Monday, September 27, 2010

HAWT Sex in the Kitchen with Chocolate Frosting. Yum!


I have a sexy treat for you this week. I’m sure you’ve been hearing a lot about my The Rune Witch Series from everyone who has read it. So I thought it might be fun to post the first chapter from the third novella in that paranormal erotica series, The Harvest Moon, as my blog post this week.

Let me tell ya, this is a hot one! Steaming up your computer monitor is a real possibility. Okay, you’ve been warned… *lusty wink*

Enjoy!



An excerpt from “The Harvest Moon: Book Three of the Rune Witch Series”
by Laura Stamps © 2010


CHAPTER ONE


“The man’s voice just drips sex,” Noelle mumbles, sitting on the kitchen counter, listening to the CD player wedged between a stack of cookbooks and the refrigerator.

She licks her fingers, singing along with Steve Perry while he croons one of her favorite Journey songs. Swinging her legs over the edge of the counter, Noelle holds a bowl of frosting in her lap, stirring it with a spatula, whipping the ingredients until the texture is smooth and creamy. A hot pan of brownies cools on top of the stove. Shaking her short, black, gel-spiked hair, she sways to the beat of an electric guitar solo.

“Is this a private party, sugar?” Wynn asks, winking at her as he saunters into the kitchen, his hands stuffed in the pockets of black jeans. His long onyx hair is tied back at the nape of his neck.

“Just the man I wanted to see!” Noelle exclaims. “I’m glad you’re home, cat-man. Come over here and taste this for me.” She dips her finger in the bowl of frosting and holds it out to him. “What do you think?”

Wynn leans against the counter next to her and slides her finger into his mouth, sucking the chocolate in a sensuous caress. “Mmm,” he hums, sweeping his tongue across the tip of her finger before he releases it. “That’s good. What’s in it?”

“It’s a new recipe for vegan frosting.” She runs the spatula around the bowl, scraping the sides. “Vegan shortening, cocoa powder, cane sugar, soymilk, and vanilla extract.” She looks up at him and grins. “You really like it?”

“I do.” He nods toward the pan cooling on the stove. “This is for Savannah’s handfasting tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, vegan brownies.” She continues to whirl the spatula through the creamy mixture. “I can’t believe it’s already the third week of September. This handfasting seemed so far away.”

“Just think,” Wynn muses, his dark eyes twinkling mischievously. “One day you’ll be baking for our handfasting.”

“Whoa, cat-man! I never said I’d marry you.” She narrows her eyes and glares at him. “I just said I’d consider it.”

“I know, sugar,” Wynn replies. “I’m looking forward to the challenge.” He waggles his eyebrows and gently pinches her thigh.

“Quit that!” Noelle taps his leg with her stocking foot. “You’re frisky tonight.”

Wynn nods toward the brownies, changing the subject. “Another new recipe?”

“Yeah.” Noelle shrugs and then grins impishly. “I’m in a chocoholic mood this week, so I thought I’d experiment.”

He reaches toward the brownies, and she slaps his hand.

“Ouch!” he exclaims, drawing back.

“No sampling yet,” she scolds. “When they’re frosted and ready to cut you can have one.”

“You’re a hard woman, darlin’,” he teases, glancing at the brownies again. “And you’re sure they’re vegan? They don’t look like it.”

“Well, they are.” She sticks her tongue out at him. “I used unsweetened vegan chocolate, soy margarine, cane sugar, vegan egg substitute, vanilla extract, organic flour, and chopped nuts.”

Pushing off the counter, Wynn moves between her legs. “Sounds tasty.” He runs his hands along the tops of her thighs. “What are you doing sitting on the counter, sugar?”

“Aren’t you full of questions?” she teases, straightening her legs. “My feet are killing me, that’s what.” She wiggles her toes in pink striped socks. “I never got a chance to sit down at the store today. We were so busy you’d think it was a Saturday or something.”

“And you’re listening to Journey.” Wynn growls and leans over to nuzzle her neck.

“What can I say?” Noelle smiles slyly. Everyone knows the carnal effect Steve Perry’s voice has on her libido. “I like to live dangerously.”

“I can see that.” Wynn takes the bowl of frosting from her and sets on the counter. “Lift your arms, darlin’.”

“What, cat-man?” Noelle snickers, raising her arms over her head. “Does chocolate make you horny?”

Wynn laughs and strips off her black tank top, tossing it on the counter next to the refrigerator. “No, sugar.” He slips his thumbs under the edge of her black lace bra and slowly strokes her nipples. “But you do, sitting on the counter like this.”

“Easy access, huh?” She tightens her legs around his waist and moves forward, pushing her breasts against his hands, her nipples hardening into tight beads.

