Sexy stories

  She walked in from the living room, a smile on her face, a glass of wine in her hand.
  "You aren't in a position to arrest me. My previous crimes, which I assume brought you here, outweigh this little one. I'm afraid I would be in for more than reeducation."
  She wore a tight, leather dress. It ended quite a bit above the knee. Her color appeared to be black, from hair to eyes, from dress to stockings to heels. That damn Chanel scent only helped to drive home her beauty.
  "Then I assume you intend to leave me here and make good your escape?"
  She laughed. I hate that. It means they've got something they want to do to you. She walked around the bed, to the left side, and brushed some of my hair from my forehead with her hand.
  "Isn't that a nasty bump you have? I hope you don't mind the pain. I enjoyed using the taser on you. In answer to your question, I intend to enjoy myself. I intend to enjoy you."
  On the bedside table I could see my gun in its holster. She opened one of the drawers and removed one of those new plasti-knives. They can score steel plate. They cut flesh like butter. Dana then proceeded to cut my clothing from my body. What she intended to do finally percolated through my pain fogged mind.
  "Rape? Are you trying to compensate for an oppressive father? failed relationships?" The sarcasm evoked a frown from her. "But tell me one thing. Will you kill me afterwards?"
  "Psychoanalyzing me won't work, Mr. Federal Agent Man. I may kill you, or I may not. If it feels very, very good, I could let you live."
  Testing my bonds, I felt that the left bedpost, securing my left wrist, was somewhat loose. Dana had finished cutting the clothes from me. She stood up and unzipped her leather dress, letting it fall to the floor. It was tough not to get a raging hard on at the sight of her nearly naked body. Taut, toned muscle revealed itself, dispelling any mystery of how she had carried me to the bed. She wasn't wearing a bra, or panties. Just a garter belt to hold up her stockings. As she reached down to unhook one, I spoke, figuring I should play along.
  "Don't. I'll like it better if you leave them on. Please?"
  She gave me a suspicious look, but left the stockings on. The bed was long enough for her to kneel between my legs. She lowered her head to my cock, her hair cascading about my thighs and stomach. Taking the head of me into her mouth, she caressed it with her tongue. Any thought of holding back, any attempt at resistance, melted away. A stone cold corpse's limp prick would have stood at attention for her.
  Satisfied at my reaction and my hardness, she left the bed to return to the table. Out of that same drawer came a little jar of lubricant. I was confused, surely -she- could get wet enough. Dana got back on the bed, straddling my thighs. She applied a thick coat of the lube to my cock. Then, one hand behind her aiming me, the other supporting her weight, she took me into her ass. She just sat right down and took the length of me inside her with one stroke. To my surprise, my erection didn't shrink. If it could have gotten harder, it would have.
  Bringing the hand she'd used to aim me around to her front, she plunged a finger into her pussy. Then two fingers, then three. Her thumb buzzed her clit like an angry insect. She slid up, then down, up, then down, her short strokes insuring I didn't fall out. Driven by what I was feeling, by the warm, soft walls of her ass around my cock, I began to thrust up to meet her, to move away when she did. Retaining something of my rational self, I also began to pull at my bonds in time to our movements.
  Her motion got faster. Her lips pulled back from clenched teeth. She shuddered, eyes fluttering, and threw herself forward, nails raking my chest, and bit my split lip, tasting my blood.   "Don't worry dear, don't worry. Ohhhh, we're almost finished, almost."
  I'd slipped out of her, but she didn't seem to care. Her concern was wholly for her own pleasure, not mine. She was stealing it from me, bit by bit. She knealt over my abdomen, on leg to either side, and slid a finger up her ass. She pinched one of my nipples with her other hand and rubbed her pussy against me. She stopped and looked me in the eyes.
  "Are you a good little pussy eater? Hmmmmm? Maybe if you eat me real good you can live."
  I didn't feel much like eating pussy, with the remains of vomited breakfast and blood still in my mouth, but I resolved to eat her like no one had before. She moved, on her knees, towards my mouth. She took the bed's headboard in both hands, and kneeling in front of my tied-back arms, pushed her pussy into my face. The salty-sweet wetness of her stung my wound. I took one of her pussy lips between my teeth, gently nipping her. She convulsed and she moaned. My tongue took on a life of its own, tasting her, licking her. I went as deep in her as I could, licking, using my lips on hers. Her hips bucked against my face and her juices flowed freely down my chin, dripping onto my chest.
  "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, Ohhhhhhhhhh, Yes, yes yes yes. So good."
  My tongue left, for the moment, the depths of her, to move its
attentions to her clit. At that change of targets, her hands moved from headboard to head, fingers entwining in my hair. I licked her clit, I sucked it, I nibbled it. I flattened my upper lip against my teeth and rubbed that clit as I again tongued her insides. Almost a river of cum poured out of her. She shuddered, back arched, eyes closed.   "I've, I've really never.. Ohhh.. never had it.. Mmmm.. quite so good."

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