Lord of the Rings: LegolasbyMy Erotic Tail©

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DISCLAIMER:

The story is al fictional parody - it's not true, nor is it approved of by the celebrities named in the stories. Authors write these fictitious stories about famous people for the same reason that Larry Flynt made fun of Jerry Falwell, because they can. The Supreme Court of the United States, the country where this site is located, has ruled that parodies involving famous people are perfectly and totally legal under the United States Constitution. The specific case law on this was decided in the case of "Hustler Magazine, Inc. et al. v. Jerry Falwell" in 1988. No harm is intended toward the celebrities featured in these stories, but they are public figures and in being so, they must accept that they are fair target for parodies by the public. We believe in the first amendment, and more broadly, in the basic principle of free speech and this section may push the boundaries of that principle, but the United States Supreme Court has approved of this type of material. We believe that the Supreme Court was correct in their decision.

Lord of the Rings: Legolas and the Ring of Passion

The sounding surf was deafening that graced the beaches of Triten Bay. Waves crashed at the water's break and white swells rolled. The wind whispered as it passed in constant sandy gusts.

Lying on the sand, face turned slightly from the water's splash, Legolas swayed in the ocean's edge. Unconscious, he floated to a halt on the morning sun's beach. Slight surges from the sea's surf pressed him to land a bit more.

Lying lifeless on the sand with his Bow tightly fisted in his grasp. His breathing shallow and movement none. Soaked from the sea his clothes clung to him. His quiver still attached and half full of long feathered arrows.

The sound of four feet on wet sand came near. Legolas raised his head ankle high and let out a powerful sigh. The gracious beauty of a leg, with a thin chain of silver and a little red stone, churned his desire in a moment's glance. The sweet foot's big toe had a gold band around it. His body went limp, passing out again. His eyes closed to the sight of four bare feet nearby.

......................

His eyes opened to the sun's blinding light through a round window. Turning his head to shield his sight he saw a beautiful Maiden at his side, knitting. Her head darted in surprise as Legolas arose. She jumped to her feet and ran to the door, shouting in a language not known to this elfin.

Legolas stirred but his body was too weak. Sitting up proper was such a strain. He settled for upright when he felt he was not clothed. Pulling the covers to him tight, he glanced around for his belongings. The room was of living but strange things were throughout. Odd shaped glass and chairs of twining branch and vine. Doors and round windows and arches throughout the structured room. A plush cushion bed which he lay upon with a thick cover quilt and pillows full of feathers.

The maiden returned quickly with a man of red hair. Giant in size and wearing green, yet his words seemed gentle as a lamb, "Org oh zine?"

"I'm sorry I do not understand," Legolas struggled to say. His throat was parched and the sea salt taste was still strong.

"Bine yu fot un," The giant man with red hair and green clothes spat.

Legolas gripped his throat and pointed at it. The beautiful blonde haired maiden quickly poured a mug of liquid and handed it to Legolas. She then settled behind the giant again, peering out from behind him with silken skin and softening eyes.

Legolas smiled at her pretty facial charm and drank from the goblet's rim. His eyes squinted from the sun's shining beam. The sun's rays were burst through the round window as if the design were intent. The spotlight aimed to cover only the bed. Peering was the giant of hair that was auburn-red.

His hands on his hips and speaking in a foreign tongue seem so distant from the glances Legolas made at the fair maiden he was drawn to. A slight smile to her he gave. The giant man began to rant and rave. "Peen don fi ni," He yelled.

"I am Legolas, my father was Thanduil, of the Sindarin Elves of the woodland realm. My friends and I are on a quest with the Hobbit who keeps the ring." Legolas managed his words and drank again. His eyes like magnets drawn to the maiden's beauty.

"Hon di quin," the giant man shouted as he turned to leave. The round door shut and the maiden just stood. Her eyes were of big pearls with soft blue spots. Waves in her hair that twisted and curled. Only heightened by her upward smile on rosy red lips. Her fingers were adorned with many rings shiny. As was her earrings of large ovals made of silver and gold. Her standing was long but her looks were longer.

Legolas placed his goblet down next to the bed. Turning his head he slighted a smile to the maiden of beauty. She returned the glow in her facial expression. Finally she sat back in her chair of intertwined vines and went back to her knitting. She began a humming delight that took Legolas's fancy. Her eyes darted his way with short comforting smiles.

"My mother used to sing when I was but a nymph in size," Legolas prized. His smile grew as her tune relaxed the muscles and tension that the situation demised. She hummed with such charm that Legolas settled deeper in his bedding's plain.

His thoughts began racing as the body settled. "What of Gimli and Aragorn?" He questioned quietly. "We have survived and fought in the battle of Hornburg. After the War of the Ring, we journeyed, Gimli and I to visit the Glittering Caves and Fangorn Forest. In the Year 120 FO, after the death of Aragorn, I sailed over the sea, taking Gimli the dwarf with me."

"We have fought in the Battle of the Pelennor Fields; while in Gondor. The battle of all battles we fought the War of the Ring." Legolas turned to the maiden with clinched fist and gritting teeth. Intensely recalling his endeavors.

The Maiden rose and stepped yet slightly floating to his bed side and reaching out she took his fist and gently wrapped her long soft fingers around his hand. Legolas's worries melted like ice in the sun. His soul seemed recharged with love and joy. Her tender touch electrified and grew warm. Her eyes closed as she hummed one long tone.

Legolas drifted into another realm of mental plains. The clouds seem to uphold him while gently holding his hand was the maiden. He interlaced his fingers in hers as he pulled her close to his lips. Her finger from her other hand laid softly upon them. He kissed it just the same but with a slight confused and puzzled look.

