Eyes closed, face immersed in the steaming torrent, Stella let out a long, weary sigh. Slowly, as the heat soothed her aches and pains, she came to realise it was not a fatigue of the body that plagued her, but one of the soul – an exhaustion so complete it pursued her even into the depths of sleep. She didn’t dream, not anymore, yet still she could feel it gnawing at her subconscious like some ugly, bloated parasite, feeding on her from the inside out and leeching away her formerly effervescent joie de vivre one fractured hope at a time.
Only these moments of absent solitude provided any respite. Here, with the jets drumming over her skin, the wreaths of steam blotting out the rest of the world, and the thrum of water against tile providing a calm, hypnotic tattoo there was no need to think; she could simply be.
Blissfully adrift from the depressing reality beyond the bathroom door, Stella swayed gently. She wondered idly whether if she stood there long enough the steam might become so dense and merciful that it swallowed her up entirely, but it was a brief thought that soon dissolved along with all the rest.
Eventually a sharp change in water pressure caused the showerhead to judder and the jets to spit a sudden, powerful torrent. They soon settled, but the atmosphere was broken and reality crashed back in.
Unsure how long she had been there, Stella gave another sigh. ‘Guess that’s my cue.’
Stopping the water, she fumbled blindly for a towel. The steam was thick, more like fog, so dense in fact that it staved off the usual chill that comes at the end of a shower, wrapping Stella instead in a warm, ethereal embrace.
Towelling herself dry, Stella wrapped hair the colour and texture of straw in a white towel before slipping on her fluffy red bathrobe.
Her reflection caught her attention as she made for the door. The broad mirror was foggy with condensation, though here and there fat droplets had snaked down, allowing thin slivers of reflection to peek through. The image staring back at her appeared somehow goading: the steam smudged her features so the wrinkles faded away while the heat flushed her cheeks, bringing enviable colour to her ordinarily pale complexion. It looked as though a much younger woman was peering through the cracks.
Stella scoffed. It was an apt illusion, for that was all she saw in any mirror these days: fading remnants of the woman she had once been. Bright, hopeful, full of dreams. Over the years though that light had guttered, those hopes had crumbled, and her dreams had gone unfulfilled, leaving her hollow.
I wonder if this is how Richard sees me?
Immediately Stella shook her head as if the motion would dislodge the unexpected thought. No. I’m not thinking of him. Not anymore.
Storming out of the bathroom, she slammed the door behind her. Despite the hot late-morning sun heating her bedroom, in comparison to the cloying bathroom steam her chambers felt very chilly. Stella didn’t much mind though – the cold was a welcome aid in driving away memories of her ex-husband.
Striding over to the broad vanity opposite her bed, she slumped down into the plush pink armchair set before it. Swaddled in her robe and welcomed by the warm pillows, she smiled as the initial chill faded.
Frustratingly, as it ebbed, her contentment seemed to attract thoughts of Richard like swarms of gnats on a hot summer’s day. His dumb, self-satisfied smirk; the countless bottles of hair dye he used to obsess over, as though despite the copious wrinkles and the sagging cheeks he was convinced the grey hairs were the only evidence of his advancing age; the blank, disinterested expression he had worn on the night she discovered his secret.
Images of the girl rose in her mind, too: Verity. And she was a girl, despite Richard’s protestations of her being more of a woman than Stella had ever been, as if the only requirements for the title were to be tight, young and slutty. Christ, she had barely turned eighteen – Stella’s own students were several years Verity’s senior.
Stella knew her type – teaching for over a decade provided an excellent sense of character. Girls like Verity, they had little interest in the future, only the now of parties, pampering and passion. Richard was simply a means to those ends. Well, the first two at least; Stella suspected Verity would find her passion elsewhere so long as her new sugar daddy was willing to fund the rest of her lifestyle.
‘Well you can have him,’ Stella scowled into the mirror, imagining Verity staring back at her. ‘I’m better off without him anyway.’
It felt good to say it out loud, and Stella felt a little surge of pride at admitting the truth to herself. Richard had hardly been a loving husband, more invested in the progress of his favoured football team than in spending the night with his wife, intimately or otherwise. Their marriage spawned by a summer of young love they had never managed to recapture, the years had made it agonisingly obvious how ill-matched they were. Yet while Stella busied herself with teaching and Richard settled for life as a cog in the corporate machine, the companionship they shared – albeit far from affectionate – had been enough to keep them together.
Verity’s arrival had shattered all that, mercifully ridding Stella of the husband she had never loved in the process.
For all that her life seemed brighter without him, however, his absence left a gaping hole she did not know how to fill – as though she had lightened up her living room by tearing off the exterior wall.
Worst of all, however, Richard’s betrayal had robbed her of something she worried she may never reclaim: her love of teaching. Following her divorce, Stella’s devotion to her career had soured such that now all she saw in her students were future mistakes and dreams that would go unfulfilled.
