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From: versutiae@aol.com (Versutiae)
Subject: REPOST: "Adrienne a la Mode" by Cynthia (m/f rom) (1 of 4)
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"Adrienne a la Mode" by Cynthia: Versutiae@aol.com    (m/f rom) (1 of 4)
     Adrienne surveyed the wreckage of dinner with a satisfied smile and
tipped the glass to her lips again.  "A lovely trap," she thought, bubbles
dancing
down her throat. 
     She righted the glass and held it before her face, considering her husband
over the rim.  The champagne was doing what it did best, loosening mental shirt
buttons and splitting emotional zippers.  Even with stress fizzing away, he was
a
still little manic, a little nervous.  Her eyes were to blame; they were
burning the
clothes from his body one layer at a time.
     Tim had been home little more than an hour, and already the tension
between them was dangerous.  For the last twenty minutes, she had watched him
jabber excitedly about work while he devoured her coq au vin.  She only hoped
she was next.
     Adrienne ran her hand through the lazy waves of her short, black hair and
set down her glass.  A sleeveless, black dress hugged her body, tracing every
decadent curve.  While not her usual fare, it was fun to wear when he most
needed distracting.  She wiggled her behind, the dress a little too familiar
there. 
The constant feel of being groped aroused her, thinning her patience.
     Random spokes of hair hung over her blue-green eyes.  She brushed them
aside, leaving no mystery as to the nature of her stare.  Tim kept talking,
avoiding the trap of her eyes.  Her thick, arching eyebrows were her deadly
lures.  They made her look constantly and unnervingly inquisitive.  Even at her
most relaxed, even when asleep, she seemed to be prying apart secrets.
If that was not enough, she could make every glance, every gesture, every
breath erotic.  It just came naturally to her.  It was no wonder her classes
had
nearly perfect attendance rates.  
     Adrienne had thrown together the candles, jazz and dinner in the hope of
luring him away from the week, if only for a few minutes.  So many things vied
for her attention, but this night was invaluable, not to be squandered.   
     A mountain of papers and student poetry loomed around the corner, but
she had no intention of scaling it until morning.  Her literary ropes and
pitons
were packed up for the night.  That he could not let go of work himself both
challenged and aroused her.  He had come hundreds of miles to sit before her
and was still out of reach. 
     He regaled her with yet another anecdote from his business trip to Toledo,
gesturing absently with his spoon, dotting his tie with drips of vanilla ice
cream. 
She laughed but nodded along with his story.  She didn't care much about what
went on in Toledo, but she was excited to see him again, to have more than five
uninterrupted minutes with him.  His unease was peculiar.  His voice was like a
feather waggling nervously against her ears, teasing out her laughter despite
her
attempts to look interested.
     He was still wearing his blazer, and that annoyed her a little.  It was
like a
shell he wore, an armored chunk of that dull office world that swallowed him up
day to day.  It was something out of which he had to be coaxed.
     He tugged at his collar and wetted his throat before continuing.  He
looked
like a man in a soured job interview.  Although she knew she was to blame, she
did not think she looked that predatory.  However, she loved that she could
still
make him uneasy with a glance.
     Despite the prelude that the dinner really was--a neon arrow blinking at
her body--he had to be lured from the cold order of work to the seething chaos
of
her eyes.  The climate change was a bit daunting.
     His relentless chatter was cathartic for him, a means by which he could
slowly peel away the layers of the work week.  She knew that he wanted her and
that his stress held him in check.  He had trouble letting go; work always had
its
claws in him.  She hated that jacket.  "Contents under pressure" should have
been stenciled across it.
     He kept talking, sparing almost no detail.  Adrienne bit her lip.  Devious
thoughts simmered in her mind.  She sipped from her glass and laid it before
her. 
Her hands vanished beneath the table.  She wriggled in her seat, all the while
wearing her "don't worry--I'm listening" face.  Brow furrowed, he continued
sketching out proposals and opportunities and market shares, all of the prattle
in
which he swore he could never take an interest.
     Settled once again in her chair, Adrienne sighed, hands hidden, eyebrows
raised in a "my, that is interesting" pose.  She let him talk for a while and
then
casually laid her panties next to her salad fork.  Tim stopped dead in
mid-sentence, his words piling up behind him like derailed train cars.
     A devilish smirk crawled toward her ear.  As he sat there blinking,
speechless for the first time since coming home, she let her quiet magic work
on
him.
