Paul had been spending the day working on their old wooden boat. The big storm was now over and he had to repair the deck, fix the winches and the ropes, aiming to sail with Zoe once winter is over. Holding the ropes on the rolling boat brought him memories of how naughty Zoe was when she introduced him to bondage last summer during a sailing trip.
His phone just rang, it was her, texting him: ‘Don’t be late for…’ An unfinished message or a teaser, Paul had no clear idea. It was time for him to leave the harbour and drive back home if he wanted to enjoy the evening with her. He quickly texted back.
One her side, she just decided to wear her favourite cream Mohair over Paul’s shirt, sat in their red sofa and watch the snow falling behind the large bay window of the living room. A cup of tea in her hand, close to the fireplace she felt cosy but needed more warmth. Hopefully, it wasn’t long before lights swept the alley.
Paul was back. He opened the back door, left his wet shoes and his jacket close to the entrance where the mistletoe was hanging. He sat on a stool, removed the laces of his shoes and started rolling up his sleeves. While raising his head, Zoe was here.
No time for Paul to ask her about her day, she was staring at him, with a finger in her mouth. She watched his strong forearms, his tough hands. Paul broke into a grin. He knew how Zoe could be horny and seeing her in her panties did not leave much place for ambiguity.
‘You’re on time, gentleman’ said Zoe, feeling her nipples becoming hard. Paul was still sitting on the stool; she decided there was no time to lose. S
he just grabbed his head, indicating him the way to her wet pussy… He loved her primal musky scent, his tongue was agile and she left out soft cries…Paul gently sucked her lips then run his tongue up and down. He paused, she moaned…
Paul knew how aroused Zoe was now and he flicked his tongue to her clitoris and took it into his month, sucking it very gently, slowly then harder. The tension of her rising orgasm was palpable, her breathing was deeper and deeper, her legs become wobbly.
Paul continued, Zoe closed her eyes, tilted her head back. Both knew she was on the edge and both felt they wanted to come together, later. Paul kissed her then floated away. Both took a deep breath as if they wanted to calm down for a second. He then removed her panties and now his fingers were entering her, while she was moaning in pleasure.
Paul’s mouth moved then towards her breast while he suddenly lifted her. She passed her arms around his neck and while he sucked her ear lobes and kissed her in the neck he sat in the sofa. She gently slid down on the rug in front of the fireplace, removed his pants and underwear, freeing his large cock.
Without any hesitation or a glimpse at Paul’s eyes, she stroked his warm dick and swallowed it while he closed his eyes. She quickly moved up and came to ride him, both undressing each other.
Zoe started sliding gently on his dick, playing as if she wanted to make the moment last for hours. Then she rode him powerfully, her pleasure grew, he kneaded her butt, she felt thrills in her back and she squealed.
Orgasm. In a final move he exploded in her, breathless. She remained tightened around him, and then pulling away she just asked, as naughty as before, “ Not too much yaw and roll on the boat, today…”
The post Don’t Be Late For… – An Erotic Story appeared first on Volonté .
Intimate Tickles found this article quite interested, and we thought you might to. We give all the credit for this article to PT Andersen. Click Here To Read This Article From It's Original Source