Planting her elbows on the desktop, Stella buried her face in her hands with another exhausted sigh. She didn’t know what to do. After half a lifetime locked in a loveless marriage she felt at once liberated and hopeless – life had offered her an opportunity to begin again, but in doing so had left her alone, ageing and purposeless.
Somewhere in the distance she heard an echoing splash followed by a volley of laughter; her students no doubt, revelling in their youth. What must that be like? Her own youth felt so long ago she barely remembered anymore.
Her thoughts drifted. What might I be doing if I were their age again? If I was their peer, not their tutor. Lounging on the beach, maybe. Or perhaps I’d be here, in the company of a real lover, one who couldn’t imagine his life without me in it. Wouldn’t that be something?
When she looked up again her imagination painted her reflection in strokes of youth. Behind her stood a handsome gentleman: bald, muscular, with sharp features and a warm smile. As she watched he leaned down to wrap his arms around her, nuzzling into her cheek and planting a soft kiss there. Stella flinched, lifting her fingers to her cheek – for an instant she thought she had felt a gentle bloom of heat, like lips on her skin. When she looked back into the mirror the man was gone and her reflection was once again ageing and weary.
‘I guess the perfect man really is just a fantasy,’ she murmured. Dejected, her eyes fell to the many pots and bottles scattered over the vanity. A cautious smile plucked at her lips. ‘Still, maybe a little pampering might go some way to making up for that.’
Picking her way through the various resort-branded beauty products, Stella began to plan a day of relaxation to take her mind off things. First, she would paint her nails while her hair dried; then she would take care of her split ends before making use of a dry shampoo to bring a little life back into her ratty locks. After that she would take a trip down to the resort’s spa, maybe even spend awhile in the sauna…
A small pot caught her eye, dashing her thoughts: Fantasy Resort Rejuvenating Face Mask.
Goodness, when was the last time I treated myself to a face mask? Taking up the pot with a smile, Stella screwed off the lid and scooped out a hefty dollop.
Considering it had been sitting in the sun all morning the creamy solution was surprisingly cool to the touch and provided a refreshing zing as Stella applied it.
Once finished, she lifted the pot to read the label. The words were unusually clear – typically she would have found herself squinting to make out the small print, yet today it was easily visible. ‘Apply face mask and allow to dry. Leave to work for twenty minutes. Remove and enjoy lasting effects.’
Taking up her favourite book to pass the time, Stella retired to the bed, sinking down into the warm embrace of the cushions desperately wishing they were the comforting arms of the man in the mirror. Soon she was absorbed in her novel and thus far too distracted to notice any of the changes beginning to revive her ageing body.
Partially sheathed in the bedcovers, only a sliver of her thighs were visible. Stella preferred it that way, ensuring she couldn’t see the stretch marks and cellulite over which she was agonisingly self-conscious. While she read, however, the imperfections faded. The pale fronds of stretched skin withered away, while the pocky, sagging flesh of her thighs and behind stretched taut and unblemished over the legs of a far younger woman.
This wave of rejuvenation swiftly surged upwards, sweeping over her torso, down her arms and across her weary features entirely unnoticed. In so doing the tugging and tightening quietly moulded her figure, compressing Stella’s corpulent frame into lithe, athletic lines. Soon her bulbous hips regressed into the tight curves of youth, her ample stomach dwindled so her robe was hugging her ribs, and her arms no longer filled out her attire. Like clay in the hands of a sculptor, she was slowly fashioned into a visage of beauty and elegance.
The stranger closed the door to his penthouse behind them, she read, pulse racing. Emelia could see the hunger in his eyes, like fiery coals of lust. Vacantly, she wondered how those eyes didn’t burn her to a cinder with just one glance.
Turning the page, Stella gasped softly. All at once, he was on her: grabbing, groping, squeezing. In seconds her dress was on the floor. His hands were white-hot, leaving bright red hand-shaped brands over her body as if to say she belonged to him. Wild, uninhibited lust poured from his lips into hers and she moaned down his throat as his fingers found her nipples.
She couldn’t remember things going this way between the lovers. They spent the night making small talk, bonding. Their first kiss was stolen atop a Ferris wheel; their first-time making love was in her apartment. Then again, she kind of liked this sudden change: it was making her horny.
Continuing to read, one hand slipped beneath her robe to caress the folds of her pussy – folds like velvet, tight as guitar strings yet supple and slippery like saturated silk. Young, delicate fingers stroked young, delicate folds, within which nestled a lustful tempest just waiting for release.
‘Miss Kennedy?’
The voice shattered her visions of the stranger driving the woman against the wall, his hand cupping her sex. Yet far from frustration it was excitement that rolled through her. Fresh memories filled the void left by her daydreams, recollections of the night before: drinks, flirting, brief lascivious glances when he thought she was distracted.
