Lusty Lit 2018: Vive la Resistance!
Mike felt tired — a “good tired” — as he finished up his hard hill workout. He was starting to round into race shape, and the five mile run had felt good, kicking up his endorphins. He walked to the end of the block to cool off, and when he returned he was surprised to find his wife’s car in the driveway. “Huh, Carolyn must have taken off a little early tonight,” he thought to himself. Early quitting time had been a rarity for Carolyn ever since she dropkicked her corporate job for a position at a nonprofit — an advocacy group supporting women’s workplace rights. The pay was way less and the hours were way longer, but Mike had backed her decision strongly: her heart was in it more than it had ever been at her old job – as just about anyone could see from the “Resist” sticker on the back of her sexy little red coupe.
Mike bounded up the three steps and into the front door. “Anybody home?”, he called out from the foyer. No reply. Hmm, his son was now off in college, but where was his daughter or Carolyn? He went to the kitchen to get a cold drink, and found the room dark, with only the above-stove light on. He was just about to call out again when he saw the note on the counter, next the uncorked bottle of wine. “Sophie is hanging out with friends tonight,” the note read. “Get yourself a drink and join me in the shower? :-)”
Mike didn’t need much coaxing: what with work schedules and driving a teen around all over, it seemed his and Carolyn’s “us” time had gotten more and more difficult to come by. Taking a glass from the cupboard, he returned to the bottle Carolyn had opened and left on the counter. “Ah, the good stuff: Chateau Simone!”, he said to himself, recalling the week of amazing wine – and love – they’d enjoyed in the South of France two summers ago. Predominantly Clairette, but also a measure of Grenache Blanc, it was an amazing and intriguing blend from a small winery near Aix en Provence.
Mike poured himself a glass and held it up to the light. It was gold, almost a pale honey color, and it twinkled as he swirled it in the glass. He breathed in the soft aroma: it was alluring, intricate, suggestive more than outspoken. And then he closed his eyes and slowly brought the glass to his lips and drank it in: just as he’d remembered, it was elegant, complicated, a little elusive in its composition. Mike stood in the kitchen for a moment and allowed the wine to inflict its impact on all his senses: taste, smell, touch, and memory. He then topped off his glass and went in search of his naked wife.
The shower door glass was fogged when Mike entered the bathroom, but he could see Carolyn’s curves clearly enough. She didn’t enjoy running, but kept herself toned and tight with dedication to a strict regimen of resistance training: she’ll have nothing to do with treadmills or weight machines, but knew just how to firm her abs (and tone those glutes he liked to hold onto) with little more than a few unusual looking rubber bands, a wall hook, and the floor beneath her feet. “I’ve been waiting for you,” Carolyn said, as Mike stepped into the shower. “You must’ve run a long way.”
“I felt good,” he said. “I hit the hills hard.” He stepped into the shower and slid his hand down the small of her soapy, wet back, pulling her towards him, then sliding his hand lower to gently stroke her ass. “Any hills around here that I might be able to hit?”, he said as he kissed her.
She wrapped her arms around him, stood on her toes, pressed her full breasts against him, and sank her tongue deep into his welcoming mouth. He sucked her tongue and couldn’t resist gripping her ass even more firmly, pulling her against him, her wet body sliding against his — and making him rock hard. They slow danced in the warm rain, neither one wanting to release the other. Finally, she surrendered his tongue from her mouth; and grudgingly, he released her ass from his grip.
“So it’s hills you want?”, Carolyn asked, the shower still beating down on them. He nodded – suspicious, but curious for what she had in mind. “Then this might be your lucky night,” she said as she stroked his nuts, “cause I think I might be ready to give you a hill workout you’ll never forget. Why don’t your towel off, go to the bedroom, and, uh, make yourself comfortable on the ‘hills’ you find there.”
Since taking her new job, Carolyn had grown more assertive – and Mike liked the change, and so as difficult as it was to let go of her, Mike did as he was instructed, leaving hot, wet Carolyn in the shower. He dried off and went to the softly lit bedroom, where he found, well, a set of “hills”: a Liberator Esse Lounge! It was a gorgeous piece of furniture: two hills separated by a gentle valley, all coated in a sensuous, inviting, deep red fabric. “Well, well, well,” Mike said to himself. “Hills, indeed!”
Still warm from the shower, but quite in the buff, Mike relaxed on the lounge, having another sip of his wine and closing his eyes while he awaited his next hill workout! Upon hearing Carolyn’s footsteps entering the room, he came to “full attention.”