“Something like that,” he replies, bending down to flick his tongue between her breasts. “Your frosting has inspired me.”

“Oh?” Noelle murmurs. Moisture gushes between her thighs, and she finds it hard to concentrate on anything other than the blissful tremors rippling from her breasts to her clit as Wynn continues to thumb her nipples.

“But it needs more testing.” He unhooks her bra and lays it on the counter with her shirt.

“You think?” Noelle reaches out and grabs the belt loops on his black jeans. She pulls him against the counter, wrapping her thighs around his hips, locking him tightly between her legs so she can grind her mound into his growing bulge.

“Absolutely,” Wynn replies, dipping his finger in the bowl of frosting and dragging it across her nipple, finger-painting her breast with the sugary treat.

“Mmm,” Noelle purrs, pressing her breast against his hand. “In that case, I agree.”

Winking at her, he plunges his finger back into the bowl and smears chocolate icing across her other breast.

When he finishes, Noelle grabs his hand and runs her tongue across his sweetened finger, licking off little bits of icing. She looks up and stares into his eyes, suckling his finger as if she were making slow erotic love to his cock.

“That’s so hot, darlin’,” Wynn murmurs, withdrawing his finger and plunging his tongue between her lips, eating her mouth hungrily.

She moans and wraps her arms around his neck, returning his steamy kiss, pulling away to nibble his lower lip. Steve Perry hits a high note on the CD player, and she whimpers when her sex floods with cream. Rubbing her clit against Wynn’s shaft, she cups his face in her hands, meeting every thrust of his aggressive tongue.

“You’ve got me so hard, sugar,” Wynn whispers, moving her hand to his cock, while he trails smoldering kisses down her jaw.

Noelle sighs, tilting her head to give him better access. “I’ve got an idea, cat-man,” she mutters, finding it difficult to think while his hot lips devour her neck. “Maybe we should skip the wedding.”

“The handfasting,” he corrects, lightly dragging his teeth across her collarbone.

“Right,” she agrees. “Let’s skip that part and go straight to the honeymoon.”

“What?” Wynn lifts his head and gives her a warning look. “You’re not talking about Savannah’s handfasting, are you?”

Noelle holds up her hands in surrender and giggles. “Hey, it’s just an idea.”

“Darlin’, you’re such a tease.”

“I know. It’s the reason you love me.”

Wynn chuckles, bending down to gently bite her shoulder while she buries her face in his long raven hair.

“I don’t understand why you want to get married,” she pouts. “We have a good thing going. I know it’s been five years, but why mess with something that works?”

Wynn laps the valley between her breasts. “Because everyone should get married at least once.” He looks up and winks at her. “For the experience.”

Noelle moans as he nips the top of her breast, purposefully missing her chocolate-covered nipple, driving her crazy with yearning. “Well, you did. And it wasn’t a good experience.”

“True.”


“So why would you wanna do it again?”

Wynn slowly laps the rounded flesh on her breasts, causing her nipples to draw up hard as nails. “Sugar, my divorce was final fifteen years ago.”

Sinking her fingers into his shoulders, Noelle gasps when he blows his warm breath over her puckered nipples, making them ache for his touch.

He continues to torment the swell of her breasts, gently biting and then soothing the mark with his hot tongue. “I’ve thought a lot about it, and I know where I went wrong.” His ponytail slides over his shoulder and tickles her arm, heightening her aroused state. “And I’m ready to give it another shot.”

“Where did you go wrong, cat-man?” Noelle whispers, closing her eyes, surrendering to his sensuous torture. She leans back on the counter, balancing on her elbows, thrusting her needy breasts closer to his mouth.

“I married the wrong woman.”

She looks up at him. “How do you know?”

“Because she wasn’t you, sugar.” Wynn smiles, his eyes dark with lust.

Noelle makes an exasperated noise. “How am I supposed to argue when you say something like that?” Before she can disagree, he flicks his tongue over her chocolate-covered nipple, and she yips with surprise.

“You don’t play fair, cat-man,” she protests, wishing he would suck her breast deeply into his talented mouth and put her out of her misery.

“I never have, darlin’.” He slowly licks the chocolate off her nipple, smearing it across her breast with his tongue. The vegan shortening in the frosting sticks to her warm skin and takes twice as long to lick off as the whipped cream he surprised her with last year. By now her lips are almost numb from the fiery tremors shooting from her breast to her pussy every time he runs his tongue over her sensitive bud.

“Just fuck me, cat-man,” Noelle sighs. “Please.”

“Mmm,” Wynn murmurs, licking chocolate from his lips. “You’re in a dirty-girl mood tonight.”

“What about it?” A saucy grin curls her mouth. “You like?”