     Silence hovered over the table.  Adrienne could almost hear the flames
sucking away at the candles.  Her nipples pushed hard against the cotton of her
dress.  She wanted so much to touch them.
     She looked down at her neglected dessert.  Raspberries lounged on the
little dune of ice cream and waded in the shallow, white sea surrounding it. 
She
steeped the tip of her middle finger in the melted portion, drawing it out
slowly. 
>From the short, unpolished nail to the first knuckle, a glob of vanilla coated
her
fingertip.
     She stared into him as her hand descended out of his sight and into her
lap.  A shiver roamed her body, pinching her thick lips into a pout and flaring
her eyes.  She blew a single, breathy moan across the table at him.  Smiling
wickedly, one eyebrow cocked, she lifted her hand into the candlelight.  The
finger was clean.
     Held tight in the clench of his face, his slate eyes looked about to
shatter. 
He was completely dazed.  Watching the muscles in his neck tense, the wordless
moving of his mouth, Adrienne worried she had finally taken teasing to a lethal
level and given him a heart attack.
     His mouth suddenly tilted in the randiest smirk she had ever seen.  Full
of
wanting, his eyes raked over her body.  She was almost afraid of what she had
awoken.
     Tim rose and chuckled at himself.  He shrugged off his jacket and kicked
it away.  Adrienne grinned, overjoyed to see him finally shed that workaday
skin.  His whole demeanor changed.  He was alive again but shaky, a drowned
man resuscitated.
     He stalked around the table, stepping peculiarly, as though his pockets
were filled with needles.  She laughed when she realized it was due to the
rigid
bulge in his pants.  His own laughter died when he finally saw what the table
had
hidden.
     Her dress was tugged up over her hips, bunched around her waist, the
smooth wood of the seat cool against her bottom.  Her long, pale legs arched
down to black, flat-soled shoes, which she tapped anxiously on the hardwood
floor.
     He leaned over her, challenging her eyes.  When he seemed about to
speak, to apologize for neglecting her, she stopped him, her fingers lighting
on
his lips.
     "Such a busy mouth," she said, her first words in half an hour.  The
vestige
of a childhood in Belgium still lingered in her voice, chasing it with a subtle
and
provocative accent.  Despite a lifetime in America, she always had a foreign
mystique.  "Put it to good use."
     She carefully straightened his tie and licked her lips, her eyes
heavily-lidded.  Tim knew her serious-business look.  "Get to work."
     Adrienne scooted her chair away from the table.  Tim knelt before her and
leaned in close, the dark triangle of curls pointing the way.   He hummed
wickedly when he realized her clitoris, full and inviting, was dabbed with
vanilla.
     Beneath the sweet smell, the scent of her teased him, making him ache. 
Hands on her thighs, he pushed her legs apart and wrapped his lips around her
clitoris, sucking gently, rhythmically.  Adrienne instantly moaned away all of
her
breath.  Clutching the chair, she braced herself for his tongue.  When she felt
it
lash back and forth behind his lips, licking away the ice cream, air crashed
back
into her lungs with a gasp.
     He sucked the little nub harder, trying to pull her entire body into his
mouth. In moments, the vanilla succumbed to her strong, gingery taste, and Tim
tugged harder at her, adoring it.  Adrienne stamped her feet and moaned at the
ceiling.  She imagined herself burning from the inside out.
     She squinted down at him, tousling his hair with shaky hands.  He sucked
relentlessly, his nose burrowed into her black curls, his sharp breaths
tickling
through them.  His eyes smiled up at her. 
     Leaving her with one last promissory kiss, Tim leaned back to catch his
breath.  His chin had a telltale shine.  Adrienne leered drunkenly at him,
amazed. 
Unable to take it any longer, he unzipped his trousers and freed his cock,
stroking it anxiously.  She loved watching him do that, flattered that the
taste of
her could make him so hard, so desperate for touch.
     Hungry herself, she strummed her clitoris with her long fingers, moaning
along with him.  For several minutes, they watched each other pleasure
themselves.  Close to the edge, Tim stopped.  They shared an old, familiar
laugh
when she found it hard to take her own hand away.  The laughter felt as good as
anything else.
     Raising an eyebrow, Tim laid his hand on the seat between her legs, palm
up.  She sighed decadently, anticipating what he was about to do.  She rose
just a
few inches off the chair and waited.  When Tim's middle finger stood up
straight,
she lowered herself onto it, so wet she felt little more than an erotic tickle
as it
entered.