“So, you look like you’re making yourself comfortable,” Carolyn said softly, as she approached him. Silhouetted against the light in the hallway, at first he couldn’t quite make out what she was wearing; but as she drew next to him he realized she was dressed, ah, “minimally.” She wore a pair of black, spike heels and her (and his) favorite jewelry: an adorable little thong – a sexy black lacy waistband, suspending a string of white pearls right down to her delicious pussy, and looping around to emerge from between her pert behind. Mike reached his hand out to caress Carolyn’s ass, but she intercepted his hand, and in one smooth motion guided it though a loop of red satin sash. “Whuh?” He started to ask. “Don’t you worry about a thing, sweetheart,” she assured him. “Just preparing for your hill workout, along with a touch of my “resistance training!”
He started to lift the hand she’d tied to examine the sash, but didn’t get far before he felt the loop tighten around his wrist. The other end was tied to the Esse lounge, putting him on a short leash, indeed. “Better be careful there,” she said, bending over to give him a peek at her bejeweled ass as she proceeded to slip another sash around his other wrist. “That’s a slip knot – the more you pull on it — or put up resistance, you could say — the tighter it gets. There! You’re all set,” she said, as she straddled him, taking advantage of the Esse lounge’s valley. She stepped forward, her soft, pussy only inches from his mouth (oh how he envied those pearls!) and he leaned to meet her — but was held in check by the sashes binding him. “Ah-ah,” she said, “I will drive the pace of this hill workout.”
Then slowly, painfully slowly, she lowered herself toward his beckoning tongue. He sensed her heat, inhaled her fragrance, and craved to touch, until finally at her invitation he wrapped his tongue around the strand of pearls and slid it upward to her clit. She welcomed him with a deep sigh and lowered herself closer; he snaked his tongue around the pearls and into her loveliness. Moaning with pleasure, she pulled the strand to one side and covered his eager mouth with her hungry, wet pussy. She slowly slid up, and then back down. Bound by the sashes, he craved to grab her by the ass; his cock throbbed and begged to share what his tongue so greedily enjoyed. Until with one final upsweep, Carolyn tore herself away. “Enough hills,” she said. “Time for a valley.”
She slid her slippery pussy right down his chest and over his abs, and perched just short of his penis. He flexed his hips to meet her. “Uh-uh! Resist! Resist that temptation! Who’s in charge here?”
“You are,” he confessed, barely able to control his pelvis.
She “kissed” him gently with her wet pussy lips, then slowly, ever so slowly pressed herself down, immersing him in her fiery heat. Her buns rested in his lap; taking advantage of his legs draped up the Esse’s other hill, she leaned back, closed her eyes and snuggled her ass against him in a slow dance of extensive skin contact. His hands were bound, but hers were not, and she proceeded to tease him, fingering herself and caressing her breasts. “Ummm,” she said softly (to herself or to him?). “I. Will. Be. So. Ready for you. Soon…”, she trailed off in unintelligible words of lust and desire.
They were relaxed, almost lost in another world, floating in a place brimming with intense, animalistic desire and satisfaction.
She sat forward, extended the finger wet from her pussy and placed it against his lips, as if to say “Shhh.” With her other hand she reached behind and took his swollen balls and gently squeezed them.
“Uhhh,” he moaned. “Much as I might wish otherwise,” Mike whispered through the fragranced finger against his lips, “this can’t go on for long.”
“You. Must. Resist,” she insisted, “until I signal ‘ok.’” She took her finger from her lips and caressed her clit, gradually increasing the pressure on his balls. And as she rode him and rocked him, her breathing became more rapid. He tried to buck, he strained against the sashes, and she stroked her clit faster and faster. Finally, in one move, she put two pussy soaked fingers into his mouth, squeezed his nuts like a lemon, leaned forward and whispered one word into his ear: “Surrender.” He exploded inside of her, thrashing and bucking, sucking her fingers as she released a scream of pleasure through one orgasm, then another. She squeezed him and rode his bucking hips, until finally she slumped backwards against his legs in exhaustion.
They rested, almost searching for the words to describe the indescribable passion they’d just experienced. Then, more composed than he, she slipped off of him. “Time to untie me?” He asked?
“Patience, my dear. I’ve seen the way you walk down the street to cool down after a run, so I’m thinking maybe I deserve the same. Let’s do one more, gentle hill – minus the resistance.”
She stood and loosed the sashes, and his hands reached instinctively for what they’d been denied — a hold on her rear. She slid upward, her wet pussy glistening in the low light. She reached and took her glass of wine, and took a drink. Then, while holding the glass in one hand, she reached with the other behind his head and guided it to meet her as she lowered her delicious pussy back to his lips where they had begun their “hill workout.” She was still sensitive, so he licked her smoothness very gently, sensing their own unique blend: a fragrance, a taste, a feel, a memory like no other.
“So,” she said to him, as she took another sip of wine, “what did you think of my little hill workout, with an added measure of ‘resistance?’”
He paused from her delightfulness to consider her question. “To resist is great,” he said, returning his insatiable tongue to her equally insatiable pussy. “But I think surrender is even sweeter.”
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