“Darlin’,” Wynn replies, his sexy eyes smoldering with erotic promise, “I love dirty. You know that.”

“Then fuck me, cat-man,” Noelle breathes, leaning up to whisk her tongue across his lower lip. “Fuck me hard.”

“Patience, sugar,” he whispers against the hot skin of her cheek as he rains kisses down her neck. Dipping his head, he sucks her breast deeply into his mouth.

Noelle cries out and grabs his hair, holding him against her chest while he feasts, lapping the last of the chocolate from her sensitive skin. Moaning, she feels the tingling approach of an orgasm, her cunt flooding the crotch of her jeans with cream.

Having thoroughly washed the icing from one breast, Wynn sweeps his tongue over her other nipple and then bites it.

Noelle screams when the bittersweet pain in her breast ignites her climax, and her body fragments into hundreds of sizzling pieces. She slams her pulsing cunt against Wynn’s cock, rubbing frantically for relief.

Capturing her chocolate-covered breast, he takes it deeply into his mouth, suckling, nipping, and licking as if he plans to eat her alive. His hand drops between the legs of her jeans, and he pinches her clit firmly, prompting another shattering orgasm.

“Yes!” A strangled cry bursts from her throat, ending in a long, low moan.

“Ride it out, sweetheart,” he soothes. She pants frantically and clings to him, while he licks the rest of the icing from her breast in languid strokes, occasionally biting her nipple to prolong her release.

When the last spasm of bliss passes Noelle is soaked with perspiration. She leans back on the counter and rests her head against the wall. “You almost killed me, cat-man.”

“I’m not finished yet, sugar,” he responds, chuckling. “Let’s get those jeans off you.” He tugs on her socks, dropping them to the floor. Reaching up, he unzips her jeans, peeling them from her moist body and tossing them on top of her socks.

Too tired to move, Noelle allows him to strip her while she lies on the counter, propped up on her elbows again. At this point her body feels as boneless as the chocolate icing he skillfully lapped from her breasts.

Wynn growls and grabs the edge of her black lace thong with his teeth, dragging it down her thighs. “Did you wear this just for me, darlin’?” Pulling it off, he lays it on the counter with her bra and tank top.

“You wish, cat-man,” Noelle teases, so sleepy and relaxed she’s having a hard time keeping her eyes open.

“Bend your knees and spread your legs, sugar,” he instructs, lifting her legs and then pushing them back. “Spread them wide.”

“What are you up to, cat-man?” she asks, wiggling on the counter, her back pushed against the wall as she opens her pussy to him.

Wynn dips his finger in the bowl of frosting. “I’m going to eat your cunt for dessert, dirty girl.” He grins wickedly and runs his finger through her wet folds, painting her sex with chocolate, paying careful attention to her clit.

Noelle jumps when the cool icing touches her hot wet core.

Taking her hands in his, Wynn moves them to her mound. “Hold yourself open for me, darlin’.”

She inhales sharply at his suggestion, loving how he pushes her erotic buttons when she least expects it. Moisture seeps from her cunt, and her pearl swells in anticipation.

Noelle pulls back her wet folds, touching herself for him, while he wraps his hands around her ankles, keeping her legs far apart.

Leaning down, he attacks with short, lapping strokes, hungrily licking the frosting from her delicate tissues. “You taste so sweet,” he murmurs, looking up for a moment, slowly swirling his tongue over the mixture of her juices and chocolate glistening on his lips.

Then he begins to eat her like a starving man while holding her ankles in an iron grip. Noelle is completely unprepared for the intensity of his aggressive assault, and a wail escapes from her throat before she sinks into an abyss of pure pleasure.

Suddenly, a flare of heat burns through her midsection, and a hard climax races toward her. Screaming at its ferocity, she arches her back on the counter. Desperately pushing her pussy against his ravishing mouth, she pants as endless waves of bliss roll through her sex and down her thighs.

“Cat-man,” she whispers, her cunt pulsing and contracting so powerfully she grips the side of the sink with one hand to hold on.

“What, sweetheart?” Wynn asks, sucking the last smear of frosting from her clit.

“Fuck me, cat-man,” she groans, “before you drive me insane. I can’t wait any longer.”

Wynn chuckles as he licks her cream from his lips. Straightening up, he pulls out the silverware drawer and rummages through it, leaving one hand on her ankle. “Where are they darlin’? You moved them.”

“The other drawer.” Too tired to lift her arm, she points to the one beside the dishwasher.

Her legs tremble when he finally releases them, and she sits up, dangling her feet over the counter. But when her sensitive tissues touch the cold countertop, she shouts, “Yikes!”

