THE AUTHOR'S WARNING: This story contains frank, candid descriptions of erotic
activities, including "The Act" among other delights. UNDER 16's PLEASE LEAVE NOW!
This is a bedroom? This looks more like something I read about in one of those racy sex novels.
The room was spacious, with the same hardwood floors and paneling. The huge picture windows looked out over the enclosed backyard with its pool and garden. A king-sized waterbed dominated the room; it had already been turned down -- Like Mark had anticipated Claude and I using this.
Huge mirrors, which caught the bed's reflection from every angle, adorned the walls and ceiling. I wonder if this is what Claude meant by, "This has to be seen to be believed!"
Oh no! Claude's never seen anything like this . . . I hope he wasn't too outraged . . .
But the pleasant sounds I heard emanating from the bathroom put my fears at ease. I set the bowl on the night table, then slipped out of my clothes and entered the bathroom. Even this room had a sensual ambience -- A delightful blend of rustic bliss and urban chic.
The room was large with white and brown tile floor and walls; a sliding glass door led out to an outdoor alcove complete with hot tub and Jacuzzi.
Damn! Mark must have spent a small fortune on this place! It's no wonder he's so happy when
he returns from his 'vacations'.
For all my amazement with this 'passion pit', I had to remind myself why I was here--why Claude and I were here. Isn't it obvious? Come on, Nishi, you can't wait to get your mouth and hands on that delicious, manly body . . .
From the shower stall I heard his deep sultry baritone crooning the sultriest of songs. The frosted glass door could not completely conceal his tall slender form writhing in time to the music. I just stood back and watched Claude weave his body. He must've sensed my eyes on him because the lyrics and his movements became more sensual, more explicit. I swore I saw his hands travel to a certain member of his anatomy.
What is he singing? Sounds made up . . . Claude, are you singing about me? .
Tell me, sugarbritches, do you want me to . . . ahem . . . 'put my mouth on you'? Maybe we can
watch ourselves do each other . . .
Mmm . . . Claude, give it up, baby! Sing it, honey!
My sweet-as-honey lady
I love to hear you scream
When my mouth's on you
O my Nubian Goddess
Make me scream
When your mouth's on me!
Ooh . . . Wrap your full, plump lips around my . . . Ahem!
I giggled then opened the door and slipped beside him under the cool water. Mmm . . . this feels
so good . . . Ooh, Claude. Sing more. Squeeze me . . . Hold me . . .
"My Nisha, my love . . . ," Claude said as he slid his hands all over my body. I closed my eyes as I let the cool water flow over me. Claude's tongue gently caressed my shoulders, my back, my neck. When I turned to face him, I immediately returned each and every kiss with a fiery passion that I amazed myself with my own sensuality.
Yes, it is amazing. I'm a sensual woman; I love my body, and the way it responds to a man's touch. Mmm, Claude, we are no longer Black and White, 15th and 20th Century, just a man and a woman celebrating their love and passion . . .
"Danisha, you are too incredibly sensual. Every inch of you . . . Mmm . . . every beautiful inch . .
. " His lips were now upon my breasts; his hands gently kneaded my fleshy bottom. I responded
by stroking his tight, round butt. Mmm . . . Feels so good . . . Ooh yeah baby . . . right on the
nipple . . . Make it hard . . . then I'll make you hard . . . Claude's tongue greedily stabbed my left
nipple; then his mouth traveled down, down, down . . .
"Mmm, Claude," I cooed while my hands tangled in his damp hair. "That feels so good . . ."
Claude moaned and cooed while he went to put his ahem mouth on me.
"My love . . . my Danisha . . . my Nubian Love Goddess . . . Neither brown sugar nor dark honey
tastes sweeter than this . . . Umm . . . You are so beautiful down here . . . "
It felt so incredibly wonderful, Claude's tongue gently caressing that faraway spot that many a man long to visit, to tease, to bring a woman to the point where she loses all control and begs for more.
"Umm . . . Claude . . . " I moaned as the cool water cascaded over our bodies; Claude had me pressed against the wall, his tongue and lips still working their magic. Oh, Claude . . . nothing compares to this . . .
"Claude, give it to me! Make me go!" Claude responded with a chuckle and an upwardly sliding kiss; I could taste myself on his lips. He must've read my mind as my lips traveled to a far-off place I longed to visit, to tease, to play with. I wanted to get Claude Frollo so worked up until he was squirming and moaning with sensual delight, and, perhaps, even scream for more.
