Staci Peters - Every Man For Anne

It was all going surprisingly well. It was amazing how much her vocabulary had grown in the fourteen months she'd been in America. She was writing out the story of her flight over the Atlantic. Silke told it from a third-person viewpoint and had called the central character Maria; this wasn't just to disguise herself; it also had the advantage of avoiding the mental pronunciation of her real name. Professor Martin always called her "Silker" when, in fact, it was pronounced Silky. Otherwise, the story was all pretty much the way it had happened.

Her father, a successful manufacturer, had treated her to a first-class ticket on a mid-week jumbo jet. The plane was only a quarter lull and the first-class bar was almost deserted. The only other passenger there, Russ Randell, a jet-set business executive, insisted on getting her another drink. Mmm, Silke had thought as he walked across the cabin toward her, he's pretty good-looking. Silke picked up her pencil again.

"Maria was feeling pretty light-headed after two Lufthansa martinis. She smiled up at the tall dark man who had put his drink on the bar next to hers and was looking down at her with undisguised admiration.

"My name's Russ," he said. "That glass looks empty. Can I get you another drink, Miss…?"

"Maria. Thanks, I wouldn't mind another martini."

She leaned forward a little, resting one elbow on the bar, so that he could clearly see her full breasts straining at the flimsy fabric of her blouse. A tiny bead of perspiration trickled down the deep, inviting cleft revealed by the low-cut neckline.

"Are you traveling alone?" His husky voice had a decisive undertone. It was the voice of a man who always got what he wanted. He moved a bit closer and Maria caught the heady scent of expensive cologne mingled with raw masculinity. She felt the lips of her cunt contract and grow moist as she thought of what it might be like being dominated by such a man.

"Yes, I'm going to America to study," she replied. Her voice trembled with anticipation as she glanced down at the bulging front of his slacks. She shifted slightly on the bar stool, letting one leg slide down toward the floor to reveal her soft thighs.

Russ turned to the barman. "Get us another round of martinis, would you… and don't hurry back." He slipped a couple of bills across the bar. The barman quickly slid them out of sight, winked knowingly at Russ, then disappeared through the interconnecting door at the far end.

Maria turned toward the window and gazed down at the clouds far below them. Russ was close behind her.

"They're so beautiful," she whispered, "like creamy white mountains."

"You could say that" replied Russ, "and I don't mean the clouds."

Maria leaned back against him as he slipped his hands down the front of her blouse and gently ran his fingers around her breasts. Her nipples hardened into firm points under his Insistent touch, and she sighed with pleasure. He continued his exploration of her body. While one hand lightly tickled her left nipple, the other slid past the waistband of her skirt and caressed her warm stomach. His fingers twisted in the springy curls of her bush, pulling lightly at the thick hair. Maria squirmed excitedly, feeling the hot juices soak her thin panties and a droplet trickle down the inside of her thighs.

She pushed her backside hard against his groin, grinding her hips against him. The bulge had swollen to a full hard-on, and she felt his prick thrusting at her ass. His arms lightened about her. He ran his tongue around her ear, lightly tickling the inside.

"Oh, Russ," she murmured, "do it now. Hurry, before he comes back."

Quickly he took his hands out of her blouse. With one hand he unzipped his fly while the other slipped her panties down to her knees. Maria reached round and hitched her skirt up to her waist then grabbed his throbbing cock and shoved it against her buttocks,

His rod slipped easily from her moist crack and into her cunt. Maria moaned softly as she felt the sharp pang of penetration. She stood on tiptoe to make it easier for him, putting one hand against the window for support. Her fingers rubbed urgently against his wet shaft as he thrust in and out. He squeezed her lightly, kneading her breasts and rubbing his face against her hair.

Suddenly she felt an explosion of warmth inside her as they both came. Her body quivered in ecstasy, and she squeezed her legs together to hold him in as long as she could. For a few moments they stood locked together, gasping for breath. Then Russ took a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to her cunt as he pulled himself out of her. There was a squelching sound as he withdrew, and they both laughed. Maria wiped the creamy come from the lips of her pussy, then quickly put her clothes back in place. As Russ was doing up his fly, the barman came back with two martinis, He gave them a lecherous grin, and put the drinks down on the bar.

"Hope you're enjoying the flight," he said knowingly. "We may be Lufthansa, but we try to fly united…"

Here Silke paused. She had to admit to herself that recalling her high-altitude fuck was really making her feel randy. Wow. If Anne's paper was half as explicit they were going to blow Martin's mind. The girls hadn't compared notes since they'd discussed their original ideas. They had agreed to wait until both of them had each completed the first draft. If originality counted for anything in Creative Writing 241 then they were cinches for an A grade.

Silke got up and crossed to the refrigerator in the kitchen alcove. She brought an Icy can of root beer back to the coffee table and flopped down full length on the chesterfield.

She felt down between her thighs. The crotch of her panties was soaking wet. Silke arched her hips and tugged the sodden wisp of nylon off. One leg dropped to the floor, the' other was bent up on the couch cushions. Her fingers played with the blonde curls of pussy hair. Silke allowed them to wander lower and ran the fingertips along the juicy slit of her cunt.

Silke reached back: with her left hand and clicked off the lamp on the side table behind her. She lay there in the darkened room lightly fingering herself. She reached inside her cotton robe and massaged her right breast. The nipple hardened under the light rolling motion she applied. And her clit became a firm little button in response to her probing fingers. She drifted into the twilight world of her imagination. Here it was her turn to dominate Russ.

She was in a hotel room with him. Somewhere luxurious. Maybe the exclusive penthouse of a posh New York hotel. They were playing cards. His jacket and trousers were carelessly crumpled on the floor beside them. It must have been strip poker.

I'm sifting cross-legged on the floor, thought Silke. She leant back on her elbows so that Russ could get a clear view, of her snatch: blond curls peeked out from either side of the narrow strip of lace that barely covered her juicy cunt. Russ had a massive erection. "I suggest we up the ante and play for higher stakes," Silke told him. He rose to the bait but lost the next deal.

"Now it's my turn to call the shots, and I order you to remove everything but your jockey shorts and go lie on the bed." As soon as he was in position she bound his arms and legs lightly with the cords from their bathrobes. Now Russ had to lie helpless as she teased him unmercifully. She flipped on the radio and magically the music was "The Stripper." She saw herself slowly peeling off her remaining clothes.

When she had only her bikini pants on she moved closer to the bed. She rubbed her hands between her thighs as lewdly as she could. "What's this?"

"Cunt," gasped Russ.

"Whose cunt?

"Silke's cunt."

"What sort of cunt?"

"A silky cunt. A juicy cunt." Russ was unbearably excited by now.

Silke slipped off the flimsy panties. She held them under his nose.