Naughty Gras: Tales of Fat Tuesday

Hello my juicy ones! Yea yea yea...I know. The hostess is never home, but I'm here now and I've got a tasty smorgasbord for you all to partake of. Well not too long ago, I posted an anthology called, "Summer's Heat". Four stories by four different authors...all themed for the sizzle of summertime. Sable Jordan, Katlynne LaSalle, Perri Forrest and myself, banged it out [on the keyboard] so that you all could salivate with salacious stories of sex and sensual sweetness. lol

Well, we're back. Sable invited us back and this time we have a new author, Jessa Callaver!! I would be remiss not to add that I am ALSO responsible for the cover art! :)

The story is on Amazon for 99 cents...but, it's also on Smashword for FREE. Can't afford 99 cents? FREE is better. lol

My story is a spin off of the journal series I began here on Passion's Fruit called "Elle's Tales". THIS time, Elle is in New Orleans during Mardi Gras with her bestie...and that's all I'm gonna tell you. hehe

When thinking of a story (and actually writing one from start to finish) I actually decided what better way to connect my erotic short to my name and site, then to create one from an already existing character. I PRAY I've done a good job holding Elle down. She's a tough cookie. I keep her locked into a way to be, but I tried to let her out more in this anthology. I wanted the story to be more personal or at least...give her some substance beyond her nasty grind. lol

Don't be shy, please let me know if the fruit is good or not. ;)

Naughty Gras on Amazon
Naughty Gras on Smashword

Elle's Tales: From the Pen of Qualiq

From the pen of Qualiq:

I haven’t been able to get that night with Lillianna out of my head. When we were younger, I couldn't have imagined that I’d have my dick in that. I had and still have extreme respect for her...she’s one of those women who gives you no choice. That night, though?...gave me chills. The softness of her skin...silkier than any woman’s I’d touched before. The plump fullness and natural warmth of her thighs ...her ass in my hands...damn. The way the hardness of her nipples contrasted with the round plushness of her breasts still make my dick drip at night. Elle tasted like a mix between sweet papaya and mango...her creaminess a perfect smoothie of her scent. I jacked off to her lips on my dick and her hair in my nose for days after she’d gone home.

Problem with this is...I can’t contact her. Asking the ‘rents is out. Rev & Mrs. Thorne are too keen for them to not know what I’d want. I've never asked about her before...or maybe I’m putting too much thought into it. I crave this woman so much right now that I’m sitting here consequently running fears of rejection from her parents through my mind. I want this woman on my lap with the intense urgency of a teen virgin...and I can’t even muster the balls to walk next door and ask her mother for the number...

...to some of the best sex I've had in a very long time. I wanna say it’s the way her juiciness spilled over down to my sac...or the perfect fit and suction of our motions. I can’t lie though...I think it’s the scent of her neck and how she smiles. How she leans her head to the side as she laughs. Her lip crooks when she’s fidgeting and I could see how intense our chemistry was while we sat at the table with her family. I spent one day with her and I can’t stop thinking about her. I can’t stop needing to make love to her. I always had a slight crush on her, but all I can think of is when is the next time she’ll come home...to me.

Her brother and I went to school together and I remember when we were younger, he used to always say, “Yo, Qua...watch out for Elle. Don’t let nobody hurt my baby sister.” He said this again on his way to college...leaving a year before I did. I didn't want anyone to touch her...but me. Yet, she was so into that dude Omar I just let her be. When they broke up I heard rumors of her being a slut, but I paid them no mind. Even if she did what they said...I didn't care. Lilliana was one of those girls that she could do no wrong. She could cuss you out publicly and you’d call her that night and apologize for making her do it. Again...more feelings I couldn't express to her.

So, how and why did we do what we did? How is it that after years of bypassing me and me holding in my carnal thoughts of her...did we end up fucking like that in my place? What did I do specifically to land myself dick deep into my adolescent fantasy? Had she always liked me?

I just know...that I want her. I don’t know where she lives. I have no phone number. Nothing. All I have is olfactory memories...phantom strokes of me inside of her. I think I may need to just forget her.

~bell chimes at the Thorne residence~
*Mrs. Thorne opens the door for her neighbor*

“Hi, Mrs. Thorne...I was wondering if I could talk to you.”
“Sure, Qualiq...come in...”

To Be Cont’d...

Elle's Tales: Cody

{Cody, 30, Nashville, TN}

The pressure of bouncing was beginning to make my knees ache, but the throbbing in my clit was dangerously swelling to a nut. The adrenaline kept me stroking this man's dick as I got the wettest I can remember getting. His lightly tanned skin was sparkling in the light from the window and I saw his eyes roll back, him clench down on his lip and his thickness pulse. I imagine...if you could SEE the nut bust through the head of his dick it would look like bulges pumping with rhythmic succession until it splattered the inside of the magnum he was wearing. "SHIT, Elle......your snatch is SO wet! Uuggh..." Cody grunted out in his thick southern accent. As drips of liquid fever slowly streamed down my face and breast...my smirk became my fuck face and I came in creamy stickiness all over him. Together...we exhaled long and I fell on top of him with our sweaty bodies smacking loudly. My abs HAD to be improving with the work I'd done on this white boy in the last week.

My FIRST white boy. OMG...his dick is HUGE. His appetite is LARGER and good grief he can eat pussy like Pooh licks the bottom of a hunny pot. This white boy's swagger is NOT like swagger I'm used to. This is some straight-out-of-the-western-movies type shit. All he's missing is the cowboy hat and the strand of straw hanging from his perfectly lined teeth.