I remember that first time, when I did this to him . . . He got so excited; he thrashed about so much that he really mussed the sheets . . . Then he almost cried when I stopped . . . then he begged for more...
"Danisha, I'd thought we'd . . . oh!" Claude had turned off the water then gently moved himself
away from my reach. "Ooh, Claude! Your Nisha wanted a taste of . . . "
Claude led me out of the shower, wrapped an oversized towel around both of us, then guided me
to the bed--That bed surrounded by all those mirrors . . .
++++++++
Peaches . . . sweet, juicy . . . Mmm . . . they smell good, taste good, and all that juice dripping down . . . Don't worry, sugarbritches, I'll lick up all that juice that dripped on your . . . Ahh!
"This tastes so good!" Peach juice dripped down my neck and onto my breasts, and Claude was
kind enough to -- ahem -- 'clean up'.
"These are rather tasty," sighed Claude as he took another bite of a large, firm, ripe peach.
"Mmm," moaned Claude again as I -- ahem -- 'cleaned up' juice that had dripped down his chest
and onto 'other' spots. He then laughed when he caught our reflections in the mirrors that
surrounded the huge bed.
Now I know that Claude had never seen such a 'passion pit'; in fact, my own bedroom is no
where near this. Although Claude had heard about such things from me, he wasn't quite prepared
for a room like this!
"My love, never had I imagined that I would make love to my 14th FSM under the watchful eyes
of MYSELF! Why, I have yet to experience this facet of your 20th Century culture. That mirror!
Nisha, let us make love to each other, while we watch ourselves overtaken with passion."
And with that, Claude sprawled on top of me then began to kiss and caress me with such fire,
such passion, that I nearly fainted from his every touch. The feel of his hands, lips, tongue and
teeth upon my skin, combined with the scorching fire of my own responses, inflamed me so
much that I literally begged for release. The realization of my intense passion was made evident
when I caught a glimpse of my wildy writhing body. Even Claude, who can move extremely sensually
himself, couldn't resist joining the dance of ecstacy. I spurred him on with my words, "Hey, Claude . . . You sure can move that
delicious body, and you do have a killer body. Wiggle it, baby! Move that body, sugarbritches!"
Claude chuckled then complied with the sexiest and most sensuous performance; I steadily watched his reflection as he snaked and slithered all over my body, his hands, lips, and tongue touching every inch of me. When Claude slipped his tongue between my thighs, I thought, this is it...no holding back...
Give it up, Claude! Let it loose, sugarbritches! Hmm . . . Speaking of 'sugar' . . .
Our bodies were bathed with sweat and sticky peach juice. Through my blurred vision, I watched Claude Frollo's long, pale body thrusting against mine. As I had always said to Claude, we have always been an interesting study of contrasts: His pale skin -- I likened it to fine ivory -- contrasted sharply with my own -- a dark, honeyed caramel. We even differed in size -- Claude is tall and extremely slender, not rawboned and skinny, but gracefully slim. I'm what one would call 'short, plump, and sassy' -- five-foot-four inches and the perfect size fourteen. Of course, Claude has always praised my figure, and I welcomed that praise, especially since I'm from a time and place where the size of a woman's body is everything. Thank you, Claude. Thank you for seeing me and loving me just as I am.
++++++++
We were now stretched out on the bed, sixty-nine-fashion. Every now and then I glanced up at
the mirror just to watch Claude's handsome gray-haired head buried between my thighs, but I also
wanted to watch myself give Claude Frollo the best my mouth had to offer.
It is, after all, what he craves . . . he loves when I do this to him . . .
"Make it big, my sweetness. Mmm . . . and you do taste so sweet down here . . ."
Oh I'll make it big all right, just as long as he keeps playing with my 'magic button'.
++++++++
Claude was so big, but I took all of him, every engorged inch, and I didn't care if the back of my
mouth hurt. My hands gripped his tight, round butt, my nails dug into his flesh as my mouth
continued to work its magic on his hardened masculinity. But I wanted to pay attention to my
own pleasure for Claude teased and titillated my femininity until I screamed and hollered for
more. The more I screamed, "Claude! Oh, baby, you're so good!", his tongue and teeth dug
deeper within me.
Now, I had to stop doing 'that' to him because what he was doing to me felt so wonderful. I swore I
actually felt his tongue travel deep inside my woman's depths. Claude's tongue gently yet
hungrily stroked those sweet, swollen walls; then I felt his teeth tenderly nibble my engorged
clitoris -- that 'magic button' which held the secret of a woman's joy. And Claude knew exactly
how to operate that button. I couldn't stop screaming! I thought I would never stop coming!
