By Parker Lee
THE EXPLICIT SEXUAL TALES OF MISS JUPE LA RUE
~ Introduction ~
It is what I nearly see that rushes against my heart and pauses me to stand stock still—the couple’s lips barely touching, poised on shared breath alone, a slight hand, nails done in young-girl pink, cupping the goods between his legs and giving him a nice squeeze-release to force his smile, the doctor examining her breasts, finding he cannot abandon them, those full-grown beauties, round and firm, nipples taut—these things, they stop me so that I may gather the story and retell.
I'm an ordinary woman. Go to work every day. Punch the clock at seven AM. My hospital rounds begin then and they last a whole twelve hours. It’s been going on like this for a while now. We are so short-handed in ICU.
Tomorrow, though, I will embark on a plane for overseas, to the north of France, the wineries, Paris, Versailles and the trenches, more water and terrain than I’ve seen in years. Then, there’ll be the week-long cruise. My goal is to fuck my way through this vacation as much as I possibly can. Make up for lost time. Stop wearing out all my bobs, those tired battery-operated boyfriends. I need real touch. It is a healing thing. I need healing, yes. The time without touch is over and I will take all I can get. I will be healed.
~
LOVIE NUMBER ONE
The international hub was less than bustling at 5:45 AM. The pandemic has seen to that—and I was lucky to have even found a flight. I’d packed and was making good time through security check when the man behind me jostled into me, first with his athletic rear, then with his shoulder to my own. I was knocked off-balance, and his hand, reaching to hold me up right, brushed along my chest, the big part of my bosom that had hard nipples now, thanks to him.
Of course, I smiled and was pleasant to him. He could be my first Lovie of the trip. I was impressed with my own wicked intent of keeping score—love them and leave them, each in a single day, day after day after day. Funny, I thought things would begin overseas, and here I am, trying to start something in ATL. He helped me pick up my bag.
“Sorry. So sorry.” His voice was clean and mid-western, his eyes, the brown of dark chocolate, the epicanthic folds of them suggesting First American origin. His three-piece suit, not so much, but then, I found myself unable to break my fantasy—that of a loin-clothed muscle machine, sinew, leather, feathers, fucking me under the night’s star-lit skies. Wyoming, Montana, South Dakota. Some exotic land. Just no buffaloes, please.
I told the handsome stranger, “Oh, that’s okay. You’re fine. No worries.”
He looked relieved by his glance away. Perhaps he was dispelling our touch and with that thought, I felt suddenly and overly white, blanched and ugly. There were at least ten shades between the colors of our skins. I felt ashamed and also looked away.
“You’re kind,” he said leaning around me to interrupt my gaze, all in a second’s time.
The security worker got my attention. “Shoes off, ma’am. Place them in the container and move along, please.”
I was glad to have worn flats, unadorned but leather none-the-less. I wanted the stranger to like me. At least for the next few hours. He removed his shoes as well, careful not to scuff the shiny black patent leather. I thought them new, judging by the unworn condition of his soles.
“You sure you’re all right?” His voice was thick with caring and a little on the smoky side.
I gave him one of my best smiles while thinking two different things at once: the first, how unsanitary the floor must be under my bare feet, and second, what amazingly beautiful bone structure this man had.
“Yes, I think I’m fine.”
He lifted his eyes from my toes and grinned so that his very white teeth shone brightly against his gold-brown flesh. It was a confident smile, sure and friendly. For a second, I thought this man believes in magic. Look at the obvious twinkle in his eye.
I turned and walked the gamut through the rest of security, spreading my arms and getting wanded. Knowing he was next in line and watching, I flexed my ass—not like the 1-2-3 workout I do at the gym but more subtly. Each time I shifted my weight, I’d tighten one or the other cheek. I already knew it looked good from behind, having practiced same at home in my three-way mirror.
I wanted this man to want me. I would want me if I were him, if he were me, if we were together going at it, me slick, him hard. I was hot for this guy.
I glanced back and settled the carry-on over my shoulder, stuck my flat purse in the side of it, slipped on my shoes, and headed for the waiting area. Time: 6:15 AM. I had an hour until boarding, so as The Mighty Huntress, I spotted Lovie a half-block behind me and ducked into the coffee shop. He followed.
“May I?” he asked, approaching me from behind at the counter and indicating he’d like to sit on the bar stool beside me.
“Sure. Have a seat,” I said, bringing the carry-on nearer me with my outstretched leg. The spandex skirt pleased me, riding sufficiently high enough to make him pause and admire the muscular shape of it.
He ordered coffee for us both. I only wanted cream in mine. He ordered espresso and I raised my brows.
“You like your coffee strong.”
He looked over, at first with a straight-face, but then with a softer expression. When the server moved away, the man leaned in. “That’s the way I like my women, too.”