Is he here already? I thought it would take him longer. I’d best get ready. I can’t greet him in just my bathrobe – not yet, at least.
Scrambling off the bed, she hastily unbound her hair releasing lustrous brown locks which cascaded over her shoulders. Mercifully, they were dry. A giggle bubbling on her lips, she tossed the towel over the back of the armchair and scampered into the walk-in wardrobe in search of an outfit that would really make a statement.
Preferably something along the lines of ‘I’m a bad girl’s mind in a good girl’s body’…
Head hooked around the door, Joel peered cautiously about the room. ‘Miss Kennedy?’
No reply. For a moment he thought he heard someone bustling about in the adjacent room, however when he paused to listen all was silent.
Well, she didn’t lock the door. Wherever she’s gone I guess she’ll be back soon. Probably having a coffee with Miss Leyland or something. Certain his tutor would return imminently, Joel slipped into her quarters before anybody could catch him on her doorstep.
Miss Kennedy’s villa was something of a dated space, all wood panels and armchairs upholstered in shades of green and brown – more akin to the headmaster’s office back at Fitzsimmons’ than the sleek, modern accommodation her students had settled in. The walls were lined with photographs of the island set in ornate frames, while most of the room was dominated by a cluster of chairs and sofas huddled about a coffee table. Joel felt as though he had just walked into an antiques store, though he was far too nervous to pass judgement on his tutor for choosing such vintage accommodation.
Shuffling anxiously over to the chairs, Joel fiddled with his shirt cuffs, making sure to stay away from the windows; the last thing he needed was anyone spotting him here. As far as his friends knew he was off on a hike. It was a believable enough lie given how often he did the same back home, but rather difficult to spin if he was caught in Miss Kennedy’s study.
God, what would the boys say if they knew I was here? Or dad, for that matter?
Joel knew, of course. His friends were boisterously raucous and would no doubt have urged him to film what they thought would be a wildly intense encounter, even if it was with their ageing tutor; his father, meanwhile, would surely have given him a nudge, a wink and a few words of filthy encouragement.
Somehow knowing what they’d say only made him feel more alone: nobody in his life could fathom why else he would quietly meet one of his tutors if not to find his way under her bedsheets. But then, how could they? The bundle of dim-witted jocks he called his friends rarely discussed anything besides girls, sports and how to bed girls interested in sports, while his father was the kind of man who was constantly dragging the sporting accolades of his younger years into conversation, before boasting about Joel’s position as team captain of the university football team.
‘My lad’s going places,’ he’d brag to anyone who would listen.
Yeah, going places – and they’re all places I don’t want to visit. Flopping down into an armchair embroidered with floral patterns, Joel’s lip curled. Why couldn’t I have just turned out as some nerdy disappointment to my parents? At least then I wouldn’t have to go around pretending to be the man they want me to be. I bet Miss Kennedy wouldn’t treat her son like a trophy.
Grimacing, Joel buried his face in his hands. What was he doing here, really? How was Miss Kennedy supposed to help him? After all, she had her own problems. Rumours had spread quickly about the breakdown of her marriage, and the exploits of her cheating husband had been the buzz of Fitzsimmons’ long after she divorced him. Joel couldn’t help but pity the poor woman. She had always had a cheerful glow about her, though since her divorce that warmth had faded. She seemed drained, broken, like a painting left in the sun to bleach and wither so only fragments of her former self broke through. He couldn’t imagine how devastated she must still be after such a humiliating betrayal.
So if she has all that on her mind, what the fuck are you doing giving her more problems to deal with?
In truth, Joel didn’t know where else to turn: Miss Kennedy was his last hope. Sports, one-night stands, brief golden years usurped by and endless longing of bygone youth – he wanted more than that from life.
However, though he knew he had different aspirations than his friends and family, he had not put much thought into how he might achieve them. And now, almost out of nowhere, he suddenly found himself on the precipice of an uncertain future. His university journey was all but at an end and he hadn’t the first idea how to chart his own course now adulthood was truly upon him. He didn’t much care where it led him, just so long as he did not wind up looking back in twenty years at a life wasted on the dreams of others over his own.
Something the colour of honey twinkled in the corner of his eye. When he turned, he found it was sunlight shafting through a decanter of whiskey. Usually he didn’t touch the stuff, but his nerves were so shredded he was concerned that once Miss Kennedy returned he might wind up babbling nonsense if he couldn’t keep his anxiety in check. One tumbler of liquid courage couldn’t hurt, could it?
Making to reach for the decanter, Joel frowned: he couldn’t move. Seemingly fused to the chair his arm refused to shift. But then, when he looked down in confusion, he found it wasn’t his arm anymore; pale veins were rising under his skin to form a prominent web over the back of his hand, stringing along fingers suddenly long and slender. As he watched, they worked their way up his arm, fuelling the growth of fresh, firm muscle in the process.