Mmm, sugarbritches, you sure know how to push ALL my buttons -- Especially THAT one!
"I knew I'd make you scream", Claude snarled sexily. "Now, my tasty little peach, let me hear you scream even louder!"
Suddenly, Claude pulled me up to face him; then, fitting my body with his, rammed himself into my wet, throbbing womanhood and rode me until I
squirmed and thrashed about under him -- It was that intense. My thighs immediately clasped his
thrusting pelvis, my teeth and tongue greedily devouring the sweat that poured from his delicious
body. It was a strange mix of sensations: The taste of salty sweat combined with the remains of
sweet peach juice; the visual impact of watching Claude's long, slender, cool vanilla-toned body
covering my own burnt-sugar voluptuousness. And those bodies moved in tandem -- I swiveled my hips 'like a washing machine' while Claude gyrated deeper and deeper within me.
I reveled in the reflection I beheld overhead -- of
being man-ridden, of being sexually mastered by the most skillful lover I've ever known. As I watched our ritualistic writhings, I got a
flash of creativity.
My nails racked his buttocks; then my fingers found their way toward that place. I remembered
reading, in one of 'those' publications, about this highly sensitive spot on a man's body that,
when squeezed in the right way, can literally send him into orbit. So, I thought, why not?
Come on, Danisha, you can do it! Remember L.A. Law? Remember the 'Venus Butterfly? Well,
you can call this the 'Nubian Love Touch', or something that's more passionate-sounding.
I could sense Claude's climax, and I could sense the spiraling of my own. At once, my fingers
tightly gripped that 'really forbidden zone', sending Claude Frollo into a fit of frenzied,
twitching, mind-numbing satisfaction. His body jerked and thrashed over and inside me. The more Claude squirmed and wriggled, the deeper he thrust into my woman's depths; his hard, throbbing maleness slammed into me again and again.
Damn, that started to hurt! But it was a good hurt! I felt him swell, then dance inside me; he
buried his face in my breasts, licking up my sweat and calling out my name over and over as the
last ounce of his seed spewed forth.
"Danisha, you are -- Oh -- like dynamite. Oooh! Explode with me, my succulent blackberry-woman. Where did you ever -- Ah! -- learn to do that?!"
Then, with a mighty groan, Claude got in a few last thrusts; he still lied over me while allowing me to
cuddle and caress him. I do believe he was crying, for I felt his body still shivering and trembling
with pleasure.
We've made love countless times before, but I'd never seen Claude in such a state. Did I do this
to him? If I did, well . . . Those fools who dumped me don't know what they're missing, and
Claude . . .
"Danisha, my lusciously sensual love goddess", Claude Frollo growled sensually, his body still sprawled over mine and twitching
with satisfaction. He kissed my face and body over and over, saying in the deepest, most voluptuous voice, "I know exactly what you're thinking, and I only have this to say: Those stupid men are just that -- stupid! Why, if one would walk in on this little session..."
Claude emitted a throaty chuckle when he added, "My sweetness, all your former suitors will never know the sensual pleasures I've just experienced."
I returned each and every kiss, continuing to cuddle Claude in my arms. Then I had to say something: "Claude, is it safe to say that you're getting enough for all those guys?"
In response to this remark, Claude burst out laughing then snuggled close to me as he slowly drifted off to sleep.
He then laughed again when he said,"Darling, those peaches were to -- what is the expression? Oh yes -- To die
for!" He kissed me deeply and intensely, his tongue gently probing the inside of my mouth.
I returned the kiss with equal passion and tenderness, saying, "Yes, sugarbritches, those were
rather tasty." My arms were still locked around Claude and he was still lying on top of me. I
glanced up at the mirror once more and studied the reflection of two people who had just made
the most passionate love.
On wrinkled, sweat-soaked, peach-stained sheets we lay on that bed surrounded by all those mirrors, our legs entwined together, and
dreamed the most beautiful of dreams. Then he had to suggest a late-night swim; then we
indulged our appetites -- Again!
Oh yeah -- We then enjoyed a late -- make that a VERY late -- supper and peach pie. Claude
sure loves my peach pie!
The End
Hope you enjoyed this juicy tale so much that you'll run down to your local market and
buy a sackful of ripe, juicy peaches! ;-)
Copyright©1998, 2000 by FrolloFreak®
