Ruby Rhapsody - Perverted Passions

"Eat my cum," she cried, and squirted steaming cream into his slurping mouth. Katt was so flaked out that she clutched his wiry hair, scissored her thighs around his ears, squeezed hard, and wildly pumped her load into his mouth. How far her shrieks carried in the quiet landscape did not concern her.

Sandor pulled her thighs away from his ears and came up gasping for air. His dark eyes, lust-fogged, were hopeful as he pointed from his dick to her pussy.

"Yes! Fuck me!" Katt moaned, reaching toward his great stalk to draw it to her soppy hole. But Sandor was moving away. Damn!

With long strides, he came around the vehicle to her side and turned her around in the seat. He said something that she thought meant up.

Offering her a hand out, he drew her out of the jeep. Pointing to the uneven, sandy ground, he shook his head. Pointing to the hood of the jeep, he shook his head.

Katt understood that he was telling her the sand was unsafe because of poisonous insects and snakes, and that the hood of the jeep was scalding hot.

Sandor pointed to her, then bent forward until his head nearly touched the ground. He straightened, waiting expectantly.

Katt laughed as she got his message. He wanted her to bend over and would fuck her standing up. Eager to have him take her any way at all, she turned her back to him and bent over.

No more foreplay. Sandor took his colossal tool in his hand and aimed it at her fuck hole. With unbridled passion, the stud entered her, swift and sure of himself. Dark hands locked on each of her creamy hips, Sandor held her tight. Then he began to fuck her heat-sizzling pussy with far-reaching master strokes.

Filled with a wild, uncontrollable lust, Katt spread her thighs wide to allow his talented passion pole to insinuate itself as deep inside her as possible. She felt like one voracious cunt. It was the biggest cock she had ever been stuffed with. She gave a cry of ecstasy as he plowed her more urgently.

From behind, Sandor watched her labia, swollen so invitingly, swallow his dick time and again. Her beautiful ass was churning and that incredible gash was rotating on his impaling shaft. She was making him moan with anguish and joy. He could still taste her pussy on his lips.

She squirmed more fiercely on his cock and cried out. He felt a rush of warm juice flood his prick.

In a dizzy fury, Sandor fucked her and spurted his seed inside her boiling, sucking cunt.

His spitting shaft rapidly unloaded its substantial contents, but it did not lose its virility. The sights of her upturned hind end was enough to keep his red-blooded erection throbbing strongly.

Katt straightened up; the motion pulled his still-hard prick out of her cunt. She turned to face Sandor, and with a smile, wiped her finger through her cunt. She pointed to him.

"You cum." Katt pointed to her cunt. "In me."

Sandor grinned. "Yes, mem-sahib! You cum in me."

Katt smiled. "Close enough. Can I call on you whenever I need a good fuck?"

His teeth flashed in his tan face as he gave her the closest thing she'd ever seen to a roguish grin. "Yes, mem-sahib!"

Sandor stopped at the hut that she and Ted called home. Knowing full well her husband was at the dig, Katt changed her clothes and rode out with Sandor. Her husband did not look up when the jeep pulled up in a cloud of dust. He did not even rise when she walked over to him and said. "Darling, I'm home," in a carefully light tone of voice.

Ted MacNeil did fritter away a few minutes to smile and ask a few pointed questions.

"How was the trip?"

"Enjoyable." Katt had learned from experience to keep her replies short and precise.

"The wedding?"

"Hectic."

"Your folks?"

"They send their-regards." She could not say they send their love.

They didn't. Neither of them had forgiven her for 'throwing herself away' on a man twice her age.

"Good, good. We have found evidence of human life." His face took on a sort of glow. "Facial bones… a vessel… I'm close here. Today, tomorrow…" His mind, as always, began to leave her. "We'll talk more later." He began to scratch around in the earth again.

Katt had expected no more, yet she felt hurt, ridiculously disappointed and unreasonably angry. She wanted to grab Ted by the collar and scream at him that he couldn't treat her this way.

But she knew he would look at her with half-seeing eyes and mutter.

"What way?" He hadn't the foggiest idea of her misery, damn him. Why couldn't he understand her?

He understood this country, its soil, its history, its language-past and present. He knew its people and its politics. He knew everything, geology, chemistry, photography. Yet, Ted MacNeil did not know the first thing about his wife. Period.

Katt plodded wearily across the sand to the tent to inspect the new finds that he had made while she was gone. Her own archaeological mind wondered if he had used the C14 radiocarbon test to date the artifacts-if he had chemically treated them to preserve them in a different climate?

There were two pieces of bone in the glass case; both were tagged.

Putting her hands on the edge of rough board, Katt bent over to decipher her husband's scrawled handwriting.

"How could someone with a bottom as pretty as yours be interested in ancient artifacts?"

The tone was deep and lazy and Katt's first reaction was to whirl and face the male intrusion. And it was male. No woman alive could mimic such bedrock bass. Besides, she was the only woman at the dig sight.

Katt pushed herself to a standing position. Then, with a deliberately casual movement, she turned to face him.

The first impression she received was of an American male whose stance and tight-fitting jeans emphasized the force of his thighs and the slimness of his hips.

"Well, well, well," he said with frank admiration, his dark, insolent eyes sharp and assessing.

In a matter of a second, Katt took him in. A thick crop of dark, wavy hair tumbled carelessly across his forehead. His wind and sunbaked face held the shadow of a beard, which gave him an even more manly aura.

Massive shoulders filled the tee shirt he wore to bursting. His arms were muscled and his hands long-fingered and strong. Her eyes lingered at his crotch, acutely conscious of the tempting, magnificent bulk cupped by the denim. His long, quarterback legs moved toward her, and her eyes flew back up to his face.

"If Ted would have told me he had a beautiful assistant arriving today, I would have rolled out the welcome mat." He stopped and extended his hand. "Hunter Beal."

Katt shook his hand, trying to conceal the effect his electric touch was having on her. "Katt."

On hearing her name, he grinned, with more than a spark of eroticism.

And even though it sent her pulse racing, she deliberately, omitted her last name. Something perverse in her wanted to give the devil all the rope he needed to hang himself. It would be funny to see his reaction when he discovered that she was not an assistant to Ted, but his wife.

"Cat… short for Catherine?"

"No. Just Katt." She spelled it out for him.

"Unusual, interesting but still just as suggestive."

"Oh? How is that?"

"It suggests that you might purr."

"I do if I'm petted right," she retorted, feeling her insides turn to mush as he took another step forward, bringing his bulging crotch within flaming distance of her own crotch.

"How do you like to be petted, Katt? What makes you purr?" He pressed forward slightly, his firm cock a whisper graze against her. Light as it was, his touch was like an act of possession.

Hunter gently stroked the backs of two fingers from the base of her chin up her left cheek. Her gaze met his and her heart turned over. Her core seemed to turn liquid and drip down her thighs. The flesh there began to throb.