It’s that time again! Time for another Smut for Good Blog Hop! This time it’s all about Fun in the Sun, and with the days getting longer and the temperatures rising, who isn’t thinking about enjoying a little al fresco friskiness? All you have to do is follow the links below to join in the fun with chances to win prizes galore and make a difference in a positive way by helping raise money for RNLI Lifeboats.
Smut for Good: Fun In the Sun is a blog hop with prizes galore to raise money for RNLI Lifeboats as a part of Smut By the Sea. To find more fun in the sun and seek out further prizes, please visit http://smutforgood.co.uk , and if you can please visit the Smut for Good Fun in the Sun Just Giving page http://www.justgiving.com/funsun and donate whatever you can to help us reach our target of £100 to support the RNLI http://rnli.org/ who help those not having fun in the sun!
I’m adding my only little prizey to the list. Leave a comment for your chance to win a copy of my outdoorsy, fun romp, Surrogates. And to titillate and inspire you, check out the naughty excerpt below.
DANIEL ALEXANDER III takes his marriage vows seriously. Until he gets the balls to ask his wife, BEL, for a divorce, watching each other masturbate is all he can offer his beautiful gardener, FRANCIE CARTER. But when Dan’s friend, SIMON PARIS, agrees to be his surrogate, affairs of the heart get complicated.
‘I’ve always thought clearly,’ Francie said. ‘I’ve always been the one who lets logic rule, the level-headed one. That was before this happened.’ She glanced down at her watch, then stood and paced back and forth in front of the love seat. The sunlight rendered the skirt of her dress transparent, revealing the curve of her buttocks and the way the thong settled in between them against all the places he wanted to kiss and touch and make love to. It revealed the tiny V of lace covering her soft tight curls, nestling protectively above the part of her he wanted to open and spread and taste like sweet fruit.
He had just shifted to give his cock a little more space in the bind of his jeans when his cell phone beeped into the tight summer air, and they both jumped.
He yanked it from his pocket, and she came to his side. ‘Is it from Dan?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘He’s not coming.’
‘What do you mean, he’s not coming?’ Francie grabbed the phone away from him and read:
Must cancel. Have an emergency meeting. Will make it up to you.
She handed the phone back to Simon and sat rigid on the edge of the love seat. He could see her pulse hammering in her neck. He could see the rise and fall of her throat as she swallowed hard. But there were no tears.
‘I should go then,’ he said softly.
She didn’t reply, only sat there without looking at him.‘I can’t make it tomorrow. I’m in Guildford all day.’ He could smell her, like he could smell lavender in a garden at high summer long before he could see it. The smell of her sex he had memorised from the very first time he held her in his arms, but the rest of her scent had unfolded itself to him more slowly. The smell of outdoors was always on her, the smell of earth, the smell of clean female sweat. All of it, the whole of her, the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed, the cadence of her breath, the heat radiating from her body, all of those things, settled around him tight-fitting and raw. ‘I need to go,’ he said again, resting a hand on the curve of her shoulder.
‘No you don’t. You don’t need to go.’ She shrugged off his hand, popped up off the love seat and headed out the door of the summer house at a fast trot, leaving her garden shoes behind.
Still barefoot himself, he followed her across the warm grass out past the rose garden, down over the hill into the mini wilderness that would become the Renaissance garden, and down to the deep pool at the edge of the stream. She undid the tie at the side of her dress and shrugged it off without breaking pace, stepping out of her thong and giving it a toss before she moved into the calm deep of the water, then dived under. For the tiniest fraction of a second, he feared she might mean herself harm. But she surfaced before he could even get his T-shirt off. She floated with her head back and the tips of her nipples breaking the surface. ‘Well?’ she called out. ‘Are you coming or not? You can swim, can’t you?’
‘Of course I can swim.’ He stripped off and stepped into the bright glare of the water. He was already erect, and her watching him did nothing to ease the pressure. ‘You know what’ll happen if I catch you?’ he said, nodding down to his cock.
She swam towards him in an easy crawl stroke. ‘You’re assuming you’ll have to catch me,’ she said, and then she dove. It wasn’t until he felt a tug on his hips and her mouth tightening around his cock that he figured out what she was up to.
‘Jesus,’ he gasped as she cupped and gently squeezed his balls. His feet were just barely touching ground. She seemed to be slowly pulling him with the nips and tugs of her mouth deeper and deeper until he had to tread water to keep his head from going under, careful not to kick her as he did so. And still she didn’t surface.
‘Francie,’ he grunted. ‘Francie don’t stay down too long.’ But fuck, it felt so good, it felt so dangerously out of control as she sucked his cock then cupped his buttocks, then fingered his anus. Damn it! He wanted to bear down, he wanted to thrust, but the water held him in precarious weightlessness, and still she sucked and fondled. ‘Oh God, Francie! Good Christ, Francie please.’
One finger was buried knuckle-deep in his arsehole while the other hand kneaded his balls right on the border between pain and pleasure. And her mouth! Fuck, her mouth had him gripped and sucked in a tight wet paradise with her tongue flicking over the underside of his cock, and still she didn’t surface.
‘Francie… Francie enough!’ He grabbed her under the armpits and hauled her up. She surfaced enough to take a deep drag of air then she took his mouth, pulling him under in the process. And she held him there, her mouth on his, tongue darting, teeth nipping, gulping at him, and he gulped back even as his lungs cried out for oxygen. And just when he thought he’d have to manhandle her into shallow waters, she gave a powerful kick, moved into position, wrapped her legs around him, and his cock slipped into her tight grip just as his feet touched solid ground and the water broke over their heads. Oxygen raced back into starving lungs, taken in through their noses as they continued to eat and lap and nip at each other’s mouths. He took her face in his hands and pulled her away enough that he could look into her eyes. ‘Jesus, Francie, you scared me. I thought we were drowning.’
‘We are, Simon,’ she said, biting his lower lip then tightening her grip around his waist and matching his thrust. ‘We are drowning.’ He could tell by the tremors that began around his cock and shivered up her spine that she was coming. Her grip was far too tight and demanding for him not to follow suite.
They crawled to the grass at the edge of the stream, collapsed into each other’s arms and fell asleep. When he woke up, the sun was setting and she was gone. He went to her cottage and knocked, but her car was gone and the place was dark and silent. There was nothing to do but go home and hope that he hadn’t ruined everything. But then it was hardly his fault, was it? He really did try to practice some restraint. Somehow that didn’t make him feel any better.