ass. "But you know what you want, Diamanti. Shall I taste you first, or fill you?"
 
Diamanti nodded fervently with each of John's questions. Yes she wanted all of him, she wanted him to give her everything. She gasped then moaned when he slipped three fingers inside of her. Even with just his fingers she had never been so filled before. It was almost enough to make her cum just then, and her walls clenched once around his fingers before she was able to gain control. She continued to stroke his shaft as his fingers worked in and out and she moved her hips up to press his fingers deeper inside of her.

"Sample whatever you want," she breathed. "I give it all to you freely and eagerly." She made a little noise of pleasure, then one of surprise when he flipped her over. Diamanti shivered at the feeling of his warm, hard body against her back and pressed her ass against him. She ached so badly for him that she would have taken him in any way he would have her, right then and there.

"Fill me John," she begged, pressing more insistently against him. "Oh God please fill me every way you can!"
 
John shifted a little, his weight lifting from her body as he gripped her hips. Slowly he lifted rear in the air, getting her knees under her as he did. "Fill you?" he murmured, shifting her around so she could see herself in the mirror on the wall. And so he coukd see her as well, back arched and ass presenting to him. He met her eyes in the mirror, and bit his lip as he stroked his fingers between her legs. "There are all kinds of ways I can fill you, Diamanti.

Still watching her eyes in the mirror, he leaned down. White teeth scraped the soft skin of her rear as hiz fingertips whispered over her wet lips. He nipped her again, opening her to his touch as he did, and two fingers slowly pushed into her from behind. "Is this what you wanted?" he whispered, stroking against her inner walls. "Is thus how you want to be filled? Or perhaps like this, instead?"

His head mived lower, vanishing from view behind her. As he dud his fingers slipped from her sex, holding it spread open for her. He inhaled deeply, loudly, making sure she could hear him. Then, gently, the tip of his tongue slid over her slit. "Is this what you want?" he asked, rolling on his back. Stronh hands hooked over her ass, pulling her pussy down to his mouth. "Shall I fill you like this?" Then, with a groan of pleasure, he ran his tongue over her befire thrusting it deep into her core.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom