Sex on the beach
I wish you were here. I wish you all were because this place is simply heaven. My hotel room, now beautifully scented with the Jo Malone candles I bought last week, is basic but comfortable and the resort itself has the appearance of a mini paradise. This place is so beautiful that I'm feeling a smudge romantic. Shame I haven't got a significant other to share it with, though.
Oooh, speaking of significant others, do you remember me saying that Sasha was coming on this holiday with us? Well she is here, looking as sexy and toned as ever. There's a slight problem, though, in that she's brought her HUSBAND with her! When the hell did she get married? More to the point, when did she stop being a major lesbian? I have always been openly bi, but toward the end of our last year in uni Sasha was vehemently anti-men. Believe me when I say, my head is still swimming from the shock of it all.
But forget about Sash and her husband with his tiny pea-sized head, I promised you guys the first excerpt from one of the three dirty books I'll be reading this week and here it is – especially for all you sex kittens who are hard at work in the office, when all you really want to be doing is screwing your handsome, rich boss!
When her boss finally pushes into her, it's so deep that she gasps, an involuntary flinch making her pull away for an instant before his grip on right hip tightens through her indecently short skirt and she arches into the rhythm of his stroke. Her face is pressed hard into the glassy shine of his deep mahogany desk, her unseeing eyes fixed on the vast river-view his huge corner office affords over the sparkling bend of the river. The desk is cold on her breasts, her nipples hard where her unbuttoned blouse has exposed them; her full weight rests on her chest, as with his left hand he holds both her wrists pinned high behind her back.
He pulls out (the loss of him inside her sudden, shocking) and moves his right hand up slightly to the small of her back, finding the dimple above her buttock and he places his thumb into it, gently, possessively, almost meditatively. Kate can still feel the head of his cock, wet with her, nudging gently at her pussy, which aches for him again. She feels his foot kick her legs even further apart, not gently, but dispassionately. She does what he wants, teetering slightly in her heels, making herself even more available to him, and he drives back into her again, hard, his resumption a reward for her acquiescence. Each stroke ends in a bruising thud as he fills her up; it's almost painful, but deeply satisfying nevertheless. She longs not so much to come, but to feel him come inside her.