August MacGregor

Celebrating Sensuality. Intended for mature audiences, 18 and over


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Happy Oktoberfest!

Happy Oktoberfest!

Since my new novel, Bavarian Beauty, includes a little bit about Oktoberfest, I’ll be posting about the festival and Bavaria during the days of the festival. Kinda like I posted photos of Brazilian cities during this year’s World Cup.

First up, a bit of history…

It all started with love. Well, a wedding at least — and it’s nice to hope there was love there. But you know how it is with royals, especially a long time ago when marriages may have been for alliances rather than love.

The Big Bavarian Wedding, as described at Wikipedia:

“Crown Prince Ludwig, later to become King Ludwig I, was married to Princess Therese of Saxe-Hildburghausen on October 12, 1810. The citizens of Munich were invited to attend the festivities held on the fields in front of the city gates to celebrate the happy royal event. The fields were named Theresienwiese (‘Theresa’s meadow’) in honor of the Crown Princess, and have kept that name ever since, although the locals have since abbreviated the name simply to the ‘Wiesn.'”

What did these love birds look like, you ask? Here’s King Ludwig I:

Ludwig I of Bavaria

Wikimedia Commons

And here’s Queen Therese of Saxe-Hildburghausen:

Queen Therese of Saxe-Hildburghausen:

Wikimedia Commons

Celebrating this wedding became an annual event, and Oktoberfest was born. Each year, it starts off with a bang (Wikipedia):

“Since 1950, there has been a traditional festival opening: A twelve gun salute and the tapping of the first keg of Oktoberfest beer at 12:00 by the incumbent Mayor of Munich with the cry ‘O’zapft is!’ (‘It’s tapped!’ in the Austro-Bavarian dialect) opens the Oktoberfest.”

Yes, beer (or bier) is a big part of the festival. As is the food: sausages, roast chicken, pretzels, potato dumplings, potato pancakes, sauerkraut, and much more.

How much is eaten? Vistawide.com says:

“Oktoberfest, the world’s largest beer festival, is held annually in Munich, Germany. The 16-day party attracts over 6 million people every year who consume 1.5 million gallons of beer, 200,000 pairs of pork sausage, and 480,000 spit-roasted chickens during the two-week extravaganza.”

There’s a parade honoring the one that the happy townsfolk started way back in 1810. There are lots of amusement park rides, too — it looks to me that a whole lot of fun is packed in the 16 days of the festival, starting in late September and ending on the first weekend in October.

If you’re like me, you’re wondering, why doesn’t Oktoberfest start in October? Good question. Again, let’s turn to Vistawide.com:

“The festival was eventually prolonged and moved ahead to September to allow for better weather conditions. Today, the last day of the festival is the first Sunday in October.”

But enough about descriptions! Let’s see a few pics of the festival (click on each to jump to the photographer’s webpage):

Oktoberfest general view by Michael.chlistalla/Wikimedia Commons

Michael.chlistalla (Wikimedia Commons)

Oktoberfest beer tent, by Joachim S. Müller (Flickr)

Joachim S. Müller (Flickr)

Oktoberfest Beer steins, by Thomas Sauzedde (Flickr)

Thomas Sauzedde (Flickr)

Oktoberfest musicians, by digital cat (Flickr)

digital cat (Flickr)

Oktoberfest drinkers, by xsnowdog (Flickr)

xsnowdog (Flickr)

Finally, lest we forget that this whole party started with the pairing of lovers:

Oktoberfest lovers, by Shawn Harquail (Flickr)

Shawn Harquail (Flickr)


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Bavarian Beauty — Novel Giveaway and Excerpt #1

Bavarian Beauty ebook cover

My first novel is out!

Before I get into a description of the novel, I want to first mention that I’m going to give away 5 copies of its ebook file — for the low, low price of FREE.

And who doesn’t like FREE??

If you’re interested, simply send me an email to augustmacgregor@gmail.com. You have until the end of the month: Tuesday, September 30. When you email me, please tell me the name that, if you do win, you’d like me to include on the post when I list the winners on October 1. You know, if you don’t want me to include your full name, you can shorten it (like R. Tigglesworth) or go with a nickname (like Mr. Cool). I’ll pick the winners by random. Seems like a fair way to go, right? At the end of September 30, I’ll take all the names of people who emailed me, and I’ll put them in a hat and pick out 5 names. Then I’ll email those 5 wildly lucky folks a coupon code so they can download the ebook from Smashwords for free.