I lift and remove him from inside of me and SHIT...after the pleasure is gone, my little hole reminds me of how big he is. I wobble to the bathroom and turn the shower on. I walk back into the room naked from head to toe, standing in the window's light and you know what this dude says?

"Lady, your body looks like those paintings...the ones in Europe. Ruben somebody....but either way...it's made for hugging and fucking..."

I didn't know whether to laugh at his almost adorableness...or be insulted by his brash statement that I was just physical fulfillment. Either way, this man was intrigued by the "Rubenesque" curves of my body and he inhaled them like he was taking in his last breath. I loved chilling with this man all week, but tonight was our last "run-through". He had fucked me motionless and I'd rode him until the mattress coils were fully compromised with my knee prints. All that was missing was a matching print of my tits, my name and a star.

"Thank you, Cody baby...you're too sweet. Do you want to join me in the shower?" I asked. He jumped up...that gorgeous pipe, swinging and followed me into the shower. I don't really share showers with men. It seems intimate to me...but with Cody the shower is fun. There's no kissing and cuddling...just him washing, licking, re-washing and re-tasting until my skin had pruned and his skin had been scrubbed til it had reddened. This man had me "under arrest" against the shower, barely stable from the soapy water rippling through our feet...sucking me slip and slide style while my pussy begged for more. Face, breast and hands pressed up against the shower door as he damn near lifted me off my feet with each suck. I was licking frosted glass because it was so good!

I can’t express enough the fact that my job has MANY perks. I find that I’m almost always enjoying a trip or vacation of some kind on little to no funds of my own. I can afford to travel, but I never have to worry about doing so. When the boss asks me to consult, confirm and close...I do so, at the company’s expense. I’m one of their best and I’m also one of their most-loved reps. The clients love me and request my presence as a preference. Having said that...all I came to Nashville for was to consult with a client at her home, attend a few galas, and enjoy a few hoe downs. Well...I guess, I did in a way. Jacqueline Hunter with her typical big hair and signature [albeit, designer] cowgirl boots...wanted me to enjoy a week at her massive ranch-style mansion and enjoy the stables, grounds and luxury amenities at her expense. It was a gorgeous home and I enjoyed my stay. She was a gracious hostess and made sure that anything I wanted, I got. What she didn't expect was for me to help myself to her husband’s nephew. Cody had sashayed in wearing chaps and a cowboy hat and at first glance I chuckled. Some people REALLY DID live this country life. A farm full of cows, chickens, goats, pigs, horses, and such aren't pictures in a book. They were right in front of me...the sounds, the smells...and this very handsome white boy giving me Urban Cowgirl dreams.

The first time Cody and I spent time together was when Jacqueline’s husband, Roger invited me to come ride with the family. They picked a horse for me, saddled it and made sure I had the appropriate gear to wear. I was nervous. I cracked jokes about how strong the horse needed to be. How he probably hadn't been used to big girls with brown skin. Jacqueline and Roger assured me that it had less to do with that and everything to do with matching the horse’s calm spirit and allowing him to lead me with my own timely but gentle steering. I learned on that trip to not self deprecate for laughs. In different settings it comes off as being uncultured, and others find themselves cringing in embarrassment by your own insecure feelings. I learned to let go and be Elle.

As we were leaving the stables, I spotted Cody...spotting me. He’d been lovingly stroking the mane of beautiful mare and had made eye contact with me. As my horse, “Sunflower” trotted away...I smiled at him sweetly and went on my way.

After an hour of riding and sightseeing, we returned to the stables. Before I could join Jacqueline and the rest of her children going back to the house...Cody cleared his throat and spoke. “*ahem*...Hi there, ma’am. I just wanted to tell you that you are so darn beautiful. Your skin is so smooth looking...” he uttered shyly. I smiled and said, “Why thank you...and your name is?” He smiled widely and I saw the whitest, straightest teeth and noticed that he had full lips. He was something like a Channing Tatum clone, but with curly blonde hair. “...Cody. Cody Graham. Nice to meet you...and your name is?” “Oh! I’m Elle. E-L-L-E...” I said as I extended mine to meet the one seemingly frozen in mid-air. “Like the magazine?” he asked. “Yes...just like that.”

HOW I ended up bent over grabbing my ankles for support while he fucked me country-style behind the stables and a towering shield of hay bales...was beyond me.  “Oh shit...oh wait, no, hold on...oooh yeaaa...oh what the hell are you fucking me with?” He was so big. I was running and he was pulling me back by gathering the hem of my flowing top, which was beginning to choke me. I felt light-headed as he was pounding into me but was helpless to do anything. My pussy was soaked and I could feel the coolness of the breeze on my wet thighs. “Oh GOD...DAMN!” he said repeatedly. He must have felt my top beginning to give way and that’s when he released it and grabbed my waist. His hands were gripping my waist and pulling me in and out...I felt like a rag doll. He released his tensions into me and as he felt me come with him in a violent shake of my lower half, he reached around and pressed down firmly on my clit. When he let me go and I stood up, my back felt broken. I stumbled and he caught me. He giggled a little and asked, “Are you okay, Elle?” I looked at him with blurred vision and said, “Fuck yea...”