Her finger pointed in front of them as he looked below the cloudy floor. There in a field was Gimli, chasing the youth of a village in playful jests. Legolas smiled at the vision.

"Your friend is well and intriguing," the sound filled Legolas's head but not his ears for the sound was telepathic. The maiden's lips never moved only smiled enchantingly. Gripping each others hands lightly and sensually. Binding together and nearing each other.

The maiden leaned slowly, her eyes remaining open, and kissed Legolas upon the lips lightly. He returned her motion and kissed her back with passion and haste. Tightly, their hand's and finger's grasp became stronger. The curly hair maiden pulled back slightly from his lips and looked down through the swirling clouds. Legolas looked down then back at the Maiden that now had closed her eyes and was chanting.

The color went from green of a brightly grassed meadow to a swirling blue of light and dark. White streaks swirled in as if clouds circled the color until the focus became clearer of an ocean swell of a raging sea. The large boulder darted before Legolas in the thick fog. The sound of crushing hull and splintered wood. Then bodies scattered throughout the sea bobbing, floating, and cries of distressed men.

The boat quickly submerged and people swam to the nearest floating device. Legolas saw himself holding fast to a small drifting plank. Then the beach with the surf pounding him before pushing him gently to shore. The ankle seem so close that had a silver chain and a red stone. There was before him the toe with gold band. The tightening of her hand made him glance into her eyes. She gave a slight smile then her jest to look down again as she closed her eyes tight.

Legolas looked down at the Maiden's ankle and saw the chain dangling on her with a flash of reflection from the red stone. The Maiden opened her eyes and smiled at the elf. His heart became enflamed with her glance of seduction which came just before her lips enveloped his.

Their hands separated as they pulled to each other and embraced. Legolas felt a change as he looked and saw the puffy quilt over him and the Maiden in the bed with no sun beaming down. Her bare leg ran along his as her smile grew and the warmth from her body was comforting. The feel of metal made him curiously raise the covers. His stiffened muscle was bound by a ring. The gold band was around his muscle of love and his brow wrinkled from not understanding.

"'Tis the custom of my people to wear a ring of love if love is what you wish." Her mouth never moved but his understanding was coherent. Her words were absorbed like a sponge does the water. His grin was for the thought of a fancy that was tickled. He wrapped his arms around the fair Maiden and snuggled deeply in the plush quilt. Embedding himself in her fully and the ring on his base brought him delight as it grew tight.

His lips to hers as they pressed ever so lightly. Gracing the other with tongue and flesh as their bodies meshed. The ring of his cock pleasured him physically, but the maiden's beauty was his eyes most delight. The waves of passion came as a quickening. His warmness was felt as she smiled and she cooed. His body did quiver as her legs wrapped him tight, while ecstasy took flight. Their bond was then grown as she did moan too.

His strength was all gone as he lay still as wood. Her fingers did glide along his back of muscles and bone. Her eyes become wide with wonder as Legolas's did close. Slumber took him quick for he was still weak. But the ring that he wore was forged in his cock's flesh. The deeper he fell into dreams, the tighter it got. Metal that expands and shrinks to his size. Permanently binding him to her forever more.

....................................

The door crashed open as Gimili rushed in. His face friendly and chuckling as he grinned. There he stood with his barrel chested laugh, tossing Legolas his clothes and encouraging him to rise.

"Hark there me old elfin friend. Up and arise we a dawn a new day and must ride like the wind." His hands on his hips as the golden haired Maiden shyly stirred from the thick bedding. "Aw, a busy elfin you been my Archery friend."

"Huh?" Legolas mumbled from his deep sleep he did awake. The covers moved from his sitting upright. As Legolas wiped his eyes and stretched his arms wide, the Maiden sank deep into the cover's warmth. "Give me a moment you old scruffy bear," Legolas barked.

"Ok ok, you romantic heart. I'll be outside with the mare, the closest I'll be to a Maiden. But the horse does have long flowing hair." Gimili smirked as he went out the door of round.

Legolas rose from the plush oval bed. His bareness he covered while searching for his Bow. Quickly he dressed and fumbled around. As his pants were going up he did look down and seen the ring of gold embedded in his flesh around his muscle of love that was limp and hung low. A smile grew as her words entered his head, not his ears.

"That will be with you as long as your love is for me." The Maiden's words were sweet and dear. His mind thought of joy and she sensed he was happy with his Ring of Passion.

"I shall return for you, my sweet. The quest we are on may be a bit long. But my love for you, though short, is so strong." His thoughts said his words as his lips never moved, save for the kiss he left on the Maiden's red lips.

EDITED:(Thank you LadyShianne)