Only send me an email if you are 18 years or older — since this is an erotic novel.

And don’t worry, I’m not going to add your email to a distribution list or anything like that. I don’t have a distribution list!

***

Now let’s get into the description of the book… here’s the blurb:

Simon Edwards has an unusual fetish. Some guys are excited by French Maids or sexy nurses, but these do nothing for Simon. He has a fetish for dirndls — the traditional dress worn by women in Bavaria, such as during Oktoberfest, and it’s the counterpart to men in lederhosen.

How did Simon’s fetish start? His first sexual experience was with a German woman who fit the blonde and busty stereotype. This experience was fused together with his love of Bavarian Beauty hot chocolate (a fictional brand), and his fetish was born.

Since Simon is only turned on by this specific dress, he endures many disappointing dates with non-dirndl wearing women as he seeks someone he clicks with. These disappointments lead him to fly to Munich during Oktoberfest to immerse himself in dirndl heaven.

But things don’t exactly go according to plan.

Simon finds out that he’s not the only one with a fetish. And he must ask himself how far he’s willing to go to deliver on someone else’s fantasy. This story is about people with desires that differ from what is considered mainstream, and their search to find someone they feel comfortable with to share those desires.

This novel (106,750 words) is mostly comprised of Simon’s entries in his journal, and a few other sections are transcripts from Simon’s sessions with his therapist to work on his fetish.

This is a work of erotic fiction and is meant for mature readers only. It contains explicit descriptions of sex (including threesomes and light BDSM), a lot of hot chocolate, Bavarian food, beer drinking, gorgeous scenery of mountains, a few leather outfits, and a creepy mannequin.

***

A little bit more about Simon: he’s single, in his mid-20s, lives in Philadelphia, grew up in Albany (NY), and works in information technology. The dating scene has been rough on him due to his very specific fetish. Because he is used to women thinking he’s crazy for having a dirndl fetish, he becomes very excited when life becomes better for him. Parts of his journal articles don’t exactly read like they’re from a calm, cool, collected guy. I liked his enthusiasm, his quick excitability when his love live improved — and when he was faced with things he didn’t plan for.

The other main character is Gretchen, and I don’t want to describe her in too much detail, for the worry of giving away too much. Here’s a little bit about her: she’s a waitress, she loves family, she’s strong as hell, and she’s got a dream to be a fashion designer.

Now for an excerpt, and this comes at the beginning. It’s part of a transcript between the main character, Simon Edwards (SE), and his therapist Dr. Karl Shafer (KS). The excerpt starts off with Simon speaking:

      Okay, let’s move on. Back to Playground Europe. I figured that I’ve tried many restaurants, so this place was next. So I drove down there. Have you ever been there?
      KS: No, I haven’t.
      SE: It’s in South Carolina. It’s one of those amusement parks where you’ve got parts for different countries. Germany, England, France, Italy, um, let’s see, and Greece and Spain. Maybe others. I can’t remember exactly. Anyway, they’ve got pubs and those red phone booths in the England part. And a fake Eiffel Tower in the France part. All that kind of stuff. You don’t have to fly all the way over to Europe, and you can see it all in one day.
      It’s all fake, sure, but you get the gist of it. I first went on a couple of rollercoasters to loosen me up. I didn’t want to rush right to it. I was so worked up at the entrance, that I needed to calm down some. The rollercoasters did the trick.
      [PAUSE]
      Then Germany.
      I figured lunch would be a good time to go. They’ve got this restaurant made up like it’s Oktoberfest all the time. Hey, Oktoberfest in July. Crazy, right? But you can get the experience without waiting for the actual Oktoberfest.
      And there she was. Not perfect like I’ve seen on some websites, but she was good. Damn good. It took lots of control not to approach her right away. I didn’t want to come off as desperate, you know? I’ve screwed up like that before.
      She had brunette hair and smaller breasts than the women on those websites that show you the ideal. But who cares? It’d be crazy to hold out for the ideal. If I did that, I’d have even more trouble than I already do.
      KS: You’d be narrowing your field even more than it is now.
      SE: Yeah, tell me about it. That’d be seriously dumb.
      So I ate my Bratwurst and potatoes and watched her. But I didn’t stare. I was careful about not staring at her. She was really busy, rushing around bringing people their food. She was good. She kept her calm while all us tourists ordered our lunch. It was fun to watch her work. The real thing is so much better than websites and movies.