Wynn slides out the other drawer and grabs a foil packet, ripping it open while he toes off his shoes and unzips his jeans. Pushing them down and kicking them off, he leaves his pants, shoes, and boxer shorts in a pile on the floor. His swollen shaft bobs against his stomach, rigid and eager.

“Wrap your legs around me, darlin’,” he instructs, rolling on the condom. She scoots up and grabs his waist with her thighs.

Rubbing the head of his thick cock in her cream, he leans over and takes her mouth in a passionate kiss. When he slides into her slick heat with one hard thrust, they both groan with relief.

Noelle shivers at the incredible sensation of fullness, his firm cock stretching her channel in wonderful ways. “I want it fast, cat-man,” she whispers, breathing heavily in the midst of this intense pleasure.

The movement of his shaft ignites the nerve endings in her pussy like tiny firecrackers. The feeling is so intoxicating Noelle rocks her hips on the counter, meeting each of his deep thrusts.

Wynn’s long fingers cup her hips, pulling her toward him with every stroke, driving his cock all the way to her womb. “Dear Goddess, I can’t get enough of you,” he groans, moving faster as he pumps into her.

“That feels so good!” Noelle shrieks, wrapping her arms around his neck and slipping the band from his long raven hair. “Do it, cat-man,” she moans, grabbing handfuls of his hair to hang on. “Fuck me hard!”

Angling his hips, he grazes her G-spot with each deep stroke, and she mewls with need. Perspiration runs in tiny rivers down his neck and into the glossy black hair fanned across his shoulders.

Noelle bites his collarbone through the cotton material of his t-shirt, while she balances on the edge of an explosive orgasm. When she feels herself falling toward it, she murmurs, “I love you, cat-man.”

The words flow effortlessly from her mouth. She hears them, but it’s as if someone else is saying them, because suddenly she’s screaming. Her pussy contracts wildly, and she tumbles into a waterfall of blazing sensation. Every cell in her body vibrates as waves of ecstasy ripple through her core.

“I’m coming, too, sugar,” Wynn grunts, drawing back and plunging into her one last time. A feral moan rumbles from his throat, and he rests his head on her shoulder, breathing deeply.

Noelle clings to his wet t-shirt, while his cock shoots hot seed into the condom, setting off a series of smaller contractions in her channel. “I’m totally wasted, cat-man,” she whispers, amazed she can find the strength to speak.

Wynn groans in response.

When she can lift her head she kisses his moist cheek, working toward his sensuous lips. “You’re an awesome lover, cat-man,” she purrs.

Licking the salt from his bottom lip, she yields to his mouth. He cups her face in his hands and kisses her gently and thoroughly.

Afterwards he pulls back and frowns, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“What?’ Noelle asks, feeling his cock twitch inside her.

“Darlin’, you said you love me.”

Noelle freezes when the memory of those words floats back to her groggy consciousness. “Uh, uh…” she stutters, beginning to panic.

In all the years they’ve been together she’s never slipped and admitted her true feelings for him. Now she can’t believe she actually lost control and said the words out loud.

Swallowing hard, she realizes she’s backed herself into a tight corner this time. Wynn knows an emotional commitment like marriage terrifies her. It’s her worst nightmare. As a child she watched her mother suffer through several failed marriages, and that’s all the proof she needs.

Marriage is not for her.

On the other hand, Wynn is nothing like her mother’s lousy husbands. He truly loves her, and he’s never been shy about expressing his feelings for her.

Still, she’s got to find a way out of this mess. And fast.

Cocking an eyebrow, Wynn grins victoriously. “Uh, uh…?” he mimics.

Noelle scowls at the abandoned bowl on the counter. “That frosting is dangerous, ya know?”

“Obviously,” he replies, winking at her just before he throws back his head and laughs.


************


The Rune Witch Series is a paranormal erotica novella trilogy: Sex Magick, Bewitched at the Beach, and The Harvest Moon. You can find this series in pdf at my site:

Or in the Kindle Store:


xoxo
Laura Stamps ©
Paranormal Erotica Novelist
(HOT vampires, shapeshifters, witches)
laurastamps@mindspring.com
To see all my novel series:
http://www.avampskiss.blogspot.com/
(All Kindle & pdf ebooks are $1.99)
My verrrrry naughty blog:
http://www.erotica-laurastamps.blogspot.com/
My “Laura Stamps” Fan Page at Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/sexwitch
Follow me on Twitter at:
http://twitter.com/sexwitch

Saturday, September 18, 2010

Marriage, Alpha Men, and Pepto Bismol


Wes and I have been working on our relationship lately (like when are we NOT?). Actually, I’ve been working on it, and Wes has been…well….an Alpha man. *lol*

Basically, what I want is for Wes to be nice to me. All the time. I don’t think that’s a lot to ask. True, he has his moments, but I need more consistency.