By the time he managed to form his confusion into words – ‘What the fuck?’ – both arms bore the rippling muscles and tough hide of a far more experienced man. Joel had just a moment to think he must look like a Ken doll whose arms had been replaced by those of a wrestling figure before his entire body began to burn: it felt as though he had been doused in petrol and thrown on a bonfire.
Pinned to the armchair by unseen hands, his head was driven back hard against the rest. His legs bulged in his periphery, cramping painfully as he tried to move. The same cramps seared through his body, like miniature bombs had been stuffed throughout his insides and set to detonate all at once.
Unsurprisingly, fear soon overwhelmed his confusion. ‘Oh god, what’s happening to me?’ he whimpered. But his teeth felt foreign, his lips unfamiliar, and rather than cry out for help he merely grunted and gasped as a new man clawed his way to the surface.
Head locked in place, Joel could see few details of his transformation, only aware he appeared to be growing taller and more muscular. Nevertheless, a glass-fronted cabinet stood against the wall opposite, allowing him to watch his figure morph and twist in the distant reflection.
Before long a new face was staring back at him: bald, handsome, with sharp features and a warm smile. The pain and fear faded, his memories melting away along with them, and Jake found himself sat alone in the room not entirely sure what had bought him there.
He wasn’t alone for long.
Gliding through the bedroom door came a tall, slender woman. She wore a sheer, fern green shirt with collar, plackets and cuffs of pale salmon. Beneath it an elegant lace bra hugged her figure, partially obscured by her long raven hair and a golden chain necklace that draped over her breasts and down to her navel. A sleek black skirt clung to her hips and thighs, glossy like satin, or perhaps velvet. As she came stalking over to him her towering heels left little imprints in the carpet.
Settling against the arm of the opposite sofa, she smiled coyly at her visitor as if she was entirely unaware how alluring she looked. ‘So, what brings you to my villa this morning, Mr. Richards?’
Her words shattered his captivation. Dragged back into reality, snatches of the night before danced through his thoughts: the glitter of her smile in the bar’s lights, the tinkle of her laugh, the piercing look she had cast his way after pecking his cheek on her doorstep, only to slink inside without inviting him in as he had anticipated.
‘Well, Miss Kennedy, I felt we parted last night on somewhat unfinished terms.’
Jake forced down a roguish smirk as the woman bit her lip: he was enjoying this. All night they had flirted on first name terms. Now though, referring to one another so formally seemed somehow more arousing, as though they were brokering some kind of erotic business deal.
He rose to his feet, staring deep into her glittering eyes. The room practically hummed with the same charged atmosphere they had shared the night before: the air seemed to echo with unspoken moans, to throb in time to his racing pulse. He could see the excitement in her eyes; they both knew how this would end. The formalities merely enhanced the thrill of the game.
‘Is that so? I thought we left things rather appropriately. After all, we only met last night.’
‘True. But that didn’t stop the others keeping the whole island up all night, did it?’ As if to punctuate his point a strident, orgasmic cry rang through the open window. ‘And it sounds like they’re still at it, too.’
Mocking an expression of affront, the woman tried and failed to supress her smile. ‘Mister Richards, are you suggesting I am some immoral nymphomaniac looking to jump into bed with the first man I see?’
Jake approached her slowly, running his broad hands down her arms. The mesh of her shirt was smooth, her supple flesh scorching hot underneath. ‘Not at all, my dear – just the right man.’
‘And that man is you, is it?’
‘I guess that’s your choice to make. But then you’ve already made it, haven’t you? All I need is one touch to determine your decision.’
Miss Kennedy raised an eyebrow. ‘One touch to read my thoughts? Well then, tell me my decision if you’re so confident, Mister Richards.’
This time, Jake’s smile was impossible to stifle. Hooking his hand beneath the hem of her skirt he lifted it slowly, the black material sliding up to reveal pale, perfect thighs. She took a shuddering breath as his fingers trailed upwards raking white hot lines along her flesh. Then all at once they were stroking her exposed sex, drawing a gasp from her lips.
‘Oh, Jake.’
‘It’s Jake now, is it?’ he grinned, holding his fingers to the light and admiring the threads of glistening nectar coating them. ‘Well, when you’re this horny I suppose the formalities are rather meaningless. It’s yes, by the way. I am that man. I’d say the proof is rather undeniable–’
‘Oh, shut up,’ she interrupted, clutching his head and dragging him into a rough, desperate kiss.
Jake’s sense of triumph at having broken her formal façade was immediately swamped by the burning heat in his crotch overwhelming everything else. Her hands were already exploring – gripping his arms, raking his back, groping his ass – and the heat of her writhing body against his was intoxicating. Within seconds the lust he had been quietly concealing since first entering the villa flared through his loins and his jeans were suddenly bulging.