That began the week long fuck fest between Cody and I. I was shocked when that man took my orgasm to the next level with his tongue on the third night of my stay. This happened the night after  we first had sex.

I was in my room (thank God that Jacqueline had the genius of mind to give me a room in a separate wing of her home for my privacy). I had just had dinner with the family and decided to go and do some last minute business stuff. I had to conference with my boss Peter and his boss Amelia. We sat on the three-way for about 20 minutes with a summary of how things had gone at the meeting with Jacqueline the first day I got here. I ALWAYS make the initial meeting with my clients on the first day of my arrival so as to get the business out of the way. We tie up loose ends and use whatever time left in my visit to enjoy the scenery. In all truth...most times, I just come home. Anyway, there I am...newly showered after all the business fuss is over. I’m nodding slightly after trying to text Collette back...when there’s a knock at the French doors. I jumped out of my sleep immediately and threw on my robe. I looked past the thick drapery and saw Cody’s smiling face. I unlocked and opened the door and greeted him all while feeling to see how unkempt my hair might be. “You don’t have to worry, Elle...you look like an angel...” he said as he eyed my sleepwear underneath my open robe. I had on a long tank, that really only stopped at the top of my thighs...I had no panties on. He walked straight over to the room’s door and locked it. Cody then turned around and winked at me. I clutched my robe closed almost as if I was afraid of what came next. He sat down in the chair next to mine facing the plasma television mounted on the wall. I sat silently waiting for him to speak. He didn't. Instead, he fell to his knees out of the chair and crawled the short distance between the two seats to me. The look Cody gave me when he slid his frame between my knees was one of asking. His eyes asked me could he be there and I answered by parting them. He ran his hands back and forth over my skin from knee to thigh and said in the sweetest accent, “Geez, you’re soft...I’m about to bust wide open from the way your skin feels, Elle...” I blushed and moaned. He was turning me on and he’d done nothing more than caress me. His hands moved underneath my knees and he pulled me forward which made my tank rise above my waist. He removed my robe and threw it over the other chair. He placed his hands underneath my tank and massaged my breasts. I closed my eyes, tilted my head back and opened my legs wider. Not taking his hands from my nipples, now between his fingers...his tongue landed in my navel.  I felt wetness form between my lips instantly.  He trailed his tongue from my navel to my dripping space and began to paint my pussy with it. He’d lap the pearl of my sweetness and then spread it up and down with his mouth. I  wriggled in place as he softly kissed and tugged at my swollen labia. His tongue...thick, warm, wet and something like a fine instrument...went from dipping in and out of me, to licking me clean and sucking me motionless. When he finally went in on my clit, relentlessly sucking, flicking the tip of his tongue on it, with his thumb in my ass and his index finger in my pussy...I lost it.  I wanted him there and then I didn't...I fought him and pulled him in. I clamped down on his ears and spread my wings as far as I could. While he continued twisting my nipples and strumming them like guitar strings...I let out a wail that could’ve woken the dead. I covered my own mouth and continued to quake on his jaw until I was exhausted from the pleasure.

Once he'd freed himself from my hold and sat back on the floor on his elbows, licking his lips he said, “I like how soft you are...” He said this a lot during my stay. “... you've got the prettiest snatch I’ve seen...ever. Can I take a picture of it?” His request threw me off. Why, I don’t know. “Yes...” I said. I opened up my glory and he pulled out his cellphone. He snapped the pic and thanked me. Then without a word...he took out his dick, then a condom, opened the condom, placed it on and kissed my lower lips long once more. He slid himself into me and I winced...relaxed and closed my eyes again. He fucked me right in that position as I dripped excessively. Oh, DAMN did I get wet with his tool between my legs.

...and that’s how we spent every night afterwards until I left for home. Riding a cowboy.

{Cody in Nashville. 30yrs old. 10” dick. 5 out of 5 kisses + 5 out of 5 licks.

Elle's Tales: Malachi

{Malachi, 36, Tahiti}


Vacation. Something that I don't get often. Sure, I go from city to city. State to state...all for clients...and yes, in between I meet some very impressive lovers. BUT...when, I plan my own vacation I fully intend on being even more scandalous...indulging in the highest levels of debauchery for which I'm capable.


Tahiti has been in the making for a few months. After traveling back home and then to San Francisco...I wanted to parlay my down time as far away from family and familiar faces as possible. My best friend and sometimes co-hort, Collette was first up for an invitation to join me. She is a given, because we do our best "fucking up"...together. We've NEVER had an intimate moment before and we planned on keeping it that way. We've been propositioned numerous times...but, we just aren't into each other. We're tight like a virgin's legs. Period


~the trip~


I packed very lightly. This is TAHITI for sun's sake. Everything was light, flowy dresses, barely there tops and skirts, and a few thongs for when I decided underwear were necessary. The shoe game, however...stays tight. I took more pairs of heels and wedges than anything else. Nights dancing to Tahitian sounds are only as wonderful as the shoes I'm wearing. Once packed, Collette and I hopped our flight, riding clouds to the island of Tahiti.


The sights and scenery? Well, it can only be described as God's art. It's what God does in his spare time when He's got nothing better to do than perfect the color of things. I honestly got so caught up in my view from the plane and the ride to our hotel...that I forgot to snap photos. Thankfully, Collette always picks up where I leave off.