What can I say? I’m a sweet, happy slut. I don’t understand why it’s so hard for him to be nice to me. Instead he has a few nice moments scattered among lots of cranky asshole moments.

“I’m nice to you all the time,” Wes proclaimed in the car last night when I tried to discuss this with him. “I’m perfect. I’m the King of the World. End of discussion.”

As you can see, I have my work cut out for me. *sigh*

Part of the problem is that Wes is not only an Uber Alpha but also a Leo. If you know any Leo men they tend to be cranky egomaniacs. In fact, Wes reminds me a lot of my friend Amanda, who is also a cranky Alpha Leo. She struggles with things like compassion and empathy for…well…just about everyone.

Amanda has a new job this summer. She’s a customer service rep. Yeah, I can almost say that now without collapsing in fits of hysterical laughter. At first she couldn’t understand my response to her new job, but now she does. Kinda.

The other day her boss monitored one of her calls. She told me if she weren’t his best worker in other areas he would’ve flagged her.

“You need to work on your empathy,” he advises when her call ends. “You should be nicer.”

“Hey,” Amanda protests. “I was bending over backwards to be nice to that woman.”

“Maybe so,” he continues, “but your tone was harsh. You need to be more empathic and compassionate with our customers.”

“I was,” Amanda argues. “I was trying really hard to be nice to that woman. Hey, if someone’s dog dies I can be compassionate about that, okay? But if they call up to complain about something dumb, like they made a mistake with their bill or they want something I can’t give them, then I have no empathy for them. I mean, that’s what the Mute button is for, right?”

I can only imagine the look on her boss’s face.

“Most of the people who call me are freakin stupid,” she continues, pleading her case. “But instead of telling them that, I try to be nice. What I really wanna do is yell at them and tell them they’re IDIOTS and to stop wasting my frickin time with their dumb complaints. Actually, they’re lucky I don’t hang up on them.”

Amanda said her boss just looked at her and sighed. Yeah, he’s got his work cut out for him, too.

This is something Wes and Amanda have in common because they’re both Leos. They really think they’re being nice, but their tone and words are harsh and mean.

“My boyfriend is going through some intense stuff right now,” Amanda told me last week. “He’s depressed, and I wanna help him feel better because I love him. But I don’t know what to do. Empathy is so fucking hard!”

“Not really,” I reply. “All you gotta do is be nice to him with your words and actions.”

“I try,” she responds. “But it always feels fake to me, like I’m being saccharin sweet or something.” She groans. “It makes me wanna puke.”

I sigh. “Amanda, it’s not always all about you.”

“It’s not?” She laughs. “But I’m the Queen of the World. It’s always all about me.”

I had to laugh, too. I mean, Leos are such a trip with this King/Queen of the World shit.

“Anyway, since I can’t make myself be nice and compassionate I end up buying people things,” she explains. “I really need to get this empathy thing down. I can’t afford to keep buying people stuff. It’s getting expensive.”

Can you see why I adore Amanda? The woman cracks me up!

Okay, back to Wes. When I told him about this conversation he immediately agreed with Amanda.

“Most people are stupid, fucking idiots,” he says. “But Amanda’s a sick puppy with that Queen of the World shit.”

“Why?”

“Cause I’m the King of the World,” he replies grinning smugly.

Okay, good to have that settled. GAWD, these two are a trip!

The discussion with Wes in the car started because he’d told me he talked with the guy in charge of his 40 year reunion. We both have high school reunions next month. His is in Louisville, KY, and mine is in Dalton, GA.

“I’m really excited about going to my reunion,” he says. “I hope I have a good time.”

“Don’t worry, good-lookin,” I reply. “You’re gonna have a blast! I’m excited about going to my reunion, too.”

“But you have to admit I’m more excited about going to my reunion than you are about yours, because you went to your 34th last year,” he states.

Huh?

“This isn’t a competition,” I reply. “We can both be excited about our reunions, and it’s okay.”

“No,” he objects. “I’m more excited.”

Okay. Fine. Whatever. *rolls my eyes*

So I keep trying to get some kind of consistency out of the man. But he’s such a moody bastard. He’s been having these moments of absolute wonderfulness the last two weeks, and it’s driving me batshit. Our Labor Day fuck was one of those moments where he showered me with so much sweet-talk I swore the Mothership had landed.

Another was six days later on Saturday when we discussed why I can’t go to his reunion cause the timing sucks for me. He was amazingly sweet and understanding. In fact, he arranged to bring his best friend from Columbia, and they’re turning it into a golfing trip. Cool.

Then the next day, Sunday, I woke up to the smell of cleaning fluids. Wes had cleaned his bathroom, mopped the kitchen and foyer floors, and washed the windows while I slept. Then I rode him like a stud horse that afternoon for our sex date.