***

I made up Playground Europe — there’s no amusement park by that name in South Carolina (at least not by a Google search).

Interested in reading the rest of the novel? Email me at augustmacgregor@gmail.com to try your luck in the giveaway for 5 ebooks. Or, if you simply can’t wait, you can purchase the ebook at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords (you have to click “Adult Content” in the top blue bar, all the way to the right to view these kinds of books).

***

Finally, the fine print:
Any resemblance between the characters in this novel with persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The two cover images are stock photography, and the models are used for illustrative purposes only — inclusion on the cover is not meant to imply the models’ involvement in the activities described in this story. All characters in the story are older than 18 years old and participate in consensual sex. The events described in the story should not be taken as medical advice for the treatment of a fetish. The mention of companies and products in the story should not be taken as their support of the events in the story.


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A Novel and a Dream

It’s done! The novel for which I took a break from my blog is now published! Self published, yes, and not under a big publishing house — but this baby’s done and out there.

Bavarian Beauty is now available as an ebook from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords (you have to click “Adult Content” in the top blue bar, all the way to the right to view mature books).

I’m going to have a giveaway for 5 ebooks, but more on that in a post to come soon. Also in that post, I’ll describe the novel and include an excerpt. But first, I want to say a bit about writing this novel and its effect on me.

Before I get into all that, I want to thank you, dear reader, for your patience while I took a break from posting on my blog. Unfortunately, I will test your patience as I take more breaks here and there to write other stories.

I’m afraid that I’ve become addicted to stories, and the stories longer than the quickies that I publish here are intoxicating to write.

Finishing the novel re-invigorated my dream to become a full-time writer. Working on the novel was a rush. Not just a “this is kinda fun” type of enjoyment. Writing it was an exciting, pulse-quickening rush that I yearned to get back to when I had to take care of my day job. Yes, those bills must be paid.

That rush sparked a dream to replace my day job with writing full time. Do I think that’s realistic? I really don’t know. I’m sure it will take time, if it ever happens. I know others have dreams of becoming full-time writers, actors, musicians, artists, etc. I’ve read success stories where some dreamers have reached that goal. But I’m certainly not expecting to hit the big time like E.L. James with her Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. I’d much rather have enough success from my stories to simply pay the bills.

In heading toward this goal of writing full time, I’m working on more stories that will become ebooks. But not just for that goal alone — because writing gives me a beautiful feeling of creating a story out of my imagination.

So, I’ll have a few more ebooks coming out in the next couple of months. Nothing as big as the novel, though. That took a long time!

I used to publish erotic stories on Ruthie’s Club, which brought together writers and illustrators to put out stories with pictures accompanying them. Sadly, Ruthie’s Club is no longer around. I miss working with the good people there, and I miss Garv’s illustrations for each week of fresh stories. Here’s a slideshow of his stuff (like Musclehead, I enjoy pin-ups).

Bavarian Beauty started as a story on Ruthie’s Club. When I revisited the story, I realized that I wanted to write more of it. I wanted to give more to the characters, and see what happened next. The short story grew into a novel during the past two years — and it was thrilling to expand the story. Then I put the novel back in the files to take a rest from it. After working on other stories, I returned to it. I read the novel twice and edited it, rewriting several sections. That brings us to now, with the novel finally published.

I’ll be diving into my dusty files to read those stories that were published on the Club and give them a new life as ebooks. That doesn’t mean they’ll grow into novels like Bavarian Beauty. Most of them will probably feel complete as shorter works.

And then, I have ideas for brand-new stories. As I worked on a few stories during my break, my brain buzzed with new ideas. However, the old saying is so true: There just ain’t enough time in the day. But I’m trying to make more time to write these stories that give me thrills.

Don’t worry that this means I won’t be publishing stories on my blog any longer. Because I will. I’ll come back to publishing some quickie, short-short stories here, along with posts when I publish a new ebook and include excerpts from it.

Also, I’ll be doing a Flickr photo tour of Oktoberfest and Bavaria, like I did with Brazil during the World Cup. It fits in with my novel. Plus, I can’t help it; researching photos is just too much fun.

Thank you for taking the time to read me going on and on like this.