The growth in his trousers did not go unnoticed to his companion. Her hand snaking around, she massaged the restrained goliath, swelling it to even more monstrous proportions. ‘Mmmh, I didn’t even dream you’d be this big when I was playing with myself last night,’ she purred.
‘Well, Miss Kennedy,’ he began, but her finger was on his lips before he could continue.
‘No. Not Miss Kennedy. Stoya. Fuck the formalities. I want to hear you moaning my name when you’re pumping my holes full.’
Jake reached around to grab her ass, crushing her body against his and bringing their faces so close he could see the pinpricks of sweat dotting her forehead. ‘I didn’t imagine you’d be this filthy.’
Pulling away, Stoya hopped up onto the chair and lifted one knee onto the arm. Peeling up her skirt she bunched it around her waist before reaching back to part her ass cheeks. Her rosy pussy twinkled enticingly. ‘You want to find out how filthy I really am? Skip the foreplay stud – show me what you were thinking of doing to me while you jerked off last night.’
A wicked grin twisted his lips. Oh I will. But not all at once – there aren’t enough hours in the day to show you everything I want to do to you.
Keen as he was to take his time with her, there was no hesitation in his step as he strode across. Her luxuriant figure was the embodiment of lust itself. The devious glitter of her smile, the roiling lust in her eyes, the soft sheen of her pale flesh – no mortal man could hope to resist her charms and Jake had no intention of pretending otherwise.
Wrestling down his jeans, Jake kicked them aside. They landed in a heap around his discarded shoes, but before they had even settled his fingers were clamped tight over her supple hips and his throbbing cock had invaded her waiting sex.
Her reaction was unexpected. A wanton cry escaped her lips, something between a moan and a giggle, and she grinned so wide he thought her cheeks might split. With every thrust that same delirious shriek danced through the air until the room seemed to echo with it.
Jake’s cock twitched with unanticipated arousal. Even among the hulking alphas at his gym he was a well-endowed man, his impressive size earning him the adoration of many one-night stands and not-so-secret admirers. As such, he was used to his lovers gasping at his size, or whimpering like frightened puppies, unsure if they could cope with the agonising pleasure. Stoya was the first woman to have ever taken him so giddily. Her breathless features radiated naughty desire, yet beneath the surface he could sense the greed of a true slut – the kind of woman for whom sex was a religion.
To Jake’s surprise, her shameless hunger was intoxicating. More than that, it was infectious. Driving in deep, he tightened his grip and grunted. His groin was on fire. Each stroke sent flares of searing pleasure burning through his hips. Almost painful, they only succeeded in incensing further and soon her ass rippled with the seismic blows of his thighs against hers.
‘That’s it,’ she purred, her words broken by his rapid beat, ‘p-pound my di-irty pussy, babe. F-fuck me like the s-slut I am. Fuck me l-like you ha-ate me – like you j-just caught me cheat-ting and want to sho-ow my why no man c-could ever be bet-ter than you.’
‘Jesus, that’s so fucking hot,’ Jake groaned, so aroused he sagged slightly as his eyelids fluttered. Then, as though her words were the keys to his cage, the primal beast roared into life and his hand was sealed around her throat. ‘You were wrong, bitch. You’re not a slut: you’re a fucking nymphomaniac.’
Arousal and rage wrestled through Jake’s system as she gave a strangled chuckle – he wanted to break her, just as she had so quickly broken him, yet she remained effortlessly calm. ‘Mmmh, you’re right, baby. And nymphos like me like it rough – think you’re up to the challenge, stud?’
With a primal howl, Jake heaved her up and around, slamming her down onto the arm of the adjacent sofa. Buried inside, his cock plunged so deep as she landed her clit kissed the crown of his pubes. Then he slid free and for the first time an orgasmic gasp passed her lips.
By the time he had torn off the remainder of his clothes, however, her composure was regained. She eyed him like a panther stalking a deer from the bushes, delicate fingers slowly unbuttoning her shirt. ‘Careful, that was almost good,’ she teased. ‘But I meant persistently rough, not a fleeting burst of skill.’
Jake made a sound like a bear that had been disturbed in its cave. In one swift motion he hooked his fingers under the plackets of her shirt and tore them apart. Pale pink buttons hissed across the room and the shirt fell away in tatters.
‘I hope you know you’re replacing that,’ she said calmly. She lay back, her bunched black skirt and lingerie stark against her soft, pale skin.
‘Why would I bother if we’re just going to spend the rest of the week naked?’ As he spoke, Jake pulled her closer, pressing his throbbing head against her hot sex.
A wicked expression flickered over her face. Pushing up, she held herself aloft with one arm while running her free hand over Jake’s cheek, guiding his handsome features closer to hers. When she spoke her hot breath washed over his lips. ‘Now that’s the kind of vacation I had in mind.’
With that she hooked one leg over his shoulder, one around his waist and used both to pull his perfect cock inside.