Fast forward>> We've hit our rooms (adjoining), freshened up and changed clothes for a little walk around the island we're on...Bora Bora. A lifelong dream of mine to vacation here...come true before my eyes. My camera was definitely ready for aim. I dressed in a gradient blue sleeveless wrap dress that tied right under my breasts. My floppy hat for shade, and a pair of flat sandals. At some point, Collette and I with our different interests...hers, the water...mine the island...separated. We promised to meet back in a couple of hours at the room for dinner. Both of us REALLY were just making sure that whatever we "shopped for" on the island didn't collide. We liked keeping our trysts separate from our friendship even though we were the only ones we trusted with these erotic escapades.


I ended up joining a group of tourists hiking along the scenic routes. The guide was gorgeous. He wore nothing but a sarong, beads and a traditional floral crown. There was something about him. He wasn't your average Tahitian native. I could tell from his accent. It wasn't as deep as the other islanders...making me feel kindred with him. He guided, showing the glory of his island...proudly pointing out beautiful apexes, serene waters tucked within palm trees and other exotic fauna. I was moist through the entire hike. His bare chest, flexing with every hand gesture and arm lift towards a sight...was making me want to tackle him mid-sentence and show those tourists a REAL scene. I filled my two micro chips up with plenty of evidence that I DID see some of the island. I got a mean tan and a nice work out for my calves. I gave Mr. Be Still My Pulsing Parts...one last glance and began the trek back to my lodging. I got 10 or more feet from the group when I felt his hands cup my elbow gently...


"Excuse, me Ma'am...may I have a moment?" He asked.
My eyes lit and I said, "Yes, may I help you?" I was amazed at his clearly "American" accent.
"I was wondering if you'd like to come to a traditional Tahitian dinner with me..." he asked.
I couldn't stop staring at him. His chiseled jawline, silkened and wild eyebrow, his full heart-shaped lips...all were coming together to form this splendid man looking at me...awaiting an answer.
"Um, sure...why not. I'm here for the full experience. I'd love to. Can I bring a friend?" I asked, remembering that Collette and I were supposed to eat dinner together.
"Yes, you can bring who you like. I'm sure he will enjoy the festivities as well..." he said, conspicuously fishing.
I giggled and said, "No, my friend is a woman...there is no "he" on this trip." he placed his hand on his chest dramatically, looking upward and said, "Oh, good...I would've been broken hearted to have watched you on another man's arm tonight."
Mission accomplished. I blushed, smiled, and leaked all at the same time. 
"Good...give me your room number and I will escort you and your friend to dinner."
I told him where I was staying and which "hut" I was in...and he promised to see me in a few hours.


~back at the room~


"No, I have plans, sis..." Collette said. I looked at her with that knowing look and said, "Wow, you work fast!" and laughed. She said, "...I met a local guy who wants to hook up for dinner...so, I'll have to decline your invitation." I thought about it for a split pea second and said, "GOOD...this guy is fine as frog hair...so, I REALLY don't mind being alone with him." We giggled a little. Helped each other pick out an outfit and made sure make up and hair was flawless. Collette had long, naturally wavy hair down to the small of her back. She reminded me of a very tanned East Indian. Tall with a thickened frame...Collette was the center of attention. When we met, it was like kismet that two very "visible" ladies...would gravitate and bring about a swarm of attention from every guy within eye range. Collette, literally took her hair, parted it into two's, and bow tied it. She secured it with a wooden clip in the shape of a flower and she was done. Her date, "Francois"...came through and scooped her up. They waved goodbye and off into the Tahitian sunset they went. I finished my own hair...by banana-clipping it into a mohawk. My above shoulder-length hair, curly from being dampened frizzed into a perfect do with a little covering my eye. It was hot. I had on a red floor-length halter dress made of a thin breathable cotton. It flowed when I walked, giving a peek at my red thong kitten heels.


As I was checking my reflection in the mirror...a knock came at the door. I opened it and there he was. He inhaled and breathed out aggressively as if he'd almost lost his breath. He said, "You're an angel...your physical beauty is exasperating." That's when it hit me. He IS American. I said, "Where are you from? And...what is your name?" I laughed nervously, almost ashamed I hadn't gathered this information earlier. He said, "I am from here...well, kind of. My mother is a Tahitian native, my dad an American. I've lived back and forth both places...living mostly here. I do spend a lot of time in the states, though. By the way...I'm Malachi Donovan." he said, as we left my room and walked. I smiled and eased up a little. Knowing he was from home gave me permission to relax. I asked if he was married or involved, to which he replied no. He told me of how he could've very well been heir to his dad's hometown business...printing...yet, he chose to live in Bora Bora and play native man. His parents were never married, but carried a long term affair that existed only when his father found time to vacation on Tahiti's islands. Sounded typical of American men and their often philanderous ways. I wanted to ask what nationality his father was, but I didn't want to seem crass. "What nationality is your father?" I asked, in spite of my nano second of conscience. "My father is part Irish-part Jamaican." ,he answered. "Wow..." I said. "...that seems like a pretty interesting mix of heritage you've got going there." He laughed and said, "Yes...my grandmother is Irish and my grandfather a Jamaican, straight off the banana boat." We laughed some more. We talked and giggled all of the way to a beautiful short stucco ranch home. It was butter yellow with white shutters and a brown door. Carefully tended flowers and bushes, traced the outline of the stone path leading to the door. As soon as we got within feet of the door...it swung open and a middle aged woman, standing a little taller than me, greeted me and invited me in.


