This was a one shot entry for the: kikiwhore presents Esme's Erotic Ecstasy Contest
Recently, some FF friends said that they missed this little fling (yes, I'm talking to you Vio!). So I'm re-posting it. Hope you still enjoy the cougar...
I don't own, I'm just letting Esme play.
Tanya and Rosalie were late as usual. Our little Friday lunch dates had become a tradition when we all finalized our most recent divorces last summer. On June 3rd, Tanya was officially the happy owner of an estate in the Bahamas, a townhouse on 76th street, and some extra millions in her account thanks to Rodger Denali, philanderer extraordinaire. June 22nd, saw Rosalie newly single with a Yacht, a cavernous apartment on Park Avenue, an inspired amount of jewelry that Lawrence Hale decorated her with, and the true love of her life, Queen Mistress Mary Quite Contrary, her Westminster Dog Show winning Black Standard Poodle.
As for me, on July 10th, I was no longer Esme Cullen-Vanderhall, and could go back to Esme Cullen. Besides making me many millions richer, Gregory Vanderhall made me the proud owner of a charming Villa in the south of France, season box seats to the Metropolitan Opera, a prized vintage Aston Martin, and a large plot of land in Australia somewhere. Gregory was the first of my husbands to cheat on me, a very costly mistake on his behalf.
Royce King was my first husband; he was the son of my father's best friend. The marriage was practically arranged by the time we were in our teens. I was a stunning sweet young thing from Connecticut. My family was well-off but not wealthy. I went to the right schools, wore the right clothes, and married the right man. The Kings were one of the wealthiest families on the Eastern Seaboard. I didn't love him at all, but that hardly mattered. What did matter was that he was a despicable animal of man. When my father came to visit us one Christmas at the overwhelming mansion that Royce insisted on buying, and saw the bruises on my arm, it didn't take long for him to put two and two together… he put me in the car and drove me back home that night.
That first divorce gave me independence. I bought my parents a house in Florida to live out their days in sunshine. While they were enjoying the surf, I moved to Manhattan. I wasn't even 30 yet, but I was quickly adopted into a 5th avenue First Wives Club thanks to a chance meeting at a Gallery. I met and befriended one of the women in the Kennedy clan and from then on, life was charmed.
My second husband was 73, but he was kind, harmless, and spoiled me rotten. He loved me completely I'm sure, and while I respected and liked him a great deal, there was nothing close to love from me. Our differences aside, we greatly enjoyed our few years together. He died when he was 77, heart failure. We were on the Yacht in Morocco. He just didn't wake up one morning. He left me a generous portion of his assets, thus confirming my place amongst the social elite.
My third husband, Carlisle Cullen, was the only man I ever loved, and the only name I would ever keep. Carlisle Cullen threw me for a loop; he was devastatingly handsome. I met him at a charity event; a debonair doctor, with slicked back blonde hair, a smooth smile, and a kiss that left me panting for more. I had finally fallen in love. We were married within six months. I didn't need his fortune, although it was vast, and for the first time I was with someone who wanted me for who I was, not for the image I portrayed. I was in my own personal heaven. His wonderful and handsome son, Edward, took to me easily; to this day I love that boy as if he were my own... he still calls me Mother. When Carlisle got ill, the cancer was fierce and quick. He died within a year. Edward and I were devastated. We spent a month away together, licking our wounds and healing.
Carlisle split his massive family fortune between me and Edward. I was left the art and jewels, and half of the monetary assets. The homes and estates were left to Edward. In fact, the castle in Scotland was being put to good use later in the year for his wedding. He was marrying a wonderful girl named Bella, a pretty and sweet young thing who he met in college. I didn't need the real estate anyway, thanks to the previous 2 husbands. I had an apartment on 5th Avenue, a house in Southampton, and the beach house in St. Barth's.
"Vodka Stinger. Would you like to see the menu Mrs. Cullen or wait for the rest of the party?"
I looked up at the waitress. The girls and I had made our Friday lunches such a regular event that we came to know Angela. I suspect our tips were paying her way through college.
"I'll wait. Thank you, Angela."
I looked out the windows to see a flash of blonde step out of a limo, followed by a flash of strawberry. Not surprisingly, following my dear friends was a Chanel shopping bag each. Should have known; the only thing that could keep them from our date… retail therapy.