The English Sessionsbydererzahlernc©

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Posted by Eileena on December 27, 1998 at 14:59
inspired by an exchange on IRC yesterday :) a story of desparation...
Imagine, if you will, being in a large library-one of the sort usually found in the city...3 or 4 floors-huge and busy.
She was looking in the reference section...which was located on the 3rd floor...Alyssa needed to finish her report and didn't want to have to come back to the library again. Finally finding the book she was looking for-she made her way to a quiet table to do some reading. Alyssa soon realized she had to pee, but, as you cannot check out the reference books, didn't want to take the chance of leaving the book-worried someone else might need it. "Oh, I'll be fine," she thought to herself, and continued reading...She crossed her right leg over her left tightly. "Maybe if I change positions" she thought, and put her left leg under her, kind of pushing her heel into her crotch to help hold it. That seemed to help a bit, and Alyssa continued reading. Alyssa finally finished reading the section of the book that interested her, and started to summarize her notes...she was unaware that she was rocking back and forth slightly-it was totally unconscious. She was also unaware that a goodlooking guy was watching her every move from behind the shelves of books.
Alyssa got up to put the book on one of the carts used for that purpose, and as she stood, she realized she *really* had to go, alot worse than before. She slowly stood up, crossed her legs first one way then the other, then uncrossed them and walked to where they kept the return carts. She lingered at the return cart, wishing she hadn't worn such tight jeans, as they were pressing into her bladder, making the full feeling even worse. Alyssa stopped to think, 'now, where exactly are the bathrooms?' She started walking toward the back of the library, thinking each floor must have it's own bathroom. When she reached the ladies rooms, she noticed, much to her dismay, that they were out of order, and there was a sign directing her to the first floor. Not wanting to chance walking all the way across the library to the elevators, she decided to take the stairs. (The goodlooking guy had followed her without her knowledge and was watching her distress with great interest)
Alyssa turned the knob to the door, and started carefully down the stairs. Every step was difficult as she struggled not to wet her jeans. She stopped to rest on the landing of the 2nd floor, then continued down to the first....She reached for the doorknob, and tried to turn it....It was locked...She knocked on the door, panic setting in. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, sliding a hand in her crotch as she did so. What was she going to do now. With a feeling of dread, Alyssa slowly started up the stairs, taking every step with great ease. It took her a while, but she finally made it back up to the 3rd floor, wishing she hadn't drank that last 20 oz diet soda before she got to the library! Alyssa again reached for a doorknob...would it be locked? she hoped not. She tried to turn it and it was indeed locked. (What she didn't realize yet, was that the goodlooking guy that had noticed her fidgeting earlier was waiting on the other side of the door, knowing that the doors all had automatic locks). She knocked and waited...After about 5 more excruciating minutes...minutes where she alternately crossed her legs, hopped a bit, and stuck her hands between her legs, someone answered her pleas for help. The door opened and a very good looking guy, with Sandy brown hair and a beautiful smile, stood looking at her. Alyssa was quite embarrassed, as she stood fidgeting from one foot to the other. She tried to rush past the guy, but he stopped her, with a gentle hand on her arm. 'Hi, my name is Paul, can I help you with something?' She decided to take a chance and tell him the truth-that she really really had to pee, or she'd have an accident, and hope he knew of a quick way to the ladies room. "Hi, I'm Alyssa...I was wondering-do you know where there's a ladies room? I really ahve to go and if I dont'get to a ladies room soon, I'll wet my jeans!" Paul smiled, and told her not to worry, he'd take care of her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to a back room, mumbling about there being a bathroom for staff back there some where. As they hurried the pressure on Alyssa's bladder became too intense and she let out a small cry as she felt a small spurt of warm pee release itself in her panties...Paul didn't hear her cry and kept hurrying her along. but, that first spurt felt so good-such relief on her poor tortured bladder, that she stopped walking and finally gave in. Alyssa closed her eyes, and let the relief flow over her as her pee flowed out of her bladder, into her lace panties, and finally out the crotch of her tight jeans. She forgot Paul was even there, and didnt realize he was standing staring at her transfixed. She peed for over 2 minutes, and when she was finally done, her jeans were streaked with her wetness, across her tight ass, down her legs, back and front, and her sneakers were soaked. There was also a sizeable puddle under her. She opened her eyes, and realized where she was, and also realized that Paul had watched the whole thing, and was actually, visably turned on. She realized, too, that she was a bit turned on, more by the release than anything else. Paul smiled at her and offered toget her coat and give her a ride home. He thought to himself, 'this could be the beginning of some fun wet times.'
The end.
Please be kind :) I have never written a story before, but hope it was an enjoyable read.
Eileena

Do Not DisturbbyCinnamon2000©

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Disclaimer: This story is completely fictional (as far as I know) and does not imply anything whatsoever about the true sexual orientation of Miss Britney Spears (as far as I know)

* * * * *

Belle and her friend, Timothy, rode the elevators of the hotel, giggling like crazy. It was rumored that Britney Spears was staying in this hotel. She was in town to do a show. They stopped on each floor, walking up and down the hallways, looking for a long-legged blonde/brunette with chestnut eyes. Belle said, "I think we should just go to our room for awhile and rest up for a while. We've been looking for a good 2 hours. "

"Yeah, but I just bet as soon as we close our door, we'll miss seeing somebody, " Timothy complained.

"You mean TJ don't you?" Belle teased him. He shot an annoyed expression at her.

"Yes, " he said after pausing. "I do mean him! Who else IS there?"

"Oh, just Britney, " Belle said, her breath quickening.

"Yes, just Britney, " Timothy declared loudly as he danced in the elevator. The elevator stopped and opened onto the top floor.

"Let's do this floor and then we'll go rest up, " Belle advised Timothy.

"Belle, we can't DO the whole floor. We'd be exhausted by then!" They laughed, but stopped when they saw TJ coming out of a room. He was checking for his card key in his backpack. He pulled it out and put it back in, and turned toward them, staring at Tim's athletic form in his wifebeater and jeans. TJ smiled at them and walked quickly to them.

"Hi!" he said to them, smiling at them both, but then fixing his gaze on Timothy.

"Hi, TJ, how's it going?" Tim said.

"Oh, I see you know who I am. But who are you? It's going good... even better now, " he said. He and Tim looked at each other, their eyes searching for - a connection.

