Wedding Heat: One in the Hand (4 page)

Something inside of Cora surged.  She surprised herself by reaching back and pressing her palms against his fingers, driving them into her supple flesh.  “Yes, baby.”  She wanted this.  She wanted it all.  “Fuck me, Dan.  Destroy me.”

“Careful what you wish for.”

He fucked her hard, driving her naked front forward on the hood of the car.  She wondered what kinds of marks she’d have on her skin and her clothing when all of this was over.  And then, suddenly on high alert, Cora turned her head so she could see the entrance to this little wooded lot.  She’d fucked her husband enough times to know that he’d have his eyes closed by now, his head tilted back, mouth agape.

“Fuck me harder.”  She bucked back against his dick.  It didn’t hurt anymore, even though he was impaling her with cock.  He was deeper than deep inside her, lost in some secret place.  “Yeah, that’s it.  Fuck me, Dan, fuck me, fuck me.”

“I’m gonna make you come so hard.”  Dan dislodged one hand from her hip and searched on the flip side for her clit.  It wasn’t hard to find, not today.  She was so turned on it protruded like a beggar from between her pussy lips.

She was going to say something.  She planned to say it.  But then his fingers found her clit, and she was lost.  Every semblance of thought fell out of her head like books tumbling from a broken shelf.  A zap of lightning burst through her core, igniting her nipples as she floundered on the hood like a fish out of water.

It was dark now.  She didn’t realize it until she squeezed her eyes closed and then opened them again.  The sky was a strange blue, and there were lights somewhere in the distance, but all she cared about right now was Dan’s cock in her pussy and his fingers on her clit.

“Oh my god.”  Cora tried to keep quiet, but it was hopeless.  Her body kept arching off the car and then slamming back down on it, and she knew her tits were going to hurt in the morning.  She wanted to make herself stop, but she couldn’t.  Dan’s fingers were moving too fast, too hot, too wet against her clit.  Too good.  “Fuck yeah, fuck yeah, fuck yeah.”

And then he stopped rubbing her clit, and it was a relief because she couldn’t take any more pleasure.  He whispered the words, “I’m gonna fucking come.”

“Yeah, fill me with cum baby
,
” she begged, resting her temple on the hood, feeling the hot press of her nipples against the car.

She squeezed her pussy muscles, hugging his dick, and that put him over the edge.  He yelped like a dog, lurching forward, driving his cock right into her as far as she could take it.

“Oh, I love it baby.”  Cora could hardly breathe, but she could damn well talk dirty to her husband.  “I love your fucking cock in my cunt.”

“Yeah?”  Dan smacked her ass and she bolted up from the hood with a gasp and then a giggle.

Pressing her palms against the front of the car, Cora looked back at Dan just as he pulled out.  She hissed as a hot splatter of cum splashed against her inner thigh.  Another landed high up on her calf, and she laughed.  “You’re getting me all dirty.”

“I think you started out that way,” Dan said as he pulled up his shorts.  “Holy Moly, where did that come from, eh?”

That was a questions Cora couldn’t answer.  She wasn’t sure what had inspired her sudden burst of arousal.  Not that Dan seemed to mind.

“Better get changed and show our faces at Maggie’s little cocktail thing.”  Cora pulled up her jeans.  Her pussy felt juicy against the gusset of her panties.  She’d already forgotten about the ropes of cum coating her legs, but as she pulled up her jeans she could feel that wetness against the insides of her pant legs.  “Hoo boy, I don’t know if I can walk.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.  Maybe we should just stay in tonight.  The kids’ll be out gallivanting.  What do you say?  We’d have the room to ourselves.”

Cora looked up at her husband as he wrapped his arms around her.  “I can tell I’m going to like it here.”

The End

Eroticist
 
Giselle Renarde
 
is a queer Canadian, avid volunteer, contributor to more than 50 short story anthologies, and author of dozens of electronic and print books, including
 
Anonymous, Ondine
, and
 
The Red Satin Collection
. Giselle lives across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head.

Ms. Renarde’s anthology
My Mistress’ Thighs: Erotic Transgender Fiction and Poetry
received an Honourable Mention in the 2011 Rainbow Awards.  She is a contributor to Tristan Taormino’s groundbreaking book
Take Me There: Trans and Genderqueer Erotica
, as well as such notable anthologies as Best Women's Erotica 2011,
 
Best Lesbian Erotica 2011, Best Bondage Erotica 2012,
 
Best Lesbian Romance 2012
 
and
 
Best Lesbian Erotica 2012.

Online, Giselle has contributed erotic content
 
to
 
such websites as For The Girls, Ruthie's Club, Three Pillows, Oysters & Chocolate, The Erotic Woman, Every Night Erotica, Frequently Felt, Whipped Cream, Long and Short Romance, and Every Day Poets.

If you enjoyed
Wedding Heat: One in the Hand
,
you might also enjoy:

Secret Confessions: 36 Erotic Encounters

By Giselle Renarde

No naughty encounter is ever complete until you tell somebody about it.  And who doesn’t feel a tingle while reading a naughty story and wondering, “Is this true? Did that really happen?”

In this collection, you’ll find a whopping 36 erotic stories, as explicit as they are wicked!  These confessions involve lesbian encounters, exhibitionism, porn appreciation, voyeurism, masturbation and self-love, cheating and deception, threesomes, group sex, sploshing, ice play, public sex, fisting, sex with a loving partner, female fantasies, rimming, anal play, stranger sex, double penetration, spanking, insertions, bondage, and so much more!

Excerpt
f
rom
Secret Confessions:

I’m sleeping with a married man.  There.  I had to get that off my chest.

You’ll understand, I’m sure, if I don’t tell you his name.  After all, he could be someone you know.  Or you may know his wife or his kids.  I wouldn’t want word to get back to them.  And just because he’s cheating doesn’t mean he’s a bad man.  He isn’t bad, he simply has needs.  We all do.

So, what’s it like?  Well, last Saturday was a perfect example.  At 5:30 in the morning, I heard his key in my door.  That smooth metallic noise wakes me every time.  It’s better than an alarm clock.  I’d been looking forward to seeing him all week.  I look forward to it every week.

He tells his wife he likes to jog early in the morning, before pollution envelops the city.  He tells her he enjoys his run better when there are fewer people on the sidewalks, and when the sun hasn’t yet risen.  These are only half-truths, because he actually does jog all the way from his house to mine.  I doubt if his wife even notices anymore when he rolls out of bed before dawn.  I doubt if she ever notices him at all.  That’s fine.  I’ve taken it upon myself to notice him.  In fact, I could notice him all day and all night, if I ever had the opportunity.

I emerged from the depths of slumber as he kicked off his shoes in my front hall.  I scrambled out of bed and headed straight for the bathroom.  When you only get to see your lover once a week, you always want to look and smell and taste perfect.  And morning breath is a major turn-off.  When I switched off the bathroom light, my eyes couldn’t adjust fast enough to the darkness of my bedroom.

I asked, “Where are you?” as I walked straight into him. 
Ouch
. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

He concurred with his standard stand-by, “Likewise.”

“All week I’ve been waking up and asking myself, ‘Is it Saturday yet…?’” 

That’s all I managed to say before he kissed me.  An entire week’s worth of kisses in less than one minute.

YOU’VE REACHED

“THE END!”

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