The girls and I had known each other for years. We saw each other around the social circuit, but were never very close. However, ever since we all bumped into each other at the same divorce lawyer's office one day, we were inseparable. Rosalie was a stunner - a drop dead specimen of a woman. She was tall and blonde, with perfect bouncy tits and ass (all hers shockingly, although the perpetually plump lips were thanks to Mr. Botox). Men crawled to her on their hands and knees for her, and I couldn't blame them. She was an out right bitch, too; that only seemed to egg the men on further.
Tanya was beautiful. Between the sweet perky tits (most definitely NOT natural), and the prefect peaches and cream skin (she swore by some awful smelling stuff that she had illegally imported from China monthly), she had the face of an angel, but she was a man-eater. She went through men like Gin. Tired of one, she would jump to the next, but always looked divine doing it. She had a thing for pool boys. Thanks to Mr. Denali and his generous settlement, she could happily fuck as many as she wanted for the rest of her days.
"Esme darling you look perfect as always," said Tanya dipping down to kiss my cheeks.
"Yes, and all without mystery pond scum from China."
Rosalie laughed, "Touché Esme," she said kissing me as well.
"So ladies, I see there was an emergency visit to 5th avenue on the way to Soho?"
"My fault entirely," said Tanya, "we needed something stunning for tonight after all."
"Tonight?" I asked curiously.
"Do you remember Pravda?"
"How can I forget?" I answered wistfully.
"God yes, who can forget Sergei? Dear lord he was mouth watering," added Rosalie.
"Mmm, I think I was the envy of every woman at that awful charity ball when I walked in with him. He was all kinds of delicious wasn't he?"
"What ever happened to him anyway?" asked Tanya.
"Deported, sadly. Does seem all the good ones are either gay or illegal doesn't it? Beside the point though. Pravda became too déclassé and overcrowded to go to anymore."
"Well, I just happened to speaking to my Pilates instructor and it turns out, that it's back in a big way. So I thought it was about time that we visited our old friend. Who knows, Sergei may have been slipped past customs."
"Tanya Denali, you horny little diva. No pool boys to curb that appetite of yours recently?"
"You love me."
"With every inch of my Manolo's."
"The usual please Maria."
"Yes Ms. Esme."
Maria had been doing my nails for years. I introduced the girls to my great secret after our divorces were final. I treated them to the best damn mani-pedi's they had ever experienced. Maria's was hidden away on a second floor apartment on York Avenue. She only had three chairs, and she kept her Friday afternoons open for us. "The usual" was 'Chinatown Red', a deep blood red that I had been wearing for years.
"So Esme," began Rosalie, "any progress with Garrett?"
Garrett was my latest conquest. He was in his late 50's, English, wealthy, extremely well traveled, and had never been married. A self admitted bachelor, he traveled the world like a nomad. A very wealthy and comfortable nomad though. If he wasn't on his massive yacht he was in his private jet. He had homes around the globe, and never stayed in one place very long. However, as of late, he was spending more and more time in New York. Seems a certain Caramel-haired divorce was monopolizing his time.
Garret and I were introduced at a dinner party. He was dapper in the way that only Englishmen of a certain age are. He wore a slightly wrinkled white linen suit that was obviously tailored just for him. Tall, trim with a streak of white hair; he was the first man since Carlisle that made me want to know more. We spoke all night. He cooked for me the following week at his apartment. Thai curry. It was spicy and amazing, and so was the sex. He left a few days after that for Africa, some business he had to finish in Johannesburg, but he came back to New York when he was finished and 'cooked' for me again. He wasn't a flashy man, but he was intelligent and damn sexy.
Although he wasn't one for the social scene, he came to the opening night of the opera with me. When he picked me up in his tuxedo I nearly attacked him right then and there. He was divine. James Bond and Jeremy Irons rolled into one – my poor silk La Perla's were wet the entire night. When we finally got back to my apartment, he peeled them from my body and stuffed them in his pocket before taking me in the foyer. I hadn't seen him for almost three weeks, but somehow, it worked for us. Older and wiser, I didn't ache for the constant attention that I did when I was younger. But, whatever it was we had, it wasn't a marriage. Not yet anyway. And as far as I was concerned, until there was a ring on my finger, I was free to prowl.