"I'm Bella, and this is Timothy. Timo-" she looked at him. He looked like he was gonna jump on TJ. And TJ looked like he wanted to jump back.

"Were you getting ready to go rehearse? " Bella asked him.

"No, just downstairs to the gym. Did you guys want to join me, maybe? You look like you could lift some things, " TJ said suggestively.

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind helping you do some sets, " Tim replied, taking TJ's hook, line, and sinker.

"Is Britney here?" Bella asked, anxious now that she realised she was becoming a 3rd wheel. A door opened and closed down the hall.

"Yah, she's here, but she's chilling out today, "TJ said, throwing his hand up.

"Oh! Well, I'm not in the mood for exercising. You two go on without me, " Bella said, even though they weren't really listening to her. She pushed Tim as he walked away.

"Ow! What?!?" he said.

"Have a great time. "

"I will. We'll hook up later. You really do look tired. You going back to the room now?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm gonna get something to drink first. " The two men got onto the elevator together, talking excitedly. Bella laughed at them and went to find a drink machine. She said to herself as she dropped the coins in the slot, "Well, gee - he sure lucked out. What about me?"

She walked out of the room and continued down the hall, noticing the food trays on the floor in front of the rooms. She could hear activity behind some of the doors. The Ocean Sprays in her hands were freezing, and she wished she had something to wrap around them. She glanced down at some of the trays, looking for a clean napkin. She couldn't find one. She went to the end of the hall, and saw a huge tray by a triple set of doors. It hadn't been touched, and was loaded to the max with lunch foods. There was a huge stack of sparkling cloth napkins on the side of the tray. "They can't possibly need all of these, " Bella smirked.

She walked up to the tray quickly and bent down to get two. The door flew open and Bella looked up and into the face of Britney Spears. "I just needed some napkins... uh... sorry.. " Bella said, dropping the napkins and the Ocean Sprays. Bella's eyes dropped and traveled up Britney's full form, encased in a pair of jean shorts and a blue tube top. Bella could smell Britney's unique scent, and shook her head to pull herself together. She stood up, surprised to find that they were the same height.

"Don't worry about it, " Britney said quickly. "Quick, come in. "

"OK!" Bella stepped in, and Britney dragged the tray in behind her. Bella looked at the rise of Britney's jean shorts, swallowing as it exposed more of her thick thighs.

"Would you like to have lunch with me? I'm so lonely in here... " Britney asked Bella coyly.

"Sure!" Britney walked over to the tv and picked up a "Do Not Disturb" sign. She opened the middle door and hung it around the doornob.

Bella's eyebrows raised.

Britney walked back over to where Bella was standing, and looked her up and down slowly, passion building in her eyes.

She stared into Bella's eyes, searching. Bella stared back.

Bella said, "I can imagine that you get lonely, Britney. I'm lonely too. "

Britney motioned for Bella to follow her.

Bella thought if she saw Britney switch one more time she would rape her.

"We can eat on my bed. "

"Is anyone else... in here?" Bella asked, looking around at the huge suite.

"No, just me, " Britney said as she situated the tray on the bed.

"I'll help you pull it... towards the middle, right?" Bella said. She leaned over and helped pull the tray, excited. When she looked up, Britney was looking down her shirt. Bella licked her lips and cleared her throat.

"What kind of things do you like to eat?" Bella asked, eating a french fry.

"Oh, honey, all KINDS of things, " Britney replied, sipping a milkshake.

"What about you?" She toyed with her straw, running her tongue around the tip.

"Oh.... " Bella swallowed entranced with the sight. "The same.... sweet and sour things... but I like chicken the best. "

"Do you like me?" Britney asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you like me... for me? I'm sure you know who I am?"

"Yes, I do. I think you're very sexy woman, and love what you do for music. " Bella said honestly, sitting her french fry down, starting to lick the salt from her finger.

"Let me help you lick that off, " Britney moaned, and Bella held out her finger. Britney leaned over and drew it deep into her mouth, moaning around it. She sounded so good moaning.

Bella's pussy began to throb madly. "Britney.... Brit-" she moaned. Britney began kissing her whole hand slowly.

"I guess you know by now that I love women. " She smiled softly as she licked. Her lips moved up Bella's arm. Bella's eyes were closed.

"Let's move this tray. Are you still hungry?" Brit whispered.

"Yes, but for you. "

The girls moved the tray, but Britney kept a bottle of Hershey's syrup and put it on the side of the bed.

She laid Bella down and got on top of her, straddling her waist with her smooth thighs.

Bella ran her hands up and down them, reaching under the hem of Britney's jean shorts, searching for her warmth. Britney gazed down at her, and said,

"I want some of your Ocean Spray. "

"They're over there, on top of the tv. " Bella said, totally relaxed.

"No honey, I mean, THIS Ocean Spray, " Britney said, and ran her finger under Bella's dress and in between her wet thighs.

"Oh, lordee..... " Bella moaned.

"Yes, you can surf the tide. " Bella said a minute later as she realised Britney was kissing her neck.

Britney's hair smelled like Herbal Essences, and it feathered all over Bella's face and neck as Britney licked her nape. She moved back up to Bella's lips, running her tongued in between them, darting in and out sensually.

Bella poked out her tongue, and Britney sucked it into her mouth. Then Bella did the same to Britney.

Slowly, Bella lost all of her clothing. Britney kissed her way down her body, leaving erotic imprints everywhere.

She did figure eights around Bella's nipples and belly button, making Bella arch her back, moaning for more. Bella massaged her aching nipples as Britney licked and teased them.