     Knowing that he wanted to tease out the moment and torture her, she
scowled at him.  In an instant, his long finger was thrumming inside her,
rapidly
waggling back and forth.  Adrienne sang to the ceiling again, her voice
vibrating
at his finger's tempo.  Sharp pleasure squeezed her eyes shut.  
     She brushed and tugged her nipples through her dress.  They were tall and
achingly sensitive, stirring a delicious sting into her pleasure.  Tim grinned
up at
her, his finger trilling without pause.  A heavy, crackling warmth spread
through
her body, stretching all the way to her toes.
     Nearing the edge, Adrienne ground her ass against the seat, pushing him
as deep as she could.  Although his arm was beginning to ache, Tim moved
faster.  He was rewarded with a high, throaty moan.  Her hips trembled, and
fire
blossomed between her legs.
     Her hands abruptly went to the seat, latching tightly.  She whimpered,
teetering on the brink, and moaned like a siren as she tumbled into orgasm. 
Adrienne thrashed against the back of the chair, her nerves burning up. 
     Completely out of control, deep in the throes, she gyrated upon the seat.
Within a few moments, her body seized up one last time before collapsing
with a sigh.  Tim smiled and moved his hand out from under her, counting
himself lucky his finger was not broken.  She grinned back at him, her eyes
promising to return the favor threefold.  She was impressed; whenever she
seemed to have caught her breath, it danced out of her reach again.
     "It's your turn in the chair," she whispered, standing and tugging her
dress
back into place.  They exchanged positions.  Tim's cock stood tall and rigid
from
his lap.  Adrienne smirked at it and laid his hands on the sides of the seat. 
"You'd better hold on tight," she said.
     From just a breath away, she stared at his cock, watching it hunger.  She
tried to imagine what it felt like to be so hard, so confined.  It amazed her. 
Over
a week's worth of tension coiled in one place.  She knew he got so wrapped up
in
work on his trips that he didn't masturbate.  She had gotten him to do it over
the
phone a few times but only with a lot of provocation.  Unless she was there to
inspire him directly, desire was just something that silently knotted him up,
making him cranky.
     Adrienne masturbated often, finding more inspiration than she could
handle during the course of a day.  Poetry was not the only product of her
sensual nature.  Textures, tastes and sounds swirled around her daily, stirring
her
up inside until she had to do something about it.  She wished it came half as
naturally to him. 
     His cock twitched, ticking away his pulse.  She wondered if she even
needed to touch him, if she could simply make him come with her voice.  "That
might be fun to try sometime," she thought.
     She splayed her left hand on his pelvis, and he winced.  The muscles
beneath her hand were strained taut.  It was as though his cock was pulling
away
from his body.  Adrienne leered up at him, her eyebrows daring him to beg.
     "Ade," he whispered. "Please."
     She wrapped her right hand around him and clenched her fingers.  Tim
groaned, and his entire body stretched toward her hand.  He was iron in her
grasp.
     A telltale glisten appeared on the tip, warning of the deluge to come. 
"He'll be lucky to survive thirty seconds," she thought, a little disappointed
but
thoroughly flattered.
     She laid a feather of a kiss upon the very end, savoring that first
anxious
drop.  She wondered why it was so different from the horrible-tasting rush
ahead.  No matter how he pleaded, she would not do that again, would not take
that in her mouth.  She had forever closed the doors on the argument by saying,
"You try it, and then we'll talk."
     Adrienne stroked him slowly: up and down, up and down.  She rotated her
hand a little so that her fingers slithered around him with every rise and
fall. 
Tim lay back with his eyes closed, moans rising like smoke from his open
mouth.  Every time her hand moved, his body shook as though suffering tiny
shocks.
     Just when he seemed to be building up for release, she let go of him,
laying her right hand next to her left on his stomach.  She waited.  Tim
cracked
an eye and smiled meekly at her.  Her thick lips stretched out in the most
remarkable grin.
     Without warning, her mouth was around him, engulfing him, taking him
in all the way to the base.  Back arched, toes curled, Tim howled at the
ceiling. 
Adrienne hummed around him, pleased with herself.  She clenched her lips
around him and drew away from him slowly, inch by inch.
     When only the tip of him was in her mouth, she gave it a hard suck.  Tim
groaned, thrusting up at her, trying to push himself farther into her mouth. 
She
held on hard with her mouth, refusing to allow him deeper, her head bobbing
along with his hips.  When he stopped, she took him all the way in again.  This
time she held him there, sucking on him like a straw, luxuriating in his moans.

     He quivered in her mouth.  She loved the sensation.  She loved him.