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A Pause

While I’ve been posting a story each day for a week, a few of my longer stories have been whispering to me that they’re not finished yet. The loudest of these is the novel that I still hope to self-publish in September. It tells me that it still needs work, and that this won’t be done without me. So I’m going to take a pause for two, maybe three, weeks of posting. I hope you’ve enjoyed the stories I’ve posted of late, as writing them was a rush. Those last two especially. If you have a burning desire to read more of my stories (and what writer wouldn’t want this?), I have several e-books available. And then there’s a whole lot of hot n’ sexy poems and stories on other blogs. Works by many talented writers I’ve had the great fortune of meeting through WordPress. I wish you sexy writing, sexy reading, sexy times, and indulging in sensuality.


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Backyard Sunbathing

[This is a work of erotic fiction and is meant for mature readers only.]

Ellen was startled after she opened the sliding glass door and and saw Greg, naked, sitting on the couch. Completely naked, not even boxer shorts. His arms were spread to the sides and resting across the top of the couch. Just a naked guy hanging out on the sofa.

A small laugh leapt out of her mouth. A smile spread across her face as she said, “Wow… I was not expecting this.”

Greg was very pleased at her reaction. “I like to surprise you.”

As Ellen closed the sliding glass door to their backyard, a thought came to her, and she voiced it with a frown: “Wait. Were you watching porn?”

The question surprised him. “What? No. No, I wasn’t. I swear. I was watching you.”

Which surprised her, and her frown deepened. “Watching me? In the backyard?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Because it’s creepy, that’s why. Are you a Peeping Tom now?”

“Why is it creepy that I was watching my own wife?”

“Because it’s weird. I didn’t know you were doing it.”

He stood and walked to her, his semi-hard cock swaying. His eyes traveled from her knees up her body, the appreciation obvious. He stopped close to her, his face gentle, as he said, “Honey, you looked so good out there. It didn’t feel creepy at all. I loved watching you. You look so hot in your bikini.” He looked down at her swimsuit-covered breasts.

Ellen sighed, and her frown eased a bit. “I don’t know. It’s just… you’ve never done that before. Watched me without me knowing it.”

Greg’s head lifted as he returned to make eye contact with her. “Not true. I’ve watched you sleeping before. I’ve told you that. You look so lovely, so beautiful, when you’re sleeping.” His palm touched her cheek lightly. “I love watching you, honey.”

“But sleeping is different. We’re together. We’re in the privacy of our bedroom. It’s not like now. Not like when I’m out there in the open, alone.”

“Thank goodness for our tall bushes, though. The neighbors would’ve loved to see this.” His eyes traveled down her body, appreciating her again, then back up to her face. “Do you like being watched a little bit?”

“What? No.”

“Not even a small part of you likes it?” His hand slid from her cheek, down her neck, to the bright yellow string of the bikini top. His thumb and forefinger pinched the yellow string. They slid down it, like a fireman sliding down a pole. His pinching finger and thumb were stopped by the triangle of the bikini that covered her breast.

His hand’s trip down the bikini string had distracted her from quickly answering his question. That, and she wondered if maybe a small part of her did enjoy being watched. Then she found her voice: “No. Not even a small part. I like being watched when I know it’s happening. Like when I’m stripping for you. But not when I don’t know it’s happening.”

“Not even when it’s your own husband?” His fingertips went down the bikini triangle covering her breast in a slow glide. Both of them watched his fingers glide on the striped fabric.

She waited until his fingertips reached the bottom swell, then said, “That is better, yeah. But it’s still kinda creepy.”

“I’m sorry.” His hand left her breast and lightly touched her chin to raise up her head. He kissed her, just a light touch of his lips on hers. “I’m sorry for doing that. I won’t do it again. I’ll tell you next time before I do it.”

Ellen frowned as she thought that over.

“Because I hope there will be a next time. I love that you sunbathe in the backyard. Out there on your blanket on the grass. Out there in your bikini. Your beautiful bikini.” He kissed her again, longer this time, pressing a little harder on her lips.

“You like this one, huh?”

“Sure do. I love all your bikinis.”

“I only have three.”

“So? I love all of them. I love looking at you in them. I love imagining touching you. I love imagining how warm your skin would feel. All warmed up by the sun.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, looking more relaxed. “I like that. That’s much better.”

“Good. Because it’s true. I want to feel your skin now.” He kissed her another time, another long kiss.