Malachi's mother made a Tahitian feast to which I've never been fed so wonderfully. Who would've thought you could eat so much roasted pig, taro, peruvian blue potatoes, and some kinda meat and rice wrapped in huge leaves? We left shortly after eating to walk off the monstrous meal we'd consumed. I couldn't believe I ate so much in front of Malachi. I should've been embarrassed, but between the laughter of his family, the music, the food and the welcoming feeling...I didn't have a chance to. As we walked back to my room...we talked.


"I'm glad you enjoyed my mother's cooking...she seemed to enjoy bringing you more." he laughed
"I loved the cuisine...nothing like what I'm used to...good nonetheless." I said as I smiled girlishly.


There was something about Malachi that was different. This guy was making my stomach flip and causing my back to arch. I felt warm throughout my face and I couldn't stop smiling. He was god-like in his physical presence...his frame a testimony of what a man's physique should be. He made me want to get in shape! {lol} His long curly hair, pulled back into a ponytail...more like a set of curtains drawn for a performance. I noticed...dimples. Deeply caven into his cheeks bringing emphasis to an already gorgeous smile. His broad neck...flawlessly leading into the well-defined shape of his shoulders and arms. His lips moved...softly...perfectly...bringing about decadent whispers falling off of his tongue. I wondered if he could sing...I wondered if he'd read to me. I wondered...


"Elle? Are you okay? Where were you?" he asked
"Oh, I was wondering where Collette is right now...I mean, we don't really know our way about the island...so, I think I should go to my room and wait for her to show..." I quickly said, while walking a little faster as I saw the grouped huts come into full view.
"Oh, I was hoping we could have a drink or two...walk by the lagoon and take in the moon and water..." He said with the most disappointing tone.
"Yes...that sounds wonderful...we'll do that before I leave. I promise. I am just concerned for Collette. Tomorrow?" I asked, not really needing his reply.
"Sure...no problem. I'm glad you had a good time. My family enjoyed you. Contrary to what you may think...I don't bring every beautiful tourist woman I see to my mother's home."
I could tell he felt the need to clarify. He picked up on my haste and probably wondered whether it was some notion that came to mind in a flash concerning his romantic habits.
"No..." I said assuringly, "I didn't think you did. I just need to sleep off such a fabulous meal. Like I said...we'll definitely get together soon before I leave the island."
I hugged him, inhaled his scent for posterity, released him and went inside my room.


I avoided him for the rest of my trip. I made Collette do tourist things with me as I looked over my shoulder...seeing Malachi in every Tahitian man's face. I knew...if I spent ONE more moment with that man...I'd fall in love.


{Malachi. 36. Tahiti. No rating can describe him...}

Elle's Tales: India

{India, 40, San Francisco, CA}


I haven't had a girl in a while. I don't really crave women much anymore...but, they LOVE me. I remember the woman who walked up to me in the department store as I was in line to try on a dress. She, behind me...leans forward and whispers, "Let me help you into and OUT of that baby..." I did, too. She came right into my changing room with me, pretending to know me and ate my pussy from behind while I watched in the mirror. Afterward...she took off my clothes sweetly, put the dress on me, placed my breasts nicely into it and zipped it. She said it looked gorgeous on me...and bought it. I have her number still. She has definitely eaten at Elle's more than a few times. I even let her fuck me with a strap-on...she likes that shit. That was several years ago though when I was straight out of college. Since her, I haven't been with another female...


...til, India...


I was visiting my sister Dahlia in San Fran. She moved out there right after her own graduation from college and subsequent engagement to her now husband, Kenton...a big time real estate investor. They have 3 children...one of which is my soon-to-be born niece, Lillian Sky. I'm here for the shower and to also handle some convenient business for my bosses. When they saw I would be in San Fran, they immediately found two different clients that needed to be consulted with. I'd spend a day or two doing business and the rest of the week basking in my sister's pregnancy and quality time with my niece, Mikole (9) and nephew, KJ (4). 


First day in, was business...after doing what I do, the clients were satisfied with what the home office wanted to discuss and waived any reason to meet again while I was in San Fran. I decided after leaving my client's offices...to go touring. It'd been so long since I'd been to San Francisco and wanted to experience the cable cars and wonderful views. I always got swept up with family plans. I made sure my digital camera had ample memory and battery power and hopped aboard a car going down Market Street. I stood, camera mounted at chin level, ready for the most picturesque shots I could capture...when, SHE bumped into me. I'm still not sure if I believe it was an accident...but, it happened.


"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit you..." she said.
"No problem, close quarters." I replied, going back to my views...I barely looked at her.


A moment passed and she said, "You smell so good, what is that fragrance?" I looked back at her and was amazed at this woman's near perfect looks. Taller than me by a few inches, she was what had to be a mix of things...olive tone, light brown eyes, super curly lashes and full lips with highlighted brown, curly hair, closely cropped. Not looking a bit of the 40yrs I found out she was. Without pausing, I said, "It's a mixture of two. One is a citrus oil...the other is an oil called "Patchouli". I get them from a small shop where I'm from." She leaned in closely...waving her nose in the vicinity of my collarbone. "Mmmm, I could lick you..." she said smiling. I said, "Wow...did you say that? Out loud?" She leaned in again and said, "My name is India...and yes, I said it. You'd let me, too...I can tell." By then, my nipples were peeking at her through my sleeveless silk blouse and I began clinching my thighs together to keep any stray seepings from getting loose. I smiled and said, "My name is Elle...nice to meet you, India." I was indeed deflecting. I hadn't been with a woman in several years...and though the experience was stellar...I simply couldn't carry on an ongoing affair with another woman. I crave the strength of a man between my thighs. Ms. India, though? She was putting moves on me...and I was losing ground.