Britney could smell her womanscent, and it was killing her. But she loved the sweet torture she was putting them through.

She slowly peeled off Bella's soaked panties and wrapped her thighs around her neck. She spread the syrup all over Bella's pussy, then dove in without abandon, sucking and licking like a woman gone sane.

"Uh, yeah... baby, yeah......!!!!!" Bella said, pumping her thighs into Britney's face. Britney moaned, aching to get as deep inside Bella as possible.

Britney ran her tongue up and down the grooves of Bella's outer lips, then slowly, maddeningly, ran then up inside the inner ones, up and down, up and down.....

finally, she slid her tongue in as deeply as she could go.

She slid in and out repeatedly, grabbing Bella's asscheeks to spear (no pun intended, lol) her deeper. The taste of her was..... indescribable. It was delicious.

Their echoing moans filled the suite.

'I wonder if Timothy can hear us, ' Bella thought, smiling but soon moaning again. Bella bucked against Britney's tongue as it swirled and tugged around at her clit.

"Damn, baby, you do this well.... " Bella said, on fire.

"I've had some experience. " Britney looked up from between her thighs, face drenched. She smiled and went back down to Bella's clit, sucking it deep into her mouth, teasing it with her tongue.

"Bri..... Brit...... Britn..... " Bella moaned, gasping.

"I'm getting ready to... " Britney buckled down and tongued her whole pussy at one time, clamoring for Bella's release.

Bella gave it to her with one long moan that was heard up and down the hall, her thighs quivering.

Still Britney pressed on, mad with need as Bella's pussy juices flooded her mouth and face. Beautiful.

She licked and ate Bella until she was dry, and still wanted more. It was driving her crazy.

"Bella...... damn, I can't do this all the time. I have to perform sometimes! But damn if I don't want to. "

"Well, we have these few days. I'll be here. But I'm hungry too!" Bella tried to sit up, but was too exhausted. Britney laughed at her.

"You can eat later. Right now it's all about you. "

Britney unlocked herself from Bella's thighs and moved up to where Bella was at the head of the deluxe bed. They kissed, Bella licking herself off Britney's face. They drifted to sleep.

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A Night To RememberbyStiletto_gal28

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They were polar opposites. She was 21, beautiful and sexy. The kind of girl that stopped traffic but never really realized it. A student at the local college, Michelle was the picture of innocence. Big green eyes and dark brown hair, a figure that almost every girl on campus envied and a baby doll face. She had had a steady string of boyfriends since she began dating in her teens but nothing serious and she was definitely single for the moment. A bad break up had left her desiring solitude and the single life for awhile. After all, she was a strong and vibrant woman, why couldn't she be alone and be fine? It was the new millennium she reasoned, and being strong and independent was a more than acceptable way of living. However, there is always a test even for the strongest resolve and life was about to tempt her beyond her limits.

He was every girls dream man. At 39 he was just beginning to develop that look that drives all women wild. Cool and confidant, cocky but with an edge of playfulness simmering just beneath the surface. He had been married for nearly 13 years before he decided he couldn't take anymore. Randy was a good man, a little wild as all men tend to be but faithful and loving. His marriage had been mostly one sided, with him making all of the compromises and giving all he had to give to make it work. After his wife had her second affair he decided it was time to make a change. That had been nearly a year before and, with his divorce behind him, he was thoroughly enjoying his new found freedom.

When he walked in to the sports bar that Friday night he had a lot of things in mind. Seeing the game, his favorite team was playing tonight; drinking well past his limit; and, most importantly, getting at least one hot little number into his bed for some private tutoring. This was, after all, a college town. Why not enjoy the eye candy that comes into the pub looking for a little excitement?

Michelle was not a drinker. Well, not in the sense of most college kids. It was against her nature to be out of control and drunk. Neither had she ever experimented with drugs. Not to say she was prudish, just one of those good girls that you hear so much about but never really meet. Her best friend had talked her into coming to the pub that night, saying something about "living life and letting loose for a change". She had given in only to retain her sanity. Emily was sweet but when she began harping on a subject she could drive a person insane. So, sitting at a table, looking somewhat out of place and bored, was Michelle. Her drink getting warm as she watched her fellow students, Emily included, dancing and having fun.

"Hi." She looked up with a start into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. "Anyone sitting here?" he asked.

"Umm no, no one" she could barely form words as he pulled the chair out and sat down. Who was this man? She had never seen him before and he was definitely not a student. Could he be a professor? No, definitely too mischievous looking for that. He was probably just an out of towner who stopped in for a drink.

"I'm Randy and you are?" His words snapped her out of her reverie.

"Michelle, Shelly actually, that's what everyone calls me." His eyes sparkled and the way he looked at her made her feel almost naked and exposed. As if he could see her, her body, her skin and secret places instead of the light blue dress she was wearing.

"You don't look like a Shelly." he said.

"I don't? Well, what do I look like?"

He looked at her thoughtfully and drained the rest of the beer from his glass. "You're too sexy to be called Shelly. Mitch suits you better." Shortening Michelle to Mitch wasn't exactly a stroke of genius but somehow, coming from him, it was incredibly sexy.

There was a little small talk, a few rounds of drinks and a moment of hesitation, but the night ended as Randy had intended. They had taken his truck from the bar, Randy driving as Shelly kissed his neck and massaged his inner thighs. Twice he slowed the truck, tempted to pull off the road and take her then and there but she stopped him. It would be better in bed she insisted. She was wearing a halter dress, tied behind her neck and as he pulled up the driveway her fingers were already working to undo the knot. He followed her out of the truck, grabbing her and pulling her to him. He pressed her tight against the door of his house. They were kissing, pulling at each other's clothes, their tongues pressing hotly together as he opened the door.