Afterward, he walked around her. She felt his fingers tug at the end of the string that was tied at the back of her neck. Felt the knot pop loose. Saw the bright yellow strings rise off her collarbones as he lifted the strings. They fell. The triangles of her bikini top rolled over, like flower petals unfolding. The pale skin of the top of her breasts contrasted with the tanned skin above them. Ellen felt his fingers tug at the end of the string that was tied at the middle of her back. Felt this second knot pop loose. Saw the bikini top fall to the tan carpet. More of the pale skin of her breasts could now be seen, along with her hard nipples. She inhaled a long breath. Goosebumps raised on her flesh.

His fingers arrived at her right hip. Tugging at the string there. Undoing the knot. Her bikini bottoms slackened. She spread her legs open a little wider. His fingers undid the final knot at her left hip, and the deed was done. Undressing was complete. She matched him in nakedness.

She expected him to walk around her and stand in front of her again, so he could leap on her breasts with his hands and mouth. His usual stop after kissing her. Sometimes, he stopped at her neck and nuzzled it, but mostly he went right for her boobs.

Instead, he surprised her by wrapping his arms around her. Hugged her from behind. His forearms pressed against her breasts. His strong, tanned arms covered her pale breasts. His cock slid between her butt cheeks. His chest against her back. His lips lightly touched her ear. A sudden arrival of touch in various places. She shivered at the sudden arrivals of him touching her.

“Nice and warm,” Greg whispered, his breath warm on her ear. “Just as I thought. I imagined doing this as I watched you. I imagined feeling your soft, warm skin. I imagined holding your beautiful tits.” His forearms slid, rubbing against her nipples as they did so. His hands cupped her breasts. “Fuck, I love these.”

She shivered again. From his words tickling her ear, and from his big hands clutching her breasts.

He said, “And I imagined tucking my cock between your cheeks. Nestled right in there. You keeping me nice and warm.”

Ellen wiggled her ass a little, enjoying the warmth of him in return. The warm hardness of him nestled right in there. Just as he had said. It was warm, hard proof of his ache for her. A warm, hard promise of the fucking that was to come.

He said, “You asked me if I watched porn. Why should I do that when I could watch you laying there in your hot bikini with the stripes on it? I touched myself as I watched you. I stroked myself.”

Her breath caught. “Oh God,” she whispered. She visualized the scene from inside their bedroom. As if she were standing behind him. Standing behind him as he looked out of their bedroom window and stared at her sunbathing in the backyard. As he peeped on her and caressed himself. Caressed that cock that was now wonderfully hard and warm between her buns. She found this vision incredibly sexy. A little creepiness remained there, and she found that bit of discomfort titillating. It heightened her reaction to the scene playing out in her mind.

“And I love,” his voice was warm tickles on her ear, “smelling you. Coconut from the suntan oil. Your sweat. Fuck, it’s so hot. Your warm skin. Shiny from the oil and your sweat. So fucking hot.”

More goosebumps on her, more shivering. Ellen gasped, then watched as his left hand released her breast and slid down her stomach, fingers hooking and touching her pussy. So fucking hot, as he had said. His fingers felt wonderful. Another sensation joined in the crowd of sensations. His lips on her ear, his cock in her buns, his fingers toying with her nipple. All of his fingers were quite busy. Busy making her feel wonderful.

“Next time,” he said, “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you before I watch you sunbathing out there. And then you’ll know. You’ll be out there, laying on your blanket on the grass. And you’ll know I’m up in our bedroom watching you and stroking myself.”

Again, the scene played in her mind’s eye. She moaned. Her body went a little more slack against him. He was right there, holding her strongly in his arms. He would never let her fall.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asked. “You like thinking about sunbathing and knowing I’m stroking myself because of you.”

“Yes,” she said. Her voice was soft, as in a confession that she was reluctant to release.

“Yes, what?” he asked.

“Yes, I like that,” she said, her voice still soft. His fingers made it difficult to think.

“Does that turn you on?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, that turns me on.”

“Good. Does this turn you on? Me masturbating you from behind you, like you’re doing it to yourself?”

“Yes.” Her voice still soft.

“Does my cock in your ass turn you on?”

“Yes.” Her body slackened more, and his strong arms clenched to support her. The clench of his muscles turned her on even more.

“Good,” he said. “Because I want to fuck you so fucking bad.”

That did it. Destroyed her resolve to try to keep standing. She softened, limp against him. His muscles clenched again. His fingers a flurry on her clitoris and nipples. His breath warm on her ear, entering her ear like a magic spell. His warm chest on her back. The power of his cock between her cheeks. Not fucking her ass, but a hardness held there with her buns. A wisp of a thought as she told herself that she didn’t want that right now, didn’t want him actually inside her ass, that she wanted him to fuck her pussy. Fuck her pussy in one of those relentless poundings that he was capable of.

