textfiles/sex/EROTICA/S/specdeli.txt

Archive-name: Affairs/specdeli.txt
Archive-author: 
Archive-title: Special Delivery


      Veronique lay under her husband Roger, riding his swollen
    cock for all it was worth. He was prodigiously endowed, a
    solid 10 inches, with heavy, firm balls. He plowed away at
    her with rigid detachment; trying so hard to make it last
    long enough for her to cum. Almost without warning he came;
    grunting and sputtering as his hot sticky cum splashed her
    insides and ran down the crack of her ass. She screamed, 
    "Yes, oh, Roger, fill me with your hot cum!" They lay
    together, hearts pounding until he rolled off her and drifted
    off to sleep. Safe from discovery, her tears rolled off her
    face as she sobbed silently.

    ===

      "Why, yes, we'd be happy to deliver that Mr. Fontaine.
    Today? Um, well, I'll have to see who we have available for
    drivers." "Tom, there's no one left to make a delivery today.
    Ronny's gone to Hampstead and Billy's leaving early," I
    offered. "This is Fontaine," Tom explained, cupping the
    receiver; "he's placing a good order." "See if he can wait
    until tomorrow, and I'll drop it off after we close."

      "Must be nice to be loaded," I thought, placing a case of
    Cheval Blanc beside the mixed case of Domaine de la
    Romanie-Conti and Domaine Meo-Camuzet. $1900 worth of wine in
    two cases. It was worth going the extra mile for customers
    like these. The 25 minute drive was over in a flash; I'd made
    it before and took a few shortcuts to avoid the construction
    induced delays on the highway. I enjoyed the smell of freshly
    mown hay as I traveled down the country road before turning
    into the driveway of this most impressive home. Roger
    Fontaine was a former NFL cornerback, a two time pro-bowler
    who'd played for the Steelers in 3 superbowls before an
    unfortunate injury to his anterior cruciate ligament ended
    his career prematurely.

      I parked next to a black Ferrari GTO in the spacious
    driveway. What a machine, I thought, as I inspected an
    automobile that cost more than my condo. Athletes' salaries
    are so insane, I mused.

      I went up to the front door and rang the bell. Ferdinand,
    the male servant, answered the door with the kind of
    arrogance that only servants to the filfthy rich can muster.
    "Is Mr. Fontaine in?" "No, sir, he'll be out for the day. May
    I help you?" "I have a delivery for Mr. Fontaine's cellar;
    two cases of wine." "Oh, yes, the delivery entrance is around
    back. I'll meet you there." And he turned to leave. I suppose
    he wasn't discourteous, but the cold detachment, the "I can
    scarcely be bothered with you" attitude was really quite
    grating.

      I brought the car around to the rear entrance, and popped
    the trunk. Grabbing the Cheval Blanc, I moved towards the door
    when a movement in the pool area caught my eye. A gorgeous
    woman was getting out of the pool. Must be the wife, I
    figured. Ferdinand appeared presently and let me in. I took
    the case down the stairs and put in on a large wooden table
    in the cellar. I went back and got the other one, and placed
    it beside the first. I looked about the cellar for just a
    minute. Impressive. Verticals of a number of Bordeaux, some
    prime vintages of burgundy, major california varietals.
    Better than even my personal cellar, in sheer volume of
    impressive wines. If nothing else, Fontaine had exquisite
    taste.

      As I got back to the top of the stairs, Mrs. Fontaine was
    there. She'd put on a cotton wrap, but it really did little
    to hide her beauty. I tried not to appear awestruck. "How
    much do I owe you?" she inquired. "Nineteen-hundred and
    seventy-five dollars," I answered, almost apologetically.
    She didn't even bat an eye. Ferdinand supplied the checkbook.
    "Thank you, Ferdinand. I won't be needing you anymore today."
    "Very well, Madam. Good day." And he left.

      I couldn't help but stare at Mrs. Fontaine. Her delicate
    and feminine features were most alluring. Long chestnut brown
    locks were pulled back in a pony-tail. I was close enough to her
    to smell some very expensive perfume. Fortunately it was as
    light and delicate as her beauty and not overpowering or
    cloyingly sweet. I surreptitiously inhaled deeply, closing my
    eyes. Exquisite. I opened my eyes to see her looking at me
    with considerable amusement. I blushed deeply and wanted
    nothing more than to get the check and disappear. "You like
    that?" "Um, yes, it is a most delightful scent." "It's called
    Jungle Gardenia." She handed me the check. "Thank you very
    much," I blurted and turned to leave, but her hand touched my
    arm and I couldn't bring myself to move. 