Still surrounding him utterly, she tickled the base of his cock with her
tongue.  He laughed achingly, prying open his eyes.  She was staring at him--
into him--through her sharp, black bangs.  Her eyes reflected everything from
confidence to cruelty to love.  She raised a bushy eyebrow like a warning flag.

He clutched onto the seat.
     Adrienne suddenly bobbed her head, noisily sucking at him.  She moved
so quickly, his nerves couldn't keep up with the sensations.  She held the very
tip
of him between her lips one moment and tickled her chin against his balls the
next.  He felt as though she was literally sucking the energy from his body.
He throbbed against her tongue, wringing up harder than before. 
     Abruptly, he was out of her mouth, quivering in front of her.  She sighed
heavily,
catching her breath, and took his cock, warm and wet, tightly in hand.
She jerked hard, emulating the movement of her mouth.  Tim stuttered,
howling his way over the edge.  She loved this moment: when the sluice gates
opened and all the stress and tension in him rushed out.  He pulsed wildly, but
she held on, yanking his orgasm from him.
     He seized up and released, draping a long, white stripe through her hair. 
Startled, she laughed and glanced up at her hair in mock annoyance.  She would
be ready for the next burst.  She jerked harder, shaking the come out of him. 
Spurt after spurt leapt from him, covering her hands and his lap. She laughed
in amazement.  A week's worth of stress had poured from him... and made rather
a mess.  
     When his breath returned, she let go of him, and he slouched in the chair.

She snatched her napkin from the table and dabbed at her hair, laughing. 
Humming to herself, she wiped her glistening hands and pitched the spent
napkin aside.
     She grabbed her panties and draped them around his drooping cock.  She
worked the cotton against his skin, delighting in the exhausted, "please--no
more" grunts and groans her touch provoked.  She carefully cleaned him up,
soaking her panties with his strange, seashore scent.  She dropped them and
climbed to her feet, leaning over to kiss him.  The spice of her was on his
lips,
and she adored it, wishing his come tasted more like that and less like
insecticide.
     "Thirsty?" she asked, drawing away from him.  Tim nodded blearily.  She
stretched and walked to the end of the table, her shoes clicking on the
hardwood
floor.  She picked up the champagne bottle and sauntered back toward him, her
smirk leading the way.
     Grace suddenly abandoned her as she slipped on her wilted panties and
toppled into his lap.  The bottle wobbled at the foot of the chair, coming to a
rest
upright, not a drop spilled.  They both burst into laughter, shaking against
each
other in the candlelight.
     As the giggles began to wane, he patted her affectionately on the behind,
signaling for her to get up.  Adrienne went quiet. 
     "Spank me," she said, arching her back to look him in the eye.  He
chuckled, but the champagne veil had lifted for the moment.  She was serious.
     "What?"  She had him off-balance again... and delighted in it.  
     She lowered her head and stared at him through the black veil of her
bangs.  She steeped her voice in the warmest of her fantasies and blew it at
him
like smoke.  "Spank me."
     "Ade.  Come on.  It's the champagne talking," he said, uncertain.  "You
don't want me to do that."  However, he knew she was still in charge, still
lucid,
and that made him all the more nervous.  The champagne might have tickled her
voice and her skin, but her eyes were still clear and incisive.
     She never ceased to amaze him.  Here was this accomplished poet, this
respected professor, asking him to spank her.  From the lofty to the lusty,
there
was nothing she could not do.  Her range was unnerving.  
     She knew she would have to provoke him again.  He always slipped back
a little after he came, his driven passion fading into drowsy pensiveness.
     Still holding his eye, she slowly pulled back the hem of her dress, baring
her voluptuous behind to the candlelight.  She ran her hand adoringly over the
curves, smiling disarmingly.  Her ass was a monument to decadence.  She knew
how he gawked at it when she was fresh out of the shower in the morning, how
he loved watching it quiver when he took her from behind, grabbing and groping
it at every chance.  She knew its power over him.
     He stared numbly, savoring every curve.  The tiny, X-shaped scar on her
left buttock inspired a smile.  As a child, she had caught herself on a
barbed-wire
fence while nipping grapes from a neighbor's vineyard.  She told him often how
the sweet taste had been worth the pain.
     Adrienne slowly and rhythmically clenched her behind, trying to entice
him, but sensed his uncertainty.  She would have to play tough to lure him into
her fantasy.
     "You know," she said, her voice low and husky, "it's been so long since
you've made love to me that I've taken to fantasizing about everyone in your
office when you're out of town."