"He'll be in Thailand for another week."
"Then?" a sly smile creeping on her face.
"Then, he'll come back to me little Ms. Nosey."
"Operation husband number 5 underway hmmm?"
"Will you be my maid of honor Ms. Hale?" I asked as I batted my lashes.
"I would be honored Ms. Cullen," she said, bowing her head.
"I think sea foam green taffeta would look lovely on you… maybe a matching kerchief for Mistress Mary?"
Tanya laughed knowing that Rosalie Hale would sooner shave her head then let anything either sea foam green or taffeta touch her precious baby.
"You can torture me all you want Esme Cullen, but leave my baby girl out of it!" quipped the great Rosalie Hale. That dog was the love of her life after all.
"The Dolce or the Gucci?"
"You look dee-vine in both."
"Granted, but which one is getting me sex tonight."
"You should have said that in the first place diva."
"We've been at this for an hour. What's the use of having 'A Gay' if you're going to be so damned indecisive?"
"Well excuse me. I didn't realize we were in heat today." I smiled but still threw the closest thing I could get my hands on at him… a black lace bra. "Save it for the men who care sweetness."
"Fine, fine, the leopard Dolce. And don't you dare put your hair up. Women spend thousands to fake that head of hair God gave you. Shame on you for always wearing it up."
"Thank you, Aro," I said sweetly.
"Mhmm," he answered.
Aro was European, although he never specified from where. He had one of those indecipherable accents that could have been Hungarian or French, depending on the situation. He was the arm candy of my interior designer, Pierre. Pierre brought Aro with him to the house warming when we had finally finished the re-design of my apartment. Pierre was a pompous ass, but a brilliantly talented ass. Aro was chic and well dressed with an acerbic sense of humor. I liked him immediately. We had so much fun together, that when Pierre dropped Aro for the latest Euro-trash slut on the block, I was there to get him stinking drunk. Nothing like a bottle of Patron to cure the man-blues.
"So, why are we stuffing the girls into Dolce for some ass tonight? I thought Garrett was keeping you satisfied."
"Oh he is, but let's not pretend that while he's gallivanting around the globe he isn't enjoying the local pleasures too."
"Toosh darling, toosh."
A few warm up drinks, layers of mascara and red lipstick later, I was ready. My phone rang, and Aro picked up.
"The phone of the glorious Mr. Esme Cullen, how can she help you?" I rolled my eyes. "It's Tanya, she's downstairs in the car waiting."
"Tell her I'll be right there."
"Ms. Sexy in Dolce says she'll be right down." A moment later, Aro and I were in the elevator making our way down.
"Are you sure you don't want to come Aro?"
"Not at all sure, because I desperately want to see the elegant yumminess you'll be snagging tonight, but Daddy has other plans involving a very confused young NYU student… I'm going to show him the sparkling pink light."
"Now Aro you know I only marry the pretty ones. In between I like something a little more… beefy."
All he could do was laugh and escort me to the car. I stepped in and Tanya handed me champagne immediately. "To grade 'A' beef Tanya!"
"I'll drink to that!"
"The bitch got sick."
"Sick with what?"
"Who knows, she got into the garbage and now Rosie is all worried about her. I couldn't drag her away."
"More pickings for us then," I sassed.
"I'll drink to that too!"
We arrived at Pravda just past midnight. Making our way inside, we spied the crowd and decided to head upstairs. Upstairs was smaller, quieter, and easier to scope. We found a table and dropped our things. I went to the bar to order us some drinks.
"Vodka Stinger, Gin & Tonic."
"Right away," said the cute little girl behind the bar. I took the opportunity to look around the room. There was a table of giggling girls, all wearing something black and backless. A table of couples making goo-goo eyes at each other, and a… Hello! Sitting at the back corner table was a group of 5 men in their late 20's, maybe early 30's. Looking right at me was grade 'A' beef. Taller than the rest, he was all muscles. A mop of dark curls, and dimples to die for, was just the icing on the cake. He was dressed in a dark blue shirt, one button too many unbuttoned, but it gave me a wonderful view of his tight chest.
"Vodka Stinger and a Gin Tonic."
"Open a tab please." With that I walked to the table, making sure to look over my shoulder before I slinked down into the booth.