“I see.” With skill built over the years, I raised one shoulder and let it fall back into place. It was not just the shoulder working here. Oh, no. Shoulder muscles connect to chest muscles, so, my breast moved too, teasing, showing him a bit of my own moxie. The motion tightened my nipples and with no bra to constrain them, both points shone through my low-cut chamois blouse. They were proud and hard.
He licked his cupid-bow lips, took a sip of his espresso. I blew across my cup of steaming brew. “Mmm. Hot.”
That caught his attention, and as he looked up, I raised one brow and tilted my head toward the rest room. He nodded. I had him, Lovie Number One, and I wanted to treat him right.
“I’ll go first,” I said. “To the men’s room.”
He paid the ticket and followed. By the time he found the right stall, my skirt was hiked high and I was bent slightly forward, facing the commode, hands on the wall. Wearing no panties is a luxurious thing when you like to fuck the way I do.
He set his bag beside mine on the shelf. I faced him to get a good feel of the length of his obvious erection. No questions asked, he had the largest dick I’d ever touched, so I made big pleased eyes and unzipped him. The beautiful cock bounced out and was so excited, the head of it pointed straight to the ceiling and pulsed.
“Easy, big boy,” I said and he laughed a little. It was a shy sort of thing, his laugh, but I didn’t see what was so funny. His cock was ideal. Had a girth so wide my fingers couldn’t circle it, at the top, at the bottom. It was just too thick. Insofar as the length, two hands didn’t use him up. Three inches left over. Could I take this man, this First Lovie? There was only one way to determine that—if I could get him there. He was hot to the touch and hard as stone. Needs kissing I thought and so, began to kneel.
“Not so fast,” he said, pulling me up. A man in charge, indeed.
“But—”
He touched the back of my thighs, asking in that wordless way, for me to stand on the seat. I did and he held me steady, sinking his tongue between my legs and searching for my clit. It was a sweet-soft, hard-rough exploration and it weakened my knees. I held onto the top of the stall wall and couldn’t help myself but to come on his delicious roving tongue. He parted my lips and tasted me way deep inside, sucking and licking me on the finest upstroke ever, cunt to clit and back again.
When his five o’clock shadow roughed up my clit, I came for real. The strong ripples of orgasm relieved me but I wanted more. I wanted his come—all over me, in every place I had, inside, out, front back, everywhere. I wanted to see his stuff come out—would it spray or stream or ooze in quiet spasms? I set my feet on the floor again and turned my ass up for him, my ass, my honeyed-up cunt—he could take his pick. At that point I didn’t care.
“Just put it in,” I said “Wherever you want. Just get inside.”
“You, woman, have got to be a dream.” His husky voice was thick, like his dick, just like his huge cock.
“Then, come for me,” I said. “And do it hard.”
His ramming began then, like a stud bull, fucking and fucking, in hard-push jams. I moaned with every deep thrust. The length of him banged against my sweet spot in controlled lunges. I couldn’t help but answer, fuck him in return, pushing onto him, driving him deep. I was wild as him. I was wild as ever.
I tightened the walls of my slick pussy. He angled my hips better and thrust deeper. There was pain, but the enjoyable kind, slight pain. I love slight pain. It makes feel barbaric, like a feral mountain lion.
Between panting breaths, he said, “Is it all right to come?”
“Please,” I said. “But pull out and jack. Cover me with your stuff. I want it all over me. It’s a thing I have.”
His cock surged super hard. I knew he liked my request. What man doesn’t? To wank on the bare back of a pretty girl. Tight hand on their cock being rough and tighter than any pussy ever could be. He surged again, “Good,” I said. “Now, cover me with your stuff. I want it everywhere.”
He withdrew from my pussy and wanked his cock rough and slow at first, then fast in his private rhythm, as though he was alone. I came, just watching him, twisted as I was around myself and looking at him. He came all over me. Hot come and scads of it. Wet and white on my back, on my ass, dripping down my crack. He moaned hoarsely and pulled out another tablespoonful, his body jerking in spasms and he fell against me. I held up the weight of him. He rubbed his dick up and down my slit. I fingered my plump clit and came again. Juice dripped from me to the floor, and as we slowly caught our breaths, a fellow, or two, or three, in the neighboring stalls, gave us a round of quiet applause.
I looked to the top of our wall and saw reddish-brown hair disappearing. I smiled at my quickie partner. He seemed as pleased as me to have had a fantastic fuck and with someone watching! We wiped ourselves clean, pulled on our clothes, and hugged as would friends, rejoined from a long separation.
“Come on, gorgeous. Let’s put a move on,” he said. “We’ve got planes to catch.
I washed my hands and splashed water on my face. There was nothing I could do about the sex splotches on my chest. He waved to me from the restroom door. I blew him a kiss, my Lovie Number One.
About Parker Lee:
Parker Lee lives and works on the coast of a southern state, where all the girls are smart and beautiful, the boys, virile and pleasing, and we read hot journals like Bareback Magazine. You may find Parker's book, Sexy Little Stories for Friends and Lovers on Amazon.