Her orgasm rushed through her. A rush, a bolt, a shock. Her limp muscles tensed as they regained their strength. She cried out, her voice also finding its strength after being soft during his questioning. Her new-found strength surprised her, wonderful that it was there all along and waiting to arise. Ecstasy played with her strength, coursing all through her and up to her head. A gorgeous sensation to blend with all the others.

She felt flushed and warmed from the orgasm. Newly warmed, like the sunshine warming her as she had bathed in it on the grass of their backyard. This time, she was the sun, warming herself. She smiled, beamed, happiness tingling in her.

“You want to fuck me so fucking bad?” she asked.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he said.

Which made her tingle even more. “Not yet,” she said. “I’m not done feeling this. Let’s stay like this a little longer. I don’t want to leave this yet. Your arms. Your cock. It’s all too fucking good.”

“Mmm.” His lips now against her neck, just below her ear. “Glad to hear that.”

“And you’ll be glad to hear this. I want you to fuck me hard. I want you to pound me. I want you to keep going, over and over and over, and pound the fuck out of me.”

She felt him tremble. The effect of her words on him warmed her more. She felt his lips smile against her neck. Felt those lips open. Felt his breath as he said, “I will. And I will love doing it.”

End


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Black Plums

[This is a work of erotic fiction and is meant for mature readers only.]

Three black plums on the cutting board on the kitchen counter. They sat upright, their wells at the top where the stems had been pulled out. Lined up like this, they seemed ready for their job. As if they knew what they were planned for.

Greg sliced each plum into thirds and removed the pit from the middle sections. As he sliced, the sections fell to the side, wobbling in a little tilting dance as each found balance on its round bottom.

The tops of each plum section were gorgeous. The plum’s flesh was shiny with juice. So shiny as to be a small, round pool of plum juice. The outside circle on each section was the black peel. That color changed to dark purple, which lightened as the eye moved inward, to the center. Greg was very pleased how beautiful and shiny-wet the plums were. A perfect choice.

He picked up one of the end sections, the rounded bottom smooth on his fingertips. He turned from the counter and walked to the middle of the kitchen.

Ellen lay on the kitchen floor. Naked. A small pillow under her head for comfort. Greg admired this view of her. Her face was calm as she looked up at him. The beautiful way her breasts softy lay. Her belly, rising and falling. The small patch of light brown pubic hair above her waxed-smooth pussy. The bikini-shaped areas were pale against the tanned skin around them. Pale triangles on her breasts from the bikini top, and a broader triangle on her loins. Then her legs, those lovely and strong legs, that looked so good when she wore bikinis—and when she wore anything short. And when she wore nothing at all.

Ellen’s eyes rose from his hard cock to see the section of plum on his hand. She looked curious, wondering what he was going to do with it.

Greg didn’t answer her curiosity while he admired his wife for a few more moments. The moment was too delicious not to take the time to enjoy it.

Then it was time to move onward. “This,” he said as he tilted the slice of plum and presented its flesh to her, “is just like you. Purple. Wet. Dripping with juice.”

As if on cue, a small drop of juice fell onto her belly. She sucked in breath and flinched, delighted at the cool wetness of the juice on her skin.

“It’s beautiful,” Ellen said.

“Also just like you.”

She beamed, warmed by his compliments. Then she flinched again as he suddenly moved his arm a little and squeezed the plum slice, sending a burst of juice raining down on her breasts. A lot more cool wetness than that one drop of before. With her chin on her chest, she looked down at her breasts. The shiny spots of plum juice caused a thrilling jolt up her body. She thought of rubbing the juice into her skin, of feeling the slippery sensation of the juice, but then figured that may be going out of what Greg had planned. So she kept her hands to her sides.

Greg left and came back with another slice of the dark fruit. Again, he squeezed it, and the juice showered down on her stomach. She was better prepared for it this time, and she stared at the drops falling and hitting her skin. A fascinating journey down. From the look on Greg’s face, he was also enjoying it immensely.

He went to retrieve more fruit, and returned with a plum section in each hand. Instead of standing at her side, he stepped over her, his feet on either side of her knees. He held out his hands, as if they were gripping a steering wheel, each hand on the horizontal middle of the wheel, at the positions of 9 o’clock and 3 o’clock. The squeezed juice fell onto her thighs. More cool wetness delighted her as it touched her flesh.