"I want the one in white." I looked to Mr. Muscle's right to see a pretty boy with golden locks, and an easy smile. He was cute, he was even elegant, but couldn't bring the beef.
"Take him, Mr. Muscles is mine."
It took an hour.
An hour of glances and smiles, and finally one of the guys took some action. A boy at the end who neither Tanya nor I had even noticed, walked to the bar, and talked to the cute bartender while looking at our direction. He was ok I guess, certainly not grade 'A' or any other grade of beef for that matter. He was… turkey. Maybe chicken. I looked back to the corner when grade 'A' looked right at me, shrugged, shook his head, and very clearly mouthed 'SORRY' to me.
"Tanya, I think we're about to be hit on by the little boy at the bar."
"Who?" I pointed to the Turkey. "Christ Esme, do something!"
"Channel Rosie and be the bitch we all know you can be."
Our suitor came to the table, two drinks in hand.
"Well good evening ladies, who's Vodka and who's Gin?"
"She's gin," I said, tilting my head to Tanya.
For some reason, he took this as his invitation to sit down. "So…" he began. "I've been noticing the attention you two have been throwing my way tonight." Seriously? Was this little boy serious? I peered back to the table. They were all laughing. So, we weren't going to be saved. I sighed, channeled my inner Rosalie Hale, and turned back to our cocky young friend.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," I said sweetly.
"Newton, Mike Newton," he said as if he were Bond, James Bond. It took everything I had not to laugh in this poor child's face. He was about to be humiliated badly enough.
"Mike, do my friend and I favor?"
"Anything ladies," he said giving us his best Rico Suave impersonation.
"Go back to the table," I started seductively.
"Ok…" he said, completely entranced.
"Ask the big guy and the blonde to come over," I continued.
"Ya…" he said, panting.
"And try the moves on the bimbo's over there, because we're too much woman for you, little boy." His jaw dropped.
"Women don't reject me! I'm Mike fucking Newton!" At this we could hear his friends in the corner laughing hysterically, practically falling over themselves.
"Well, Mike fucking Newton, consider this the first in a lifetime of disappointments. Now, get that little ass up, and do what Mama asked ok?"
He stood up dumbfounded and walked away in a trance.
"Good job Esme. Rosie would be proud."
We clinked our glasses and looked over to see the elegant blonde and grade 'A' making their way over.
"Well, he maybe a clueless whelp, but he takes direction well."
"I'll drink to that!" toasted Tanya.
No sooner had we sipped than a deep, rumbling voice said, "Sorry about that ladies, we tried to talk him out of it. He's a little…"
"Delusional?" I answered.
"Yes," answered grade 'A'.
"Esme," I said holding out my hand.
"Emmett," he said, taking my hand. His big, strong, rough hand, made me smile widely – oh the things I could imagine it doing to me.
I vaguely registered the blonde introducing himself. Jasper was his name.
"Pleased to meet you ma'am," he said with a drawl and kissed Tanya's hand. Well, he certainly knew how to play his cards.
"Sit, please," Tanya directed. They sat opposite us, and Tanya and Jasper immediately began talking.
"So Emmett," I said, looking right into his eyes.
"So Esme," he said, not flinching at all. Confident. I loved confidence in a man.
"How much longer were you going to make me wait before you came over to talk to me?"
He smiled. His deep dimples made me smile in return.
"I was waiting for the right moment."
"I see, and me embarrassing your friend was that moment?"
"Nah, watching Newton get burned was just icing on the cake. I have a three drink minimum."
"I'm dying to hear this."
"I wait for three drinks before I approach a woman."
"And whys that?"
"First drink is just a warm-up, get the night started, the juices flowing."
"Juices flowing hmmm?"
"The second drink and a woman is smiling. She gets a bit flushed, and lets some of the walls breakdown."
"Flushed… right. And the third?" I asked, leaning into him.
"By the third, her walls crumble letting me in completely," he was leaning into me now, our faces close to each other.
"I think you would have found, Emmett, that I would have been ready to let you in completely by the first Vodka Stinger."
"I'll remember that, Esme."
"You do that," I said, as I let my middle finger trace his jaw, and trail down his delicious chest.
"Another Vodka Stinger?"
