Elle's Tales: Claude

{Claude, 28, Savannah, GA}


As per usual, my company sent me off to secure a deal. This time I was sent to Savannah, GA...alone. No nosy ass Brynn...just a free bird allowed to soar in Savannah's rippling heat. I love the heat. I love the sun on my skin causing a sensual sheen over my skin tone. I love to feel that type of heat that inspires desires for stripping...no tease. I'd play later though, this was serious business. I had 2 weeks to win over a "wiggling" client. He was on the line, but not quite captured by my company's overall offer. We were offering a  GREAT deal...but, being young...our prospective client had no vision as to how our deal would make for a lucrative return...starting out a slow climb and taking off like a smooth ball of stone on speed-inducing hills. In the long run, not only would he make money, but he'd own most of the rights making him a TRUE "captain" of industry.


Claude Shannon, was suprisingly...a chef. Here is this young thing, tall and fit, brown and fine...heading up a delivery business specializing in "soul'd sweets". All the flavors of his cheesecake line were famous Black southern desserts. Apple Brown Betty. Red Velvet. Sweet Potato. Pecan Pie...and my fave, Banana Pudding...affectionally called "Pudding in Pie". Not only were there cheesecakes, among other confections...there was a savory end of the business. Slabs of ribs, smoked and fried turkey, microwave-to-plate sides, and his newly branded soft drinks. THAT was the focus of my visit...to begin a new marketing strategy for the soft drinks. Researching to make sure his products had that "it" selling potential. You had to have commercial "swag" to hit alongside the big guns in the soda industry. My aim was to get him a deal in a few superstore chains and make his foods a household name.


He offered for our meeting to double as a taste-testing of sorts. He made me dinner and dessert in his closed diner/delivery home "Soul'd Sweets".  Even though I usually dress to knock men off their feet, I also dress to be relative to my client. This southern boy would most likely have on a pair of jeans, a casual shirt and a nice pair of loafers...or something close. I decided to dress down, but still bring professionalism to the table AND manage to stay cool in the scorching Savannah nights. YES, they are as humid as the days. I threw on a flowing empire top in a floral pattern, a pair of white capris, a thin white shrug and a pair of white tie-up stilletos. My hair, was pulled into a loose, curly bun and I went pink/natural with my make up. Young and fresh! 


When I reached the door of his establishment, he opened it on cue. He had on damn near everything I said he would except for the "man-sandals" he was sporting. This man was...wow. Caramel cookie luxe, the build of a thick b-ball player, very close curly hair...almost sandy brown, deeply set eyes...Mmm. He said my name, clearly a second or third time, "Ms. Thorne?". I said, "Yes...yes...Mr. Shannon, right?". He smiled and waved the way for me to enter. He said, "Yes...that would be me. Please have a seat." The seat he referred to was the only table in the store that had a place setting. The ambiance was decidedly classy and romantic for a man of his age to own...I wondered what woman put her style into this cozy nook. The windows were typical Georgian floor to ceiling windows with arched crowning donned in drapes of a deep crimson that were swept gracefully and secured with wrought iron "S-shaped" tiebacks. The tabletops were square, dark-brown granite with crimson runners and a small lit lamp in the center. He had the dinnerware stacked from charger to bowl and simple goblets. The smell was splendid...and I got hungry, instantly. 