Alrightyyyy!

Three days of nice, sweet, easy-to-love Wes and 11 days of cranky asshole Wes. Can you see why I need more consistency? I never know from day to day which Wes he’s gonna be. And it’s been like this since January.

After thinking about Amanda’s dilemma, I left Wes a note in the kitchen last night. I told him I understand how he thinks he’s perfect (that King of the World horseshit). I understand how he thinks he’s nice to me all the time (obviously, he’s forgotten how he’s ruined every holiday this year for me with his asshole moods. Duh!).

But I told him I need more. I need him to try to be extra nice to me. I told him when he’s being so nice it feels fake and saccharin and makes him wanna puke THAT’S the kind of nice I need.

Let’s see if that works.

Wish me luck. If it does, I’ll probably be stocking up on lots of Pepto bismol for the guy.

But that’s a good thing, right? *falls over laughing*

xoxo
Laura Stamps ©
Paranormal Erotica Novelist
(HOT vampires, shapeshifters, witches)
laurastamps@mindspring.com
To see all my novel series:
http://www.avampskiss.blogspot.com/
(All Kindle & pdf ebooks are $1.99)
My verrrrry naughty blog:
http://www.erotica-laurastamps.blogspot.com/
My “Laura Stamps” Fan Page at Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/sexwitch
Follow me on Twitter at:
http://twitter.com/sexwitch

Monday, September 13, 2010

My Amazing Labor Day Fuck. Who Knew?!


Hope you had a fab Labor Day!

Mine was surprisingly wonderful. No, I’m not kidding. In fact I’m still kinda shocked about it. That’s because if you’ve been reading this blog for a while you know Wes has messed up every holiday this year for me. Yes, he has. And after the shitty mood he was in for his birthday dinner in August it’s safe to say I’m starting to dread any holiday.

However, Wes turned all that around on Monday night.

Here’s what happened. On the way home from working a Labor Day Sale at one of his customer’s stores he stopped off for Happy Hour at his fav bar.

Nothing new about that. Except instead of coming home cranky as hell (like he usual does) he arrived sweet-talking, amorous, and horny.

Huh?

I was late coming downstairs to make dinner, but Wes was in such a good mood I stopped and sat on the arm of his reclining chair to talk to him for a minute. Next thing I know he’s pulling down my cami and sucking my nipples.

Alrightyyyy!

Eager slut that I am, I slip my cami down to my waist and offer him both breasts. Of course.

Even better we’re in the living room with the lights on in front of the big picture window (GAWD, I love being an exhibitionist!).

“Such pretty nipples,” Wes murmurs, feasting on me. “I love sucking them.” He’s so enthusiastic he gives me several breast Os.

Alrightyyyy!

By then I’m writhing with pleasure. I roll over on top of him in the chair, and my hand goes for his dick. Of course.

“Are you hard?” I ask, not expecting him to be. He had a lot to drink, and that usually gives him VD (Vodka dick) rather than HD (Hard dick).

“Let’s see,” he replies, throwing back the blanket on his legs and clawing at the snap on his boxers.

“Oh, my,” I breathe, when he pulls out his rock hard shaft.

He stands and strips ASAP, tossing his clothes across the living room floor. The man is obviously an eager beaver for a BJ.

“Are you hard enough to fuck?” I ask, surprising him.

“I dunno,” he responds, stroking his dick. “Is that what you want?”

“Hell, yeah!” I exclaim. “You know I wanna fuck every day of the week.” Then I take off upstairs to the bedroom.

“Sounds good to me,” he agrees, racing after me.

On the way to the bedroom I stop by my bathroom and grab some condoms. I don’t need lube this time cause I used a KY Liquibead on Sunday, and one of those lasts for three days (Yessssss!). Is it any wonder I love them so much?

When we reach the bedroom, he grabs my clothes and yanks them down so fast they get tangled up on my hips. Damn, I love a horny man!

I roll the condom on him, jump on the bed, and spread. “Fuck me, baby,” I purr, flashing my dripping pussy at him.

Wes laughs. “You always say that,” he teases, as he jumps on me and sinks in deep.

OMG, that feels good!!

“I love kissing you while I’m fucking you,” he murmurs, kissing me passionately while he slams into me.

Damn, the man is verbal tonight. Who knew after 32 years of fucking he’d turn into such a sweet-talker? Yeah, I’m eating this up.

“I love seeing you naked,” he continues, thrusting into me like a jackhammer. “You’re so pretty. Especially when you’re naked.”

Alrightyyyy! Sweet-talk me, baby.

After he gives me several screaming Os, he rolls over on his back. Now I’m on top.

