The Reporter - Part 1 - Sex Stories

The Reporter - Part 1

... pulling on his smoke, but the lighter just sputtered impotently. He threw it violently to the ground and cursed aloud. He shouldn't have behaved liked that with Connors. He was a fair boss and he was right; it had been a while since he'd come up with anything. He was also right about which methods were successful, but that was a bitter pill to swallow after all his efforts to prove otherwise. He zipped up the worn leather jacket, slipped his gloves on, and pulled his helmet over his head. He sparked up his Ninja and allowed himself a half smile as it rumbled noisily between his legs. As he sat there, he decided to go round and have a chat with his old mate, Erdogan. *** His neck was arched back over the basin, where ethereal oriental music set the scene for their private seance. Her soapy, sodden digits, skirted salaciously over his wet scalp. He closed his eyes. He'd forgotten just how good she was able to make him feel and then felt a twinge of guilt at enjoying it so much. He loved Sadey for all that she had done for him. He wanted to be the man that she was looking for, but the truth was, he wasn't. What for him had been sex, for her had been altogether deeper. Things had got complicated. He'd fucked up. Right now he felt good though. Whenever her fingers approached, she would let them slither fleetingly down over his earlobes and neck. His breathing quickened as she extended her warm, wet hands inside his shirt and over his wide chest. As she did so, her heavy young ...

... breasts brushed onto his face and any pretence of this being a simple hair wash were dispelled. She caressed his muscular torso, feeling his chest heave as he took in a deep breath. "Ayla, we shouldn't be doing this." "We should have done this ages ago," she giggled and sucked his earlobe into her mouth. He sat there, while his body and mind fronted up against each other. While his body was calling for Ayla, so his mind was loosely caught up in the vague, comfortable web that Sadey had spun for him. Ayla took the indecision for acceptance; she reached round to open his jeans as her tongue ran wantonly from his shoulder up his neck. She slid her hand directly into his shorts and clasped her swollen target, like a trophy, in her fist. Flik abandoned any last vestige of a struggle as she drew his foreskin back enthusiastically. He'd needed to let himself go, Connors was right. He'd had enough of denying himself simple pleasures in some vain attempt at making himself a 'better person'; whatever that meant. She moved around in front of him and dropped to her knees. He moaned as she worked his length, letting her tongue flick out like a serpent to tickle her prey. She spat on his swollen head and used the new slick to work his cock between her clasped fist. She seemed impatient to please and worked on him enthusiastically. Cupping his balls in one hand, she repeated, what seemed to be, a well perfected, twisting up-and-down motion on his cock. "Oh, fuck you're good at that, Ayla!" He ...