She reached in her purse and extracted a card. "Here you go...you can call me if you decide that you need an expert to handle your needs." And with that, she exited the cable car and sashayed up the hill and out of sight. I was blown away by her walk and until I couldn't see her anymore, I watched her soar away like some exotic bird.


When I got back to Dahlia's we ate and did some errands. We couldn't have been back more than a few minutes when her friend Vivian called. Dahlia had her on speaker...as if she needed it. She was loud as fuck. "Yea Dahlee (as we all called her)...come over so we can meet your sis. Me and the girls are here. We have liquor...JUICE for you...and food. PLENTY of food. We're having a pre-shower shower for you! haha." Dahlia said, "My sister is sitting right here...it's up to her. She's visiting, so it's her family time, Viv..." I shook my head no and then said, "No way, it's up to the guest of honor...I'll go wherever she goes." I said. We agreed to go to Viv's and kick it for a while with her girls.


Vivian's house was nice. A classic Victorian style...very popular in San Fran painted peach with white trim. Stepping INSIDE was something different. Absolutely contemporary. She had a very specific taste...and I could tell she might be anal...well, OCD. *snickering*


"WELCOME!" Viv yelled. She's even louder in person...damn. She cackled, hugged Dahlia and then me. I was introduced to everyone in the room by the human megaphone as we entered the spacious living room. "Hey everyone, this is Elle...Dahlia's sister. Elle, this is Sienna, Morgan, Essence, Theresa and Theresa's sister, India..." Well...well...well. I thought. There stood the beautiful India...looking like a piece of Viv's contemporary art. Everyone waved, shook my hand or hugged...but, India and I nodded and diverted glances back to other people. I was nervous through the serving of dinner and through the games. I won the word scramble and the "what's in your bag?" game...I carry EVERY thing but the kitchen sink, unless you want to count wipes and sanitizer a sink. As cupcakes were being given out with sparkling wine (apple cider for Dahlee)...India came and sat down next to me. She asked me to come with her for a second. Her sister, Theresa watched us intently. Clearly, she's aware of her sister's "taste" in lovers and wondered if I, too...were swinging "that-a-way". I didn't care what she thought...I'm free to be Elle, so I got up and followed India into a spare room in Viv's 4 bedroom home. I figured maybe she wanted to discuss quickly where we could meet or whether she wanted for the people in the room to know her persuasion. When we got into the room, India threw me up against the wall and slipped her hand under my skirt. I didn't do SHIT. I just let her handle me. I had dudes handle me with more care than this chick...but it was doing something for the tingle in my spine. She told me to spread my legs, as she fingered her way through my crevice. She was literally holding me against the wall with one hand palming my right breast as she dug for my gold with the other. She then finally met eyes with me...no expression at all, until she saw my eyes roll back and my legs tremble. Only then did she smile. She said, "I'm not finished..." She bent down and tongue-fucked me while people walked to and fro past this bedroom. I heard people asking where we were and got nervous...but the sounds funneled out with her hungry licks and nibbles on my clit. She kept going back and forth between sucking my lips, clit and thighs...placing her thumb in my pussy and her middle finger in my ass...twisting my nipples with her free hand and humming in a low tone that made my legs rock back and forth from buckling to standing straight. I was bouncing before I knew it and she quickened her pace. This chick was WORSE than a man. The way she did this, made me feel like a man was between my legs. I started moaning lightly in a weirdly symphonic way. When I came on her tongue...she stood up, kissed me and licked both fingers. I looked down to see if my legs were still there and all I saw was drips of my cum on Viv's wood floor.


India disappeared into the adjoining bathroom...gargled and wiped her face. I went and cleaned up (including a quick swab to the floor beneath me). India returned to the front...and not long afterward, Dahlia came to the door, knocked and entered. I was sitting on the chair fixing my shoe. "Um, Lil One...what the hell happened in here? Did India come onto you?" she asked. I looked my sister in her face and said, "No, but I came ON her..." My sister burst into laughter and said, "Oh my Lord...my sister is a Lesbian!!". I giggled some more and said, "No, not really. I've had experiences with a few women, but I fully love and enjoy men more." She seemed okay with knowing that for the first time...and together we returned to the front. India winked and smiled while sipping from her wine glass. The rest of the ladies just stared and smiled. Eventually, the shock in the air dissipated and we continued on laughing and drinking until we parted ways. We saw each other again at Dahlee's baby shower and then I left. I DID however promise her that next time was HER turn. I would mount that Amazonian beauty about 9 weeks later when my niece was born. India, my sweet India. I have to be careful with her...she had me eying San Francisco real estate for a hot second...~phew~


{India. 40yrs. San Francisco. Thick and long tongue. 5 out of 6 licks}

Next, on Passion's Fruit...lol

It's been a while since I posted...and honestly I haven't posted for a lot of personal reasons. 2010 has been a doozy...but, I'm trying to get back on my writing grind.


Coming in the New Year...there will be more of Elle's Tales posted. I "think" I lost my sexy this year...but I'm looking for it with a flood light!