      "It's really quite warm out, could I offer you something to
    drink?" Meanwhile, her feminine touch on my arm is setting
    off deep primordial urges in my loins. "Um, sure," I breathed
    nervously. I thought to myself how utterly unsmooth I was
    being. "What would you like? We have all sorts of wine, we
    have beer, a full bar-- Ferdy's gone for the day so you'll
    have to fend for yourself. There's wine in here," she
    drawled, indicating a half-size refrigerator. I chose an
    alsatian riesling. "'Screw?" I asked. "Um, I mean, corkscrew."
    There I go blushing again. "Sure, to both questions." She had
    the corkscrew in her hands. When I went to reach for it, she
    pulled it away. She did this twice. Then I put my hand out,
    palm up, and she put the corkscrew into it. I opened the
    bottle without further ceremony, and filled the two Riedel
    crystal glasses she had produced. I savored the bouquet of
    the wine, inhaling deeply. I nodded and took a sip. Crisp and
    lively and fully dry in the traditional alsatian style. Most
    refreshing.

      She put her glass down and before I knew it her arms were
    around my neck. I was very nervous. Christ, if her husband
    showed up I'd be leaving in a plastic sack. "Relax," she
    whispered reassuringly, "he won't be back today. He's off to
    San Jose on business." I put my glass down, put my arms
    around her waist and asked her what on earth she wanted with
    me. Her face clouded and she pouted for a second. "My sex
    life is tremendously unsatisfying. I haven't had a real
    orgasm that I didn't give myself in months, maybe years. My
    husband is hung like a horse but he thinks that's all there
    is to sex. Foreplay is minimal when there's any at all, and
    he never, you know, eats me. So I never cum. I have to fake
    it to save his ego." "Wow, that was quite a mouthful. What
    makes you so sure I'll be any better?" She never really
    answered. "Just shut up and kiss me you fool." 

       Our lips met and it was electrifying. Our bodies melted
    together and I ran my hands over her back as we embraced. Her
    hungry tongue pushed its way into my mouth and our tongues
    swirled together in a timeless oral pas de deux. Our collective
    breathing deepened. Finally I broke the kiss. My initial
    reservations were rapidly being consumed by the insatiable
    fire of lust.

      She grabbed her glass and took a sip. "Brilliant choice; I
    love it." She turned and walked away, to my extreme confusion.
    She turned back, "Well come on!" I didn't need to be told
    twice! I grabbed the bottle and my glass and followed her. I
    walked directly behind her, watching her graceful curves and
    movements. She was rather feline, I decided, as I watched her
    move. No doubt about it, this was one hot woman.

      We went up the stairs to her bedroom. I began to relax and
    enjoy myself. Here was a beautiful woman about to exchange
    mutual carnal knowledge with me. Life could be worse! She sat
    on the edge of the bad. "Um, Mrs..." "Veronique," she
    interrupted. "Oh, Veronique" I said, employing my well
    developed french accent and noticing how she crinkled her
    nose with enjoyment as she smiled when I said it, "you have
    beautiful hair." I stroked it, decided the ponytail was a
    problem, and undid the bow which held it up. Her chestnut
    locks cascaded over her shoulders. It was much nicer to touch
    this way. I brought her head to my chest as I ran my hands
    through her silky hair. She purred contentedly. I put my
    glass on the nightstand, touched her face and brought our
    lips together. 

      More electricity. Our mutual lust was spreading, growing in
    strength and urgency. We devoured each other's mouths. Hot,
    sweet kisses here and there; tongues probing, tasting,
    loving. I opened my eyes and her face was lightly flushed.
    "My, but you're an excellent kisser!" she exclaimed. "Oh, I'm
    quite oral," I laughed. Her eyes danced with anticipation.
    Her hands flew to my shirt and deftly undid each button. She
    put her hand inside and felt my firm pecs, gliding her hands
    through the forest of chest hair and gently tweaking each
    nipple in turn and then together. It felt so good. I took
    another sip of my wine as she did this, then put the glass to
    her lips and tipped it carefully. "Mmmm, that really is good,
    isn't it?" she inquired. I nodded.

      I stood her up and removed her cover up. Her nipples poked
    through the fabric of her expensive french bikini. I pulled
    the top off, and her breasts stood proudly before me.
    Perfectly formed, creamy white and firm, they were like
    melons ripe for the taking. I caressed them softly, kneading
    them gently, urging further nipple arousal. She whimpered
    softly. "Your hands," she whispered. "Tender touches..."
    Her nipples were wildly erect now, virtually screaming for
    some attention. I leaned over and licked over a nipple with
    deliberate slowness. A tiny, feminine gasp escaped her lips.
    I did the same to the other one. I stood, and grabbed the
    bottle. I lay her on her back, and poured a few dribbles of
    riesling over her nipples and breasts. I quickly kissed up
    every drop. Her pulse quicked with every kiss and nibble. I
    dribbled more. Kisses and licks swabbed up the wine, and the
    occasional odd nip kept her off balance. "Oh my God, I can't
    believe how good that feels!" she squealed like a child.