“Ride me, cowgirl,” he says, pinching my nipples. “I love playing with your nipples while you ride me.” Then he grabs me by the hips to surge up into me as I go down on his steely shaft. “I love watching your tits shake as you fuck me.”

Wes laughs like he’s having his own private party.

“I really love your tits,” he continues. “And your cute little ass, and your tiny hips, and your pretty face, and the way you look when you climax. Your expression is sooooo hot, darlin’.”

He stayed hard forever and let me ride him for an hour and a half. No, I’m not kidding. I rode him every way I could think of that felt good. I went from one O to the next until my legs were wobbly, and I could barely breathe.

Rarely do I get a chance to fuck for as long as I like. Hey, what can I say? I’m an insatiable slut. Duh. Plus, I work out every week so I have a lot of endurance. Plus, I’m limber as hell.

It was a totally awesome fuck. I even stretched out on top of him toward the end, just rubbing up and down. But in that position his hard dick hit my G-spot like a bull’s eye, driving me to even more Os.

“Does this feel as good to you as it does to me?” I pant. By then my lips are numb, and I can barely talk.

“Oh, yeah,” Wes replies, laughing cause he’s getting such a kick out of seeing me use and abuse his tool for as long as I can.

Like me, you’re probably as mystified about all of this as I am. Obviously, the Mothership landed on Labor Day, snatched up my cranky husband (who tends to run from me), and replaced him with this yummy horny alien.

All I can say is I hope the Mothership doesn’t return any time soon. I mean, I’ve got plans for this dude. *sex-obsessed grin*

Eventually, my legs start to tremble. “Can you finish this way?”

“I don’t think so,” Wes replies, smiling like crazy. “But, damn, it feels good.”

“Doesn’t it?” I purr. I really don’t wanna quit, but by then my thighs are exhausted. Amazingly, my pussy isn’t. It could have gone for a few more hours. I know. I’m such a slut. *wink*

Suddenly, Wes flips me over and pile-drives me to his finish.

YOWZA!

The next morning Wes said when the alarm went off he slammed the “Snooze” button (which he never does). When he finally got up, he said he felt like I’d beat the shit outta him. His body hurt all day and didn’t stop until that evening.

Who knows why?

I mean, I did most of the work, riding him like a stud horse. Duh. And I jumped out of bed the next morning ready to rock ‘n roll again. Okay, I’m a limber sex maniac.

“What happened to you?” I ask, when he tells me about his aches and pains at dinner the next night. “You were so amorous, sweet-talkin’, and horny. You’re never like that.”

“I think the Viagra from Sunday was still in my system,” he replies, taking a bite of lasagna.

“Maybe, but that’s never happened before.”

“And the testosterone,” he continues, stabbing his salad. “Gotta be that, too.” Then he grins wickedly at me and unzips his pants. His dick pops out hard as a rock.

“Damnation!” I shout, throwing my fork down. “Let’s do it again!”

“No way, darlin’. I can barely walk as it is.”

“Wus,” I tease.

“Tonight. Definitely.”

Oh, well, as those of you know who follow me on Facebook and Twitter I went to Target the next day with no adult supervision (an absolute necessity when it comes to this chick and Target). I bought a bunch of cool stuff, including big box of 36 of our fav Trojan Ultra Thin condoms, which were on sale for $13.29.

That’s 36 cents a fuck.

Alrightyyyy!

Now you know why Wes calls me a cheap date. Yeah, it doesn’t take much to make this slut happy. Duh!

xoxo
Laura Stamps ©
Paranormal Erotica Novelist
(HOT vampires, shapeshifters, witches)
laurastamps@mindspring.com
To see all my novel series:
http://www.avampskiss.blogspot.com
(All Kindle & pdf ebooks are $1.99)
My verrrrry naughty blog:
http://www.erotica-laurastamps.blogspot.com
My “Laura Stamps” Fan Page at Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/sexwitch
Follow me on Twitter at:
http://twitter.com/sexwitch

Sunday, September 5, 2010

Testosterone & The Hypochondriac


If you’ve been reading this blog for a while then you know I’ve been giving Wes testosterone shots for almost a year now. We started out with one shot a month, but his levels were so low his doc upped it to one shot every three weeks.

Testosterone levels start dropping in most men after thirty. By the time they’re Wes’s age (58) they’re at least a quart low.

Hey, the last thing this slutty chick needs is a lover with no libido. HORRORS! Thus, the testosterone shots.

For the first shot I had to go with him to his doc’s office so the nurse could teach me how to do it. Wow. Who knew there were so many steps? I ended up writing them all down on an index card that Wes keeps with the needles and other shot paraphernalia.