Some how in my revelry, I'd missed his disappearance into the back...and as I was finally sitting, he was re-entering the dining area pushing a cart with covered platters on two different racks. Before I could consider what was underneath he removed the cover of the first two platters. Small portions...a taster's plate, were artfully arranged. The braised beef rib sitting atop sun-dried tomato barbecue sauce. Blond mac and cheese (made with aged white Vermont cheddar, mozzarella, Parmesan and suprisingly...goat cheese). Rainbow chard...sauteed with roasted red peppers, garlic, shallots and red chiles. Roasted sweet potatoes with cinnamon/brown sugar/ginger crumble. And panko and herb-coated catfish "fingers" w/a cayenne aoili. For the dessert...thin slivers of each cheesecake offered...and of course his locally famous sodas. They were basic soda waters with flavored syrups that came in "Lemon-Tea", "Cherry Bomb", "Blackberry-Lime", and "Ginger-Orange". I was borderline gluttonous as I partook of each flavor offered...coming away with my culinary mind blown. The star of this show?...Roasted Sweet Potatoes with that MARVELOUS crumble. It was like pie, without crust...but better. We laughed a little over dinner...mostly at my VERY vocal responses to his food. I showed him the proposals and even spot-changed his slogan and selling points based on my own taste experience. By evening's end, I was full as a tick and ready for bed...his. Yet, I was "good" and took myself back to my hotel alone and fingered myself with the same fingers I used to lick the cheesecake off of.


In the middle of the night...a knock at my door came. I had no clue who it was...even though I should've. Throughout the entire night, Claude was eying my tits the way I side-eyed his dick print in his pants. We were eye-fucking each other the entire night...and in spite of it...I managed to bring myself to come back to the room solo. Sleepily and wearily, I asked for identification. "Who is it?". "Claude Shannon, Ms. Thorne." I opened the door not really thinking about my appearance and he said, "You're so beautiful..." as he eyed the floor length white gown I had on...so thin, it displayed my everything in the light shining from the bathroom. I opened my mouth to respond, "Oh my...thank you..." I said self-consciously becoming aware of my disheveled hair and eye spit. He said, "Fuck it...". He closed the door behind himself...backed me to the bed and fell on top of me...kissing me hard...tasting my pussy off my own lips, as I had fallen asleep after pleasuring myself and tasting. He threw up my gown...made love to my nipples with his warm tongue and followed the trail until he tasted first-hand my juices. He sucked on my pussy endlessly. He ate me, like I ate his dinner...and I swear, I wondered if this man would STOP sucking, licking, humming, inhaling, finger-fucking and causing me to squirt back to back. His kisses and pussy-eating style were the same. He was intently focused on the business of lapping and swallowing my creaminess. I think I lost consciousness momentarily. When he finally stood up and unbuckled, unzipped and unveiled his dick...my eyes focused barely on what had to be the prettiest thing. I reached for it involuntarily to place in my mouth. He smiled and said, "No...open your legs." I did as I was told and as I sat waiting for him to place himself in me, my clit throbbed and beat in sync with my heart and the hardening of my nipples. He rubbed the fatness of his dick's head up and down my wetness. He kept doing it and I kept trying to place him inside of me with my pelvic thrust. He rubbed his dick up and down...as the sounds of slurps and squishes echoed in spurts between my moans and pleading..."Fuck me, Claude...please. Oh DAMN...you're torturing me..." He kept doing it, never breaking stride and intensifying the speed of what he was doing...he placed the head at my entrance several times teasing the pulsing openness. He'd barely place it in and then pull it out, creating a sucking sound and then continue with "greasing" his pipe with my stickyness. As my clit swelled and my nut swirled and my back arched...he shocked me by putting his dick in swiftly and fucking me with barely 3 strokes...ending in the strongest orgasm I've ever had. I released so much cream on him that he looked down and said, "NOW you can taste...". I sucked his dick til he came and I passed out from lockjaw and pussy pain.


I got the account...and another candidate for a return fuck. Mmmmm. FIVE fucking stars!