      I was getting almost dizzy, between the rush of blood into
    my now aching penis and the alcohol in my bloodstream. I
    pulled off my pants to release some of the pressure, and
    dropped my underwear as well. I was now fully naked, with my
    pulsing pole standing at attention. I skillfully hooked my
    fingers under her bikini bottom, and slowly pulled it down to
    reveal a well trimmed bush. As she spread her legs, I could
    see her pink-brown lips were distended and glossy with
    arousal. I kissed the top of her mound, and she tried to
    bring her clit in contact with my tongue. "All in good time,
    Veronique," I teased. I wanted her frustration to continue,
    for now at least. I refilled my glass, finishing the bottle.
    I pulled the rest of the capsule off the top and held the top
    in one hand as I toyed with her pubies with the other. She
    was squirming now, so I leaned over and took a nipple into my
    mouth and sucked- hard. Her vocalizations became less
    intelligible, but the message was clear. She loved the way I
    was playing with her.

      After a few minutes, the top of the bottle was warm, and I
    maneuvered myself so my cock was at her tit level. "Rub my
    cock on your tits," I instructed. Soon I could feel her ripe
    breasts and hard nipples under my raging pecker. I spread her
    legs apart and began running my fingers along her lips,
    spreading the wetness around. She was getting quite charged
    from all of this. I began to play with her pussy with the
    slender wine bottle. Like many german wine bottles, those of
    Alsace are long and tapered. I would soon put these
    attributes to good use. I began rubbing her clit with the
    bottle, then I went back down along her slit. She looked up
    to see what I was doing, the sensations were so different
    from anything she'd experienced. I leaned over and licked her
    burning pussy with long up and down strokes. She shuddered in
    pre-orgasmic bliss. I worked two fingers into her and
    massaged her g-spot for a minute or two. Her excitement was
    reflected in her expanding pussy. I slowly and carefully put
    the bottle against her vagina and pushed steadily until it
    started to go in. A cry from the other end of the bed made me
    stop. "No! Don't stop!" I began a careful in and out motion,
    working the bottle in a little more each time. I got four or
    five inches in, and the bottle was getting pretty big around
    at that point. I didn't want to stretch her too much. I
    leaned over and after a few manipulations of the bottle and
    some neck craning moments, I was able to tongue her swollen
    clit. It took less than 10 seconds to push her over the edge.

      She came, screaming, writhing, hot snatch pulsing around
    the glass intruder. She was completely incoherent, thrashing
    and moaning. I stopped licking her so she could relax, and
    slowly slid the bottle out of her crack. She lay panting next
    to me, but hardly finished. She rolled over on top of me and
    began furiously sticking her tongue down my throat, tasting
    her own juices on my lips and tongue. She was like a woman
    possessed. Now she began biting and sucking my nipples, which
    got them very sensitive, as I played with her firm breasts.  I
    was on the verge of blue balls at this point. I've had blue
    balls more often than Papa Smurf, but that wasn't going to
    happen this time. She went down on me and slurped my bone
    into her mouth. She was an accomplished fellatrix, that was
    immediately apparent. Up and down, tonguing my balls, pushing
    my legs apart and licking over my anus; I was quickly being
    sent into orbit

      She looked up at me, slyly, and took my balls into her
    mouth while maintaining eye contact. It was intensely erotic
    seeing her suck my nuts that way. With a plop they fell out
    of her mouth and she began slurping on the purple head. Then
    she did something I found extremely intense; she began
    talking dirty to me with her mouth full of cock. She told me
    how she loved sucking me off and how she looked forward to
    tasting my hot cum. She kept it up for several minutes before
    my eyes closed involuntarily and I braced myself for the
    eruption. I began squirting hotly into her mouth; it was such
    a powerful orgasm that the first spasm lasted about 3 seconds.
    I must have spurted alot because she started choking.
    Then the spasms came closer together as I proclaimed my
    enjoyment. She kept up with it as best she could until I was
    done. I was actually seeing stars, I was hyperventilating so
    much. She wiped a few strings of cum off her lips, and lay
    beside me.

      She began running her hands over my chest and licking my
    ear, and I never really got soft. She straddled me and her
    hot muff slid over my turgid rod with silky smoothness. No
    wonder her husband couldn't hold it very long. She was
    exquisite, she'd clench her muscles and milk my cock, then
    ride more. I rolled us over so I could be on top. I had her
    put her legs together so my cock slid directly over her clit,
    then began pumping rhythmically. Our sounds together were a
    symphony of love. Sweaty bodies sliding together, desperate
    breathing, moaning and crying gave way to shrieks of pleasure
    as we climbed the plateau. Her body became rigid then
    quivered like a bowstring as she shot over the cliff.
    Incomprehensible cries filled the air as I joined her in
    a paroxysm of ecstasy.

      We lay there together, enjoying the post-orgasmic
    aftershocks. Nothing like servicing your accounts, I say.

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