There are several places on his bod where he has enough muscle mass for a shot like that. Initially, the nurse showed me how to give him a shot in his hip, so that’s where I started.

But Wes complained it hurt too much. Plus, he swore I missed the muscle. Whatever. Besides being a cranky Uber-Alpha have I ever mentioned he’s also a hypochondriac?

Well, he is.

“How about your ass cheek?” I suggested, smiling sweetly. “No way I could miss a muscle THAT big.”

Wes just glared at me. So I quartered his ass cheek, aimed for the point in the middle (the bull’s eye), and stabbed him like I was throwing a dart, which is how the nurse told me to do it.

POW!

Not that I’ve ever thrown a dart before. But it can’t be that hard, right? Okay, so I’m winging it as usual.

“Ahh!” Wes screamed. “That hurt like hell!”

“Wus,” I murmured, shaking my head. I get no appreciation from the man whatsoever.

Let me stop right here and tell you what his doc said when he complained to him. He told Wes if he didn’t like how I give a shot he could always do it himself. All he had to do was sit down and stab his thigh.

Wes almost passed out just from the suggestion. So we nixed the self-medication idea ASAP.

“Try giving it to me in my arm,” Wes said a few months ago. “But hurry up cause I feel kinda sick, like I’m gonna faint.”

“Wus,” I murmur. So much for the big bad Uber-Alpha.

Testosterone is really thick stuff. That means we have to use a big needle to get it out of the bottle. Then screw it off and screw on a tiny needle to stab Wes.

I’m supposed to stab him fast, too. Then pull back on the plunger a little bit to see if any blood comes into the needle. If it does, that means I missed the muscle. Contrary to all of Wes’s moaning and groaning that has NEVER happened. I’ve hit the muscle every time just like I’m supposed to. *victorious smile*

As you may have guessed by now Wes is the problem. He gets really freaky about this kinda thing. It’s like eye drops. For decades I’ve had to dump half a bottle of eye drops on his face just to get a few in his eyes. Finally in the last year he’s learned how to do it himself, and now it only takes a quarter of a bottle. Yeah, eye drops don’t last long in our house.

Knowing this, you can imagine how he tenses up when I give him a shot. I mean, the man’s arm is as hard as a brick. I have to beat on it like ten times to loosen up the muscle. Then I stab him quick when he’s not expecting it.

Hey, don’t get me wrong. The last thing I wanna do is hurt the guy. Unfortunately, that kinda thinking doesn’t jive well with shots. A few times I stabbed him too slowly cause I didn’t wanna hurt him. Instead it only hurt more . I could tell by the ear-splitting sound of his scream and all the cursing that followed. ;)

Anyway, once I stab him I have to push as hard as I can with both hands to get the thick testosterone through the tiny needle into his muscle. When I’m done I slap a Band-Aid on his arm, and he’s good to go.

“I think it hurts so much in my arm because I’m a muscle-ly guy,” Wes reasoned when I gave him his shot last week.

“Nah,” I reply. “It hurts so much cause you’re a wus and get tense. You need to RELAX.”

Wes just glares at me like the big bad Uber-Apha. Which has no effect on me since I’m the one holding the needle.

“Ugh,” he groans, after I slap on the Band-Aid. “My whole arm hurts.”

“Wus,” I mumble. Then I dash downstairs to make dinner. I gotta get out of there quick, or it’ll be like the time he had a headache and swore it was a brain tumor. *rolls my eyes*

Fifteen minutes later Wes stomps into the kitchen. “I knew it!” he shouts. “I knew that shot was damaging my arm.”

He takes my hand and puts it on his arm where I gave him the shot.

“Feel that,” he says triumphantly. “I’ve got a big knot there now.”

I feel his arm and frown. “You mean the Band-Aid?” I ask. I flip up his sleeve and sure enough. No bump. No bruise. Just the Band-Aid.

Yup, he forgot about the Band-Aid.

“You’re such a freakin’ hypochondriac!” I tease, laughing like crazy.

He just glares at me. “Lick my balls!” he threatens and walks out of the kitchen.

“Can I?” I beg, running after him like the kinky slut that I am. “Please, please, please…”

“Back!” He yells, batting me away from his balls.

As you can imagine, dinner was ten minutes late. It took me that long to stop laughing.

xoxo
Laura Stamps ©
Paranormal Erotica Novelist
(HOT vampires, shapeshifters, witches)
laurastamps@mindspring.com
To see all my novel series:
http://www.avampskiss.blogspot.com/
(All Kindle & pdf ebooks are $1.99)
My verrrrry naughty blog:
http://www.erotica-laurastamps.blogspot.com/
My “Laura Stamps” Fan Page at Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/sexwitch
Follow me on Twitter at:
http://twitter.com/sexwitch