Dinner had been fabulous. Steak Tartar on melba toast, salmon mousse, baby greens with balsamic vinaigrette followed by fresh raspberry torte and Turkish coffee. They’d walked back to the hotel in a light rain to the Ritz London. His suite was luxurious. It echoed a past era; one filled with noir nuances and ’30’s decadence. They danced a slow sensual waltz to music that wasn’t there. As they danced, he slowly undressed her until her heels were all she wore.
Then it was her turn. The dance became a flamenco. She removed his clothing as they twirled and twisted. He had kicked off his shoes and they tangoed into the bedroom. In the final dip, he lowered her to the bed. Her heels fell to the floor as her body slid across the sheets.
The sheets were soft. Cool, silken and inviting. Fingers roamed, lips kissed. Their passion spilled on the bed. His lips connected with her mound, licking, and seeking the sweet button of delights. As she cried out in pleasure, he moved to suck her nipples. She ground her hips against his erection, begging it to pierce her. He ignored her, wanting to bring her to such a climax of passion that she would be boneless. Helpless. All his.
She looked at him in frustration as he ignored the phone. It stopped ringing. Her hand caressed his cock, rubbing the pre-cum moisture across the head. It was his turn to moan.
He looked over at the phone as it rang. “Answer it,” he whispered hoarsely in her ear.
As she picked up the phone, he thrust his fingers deep inside her sopping cleft, bringing a moan to her lips.
“Yes,” she gasped into the phone. It was difficult to concentrate as he brought her to the brink and then slowed down. “Just a moment. I’ll get him.” She put the phone down on the pillow above her head. “It’s for you.”
He smiled as he grasped her hand and pinned her to the bed. “He can wait.”
“But… he said it was important,” she mewled as his cock replaced his fingers. Rotating his hips in and up, he slid through her slick folds. Slowly stroking in and out, he built the pleasure up until she moaned once more.
He could hear the man on the phone saying something and didn’t care. His thoughts were only of her. His hips thrust faster and faster until she cried out in climax. She writhed under him, grinding her mound, her clit harder against him. His own pleasure poured through him and filled her. He growled his delight against her throat. As they melted to the bed, he heard the phone finally disconnect. Sated, they lay on the bed, entangled in each other.
Admiral Sir Miles Messervy sighed. He’d been trying to reach James for the better part of three days. A new Russian agent had been sent to neutralize him. Instead he’d heard a sexy Russian accent answer the phone in James’ suite and then the noises of damn fine sex until he could stand it no more. He’d hung up the phone. His cock throbbed. After locking the office door, M relaxed in his desk chair and pulled his cock out. He stroked it as he thought about the woman’s moans and cries of passion. Leaning over, he pulled up the tape of the call and replayed it starting with her voice stating that she’d ‘get him’. M listened as his fist tightened around his cock. The noises he’d heard over the line excited him. His own climax came hard and fast as he listened once more to their climax. Damn James Bond!
I’ve been watching movies on Netflixs while I’ve been sewing garb. Charlie Chan, The African Queen, James Bond, etc. So, when I saw this pic on Thursday, my brain went straight to the 30’s and 40’s with a modern twist. I hope you like my slice of decadence. 🙂
Oh and Mazuri, no sad story today!
This weeks FFF challenge was to use the phrase:“Answer it”. Our forbidden word was Orgasm. The word length was 661. We could gain extra credit by telling the audience who was calling and earn 50 bonus words by relating a phone sex confession. I took those bonus points. You can find my phone sex here. And for those of you who haven’t read my ‘Cloud’ stories… They are just about as blatantly real as they get. 🙂 My version of Real Life Nilla stories.