This time they groaned together, an orgasmic shudder rolling back and forth between them as though they were a single entity. For several moments she held him there, her hot legs soft yet ferociously powerful. Then she relaxed her hold and giggled as he began automatically thrusting.
Just as she had asked, Jake was merciless in his assault. His broad hips battered against her thighs, forcing out involuntarily gasps as he knocked the air from her lungs. His violence soon blemished the marshmallow flesh of her inner thighs with angry red welts, marks which in turn began to shine, glazed in Jake’s glistening sweat.
‘Don’t stop,’ she whispered, her lips brushing against his. ‘You feel so good baby. Fill me with that cock. Use me like your living fleshlight. I want all of you, everything you have.’ Stoya gave another sultry giggle as he tangled his fingers in her hair and feasted on her neck in response, his rough tongue grinding over her turn-on spots.
Lost in a haze of arousal and driven to distraction by her naughty encouragement, Jake’s thoughts were a jumble of half-memories and brief snatches of clarity. In his mind’s eye he saw her as she had been the night before, elegant in her golden evening gown as she sat alone at the bar. He recalled the bewitching attraction he had felt towards her, suddenly blind to the many other beautiful women in the bar. He remembered the magnetic chemistry they had shared. She had seemed almost dangerous, like passion and innocence and sin all incarnated into one hypnotically sensual creature: even looking upon her had felt oddly taboo.
Yet from their first shared look – a brief, charged glance through the crowd – he had known how this would end. They both had. Had they been the only two in the bar, Jake had no doubt they would have foregone the greetings entirely and fucked like beasts on the countertop without so much as an introduction, but he liked this way better: more private. Nobody to complain her raking nails were ruining the woodwork or his driving thrusts were knocking the bottles from their shelves.
It wasn’t long before Stoya’s skirt joined her shirt on the floor and her lingerie was strewn over the sofa. Sensing she was eager for a more intense position, Jake took her in his arms and collapsed into the armchair. Half-sitting, half-lying in the pillows he rolled her slender frame back onto his chest and spread her legs wide.
His pulsing cock swayed just before her sex like a snake under the spell of a charmer. Jake’s chest heaved as Stoya’s fingers coiled around his shaft. Her digits were hot as fire pokers. A low groan frothed on his lips as she fed him into the furnace of her pussy and once again his instincts drove him to thrust hard and deep.
Driven by desire, Jake manhandled her from one position to the next with animalistic violence. Wrenching her this way and that, he gleefully fulfilled her request and used her like a living fleshlight, a sex doll for him to play with. She wore a devilish grin as he tossed her about; now sat on his lap circling her hips, now tossed over the chair’s arm for him to ruthlessly hammer, now draped over his chest with her arms about his shoulders and her legs parted so wide the folds of her pussy peeled back to reveal her pink insides.
All the while, Stoya’s sensual giggles danced through the air, a lilting score to the sinful scene. Like impish spirits they cast their spell over Jake’s senses, blurring out the rest of the world until his lover was all he could feel, smell, hear or see: her tender curves, her fragrant perfume, her laboured breath, her perfect smile. And as his mind succumbed to the lustful enchantment, he decided he wanted to satisfy his fifth sense, too: taste.
Jake’s tongue darted out like a striking viper. Drawn to her perked nipple he lapped at the pliant nub hungrily. He didn’t care that there was no finesse to it. All he could think of was tasting her sweet breasts, a taste he soon realised was just as intoxicating as the rest of her – salty sweat laced by floral notes from her perfume. Divine.
Immediately he was addicted and for a few minutes all rational thought shut down. His hips pumped automatically, his hands seized in place and his lips latched onto her breast to suckle greedily.
As much as his vacant submission was amusing to watch, however, Stoya was not looking for a mindless drone to satisfy her. Fortunately, she knew just how to improve his focus.
After allowing herself a few moments to savour Jake’s blank expression she pried herself from his grasp. Lost in his own pleasure, her lover’s grip had softened, so it took little effort to pull away.
For Jake, the speed of her movement came as a shock and he frowned as he realised there was no longer a nipple in his lips or a pussy embracing his cock. Bewildered, he looked down to find Stoya squatting before him with a fiendish grin. ‘Sorry babe, but I’m not into men who can’t stay lucid once they get started. I think you need a little treat to help you concentrate.’
Taking his hand, she heaved him to his feet and guided him around so his twitching cock bobbed just in front of her. Her lips tingled with anticipation. He really is big – maybe the biggest I’ve ever had. I hope he tastes as good as he looks.
She didn’t wait to find out. Sealing her lips around his bulbous head she swirled her tongue around the tip, smirking as Jake groaned.
‘Holy shit… oh, fuck, more…’ he grunted.
Then, with her fingers coiled about the base jerking him gently, she slowly worked her way down his steely shaft, eagerly swallowing more and more until he was buried in her throat.
