Red Satin Bra Part 2 of 2

“Unzip me”, demanded Poppy. She was standing with her back to him, the red dress clinging to her every curve. He reached up from his seated position on the bed and slowly drew the zip down from the nape of her neck to the firm roundness of her ass. She shrugged the garment from her shoulders revealing her red satin-clad cheeks.

Kevin ran his hands across the smoothness of her buttocks, palms coming to rest on each hip, fingers reaching round to draw her ass towards him. He kissed her through the silky material, then up to the indentation at the base of her back, his lips now replaced by a tongue, tasting her flesh, leaving a moist trail up her back as he rose to his feet.

His hands moved from her hips around to her front, up her stomach and onto her imprisoned breasts. She pressed her back into his chest as he crushed the soft mounds, her head arching backwards and to one side, exposing her neck. Kevin kissed her neck from shoulder to ear, then back again, the kisses metamorphosing to nibbles, then bites. She yelped, but did not pull away, instead she reached back with one hand and held his open maw on her exposed flesh, teeth almost breaking the skin.

She could feel the heat of the blood in his cock pressed against her back. As his teeth left her shoulder it became the focus of her attention, so much so that she hardly noticed when he unfastened the clasp between the cups of her bra. Only when Kevin pinched her nipples to the point of biting pain did she stop the instinctive, gyration of her pelvis against him.

Her hands joined forces between her legs, one pulling the satin to one side, the other invading her swollen wetness. She tingled as the fabric curtain was drawn back and the air cooled her pouting lips. She groaned as her fingers traversed the sensuous ravine.

Kevin turned her round and gently laid her on the bed. Poppy’s legs were splayed to allow her access to her needful pussy. Kevin watched for a moment while she rolled and wriggled on her back, red bra cups still flapping on and off her chest, hands working with an earnest passion on her sex. He stroked himself, considering the possibility of cumming there and then, spraying this total stranger with a creamy white stream.

No, he needed to fuck her, to be the architect of her impending climax, to fill her as she reached the Zenith. He lay on the bed with her and crouched astride one leg. The other leg he held high in the air while he teased her pussy, closely trimmed pubic hair glistening with her excitement. Sliding into her was a journey of some seven inches, a slow journey, to be savoured and remembered.

Poppy’s hands moved up to her breast, kneading them, letting Kevin attend to the fiery desire between her legs. Kevin watched his cock disappear between her lips, the thrill of the encounter enhanced by the sight of his thick, veined member sliding past a soaking wet red pair of panties.

The wall in the guest house may have been thin but that was not going to stop Poppy from vocalising her enjoyment. Kevin was past caring about Rose, even though she might hammer on the door at any moment. He responded to the increasing volume of Poppy’s moans by thrusting frantically with hard, deep strokes. The form ferociously he drove into her the most she seemed to want “Yes! YES!” was all the confirmation Kevin needed to continue the powerful, but unsophisticated fuck.

Poppy seemed to reach orgasm several times, or was it just one long orgasm. Her eyes rolled, her inner thighs were wet with her own juices. She moaned and shrieked, no longer able to form on her lips. Kevin’s balls glowed with anticipation, he held back for a few thrusts but that was all. One final thrust and then his hips ground against hers.

Kevin collapsed on top of Poppy, still impaling her on his cock. Her leg curled around him.

They fell asleep.

…

In the morning she was gone. When he entered the dining room for breakfast she served him, with tea, ensuring that he could see down her white blouse. She smiled and winked before moving to the next table.

He left soon after breakfast, his client would not wait. And anyway, she’d said it herself, it was just a fuck. No regrets. He paid Rose in cash and bid her farewell on a day that promised to be warm and bright.

…

It was autumn, Kevin slipped into his local sex shop to treat himself to an “artistic” DVD. The plasma screen inside was showing previews. “Not bad” he though as the dark haired girl walked into the room, “Funny camera angle. Nice ass though”. The scene cut to another angle, slightly obscured, the girl sat on the bed, crossed her legs, the red dress rode up exposing a knee. Another cut, another angle, she was rather cute, she was rather familiar, as was the briefcase at the end of the bed.

She was Poppy.