They didn't make it to the bed. With the straps of her dress untied she let it fall to the floor, bunching around her ankles as she stood there, topless, a little white thong the only material on her tanned body. She was perfect, just the way he had imagined her. She had a gorgeous little ass, and exquisite tits so firm and round they made his cock twitch just looking at them. Her nipples were small but so hot, pink and sensitive to the slightest touch.

He pushed her against the wall, his hands roaming across her body, sliding down to her tight, round ass and squeezing her cheeks. God she felt so good to him. He couldn't remember being this horny in his entire life and she seemed to feel the same heat and desire as he did.

Shelly's hands found his cock as he kissed and sucked her tits. She pushed away from him, glanced into his eyes and with a wicked little smile dropped onto her knees. She had his cock free from his jeans in seconds.

Her lips parted and a slight moan escaped them as she leaned in and kissed the head of his penis. He rested his hand on her head and tangled his fingers in her soft, dark hair. God her lips were like liquid velvet, soft and warm. She was massaging him with her hands, pumping his cock and making him harder than he had ever been. Sucking him lightly, swirling her tongue in slow circles around the head of his cock and then gliding her lips all the way down his shaft until he hit the back of her throat.

Over and over she did this, varying her intensity, bringing him to the edge but then backing off, and letting the sensation fade slightly as she focused on another area. She was driving him mad and he loved every second of it. Finally she couldn't take it anymore, she had to taste him. With her hand cupping his balls, teasing them and massaging them, she took his cock deep into her mouth. Swallowing against him and moaning. The vibrations of her moan moving like a touch of fire through his body.

He came, shooting stream after stream of hot creamy cum into her pretty little mouth. Some of it escaped and dropped from her lips to her breast. Without hesitation she moved her fingers across it, transferring it to them and bringing her hand to her mouth.

Randy watched as she sucked his cum from her fingertips. He just leaned there against the wall, breathing, trying to regain control of his body and mind. Michelle was unlike anyone he had ever known.

He looked down at her and pulled her to her feet. Kissing her softly on the lips he lifted her into his arms and walked the few feet to the bed. Her body was perfect, sculpted and slim from exercise, tanned and young. He couldn't remember ever being this attracted to a woman before.

She laid back on the bed, her legs spread slightly and her fingers playing with her tits. She was hot and ready to be taken but Randy wasn't about to be rushed. He took her feet in his hands, brought them to his lips and began kissing them. He worked slowly, his lips moving along the arch of her foot, her toes, over her ankles.

Shelly was so wet, moaning, begging him to take her, to let her cum. Her fingers slipped repeatedly into her wetness and every time they did he would stop her. This was his game and she had to play by his rules. His lips found their way to her thighs. Soft and smooth, he began massaging them as he kissed her. Her moans were so soft and low, he was lost in the sound of her excitement as he began kissing her pussy lips. She bucked her hips up to meet him, begging him to give her what she so desperately needed. He slipped his tongue between her lips, moving slowly, tasting her, savoring her.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me" over and over she panted her mantra, begging for him to fulfill her desires.

"Tell me what you want Mitch" he whispered, "Tell daddy what you need." She was so close to the edge, ready to cum, needing to cum.

Shelly's words were barely audible as she moaned, "Suck me daddy. Suck my clit, make me cum." With that he closed his lips over her sex, gliding his tongue over her clit, his hands under her hips raising her puss to meet his face. God she tasted so good. Her body was trembling, shaking from the intensity as she climaxed. Her juices soaked his face as he continued to lick and suck, his tongue probing inside of her tight pussy.

She was panting, her body on fire as she lay there. He looked up at her, his lips still wet with her juices. He began kissing her tummy, slowly working his way up. He caressed and kissed her body all over, moving along her side, along the soft, sexy curve of her hip. He stopped at her breasts, burying his face between them and inhaling her sweetness.

Randy could feel his cock growing again, becoming hard and long. He needed to be inside of her. As he kissed and sucked her nipples she massaged the back of his leg with her foot. As she moved he could feel the softness of her smooth pussy rubbing against him, inviting him in.

Randy moved between her thighs, his body pressing against hers as he kissed her. Their tongues meet, dancing together. She sucked his tongue, closing her lips around it, kissing him and tasting him. He pressed the head of his cock against her. Without breaking their kiss she spread her legs wider, asking him with her body to come inside her. He pressed in, slowly. God she was tight. It felt as if he were slipping into a vise, her body gripped and massaged his penis as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She was moaning, her breath hot on his neck as she whispered "Fuck me hard daddy."

Paris WinterbyCactus Jack©

http://www.xxtreamcam.com/

again, and looked out of the window once more.

The traffic moved slowly along my street, and from my vantage point on the third floor I could tell that there had been yet another accident in the distance. A truck had collided with something that I couldn't see, and had spilled it's load across the highway. In Typical Parisian fashion, the other drivers on the street hadn't bothered to utilise their intelligence or patience and find another route, on the contrary, most of them were sitting rigidly in their vehicles tooting their horns in a rhythm that almost became musical the longer you listened to it. Pedestrians trooped along in the slushy snow and blocked the sounds from their ears as easily as they blocked the chilled winter air from their bodies. Directly beneath me I could still make out the shouts of the bakery owner as he stood in the doorway of the shop and announced his wares to whoever would listen, and across the road two boys dressed in scruffy grey and blue school uniforms kicked a ball back and forth between the parked cars. Friday morning, not quite Eleven, and already my little district of Paris was in chaos.