"No, I think I'm ready to go… care to join me?"
"Tanya darling," I said as I stood up, "Emmett and I are taking the car."
"Take your panties off," he growled in my ear as he palmed my breast through my dress.
"Don't tell me you're shy Esme, it's not fucking possible."
I took his large hand in mine and pulled it up my leg, lifting the Dolce dress ever higher as we made our way to my thighs.
"I can't take them off," I started to say as I let his hands travel the rest of the way up, "Because…"
"Shit!" he moaned as his big strong hand palmed my naked sex. "You're not wearing any," he growled again.
"No, I'm not."
"Fuck, I love a woman who comes prepared," he said as he took my bottom lip and began sucking on it.
I looked around; we were only an avenue away from the apartment. When he let my lip go, I got myself into some kind of order, letting him know we had arrived. The car stopped, and the driver walked around to let us out.
"Could you please go back and wait for Ms. Denali?"
"Yes ma'am," answered the driver. Emmett followed me through the front doors, to the elevator banks, and up to the penthouse. As soon as the elevator doors closed, I walked to my door and looked through my bag for my keys. Suddenly his body was pressed against mine, pushing me into the door. I could feel his already hard length against my ass, and mamma was happy. I let out a small moan.
"Like what you feel?"
"Yes." No sooner were the words out of my mouth that he dipped down and lifted my dress over my ass. He pulled away making me miss his body already.
"Open the door Esme," he said, as I heard a zipper being pulled. I stuck the key in the door and opened it, flicking on the hall light and throwing my bag on the small hall table. The door closed behind me and a set of strong hands grabbed my hips. "Bend over the table," he said. YES! Heaven bless Pierre for buying that ridiculously expensive hall table. In the past months it had served my libido so well.
I could hear the ripping of foil as I bent over for him.
"I hope you have more condoms in this palace of yours Esme, once is never enough." I could feel my moisture pooling for him. He was strong and confident, and nothing was a greater turn-on than that.
"Look at that fine ass, and it's all mine," he said. "You wet enough for me yet?" I wanted to reply, but his middle finger found the answer as he pushed in between my slick folds. No more words needed, he pulled out his finger and moved closer. He pushed my legs apart further with his foot, placed his hands firmly on my hips, and teased my entrance.
Then in one firm thrust, he pushed into me. Good fucking Lord, he was hard as a rock, long enough to fill me completely, and as thick as a porn star. I couldn't help myself as I screamed out in pleasure. Every thrust found my head centimeters from the wall in front of me. Every time he pulled back, my body followed. He was so completely filling me I had no choice but to be his rag doll.
He couldn't last long. This was too intense and fast… but something told me, this was only the first course. He made me yell. He made me call out his name. His hands were like vice grips around my body, and I loved every fucking second of it. I would be bruised to high heaven in the morning, but feeling his massive body slam against me as his swollen dick fucked me was worth any pain.
"Shit your pussy is so damn good…. I can't…" He was going to come. I could feel his body tense behind me. I only wish I could watch. He thrust into me one last time, froze, then let out a thunderous grunt. He relaxed, his legs going slack, his dick softening inside of me. He pulled out of me, leaving me a panting mess, my arms aching from pressing into the table. I stood up, and turned around. Before me was a sight that made my jaw drop. Emmet, having taken off his shoes and socks, was stepping out of his pants, letting his boxers go with them. His long thick tree-stump legs stood firmly as his reached between the slit in his shirt, exposing his semi-stiff dick to me, and pulled off the condom.
I needed to see more. I reached out and began to unbutton the few buttons keeping me from seeing the Adonis in all his glory. He smiled, showing me those drool-worthy dimples and I licked my lips in anticipation. When I was done, I yanked the shirt off his shoulders and he let it fall around his feet. His dick wasn't the only thick and hard part of his body. He was strong and built like a wrestler. Broad chest, bulging arms, a strong stomach, and following the muscles down, his trail led to his completely exposed dick. It was perfect. Grade. Fucking. A.
He reached toward me, grabbing my Dolce dress that was bunched around my waist. "Only fair," he said as he began lifting it over my head. He licked his lips as he threw the dress to the floor. "Bra," he said. I reached around and unhooked it. He grabbed the shoulder straps and pulled it away from my body. I paid a small fortune to keep my body looking 10 years younger; showing it off whenever I could was a true pleasure.