I hope everyone has enjoyed their holiday and will meet me back here for the New Year 2011 with some more passion.


Love and Sensual Kisses, 


~Kween

Elle's Tales: Qua

{Qua, 31, Hometown, Nunya}


I travel so much, that I never get to drive my own car. I am a car rental's dream. Thankfully, my company picks up the tab and I don't do anything but gas it. (On some occasions...I'm reimbursed)...still, it's a pretty sweet deal. Yet, my customized Range Rover begs to be driven at times. I work so unreasonably close to where I live, that driving would be lazy. I walk the barely 20 minute walk to work every day and my calves are killer because of it. TODAY...is me and my baby's day. So for my trip...a wash, a full tank, vitamin water, Wheat Thins for snacking, iPod, phone and charger... are all required must-haves for the 2-hour drive I'm taking to my hometown to visit the family.


Going home isn't something I do often. Not just because I'm busier than the hottest hoe on the stroll...but, because my hometown holds bittersweet memories of love and innocence lost, nasty whispers and a father who is moderately disappointed in the aforementioned. Rev. Thorne is perpetually disappointed. It's like his lot in life is to frown harshly on everything his family does. I don't even think it's because he actually IS disappointed...but, because it's what "men of the cloth" are supposed to do...be hardest on their families. My mother on the other hand is an excellent "first lady" with the patience of Job. She often shakes her head in shame of how my father uses his "tongue of doom" upon his children. I am the youngest, if you hadn't guessed...and yes, I'm spoiled as hell. Somehow, though...my father reserves and casts his most poisonous aspersions onto me and my "lifestyle". He hates that I travel so much...mostly alone...and says that I will forget the ways of my upbringing being thrown into the world so regularly. If only he REALLY knew. I could REALLY go without the lectures, but my mother begged me for this visit...and like I said, my "baby" craves a good drive.


The drive wasn't too bad...I managed to sing my way all the way home. My favorite driving song of all time is Nina Simone's "Sinnerman"...it just gets your fingers and feet tapping and clears the road for acceleration. Once home, I pulled into mom and dad's driveway and on cue, they both appeared hand in hand at the door.  My childhood home is a red two-story craftsman, shutters on windows included...a family's home. It was my paternal grandfather's house. My dad has renovated it twice...once adding an extra room to the back and again when giving mom her dream kitchen. The garden has always been upkept as well as the wonderful fish pond dug up by "Grampa Thorne" when my dad was a kid. On sight, my mom outstretches her arms. "Hey baby..." mom, says. Dad hugs me and eyes me for a sec. "Hey baby girl...not missing any meals, huh?". Mom (as usual)...slaps dad's arm and says,"Winston! Your tongue!". He pinches my arm fat and says, "She knows I'm just kidding...give dad another hug". I oblige, but remember to make him pay for his remark with some kind of unnecessary loan.


We sit and talk, as mom offered coffee cake (which I declined for obvious reasons) and no sooner than dad opens his mouth to start grilling me...the doorbell rings. I decide to answer...and there stood, Qua. "WOW...L******..." he says using my full name. "...you look amazing..." he drools. Qua's family  has lived next door for years...and truthfully, the last time "I" saw him was when I left for school nearly 12 years ago. He had been away to school himself, but was home for that summer. I was still getting over "O" and wasn't eying anything that didn't look like a walking sexual escape. I never saw Qualiq like that. He was like fam...LIKE fam, I said to myself. *hmmm* This dude is looking damned good. DARK chocolate...bald head, THICK as fuck...oh shit. I haven't even replied yet! "Oh, hey Qua...I almost didn't recognize you...come in." I say as he reaches and hugs me. When he wraps his arms around me he whispers in my ear, "Mmm girl...I like this thick shit...". I was shocked...and my panties filled with my leaking sex. I had to regroup...I mean, I'm standing in REV. THORNE'S house...my DAD. I braced myself and as Qua was greeting the 'rents...I snatched my bag off the couch and scurried off to the bathroom down the hall. I pulled down my shorts and GEEZ my panties were no more good. I just took them off, washed them in the sink and balled them in my hand. After leaving the bathroom, I flew upstairs and hung them in my old room to dry. WOW...this is unexpected. How do I go back downstairs and look him in his slanted light-brown eyes and not TOTALLY destroy my shorts. I came with NOTHING else to change into. This was supposed to be just a day's excursion..who the hell is planning for their pussy to get wet while lunching with their parents? I hear my dad bellow my name. "L*******!!! Come and join us for lunch...Qua is going to stay, too!" HELP ME!! I think. I yell okay and go back downstairs. I smooth my shorts, the flowing off-the-shoulder blouse I was wearing AND my unruly curls. I wobbled back down to the awaiting eyes...and sure enough...Qua's and mine met. Almost as if she could see the tension and the need for us to release it...my mother said, "Shoot, I forgot to buy the lemons for my orange-lemonade...do you mind going, Elle?" She was the only one who called me that...I loved it. "Yes, mom...I'll go. I'll be right back." I flew out of there like a whore out of church. As soon as I chirped my alarm off, I heard Qua say, "Wait, L******...I'll go. Damn, is this you?" he asked pointing at my baby. "Yes, it is..." I replied. His eyes widened and then he pointed over to the Range Rover parked in his driveway...his and mine opposite in colors...something like our skintones. My baby was cream on cream...his black on black. I said, "Cool! Jump in...let's go."