I'd come here three months ago not quite sure what I was going to find. What I got was a city that lived on adrenaline and caffine and drugs and never stopped moving. Paris was a twenty-four hour party teetering on a constant brink of disaster; a time-bomb of barely restrained emotion just waiting to explode, and I was stuck right in the middle of it. Life was very different to the small town I had left behind in England, the kind of place where the accident that I was now looking at would make front-page news. Here, it was forgotten instantly, erased from the memory as quickly as one had the time to blink. I'd swopped quiet suburbia for inner city turmoil and I now had a constant stream of restaurants, bars, shops, outrageous clubs and general insanity a stones throw away from me at all times. Christ, a fifty-eight year old hooker lived two floors below me and I was only a few blocks walk from the original Moulin Rouge. All in all, you could say that I liked it.

The sound of creaking water pipes made me jump, and a moment later the radiator I was leaning on rattled heavily, the paint-peeled metal vibrating against my legs as hot water rushed into it. I sighed and let my gaze travel around the apartment for yet another time that morning. The place was a dump, but for this district of the city the rent was fairly cheap, and the building I was in most definitely had a certain kind of rustic charm and architectural decadence that I had been looking for when I moved here. There were three rooms. The first was a living area that had a microscopic kitchen pushed into one corner. It was in here that I had spent most of the spare cash that I had bought with me, getting an antique desk to work at, a decent couch and TV and some not quite threadbare rugs on the floor. In the bedroom I had nothing more than a huge cast iron bed and an oak chest that I stored my clothes in, with a metal rail to hang my shirts and suits from. The bathroom led off the bedroom and was tiled floor to ceiling with a heroic sized tub planted in the centre, and a toilet that was stuck in a corner almost as an afterthought. What attracted me to the whole apartment was the high ceilings and open space, Victorian plasterwork and huge windows that flooded the late afternoon sunlight across the floor like waves breaking on the shore. If I couldn't find the inspiration to finish my novel here, then I never would.

However, finishing it had become a problem during the last few days. My mind had lost it's thoughts and everytime I'd looked at the laptop I'd seen nothing but a huge literary wall infront of me, and I had no way how to get over it. I'd taken long walks around the streets, watched the places and people around me, but still nothing had come. I'd read magazines, taken long baths, watched the mind-numbing game shows that were a staple part of midday French television, even rented videos and sat through a bemusing afternoon of Pulp Fiction and Star Wars dubbed into French, but no blinding flash of inspiration came to me. And believe me, if the menacing tones of Darth Vader dubbed into a rustic Gallic dialect fails to inspire, then you know you're in trouble.

My stomach growled, reminding me that I'd had no breakfast, and I crossed to the kitchen and checked the fridge, but all I could find was a quarter of milk and a few tomatoes that looked as if they had seen better days. I didn't need much of a reason to leave my work and get outside into the cool air of the morning, and making a run for provisions was as good an excuse as any.

I slammed the front door behind me and pulled on my leather jacket as I headed for the elevator. As I walked down my hallway I could hear my neighbours arguing behind the walls; the woman who lived there seemed to have two forms of expression, silence and rage. She was tall and almost painfully thin, and on the few occasions that I had seen her she was always wearing the shortest of skirts which exposed the kind of legs that could almost break in a strong wind. Her hair was always pulled back from her face in a severe knot, and she would smile at me with a spiteful looking mouth that was quite obviously at it's happiest shouting abuse at the small man who lived with her. I had only seen him once, and he had peeked at me from underneath a cap before lowering eyes and rushing past me.

I swore loudly at the elevator, which was out-of-order once again, using one of the only French words that I was fluent in. The stairs were cold and hard, and as I hurried down them I could feel the cold air and street noise coming in through the open front door. As I stepped outside the bustle that I had heard three floors above was amplified tenfold, and a great wall of sound accosted me. The traffic jam was still in full swing, with Citroens and Renaults shuffling along nose to tail. A local paper boy was the only person seemingly benefiting from the chaos; he was going from driver to driver selling copies of L'Equipe, the best-selling sports paper. As he passed me I pressed fifty francs into his hand for a copy and tucked it inside my jacket.

Dodging through the vehicles, I crossed to the other side of the street and headed for the nearest brasserie, and as soon as I opened the door I was overcome with the smell of good pastries and fresh bread. There was the usual collection of intellectuals cluttering up the tables, smoking and drinking the blackest of coffee while they absorbed the works of Jean-Paul Satre and tried to look as if they knew what they were doing. When I first arrived in Paris I spent a good few days watching this kind of crowd with a certain bemusement, until it occurred to me that they were only doing exactly the same as myself. The pastime of watching people is almost an art form in Paris, and it's very easy to get sucked up into it. I avoided that these days by staying out of the cafes and doing my observing from my third floor window. Sure, it was still a waste of time, but I didn't feel so guilty if other people couldn't see me.

I ordered coffee and a couple of buttered baguettes to go, and threaded my way back out onto the street. The air was heavy with the smell of exhaust fumes and shouting, and I quickly made my way along the sidewalk until I reached the south-east entrance of The Garden of Light, which is a small but beautiful park bordering that bank of the River Seine. It's hard to get away from the extreme noise of the city, but luckily Paris does have a few parks dotted throughout the urban sprawl which provide some relief. At the weekend these areas are stuffed full to the point of bursting, as seemingly every Parisian swops his cramped house for an even more cramped space on the well-manicured lawns. You can't even pick up a football without hitting someone, let alone kicking it anywhere.