{Claude in Savannah. 28yrs old. 8" dick. 5 out of 5 kisses.}

Elle's Tales: Gregg

{Gregg, 41, Boulder, CO}


I met Gregg while on a business trip in Boulder, CO. Thank God it was summer. I had to go there with a colleague to scout out a potential client. I couldn't believe I was going out there...hell, I heard things about "those" states. I didn't even know there WERE brothers that far out mid-west. But there I was. I was in the lobby of my hotel, reading a magazine while waiting for my slow ass co-worker. She took her time and Gregg wasted none making a bee-line to me. Dressed in a strapless white dress with layers that started under the breast line...I was a vision of summer loveliness. I had on 4" wedge tie-up heels and had my hair wavy and pulled back by a white headband. "Excuse, me...I just wanted to introduce myself. I'm Gregg Spencer." he said. I looked up from my "Boulder Today" tourist mag and fanned myself lightly. The lobby was air conditioned, but this was one fine ass man. The color of distressed brown leather, but softened by the glow of suntan lotion, or something...he beamed, "FUCK ME" like a neon sign. I took the hand offered, shook it and smiled. "I'm Elle...nice to meet you, Gregg." I responded softly. We caught eye contact and he knew it was on.


After Brynn and I went to breakfast, shopped a little and relaxed on our free time...I got ready to go see Gregg. Even though the company originally set Brynn and I up in the same room...I got it changed to an adjoining suite. I like my privacy...I also know how I get down, so it was a must. Eventually, I decided...Gregg's room was the destination for this night, because I had a feeling Ms. Brynn was a voyeur...or a damn ear hustler. No way could I have her going back and informing the head honchos of my whoredom.


At 10:03pm, I sauntered down to Gregg's room a floor below mine. I decided to wear a nice sheer, floor-length, turquoise-colored summer dress with spaghetti straps. I had a thin shawl to cover and slide-on kitten heels to match. I had on nothing but a thong underneath this dress. Sure, I had full D cups...but they were sitting up nicely...so I didn't need a bra. Less to take off. After knocking, Gregg answered with that sexy smile. He had on a light, crisp button-down shirt...opened to the spot above his navel. Mmmm, I thought. He had on a pair of white shorts and a pair of men's slippers. His square jaw flexed as he spoke, "Well, come in Elle...". I walked through his door and saw that he'd prepared his suite with some niceties. There was a bowl of cherries next to a bottle of Campari on ice. A bouquet of lilies and irises were on the coffee table and until walking in, I didn't know there was soft jazz playing...Stan Getz I think. He looked at me like I had a stem and a pit and said, "You are QUITE the gorgeous sight. Your walk is serious!". I chuckled and blushed. "Thank you, Gregg...you're doing your "man" thing as well. Wearing the hell out of that shirt." I said. He turned a few shades of wine and berry as I slipped out of my shawl. I'm sure the central air was on, but again...this man made me hot. Now, mind you...I SEE the aperitif and fruit. I see the flowers and hear the serenade through the speakers. I'm not blind nor deaf...but, it was time for me to tell Gregg what I tell every man I sleep with. He led me to the sofa and as he poured the Campari for me and lowered himself beside me...I spoke. "Gregg, I appreciate the sweet gestures. I love being treated in a queenly fashion, but we both know what this is. Hiding it behind gestures of romance is just going to confuse it. I want to fuck you...and you want to fuck me." He didn't react in a shocked manner. He said, "Okay...I like that...". I nodded and took the Campari...sipping and placing the glass on the table. No sooner than I'd put the glass down he leaned in and ran his tongue between my breasts. The material of my dress slid so smoothly over my nipples that I almost didn't realize they were exposed. He worked the straps down from over my shoulders and watched as my dress fell to my waist. "Mmm" he uttered as he homed in on my left nipple. He sucked and pulled with his teeth as my cream swirled between my legs. I pushed his head away and stood up. He rose to his feet involuntarily and followed me to his room as I stepped out of my shoes and dress fluidly. My ass and thighs jiggled as I strode lioness-style into the place where I planned to take his mind home with me.