Briefly, the thick meat invading her skull made it difficult to think, like she was trying to piece together a jigsaw while blindfolded. So hot… so juicy… mmmh, salty sweat, tangy precum… sweet pussy juices… mypussy juices… need more… stretch my throat; choke me…
Yet Stoya was an imperturbable woman. Quickly regaining her composure she turned her mind to the task of consummating Jake’s infatuation; once she was finished with him he would never want to fuck any other woman ever again – at least, not unless Stoya was feeling particularly naughty.
In truth, she hadn’t really expected this to happen, at least not so soon. Sure, they were both here on a singles vacation with dozens of other horny potential lovers – hardly a recipe for chastity – so she had anticipated some kind of action by the end of the week. But she had never actually imagined she might meet a man as deliciously deviant as herself. The moment she had laid eyes on Jake, however, she had sensed an animal lust she could not pass up. She wasn’t even sure he knew it was there himself, but she had spent long enough indulging her own desires to know a fellow hedonist when she saw one. Clearly he had sensed their connection too, for he had been drawn to her like a moth to flame.
Stoya had considered satisfying his unspoken cravings with a night of hot, passionate love, but she had decided against it. She had learned how beneficial a little patience could be – all it had taken was a few slutty glances, a handful of suggestive flirtations and a little extra sway in her step as she left him on her doorstep. With that, he had been inescapably hers.
She had spent most of last night and the following morning fantasising over what debauchery they would wallow in together, knowing it was a question of when he decided to visit her again, not if. And now he was here, his firm, tasty cock burrowing down her throat, she knew that first glance had not deceived her: he was just as shamelessly depraved as she had hoped.
As far as Stoya was concerned the only men worth her attention were those capable of fucking her mind as hard as they could her body, and with a little refinement Jake would surely be the perfect match: the immoral Adam to her sinful Eve.
To Jake’s surprise, the longer Stoya was latched onto his cock, the less distracted he was by the livid pleasure searing through his veins. It did not fade – his dick throbbed, his thighs burned, his heart raced. Yet with every swirl of his lover’s tongue a sense of collected control permeated through him, dispelling the horny mental fog and infusing his thoughts with fresh clarity.
Leaning down, he stroked her hair affectionately. ‘Keep going, beautiful. Your lips are so hot, and I love how good that dirty tongue of yours is.’
Stoya dropped onto all fours with a smile, bouncing her ass temptingly. She didn’t bother to reply, though he could see in her eyes she was thrilled to see him in control once more. As if to reward him she proceeded to throat his cock, staring up at him with those innocent, sordid eyes as she held him there as long as her body would allow.
A part of Jake still envied her, for while he was panting and sweating and flushed she looked just as picture perfect as she had when first striding into the room. Despite his fingers having tangled frequently in her dark locks they were barely tousled; the bright marks left by his groping hands and slamming thrusts had all faded, leaving her porcelain flesh unblemished. She was hardly even out of breath after more than half an hour of wild fucking.
Then again, her unyielding perfection only compounded his hunger for her. It made her seem somehow divine, like an angel fallen for the sins of man. He wanted to show her off, to boast that he had satisfied such a sublime creature.
As he watched, a demonic smile twisted his features as he realised the truth: she was his addiction. Looking back, all the girls he had fucked before were no more than mewling kittens to Stoya’s tigress. Vanilla and unimaginative, they had settled for the simple pleasure of lovemaking, incapable of tapping the torrents of Jake’s lust roaring just beneath the surface.
Until now he hadn’t really known he had such desires, yet Stoya had broken the dam with effortless ease and now a flood of sordid ideas came cascading in, swamping his thoughts with images of Stoya spread out before him everywhere from the resort lobby to the airport lounge. She had unleashed the deviant within, and he could hardly wait to show her.
Infatuated, Jake realised he no longer relished the privacy of her villa. He wanted someone to walk by and spot them. He wanted them to drool over her sluttiness and envy his chance to please her. In truth, he began to wish they had abandoned their morals and fucked on the bar last night.
Fortunately, there was plenty of the week left to experiment with, and something told him the immoral nymphomaniac currently latched onto his cock would be more than willing to indulge in any manner of risqué exploits he could devise.
Right now, however, he had more immediate concerns. The frantic twitching of his cock heralded his approaching orgasm and he had no intention of pumping that down her throat – not on their first time, anyway.
With a burst of speed he unsheathed himself, slipping free of her pursed lips with a wet pop. Before Stoya could protest his fingers were around her throat and he was dragging her to her feet. ‘You suck good, bitch,’ he growled, ‘but there’s no better hole than your tight cunt. Now get ready for me to fill it until you leak.’
Tossing her down onto the sofa, Jake snaked up behind her, his fingers wrapping about her nape. Her legs were already spread, one held aloft, the other jutting out over the lip of the sofa. As he lined up with her sex, she fixed him with a piercing stare.