One more slice of plum was squished over her, and the juice of it fell onto her pubic hair. Ellen could feel the cool juice slide down, in the sensitive curve where her thigh connected to her body, and then it slid onto the lips of her pussy. A small gasp came from her, at the soothing, sensual feeling.

Greg gazed down, admiring his work. Her body had glistened before with suntan oil when she had sunbathed on the beach and in their backyard. It had glistened with massage oil. Never had it glistened with plum juice. It was sumptuous.

And it begged to be cleaned up. He tossed the squashed plum slice in his hand to the kitchen sink. Then he lowered to the floor, getting on his hands and knees. Lowered his head to his wife and licked her thigh.

Again, Ellen gasped. The wet joy of Greg’s tongue with the wet joy of the fruit juice. On all fours, he looked like a cat bent at a water bowl. Also like a cat, he cleaned her with his tongue. He took his time lapping up the juice on her thighs. WIth each trip of his tongue, her skin glowed. She was a rapt audience as he continued, and her breath slowed as she grew accustomed to his tongue’s work.

But her breath picked up again after he finished with her thighs and moved to her belly. She squirmed as his tongue corkscrewed in her belly button, ensuring it was as clean as he could make it. Her stomach and breasts rose and fell quicker.

Then he was at her breasts. He spent more time cleaning them than her stomach and thighs, as he had done in the times they’d showered together. No surprise at all there. And she had no complaints about that, being enraptured by his tongue swirling in little circles on her hardened nipples.

There was also the temptation of his cock. He was still crouching on all fours, and his erection pointed down, quivering as he moved and worked on cleaning her. It was tantalizingly close. So close, it would’ve been easy for her to reach up and touch it. Grab it. Feel its heat and hardness. Stroke it. She moaned from her want to feel that cock in her hand. But she ordered her hand to be still, remain at her side. This was Greg’s turn now, let him call the shots. But surely he wouldn’t mind a little stroking. No, she told herself, not yet. So she returned to simply enjoying him sucking on her nipples, even though both of her nipples had already been fully cleaned by his eager mouth.

Then he released them. He crawled down, away from her breasts. She imagined her body being shiny from his tongue bath, and no longer shiny from the plum juice.

But there was one last spot he had not cleaned yet. He slid her legs apart to get better access, and then he bent low and set upon cleaning the plum juice on her pussy. She knew that her own juices mingled with the fruit’s juice down there. His cleaning had made her relaxed and ecstatic at the same time, and her pussy had to be flushed with wet excitement.

Ellen felt more flushed now, the warm tingling building in intensity. Greg took his time, not pouncing on her engorged clitoris and bringing her to a swift orgasm like he knew he could. No, this was a continuation of slowness. A slow cleaning of her tender, sensitive flesh. She squirmed as he licked, her ass cheeks sliding on the cool hardwood floor. Her hands loved her breasts, fingers playing with her nipples, and she remembered his mouth on them. His mouth had felt amazing on her nipples. His mouth had felt amazing everywhere. Thighs, breasts, belly. Swirling in her belly button. Now swirling on her clitoris. The motions of his tongue on her pussy reminded her of the motions he had done before, on her other parts. The pleasure of now inspired flashbacks of the recent pleasure of his tongue cleaning all that plum juice. She moaned and squirmed from all this glorious pleasure.

When her climax arrived, she arched her back, gripped her tits harder, fingers pinching and rolling her hard nipples. She cried out loudly. A burst of sound to match the tender ferocity of his tongue as he had finally zeroed in on her quivering clit and had flicked it in a crazed blur that was so deliciously different than his tongue’s slow sliding when cleaning her skin. Her voice burst out, a thing overjoyed to be free after mounting and rising for a long while and aching to crash out of her. Her crying out seemed to last a long time, the waves of bliss crashing again and again.

Finally, the waves relented. Greg kept his tongue flat on her moist flesh as she trembled for a little while longer. Then he stood. He stared down at her with intense eyes. A slight smile in a corner of his lips. The proud husband. He watched her for seconds that seemed much longer to her. He watched her, admiring his handiwork. She let her hands slip from clutching her breasts to lay again at her sides.

Greg turned, headed back the kitchen counter. Back to the cutting board. Back to the slices of black plums that quivered in excitement over being chosen next, and over the possible missions they were about to fulfill.