The moment I reached the bed, before I could even turn around he pushed me down on the bed and bent me over. Not one to complain, I took position. He parted my ass cheeks and ran his nose up and down...inhaling long and hard. My pussy leaked. He took my thong by the slimmest part and snapped it apart, taking it off of me. My pussy dripped...visibly. He caught the next drop in his mouth. He slurped on me like I was melting ice. With each pull of his lips sucking me in...my body heated and the walls of me pulsed quicker. The more of me he swallowed...the more I released. I clung to the plush duvet on his bed like a cat in a high place. As a reflex to this pleasure, my ass bucked and shook in quick, short paces. I screamed, "Uuuuuuuuughh daaamn..." and came two times in a row all over Gregg's tongue. I was frozen in place, so Gregg took that as a green light to dive into my ass. He tossed me well. I felt his tongue doing things that made me forget where I was. He used two fingers to go back and forth between caressing my clit to reaching pass my pussy lips to extract more sweets. I barely recovered from the first two O's...before I felt another coming. By this time...my juices had soiled the spot underneath me, was down my thighs and all over Gregg's fine goatee. I fought it...but the orgasm was so strong my thighs clinched around Gregg's head and I came damn near like a man. This man didn't waste ANY time. I hadn't met anyone like him in a while. Hungry AND energetic was a must with me..and he qualified. He immediately freed himself from my hold...strapped on a condom, turned me over on my back and entered me. As he licked his lips, he placed gently what had to be THE biggest dick I've had in years. I moaned audibly, while he worked himself into me. Pinning my legs back as far as he could he leaned into me...with ALL of him inside of me and wiggled a little, as if to open me up. When he felt me open up for him...he fucked the SHIT out of me. I have never had EVERY spot I own, be touched, pressed, rubbed...all at the same time. The stroke he was using to get the best of me was some up, then down and in and out and UP then all over again type shit...that had him causing friction to my clit and pussy, which was driving my senses crazy. My body was convulsing and throbbing and heating and chilling all simultaneously. I was LOUDER than I've ever been, yelling, cussing, pleading, praising and swearing on my life how good this dick was. He was focused though. He hit those spots and fucked me until my body gave way to more waves of O's and a gush of wetness. When he felt himself climaxing...he slid out of me pulled the condom off his dick and said, "Come on baby...finish this for me." Well, SHIT...hell yea. YES SIR. I sat up and SAW this dick and said, "Oh my damn...shit..." he smiled and moved it with his pelvic muscles and said, "Come on...it's getting cold girl". I choked that fat, beautiful dick down. I KNOW his dick was 11"...I know the width had to be 3". I take my shit serious so I sucked as much as I could intake...hand-led the rest and slobbed and slurped until he grabbed my head and fed me all of his yum cum.


I stayed until the morning...he tore my shit up. He used those cherries to eat out of my ass and I returned the favor. We freaked it until he left a couple of days later. I couldn't fuck ANY one else for a week or more. I spent the rest of our time in Boulder...soaking in a hot tub every night. Hmmmm...Gregg could get revisited. By the way...that's not a broken rule. Good dick can get revisited...it just has to be fewer than three times. After a few times...someone gets attached, and it's usually NOT me.


{Gregg in Boulder. 41yrs old. 11" dick. 4 out of 5 kisses...reserving the 5th for my pride. He RAN that show!}

Elle's Tales: Intro

My name is...well, just call me "Elle". I've been anonymous this long...no need to quit now. This is my chronicling of the life I lead. When I'm IN it, there is NO anonymity. I'm plainly open with my intentions and my rules. They don't get broken for anyone. I'm single and free to fuck...no ties, but the kinky knots tied in my bedroom. I AM in control. You won't find in these tales a glimpse of my soft side. You won't find a moment where I lose sight of my sexual hunger and become enrapt in some man's romantic hold. No. You will see that I'm serious about the business of not GETTING serious.


I'm 30. This is my year to do me...and anyone else I please. I know you want to know, so let me go ahead and clue you in...


YES, I was very much in love with someone once. We were "high school sweethearts" aka young and dumb. I was a nerdy, introverted female who went to church and sung gospel chords in first soprano. I wasn't allowed to wear make-up of any kind, including nail lacquer. I wore my hair in a ponytail for much of my high school years, because my preacher father thought the hair styles were "too grown". Yes. The TYPICAL child of a preacher...in ALL it's urban mythical glory...