The store was about 15mins away on the highway. The entire time I was driving...I could feel Qua's eyes moving up my thighs, over my arms and across my breasts. I was so nervous that I missed the exit and had to drive to the next one to get off...a whole 10mins down the road. He snickered and said, "I'm sorry...I've been throwing you off your square since you opened the door...why is that?" he asked devilishly. I said, "You were never...I guess, I never saw you as...attractive. I mean, NOT that you're not handsome...but, we were always neighbors...and kinda like family, so..." I said stumbling over explanations. He said, "It's okay...I get it. Besides...I remember how into that guy, Omar you were...you didn't have TIME to notice little old me." Why was this dude mentioning HIS name? I never mentioned HIS name...NEVER. That turned me off and I found myself off the next exit and making my way back to the market. I said, "Well...I am grown up now and he's the furthest thing from my mind...next." Qua threw his hands up and said, "I'm sorry...didn't mean to overstep." As he was conceding to my annoyed state...I was pulling into the lot. He offered to get out and purchase the lemons. I let him. I needed a moment. I sat and seethed while he got out and walked in. I was then taken back in time. I remembered the incident after finding out HE had been fucking all my "friends" and some of my family...and I actually felt a tear fall. I wiped it away and said aloud, "Fuck that...fuck, Omar." I hadn't said his name in years. I gathered myself together as quickly as possible and with that Qua exited the store with mom's lemons. The drive back to the house was decidedly quiet. Qua asked once if I was okay, and I lied, "...yes."


Lunch was served. Eventually through the meal I got my mind right and was smiling and laughing with everyone. My older brother Evan popped in with his two little girls and stayed for a sec. Qua decided after Evan showed up to go home. He wanted me to enjoy my family time...he'd only came over to tell my dad that he'd finished fixing the carpenter's cart he promised to. My dad said, "Baby, walk Qua out...thank you...and thank YOU, Qua for fixing my cart." Qua waved and said, "No problem, Rev. Thorne...my pleasure. Good night everyone."


I walked out the door into the now dusking day and noticed such a beautiful sky of orange-pink and light blue...the sun is setting. Qua says, "I'm sorry if my mentioning your ex brought any pain today...it was small talk, but I should've been more careful." I looked at him in the view of the porch's motion light...and said, "It's okay...I realized today that I am not as over things as I thought I was. I've been masking pain with so many other things...and today, I got a rude awakening as to how deep that hurt still runs. For that, Qua...thank you." I hugged him and he inhaled my Euphoria perfume...held me a little tighter and said, "Let me make you feel better?" I didn't even say yes or no. He took my hand...led me off my parent's porch and across our yards...to the other side of his house where the hedges were over eight feet tall. He pushed me gently against the side of the house, pulled the elastic border of my blouse down...freeing my breasts. He began sucking them, while finding his hands down my shorts...he looked at me in the darkening day and smiled at finding no underwear. He rubbed my pussy front to back, gathering my juices on his fingers and dipping into me. I closed my eyes, tilted my head back and let this man please me. He manipulated my nipples with his tongue and one hand, while fingering my pussy into submission. My legs widened and I unbuttoned my shorts. I let them hit the ground as I pulled his head into the center of my breasts. He bent down, placed my leg over his shoulder and slurped up all of me. In the distance I could hear my mother calling my name...almost as if it were a tunnel between us. I didn't stop...neither did Qua. He sucked on me until his dick begged to break free of his pants. Qua was also VERY prepared. It was like, sometime between lunch and going to get my dad's carpenter cart...he'd slipped protection into his pocket. Nice. He ripped it with his teeth, I removed it and put it on his dick. YES, this man had GIRTH. I've had his length before but not this wide. He lifted ME up against the house and dropped me gingerly onto himself. I relaxed, while he opened my ass cheeks with both hands and as he pumped, he got all of himself into me. He bounced me up and down and I moaned...LOUDLY as the thunderous clapping of my skin and his echoed in the night. He fucked me SO hard up against his house that someone heard and turned the light on in his living room. That's when he put me down, and led me to the back of the house and into the basement's patio doors. He turned around, dick still out and swinging and placed his finger over his mouth. I nodded. He sat down and motioned for me to get on top. I did, and oooh did it hurt at first. I had my screw face on as I worked him back into me...mmmm. I went for broke. I rode him better than I'd ridden anyone in a while. His dick made me create moves my body didn't know before. He was the loud one now...so, I put a nipple in his mouth. I sped up my groove until I felt my legs get weak and I couldn't ride anymore. He flipped me over on my side and brought it HOME. I came all over his dick...the couch...and myself. I laid there briefly, as he retrieved my shorts from the side of the house. I cleaned up in his bathroom and replaced my clothing. He kissed me and said, "Welcome home, Lilliana".


I found my way back to my parent's house...and to my surprise my dad made no funny remarks. I guess he trusted what I said when I told him I was just saying bye to Qua. He really trusts him.


My mom packed food...a jug of her orange-lemonade and some of the coffee cake I turned down and I hit the road. As I was pulling away from the house, my pussy throbbed with painful glee. I think I drove home sitting almost sideways. Me and my baby got out today...and we both had a HELL of a ride. You CAN go home again.


{Qua in my Hometown. 31yrs old. 9" copper pipe. (adding a 6th kiss to the scoring). 6 out of 6 kisses on nostalgia purposes alone}

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...