As he returned to her, she watched his erection lightly bounce and sway. He stepped over her. His feet were now on either side of her. He stood over her breasts, so that she looked straight up at his cock.

She loved his thigh muscles. Loved how iron-hard they were. Loved this view of his rod of iron between his legs. It appeared bigger from this vantage point. Way up there, it appeared enormous, a giant. Gorgeous in its power and size.

Greg held the piece of plum above his cock and was obviously about to squeeze it, to send its juices raining down upon that big erection, and then the drops would fall onto her.

“Not yet,” Ellen said. “First, your juice. Your juice hanging down from that beautiful cock. Give it to me.” She opened her mouth wide, an oval of red lipstick broken by her tongue sticking out.

He was clearly pleased by this. He might not have even noticed his own juice that hung from the tip of his cock by a thread as delicate as a thread in a spider’s web. He lightly gripped his shaft and gave it a single shake. Just a quick flick of his wrist. The dangling pre-come dropped down and landed on her cheek, missing the goal of her open mouth. But neither of them minded the miss. A shiny line stretched on her cheek. Ellen’s fingertip slid from next to her ear, across her cheek, and collected his juice, then plunged into her mouth. Her puckered lips sucked on her finger as it slowly slid out of her mouth.

“Yummy,” she said. “Like your come, but more subtle.”

His cock twitched in excited response at this. His hand holding the plum slice returned to above his cock. This time, she did not stop him. This time, he squeezed the plum, sending its juice showering down onto his shaft, splashing on it, then dripping down upon her. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth and enjoyed the feeling of the cool drips hitting her face. Tiny plops on her nose, forehead, cheeks, chin, neck. She flinched a little. A low, soft groan came from her, evidence of how much she delighted in this.

A come-shot from a plum, she thought, remembering the two times that Greg had given her a come-shot on her face. She had not enjoyed those as much, didn’t like the stickiness of the plops of come that felt like they were all over her face, even though they weren’t all over. He certainly wasn’t one of those guys in the porn movies they had watched together. Still, through the discomfort, she had been fascinated by his reaction. He looked shocked, like he was trying to figure out the sight of his wife with come on her face. That shock had shifted into a clear thrill and pride and a stronger look, as if the act had made him more of an alpha male, a manlier man.

In contrast, this plum dripping was more delicate. More enjoyable. When she opened her eyes, she saw his face way up there, beyond his cock. He looked back down at her, clearly pleased.

Ellen opened her eyes and stared at the head of his quivering cock as a couple more drips fell upon her. She, in turn, was very, very pleased.

“Feed me,” she said in a thick voice.

He didn’t rush to follow her order. He stayed there for a few more seconds, and she guessed he was enjoying staring down at her face below his erection. Just as she was enjoying the view. It was something different than the usual, and much more dramatic.

Then Greg stepped over her, his foot rising above her face, his balls flashing her a view of them for just a moment. He was again at her side, as he had been while squeezing plum slices on her breasts and stomach. He lowered to his knees, then lowered more to lay on his side. Sliding on the floor so that his cock was positioned at the side of her face, pointing at her cheek.

Ellen turned so that she faced him, side by side, with their faces at each other’s loins. She swallowed the top half of his cock, and the sweetness of the plum’s juice on his shaft filled her mouth. It was a luscious taste, one made sweeter after she had seen Greg lick up all that juice on her body. After the initial burst of plum taste, it dissipated, and his taste took over. The savoriness of his cock that she had enjoyed many, many times. Tasting him turned her on, and this was deeply so now, after yearning to feel him, stroke him, do something with that hard excitement between his legs. Now it was a thrill in her mouth.

He lifted her top leg, and his tongue was on her. Again. She inhaled a long breath through her nose as his tongue touched her vagina again. She sped up sucking his cock. But, after a couple of seconds, she caught herself. Told herself to slow down. Make the moment last longer. He had indulged her in a glowingly long loving with his mouth, and she wanted to give that back to him.

But it was going to be very difficult to focus with his gorgeous tongue down there. She firmed her resolve, released his cock from her mouth, and set upon licking it. She grinned at it, knowing that this was going to be a long, lovely ride of showing this cock how much she adored it. She decided she was going to swallow every drop of bliss that it was going to give her. She didn’t swallow his juice every time. But in this case, it felt right. Felt like it fit into all of the sweet juicing and licking that Greg had given to her. Her smiling lips opened wide and took him in for a beautiful, slow loving.

End

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