I was my boyfriend's freak. I've sucked his dick, his balls, ate his ass...all while he's fucked every hole I own besides my ears and nostrils. He's cum on my face, my tits, my ass, back and stomach...and has bent my THEN size 20 frame in every position except a few listed in the Kama Sutra. By the time I turned 18 and graduated high school...on the outside, I was primly proper, educated, respectable and refined. On the inside, I was insatiable, ravenous, horny and a whore for the one man-child who ever tasted my pussy. I was those things for him, because I loved him beyond the understanding of anyone who REALLY knew him. In front of my father, Rev. Thorne (not our real last name)...he was the ideal young man. He went to school, got good grades, was a star athlete and had the manners of a Catholic altar boy. Behind closed doors, "O" was the type of dude that dipped into every open snatch around. He fucked my "friends", my cousin and a couple of chicks at my church who knew DAMN well we were together. What brought us to an end was my brand of revenge. I waited until prom night. When he showed up to the room we'd reserved for a night of freaky sex...he walked into our room, to his cousin's dick in my mouth, his teammate's dick in my pussy and his jersey on my back. Yea, he tried to hurt us. Thankfully, good pussy buys protection. Neither guy let him touch a hair on my head...and I rewarded them both with some good ole freaky train sex.


To say he hated me after that was speaking lightly. He told everyone, including my parents how nasty I was. No one believed him of course. No one except #75 and his cousin with the perpetual grin on his face. He tried to stop his cousin by telling him I "stunk" which of course his cousin knew hands on was a lie. I've always taken pride in my hygiene and appearance. Shit, his cousin ate my pussy everyday until I left for college. Once I got there...I just got even freakier. Orgies, threesomes, girl on girl...I did it. I let loose...well, loosER. I got so much free shit in college it was crazy. I've had guys pay my phone bills, buy my books, take me shopping, put gas in my car...even though my dad paid for all of that stuff anyway. After a while, it got good to me...and I got set in my ways. Why fall in love? Why buy into that emotional shit, when I could have my body satisfied...along with my needs. Hell, at one point...I stopped guys from even giving me things. Just knowing if I WANTED those things was good enough...but, I'm no prosititute...just a freak.


Fast forward to a 30yr old Elle...and you have what you see in front of you. A size 24 now...I'm still fine. Cafe au Lait, even skin tone, big ass, big tits, fat calves and the pussy to match. I keep my hair above shoulder length...hair laid always. Cat-shaped eyes of dark brown with golden specks...and full lips...no doubt a marketer of my head skills. I work as a researcher, as well as a scout for new clientèle, for an advertising firm and get paid nicely to what boils down to "looking shit up" and "closing deals".  I have my own shit. My own car. My own home. My own stock investments...and I love being alone. I go on vacations with my girls, go out when I feel, and do what I like without having to answer to a damn soul. I'll be almost 50 by the time I consider a partner to live the rest of my life with. 'Til then...I'm solo like an opera diva.


This is my story...entry by entry. This is what a journal would look like...if I DARED pen these salacious scenes. Wouldn't want them to be discovered by the wrong person, now would we? *wink*


Take a peek...

*In The Works*

I've been gone for a sec. Yes, I am trying to make a comeback. It's hard on a chick with 4 blogs. Eventually my ADHD gets the best of me and I get spread a little thinly on the creativity front. I'm trying to run a "general" blog, an erotic one, a poetic one, and a culinary one (which has suffered the most)...so, my apologies when I go too long without posting.


Having said that...I've learned by experience with my readers that if I begin a series of any kind, I need to stay on it...making sure that the parts are written ahead of time so that I can post a few back to back without being forced to pen the parts on the spot. I CAN do it, but I'm trying to make this a little easier on myself. lol


Soon to come...a nice little series of the "diary" kind. I am doing my best to keep the ideas fresh while writing and make it riveting enough for return reading. I DO still have to make you drool with anticipation, right? *hehee*


So, hold onto your juices and don't release until I say so! ;)


See ya soon!!!