‘You know, baby, I think we’re destined to do this forever. You and me, fucking our way through life. It’s what we were made for.’
Taking her raised thigh in one powerful hand, Jake realised she was right. He wanted her forever. He leaned in close, desire lighting his eyes. ‘I think you’re right. We’re soulmates, gorgeous. And I think we’re going to be very, very naughty together.’
With that, Jake invaded Stoya’s lips with both tongue and dick and they melted into one another’s embrace.
This time, neither lover had any interest in fucking. The rough, shameless hedonism could come later – for now they were devoted to sealing their bond. Their skin hot against one another they made love slowly, passionately, tuned to one another’s most intimate desires as though they could read their partner’s thoughts. The air echoed intermittently with wet kissing noises, or the sensual groans of one or the other as their partner ran a tongue over their neck. For most of their passion, however, they merely pressed their foreheads together, eyes closed, breath coming in laboured gasps.
Once or twice, Jake opened his eyes to drink in Stoya’s sumptuous figure. She might not have been the bustiest nor the curviest woman he had ever laid eyes on, yet to his mind there was nobody able to hold a candle to her untainted perfection. She had the pale sheen and defined lines of a marble statue, yet the soft, ageless features of an angel. Spread out before him in only heels and necklace, she looked as though she was modelling a line of the emperor’s new clothes for some perverted fashion designer. As the golden chain hooked over the stud of her nipple and her heels raked up and down his shin, Jake realised that must make him the emperor and she his concubine; he liked that thought and made a mental note to suggest they roleplay such a scenario before the week was through.
When they came there was no strident cry nor orgasmic moan. Instead they tensed in unison, clinging to one another with bated breath as their climax reached its crescendo and Jake’s hot seed flooded her insides. Then, as though the flood had doused the flames of her furnace, Stoya’s body sagged and she exhaled in a long, contented sigh.
Slipping free, Jake grunted as her satin folds glided over his departing shaft. Gently, tenderly, he eased Stoya’s raised leg down and engulfed her in his affectionate embrace. Her frantic heart thrummed against his chest and he stroked her hair until it had calmed.
They lay in loving silence for some time until Stoya felt a bead of cum trickle down her thigh. ‘Well, you kept your promise. You filled me until I leaked.’ She stroked his cheek with a pale thumb. ‘I didn’t know if I’d find my soulmate when I came here. But I’m so glad I did – and I’m so glad it’s you. We’re made for each other, babe. We couldn’t have made love like that if we weren’t.’
The room was hot, yet when she rolled away the air that rushed in to fill the void felt bracingly cold. Peering up, he found her donning her lingerie once more. The rest of her clothes, however, were suitable only for the bin, thus she disappeared briefly into the bedroom. When she returned she wore a sheer black robe bound up around the waist by a silk belt.
At that moment, Jake knew they would spend their lives together. He had never wanted anyone more than he wanted her, and he made the choice there and then that nothing would ever come between them.
‘That was good, but I think we’re both needy for something a little more risky,’ she purred, eyeing him mischievously. ‘The brochure said this place has a world-class spa and sauna. What do you say we pay it a visit? Spend a little relaxing time together.’
Jake raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m afraid I left my trunks back at my villa.’ He tried not to grin, knowing what Stoya’s reply would be before she said it.
She gave him a smile laced with lascivious intent. ‘Don’t worry, you won’t be needing them…’
Meanwhile, in the clique’s villa…
Thanks for reading!
The models in this scene are Stoya and Johnny Sins.
Stoya is one of those models whose work I love but sadly don’t often get chance to enjoy and get even less chance to showcase. Her work is rather sparing, probably due to the fact her porn career came to a close in 2011 according to her PornHub profile, though I don’t know how accurate that is. Either way, compared to some of the other models in this series she has much less content available to use – particularly when it comes to image galleries, since a lot of her scenes don’t have accompanying pictures – and trying to fit one of her scenes into this storyline proved quite tricky. I’m very glad I managed it though, because I absolutely love this chapter, and I hope anyone who reads this heads straight off to explore her other work too.
Sins, meanwhile, is an absolute powerhouse of a male model and probably one of my favourites too. Other male models come across as having one hell of an ego (not that I can blame them given their line of work) but Sins – to me at least – always comes across as a very chill guy. He’s one of the few models who when I see him in a scene I’m as excited to watch his performance as I am whichever female model he’s starring with, and I hope to showcase his work again in future. Until recently he was married to Kissa Sins, another well-known adult model, which probably goes some way to highlighting how much of a stud he really is. You should definitely go and watch his work if you haven’t already.
Come back on Monday to read chapter four!
I would love to hear your thoughts on my work, so please leave me a comment!
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Imgbox: https://imgbox.com/g/TI7a8xCK8E
Image gallery: https://www.imagefap.com/pictures/5166021/Stoya-07
Additional image(s): https://unsplash.com/photos/twdis-5ygnY