     He sat stark still, dumbfounded.  He knew how voracious her mind was,
and that worried him.  Adrienne smirked.  She hoped she could embellish
enough to draw him.  
     She wiggled her ass and casually lifted her glass from the table with her
left hand.  When she teetered on his lap, he absently clapped his hand on her
thigh to steady her.  She lifted the bottle from the floor and topped her
glass.
     "Seriously?" he said, a tiny needle of hurt popping the champagne bubbles.
     "Seriously," she said into the glass as she sipped.  Her eyes seethed. 
She
licked a stray drop from her lips.  "In my mind, I've come with each and every
one of them.  Several times."
     "Ade, don't play games..."
     "I had Steve take me from behind while I was draped over your desk."
     "Steve?  My best friend?  Ade, he would never..."
     "He would never," she confirmed.  "In fact, I seem to recall him yelling,
'I
can't do this to Tim's wife!' just before he came all over me, all over this
naughty
ass."  She raised a challenging eyebrow and casually took another sip.  She
watched his face change, watched his emotional scales wobble up and down.
Tim was clearly taken aback.  His hand tensed, clenching her thigh, rising
almost imperceptibly.  She hummed into her glass.  
     He frowned down at her.  "Who else, Ade?"
     "Well, there are so many.  It's hard to keep track.  Throw out some
names."
     He felt completely trapped.  "Ben Rouse?"
     "Your boss?" she said, biting her lip and rolling her eyes across the
ceiling.
     She smiled.  "Tallish fellow?  Always looks like he's just missed his
train
by ten seconds?"
     "Yes..."
     She smirked so hard a dimple rose on her cheek.  "I sucked him in the
elevator."  Tim's eyes swam.  Adrienne warmed up her voice some more,
intensifying her accent.  "We got on on the thirteenth floor, and he got off on
the
third."  His hand rose a little more, cradling her left buttock.  He could not
believe she would be so shameless with her fantasies.  
     "Well, then there's always Bob." 
     "Bob from Accounting?!" he snapped, completely nonplused.  "The Star
Trek guy?!  Beam-Me-Up Bob?!"
     "I bet he has a huge cock," she cooed.  "And do you know where I want
it?"  She dipped two fingertips in her champagne and, leering up at him, rubbed
them against her asshole in lazy circles.  "Right there."  
     A bittersweet rage boiled up through him.  He smacked her sharply on the
behind, making it quiver.  The blow shook her whole body.  The champagne
sloshed in the glass.  Adrienne winced for but a moment then moaned
luxuriously.
     Instantly taking on a ruddy glow, her ass looked even prouder to him. 
Before she could catch her breath, his hand crashed into her again.  The
sensation was delicious.  When her moan trailed off, she casually sipped her
champagne, unimpressed, her eyebrows high and haughty.
     Infuriated, Tim shifted, holding her firmly in his lap, his left arm
draped
across the small of her back and around her hip.  In rapid succession, he
swatted
one buttock and then the other, sending ripples through her flesh.  Adrienne
groaned in ecstasy, in realization of her fantasy.
     Relentlessly, he warmed her behind, the soft smacks echoing about the
room.  Despite being tricked into the role, being goaded to her whim, he was
careful. Each blow was little more than a pat, just enough to give her a
little,
well-deserved sting but not enough to hurt.
     Adrienne loved it, moans hiccupping from her with every swat.  Her
behind blushed in the candlelight, adoring his hand.  She smiled to herself
when
she felt his cock slowly stiffening against her belly.
     Moaning and laughing, she kicked her feet when he began spanking her in
earnest, paddling her with his gentle hand.  The blush spreading across her
behind spread inside her as well, singeing her, making her very wet.
     When at last he stopped, she reached back and ran her hand over the
warm, quivering curves.  Her breaths fell heavily, and she shot him a wild,
appreciative look.  She had nearly come.
     Tim retraced the course of her hand, enjoying the heat of her skin. 
Adrienne moaned at the floor, her behind just tender enough to make every
caress arousing to her.  As his fingers glided over her, tremors rode her body,
and her ass clenched invitingly.  He smirked.  It was his turn to surprise her.
He looked up at the table.  A little lump of ice cream remained in her dish,
a little iceberg in a swollen, white sea.  The raspberries had drowned.  He
dipped
his fingers in the cool cream and rubbed it on her toasted behind.
     Adrienne cooed.  The ice cream made her ass feel that much hotter. 
