I awoke again at noon, wide-eyed and hungry! So, I called to have pizza
delivered at my apartment. Twenty minutes or so passed. I freshened up, took a
hot bath, and curled my hair. Needless to say, I was still quite hot and wet
from the morning’s adventure, so while in the bathtub, I let the water from the
faucet hit my clit and came a couple more times. I had just put on my robe,
when I heard the knock at the door. I had forgotton that I had JUST my robe on,
hunger pains taking over, and answered the door. There stood a gorgeous boy,
not more than 20, with a gaping mouth and a small sausage pizza in his hand. He
was tall, blonde, and thin, and from the look of his newly tightened jeans, I
could tell he liked what he saw! I, of course, had my own ideas. I invited him
in and told him I’d be right back with the money. I went into the bedroom and
got 10 bucks and slightly undid my robe so that my tits were exposed. I came
back into the living room and I watched as he nervously licked his lips. His
eyes were fixed upon my big breasts, and he set the pizza on the table. Now for
the good stuff, I thought, as I stuffed the 10 secudively into his jeans. I
asked him his name and he called himself Jamie. “Well, Jamie,” I said “would
you like to have some fun?” All he could do was nod, for I had already started
unbuttoning his too-tight jeans, and found his cock wasn’t bad in size at all!
My lips wrapped around his penis eagerly, and he moaned loudly in pleasure.

“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.