He palmed my right breast and kissed me. Even his lips were strong. "You're fucking stunning you know that?" He said as he pulled away from me.
"Thank you. You're not too shabby your damn self."
"Ya, I'm pretty, I know it." I let out a huge laugh. He may be many things, but pretty wasn't one of them. He laughed with me.
"Would you like a drink?"
"Lead the way."
"Do you want a robe or something?"
"Nah. Naked is good." I couldn't agree more.
I led him to the living room, and fixed us each a scotch. I walked toward him, handed him his glass, and decided it was time for some more fun. I straddled his lap and slowly sat down, letting my naked ass rest on his lap. I dipped my pointer finger into my glass, took it out, and sucked the amber liquid from my finger. He looked at me like he was ready to pounce… good. I dipped my finger in again and instead of sucking on it, I let the whiskey drop onto my right nipple. Not missing a beat, Emmett lowered his head, and sucked the alcohol from my body.
"Mmmm," I let out. He lifted his head in time to me let another drop lace my left nipple. Again, he took the nipple in his mouth and sucked, eliciting another moan from me. Before I could repeat the action, he put his finger into my glass, and led a trail down my body. I was wet and only getting wetter.
"Lie down for me," he said. I put my glass on the table, slipped off his lap, and lied down on the couch, letting my head rest on the arm. My legs were bent at the knees and closed, my toes inching under his thigh. He shifted to face me and spread my legs. He dipped his finger into the glass. The anticipation of his strong hands inside of me, making me come made me ache for him. I didn't have to wait long before his whiskey soaked finger found my entrance and he buried his finger inside of me. "Ahhhhhh," I let out as he pumped his finger in and out of me. I needed more.
"I want you to lick me Emmet."
He smiled his dimpled smile, moved himself further back on the sofa, and put my left leg over his shoulder. Bending over, he spread my lips with his fingers, and blew, making me shiver all over. He looked up and winked at me before I could feel his wet, textured tongue lick my clit. Fuck, this boy would be the death of me. His steady ministrations made me squirm and moan for him over and over. When he hummed, the vibrations racked through my body making me dig my heel into his back.
He sucked at my bundle and I damn near took his teeth out, I bucked so severely. I could hear, and good lord, feel him chuckle into my body. Cocky bastard. I didn't care though. He was about to make me come, and he could chuckle all he wanted as long as he didn't stop licking, biting and sucking me.
"You're going to come for me now, aren't you Esme?" he said with a devilish swing to his voice. Oh yes I was, and how. "Come for me Esme, let me see you shake for me." Yes sir was all I could think, but my mouth wouldn't open except to let out a strangled cry as I came, shaking and panting.
When I was finally over my high, I looked to Emmet who was slowly and methodically stroking his cock. It was one of the most erotic and sexiest things I had ever seen.
"Round two" he said.
I stood up, and took his free hand. I led him to the bedroom, and turned on the lights. I wanted to see this. He got on the bed, and put his cock in his hand again. I stood there desperately trying not to salivate as he grew longer, harder, and thicker in front of my eyes. I opened the bedside table, found a rarely used magnum, and ripped it open. I got on the bed beside him, and slid the condom on him, thanking the heavens for younger men.
In one swift move he was in front of my legs, on his knees, his dick at attention. He stuck his finger inside of me, making sure I was wet enough for him, and, seeming pleased with the results, slammed his huge fucking dick into me.
"Yes!" I shouted as he began his deep and probing thrusts. I could see the muscles in his neck strain with every calculated and controlled move. He was a well tuned machine. Every muscle moved toward me with every push. I could feel him everywhere. This was no 15 minute fuck. He took his time.
He pulled out and sat on the edge of the bed. I climbed onto him, lowering myself onto his dick, hissing all the way.
"Bounce for me," he said. He wrapped his arms around me, and I leaned into them as I began grinding into him, my tits shaking in his face. He took my arms and wrapped them around his neck. He reached down and found my swollen, sore clit and pressed his thumb into it, causing me to throw my head back.
His thumb made little circles over my bundle. The grinding, the touching, the heavy breathes, it wasn't long before I could feel myself clenching around his length. He felt it too.