Slowly, teasingly, he covered her warm behind with vanilla, smoothing it all
around her.  Besides being intensely aroused, she felt cherished.  She relaxed,
savoring the cool strokes.
     Tim raked his eyes over her lovely behind while soaking his middle finger
in ice cream.  He smiled at the cleft between her cruelly curvaceous cheeks,
his
mind exploring with his eyes.  When his finger was thoroughly covered and
achingly cold, he pressed it into her ass.
     Adrienne's head flew up, and a long, throaty moan shook from her mouth. 
She clenched hard, which only pushed his finger deeper.  The contrast of the
heat on her skin and the cold inside her nearly pushed her over the edge.  She
loved his finger there, loved the way it sucked the heat and the pleasure from
her
body.
     Trying to bluff him, to make it seem as though she was bored, she tried to
take a casual sip of champagne.  Hands shaky with pleasure, she missed her
mouth and popped her nose into the glass.  She laughed at herself and gave in,
giving voice to the deeper moans she had held back.  He was harder than ever
against her stomach.
     He moved his finger slowly, drawing out her moans.  Wanting to hear
more of her beautiful, husky cries, he gave her random swats with his free
hand,
complicating her pleasure, pushing her toward release.  He was amazed with
himself, amazed he had become entangled in her fantasy.  He loved all this, and
she knew it.  She was deviously cunning when it came to getting what she
wanted.
     She was tight around his finger.  The aching cold dwindled away quickly,
leaving him feeling only the quivering heat of her body.  He could feel the
warning shivers in her even before she cried out for him to stop.
     All at once, Adrienne wriggled out of his grasp and scrambled to her feet.

She laid the glass on the table and turned toward him.  Her breathing erratic,
her
eyes wild, she closed his legs and straddled them, hovering over him.  Her
dress
drooped over her thighs, and she tugged it roughly above her waist, rolling it
under until it stayed in place.
     Startling him, she clapped her hands on the chair's high back and glared
at
him through a ragged veil of bangs.  Her intensity unnerved him.  Feeling the
warmth of her brushing the tip of his cock, he shot her a look of appeal. 
Adrienne smiled, kissed him tenderly and reassuringly on the nose and engulfed
him, her ass crashing warm and sticky into his lap.
     Air silently vanished from his lungs, and he sat still as pleasure loomed
up
over him, eclipsing everything.  Adrienne, on the other hand, growled at full
voice, rolling her hips, pressing harder, savoring him savagely.
     Absolutely driven, she pistoned upon him, repeatedly pushing herself up
with her toes and letting her full weight fall hard on his lap.  The chair
creaked
as she bounced upon him.  The candles threw a strange, bobbing shadow on the
wall behind them.
     Holding onto her waist, Tim could do little but weather her storm. 
Overwhelmed as he was, he could barely even make a sound.  He felt utterly
used... and did not mind a bit.
     Every impact spread a tingling sting through her ass that she adored. 
Desperate for more, she came down upon him harder and harder, driving him
deeper than he had ever been.  The chair groaned.  Lightning danced throughout
her body.
     Sliding his hands up to the sides of her breasts, Tim pushed at Adrienne's
nipples with his thumbs.  The fabric heightened the sensation, adding a
bittersweet friction that made her back arch, her thighs twitch.   
     They both ached from the pleasure, their faces pinched comically.  They
would have laughed had
their eyes not been squeezed shut.  Holding back as best he could, Tim waited
for her, every moment fighting the urge to explode.  The pressure building in
him made him harder, giving her a
greater sense of being filled, making her come.
     Adrienne's eyebrows scrunched together, the pressure bearing down
heavily upon her before sweeping her away.  She slammed into his lap one last
time and ground down on him, clenching her behind tightly to hold him at that
fantastic depth.
     A molten sensation seethed between her legs, pouring fire into her arms
and her legs.  Head back, she whimpered and moaned, singing out her ecstasy.
     Dragged over the edge, Tim erupted inside her.  He grimaced, yelling, the
release so great it almost hurt.  He held her steady as pangs of pleasure
knocked
her body about.  In moments, they were crumpled against each other, shuddering
and murmuring and stroking each other's hair.
     As breath returned and shivers fell silent, they talked and laughed,
exhausted.  It was time for a shower and who knew what afterward.
     Still holding him inside her, Adrienne reached back and lifted her glass
from the table.  She sipped her champagne and smiled, trying hard to look
bored.
     "You were kidding about my co-workers... right?" he said.
     She cocked an eyebrow and smirked around the lip of her glass.  "Of
course."


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