"That's right, come for me Esme, I want to feel you oozing over my dick."
I few more circles, a few more bounces, and I did just that - moaning his name as I came onto his lap.
The marathon wasn't over though - he had me on my knees, ass in the air next. He was definitely an ass man… Emmet slapped and grabbed at my ass as he pounded into it. I could feel his weight push into me with every thrust and it took my breath away. My grade 'A' beast of a man was speeding up. I could feel him starting to tense again.
"I want to see you coming, Emmet," I was able to get out between thrusts.
He pulled away, and I got on my back. He pulled the condom off, threw it to the ground. He took his red, throbbing dick in his hand and began pumping it furiously in his hands. God what a fantastic fucking sight!
"Touch yourself," he growled loudly. One hand went to my nipple, the other to my sex. I pumped myself a few times before moving to my overly sensitive clit.
"Ya, that's it," he said as his breath quickened and his hand moved faster. He threw his head back; his entire body was wound so tightly. I knew he would was ready to explode for me. I helped him out by moaning his name. Watching him whack himself off was the stuff of dirty dreams. He was pure sex – and he was coiled for me. His body went stiff and I knew he was going to come for me. A moment later, his huge frame shook as he spurt his warmth over my stomach and tits. It was a magnificent thing to see, and it made me come yet again.
He collapsed next me. A hunky pile of sweaty spent meat, and that dimpled smile crept onto his face again.
"Esme…" he said somewhat breathlessly.
"Yes?" I answered, equally tired.
"You are one hot broad."
I didn't have the energy to laugh as loudly as I wanted to, but I chuckled the best I could.
"I don't know that anyone has ever called me a broad before."
"Well, it's a compliment, straight from the heart." He was a giant man with a ferocious sexual appetite, but he was sweetheart, too, and something told me that I should introduce him to Rose. A few minutes later, a very naked Emmett fell asleep, on his stomach, his fabulous ass bare for me to stare at as I pleased.
I took in the amazing view for a few minutes before carefully climbing out of bed to run myself a bath. After I salted, oiled and bubbled the warm water, I stepped in and let out a sigh. The heat felt amazing against my body. Emmett was a work out and a half. When I was finished I stepped out, dried and lotioned my skin and tiptoed back to the bed where Emmett was now quietly snoring. I smiled, lay down and fell fast asleep.
At 7:30am my phone rang. I sat up with a startle and answered the phone… groggily and annoyed.
"Did I wake you, dear?"
"In fact you did," I whispered not wanting to wake Emmett.
"Shall I call back?"
"No, no, just hold on a minute," I walked to the bathroom and closed the door. I slipped on my satin robe from the back of the door and sat at the edge of the tub.
"Alright. Good morning, Garrett," I said as cheerily as I could.
"Good morning, sweetheart," he said in his smooth English accent.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your call on a Saturday at 7:30 in the morning?"
He laughed. "Long night was it? One too many Vodka Stingers?"
"Something like that."
"Well I had to call, I miss you awfully."
"Do you?" My heart actually skipped a beat. I smiled.
"I do. Dahling I'm tired of traveling, I need home." He was? Skip… skip… skip. "I'm meeting with the clients tomorrow and then I'm taking the first flight back to New York."
"Where are you?"
"I've never been."
"Hmmm," there was a pause, then: "Change of plans. You're coming to Tokyo first thing in the morning instead."
"I thought you said you were tired of traveling and needed home."
"Dear woman, you're home, and you are coming to me."
I took a second to take the comment in. "Garrett that might have been one of the sweetest and cheesiest things I've ever heard."
"Well, sweetheart, I can take it all back… forget I mentioned anything at all…"
"No?" he said, accented with a slight laugh.
"Garrett, if home is what you want, then home is what you get, I'll be waiting for that ticket."
"I can't wait my love." My heart fluttered. That hadn't happened since the last time I kissed Carlisle. "Esme?"
"Tell me what you're wearing my love."
"Its 7:30 in the morning Garrett dear, I'm not wearing a fucking thing," I said as I let the robe fall from my shoulders.
"That's my girl," Garret said. Suddenly my body was wide awake.
So… do we approve? Are we all crazy jealous of cougar Esme?
Reviews are better than "grade A"