Luckily, on this bleak Friday morning in January, with light flurries of snow in the air, the park was relatively quiet. There were a few people on bicycles, and I passed an old man walking a collection of four of the biggest Dobermans I had ever seen in my life. He was dressed in the stereotypical Frenchman style; Black beret and blue and white hooped shirt. I'd always thought that image was a myth, but I often saw men dressed that way, and everytime I did it always brought a smile to my face. The French loved tradition, something I was quickly learning.

I walked quickly along the bricked pathways, through the gardens that would be sprouting life and colour as soon as spring arrived, and headed for the banks of the river. This area of the park offered great views over the flowing waters of the Seine, with some awe-inspiring architecture along the opposite bank, including the spectacular Notre Dame Cathedral. It was a place I often came to when I was trying to put some ideas together, and I hoped the combination of the scenery and coffee of almost mind-altering strength would do the trick for me this time.

When I leant against the iron railings that separated the path from the river I felt the cold metal instantly on my arms, even through my heavy coat. I tore into rough chunks of the baguette and swilled the delicious dough down with equally delicious coffee. One of the best things about living in Paris was that food was treated with the highest of respect, even the most simple of items such as the bread I was now eating. In France, food is almost a religion and the top chefs are treated as Gods, with connoisseurs from all over the world coming to worship at their restaurants. It might be a crowded and insane city, but some things more than made up for it.

As I gazed out across the Seine I became aware of someone pressed up against the rails about ten feet to my left. I turned my head and saw a woman dressed in a long black coat looking down into the water. Her hands, clad in expensive looking gloves, were on gripping onto the railings and her mane of long black hair fell forward around her face. From my vantage point it looked as though her shoulders were shaking, and I wondered if she might be crying.

Almost as if she had read my mind she looked up and at me, and as her hair whipped away from her face in the breeze I saw two things. Firstly, my assumption was correct, there were indeed tears in her eyes. Secondly, those eyes were set in the middle of one of the most beautiful faces I had ever seen. Her skin was pale and as smooth as soap, with full cheekbones that were flushed with winter colour. She had a delicate nose and a mouth that was very slightly open, and even from my distance I could spot ice-white teeth. Lips the colour of rose petals dipped in blood. It had been a long time since anyone had taken my breath away.

I realised that I was staring at her when her expression changed and she frowned at me.

'Pardon, Madame.', I said. I continued to mumbled in the native language but my incompetence stopped me.

Her expression remained unchanged. 'You don't speak French,' she replied.

'Not as well as you speak English,' I said.

'You were looking at me?'

I nodded. 'I thought you were upset. I didn't mean to stare.' I fixed her with my best smile.

Her face softened, and she removed one of her gloves and started to wipe at her eyes with small fingers. I fished around in my pocket and found my handkerchief, which thankfully was clean, and crossed over to her. She took it with a small smile and dabbed a corner of the cloth delicately around her eyes. Now I was closer I could smell the merest hint of perfume, subtle and expensive, and I noticed where small flecks of snow had gathered in her hair.

'Thank you.' She handed the handkerchief back to me, there was a slight smudge of mascara against the white cotton. I folded it carefully and stuffed it back into my pocket.

Are you all right?' I said.

She nodded. 'Yes, I think so.' She pulled her glove back on, and sniffed, shook her head more firmly. 'Definitely. I've just had a very difficult morning, that is all.'

'Would you like to talk about it?' I said, leaning back against the railings.

'My dog was put to sleep this morning. His lungs were failing, and I had to have it done for his own good. He was in a lot of pain I think.' Her eyes left mine and searched out the river.

'I'm so sorry,' I said. 'Was he very old?'

'He was fourteen years. I think that is a good age for a dog, yes?'

'Absolutely. In human years that's almost a hundred years old.'

'He has been with me for a very long time, over half of my life. I seem very empty without him.'

Her voice was deep yet delicate, a sound that was so typically Parisian and so very, very sexy. Just talking to her made me feel as if I was trapped in an old Truffaut movie, and I almost expected the colour of the park to fade and be replaced with black and white

'I came out here to think,' she said.

I smiled. 'That's a coincidence, so did I.'

'You think better with coffee?' She replied, nodding her head down to where my hand was cradling the half-full beaker.

'I used to. Once upon a time caffeine used to get my brain working. Now nothing seems to do the trick.' The wind had picked up and I raised the collar of my jacket, pulled it in close to me. I shivered, and watched as tiny waves crested with peaks of white in the river. The snow had also begun to fall more steadily.

'Well, thank you for the handkerchief,' she said, holding out a gloved hand. I shook it gently. 'It was nice meeting you, but I really want to get in out of this weather.'

'So do I,' I replied, and gave her my best smile once again. 'Look, if you've nothing better to do, maybe I could buy you some breakfast?'

She laughed softly. 'Breakfast? Do you know it's almost Eleven Thirty?'

'Okay, how about an early lunch then? I know a good place.'

She paused for a moment and looked up at the white sky, cirrus clouds thundering into the horizon. The wind gave a mournful howl around us.

'You've got a deal,' she said, and linked her arm through mine.

We made our way quickly from the Garden of Light, and by the time we got back to the main road the snow was falling heavily. Even though the weather was poor the sidewalks were still crowded, and we threaded our way through the crowds until we reached a small bar that I frequented called Marion. Inside was warm and welcoming, the walls of the bar painted deep colours and with booths towards the back. The place was maybe a quarter full, with most of the patrons sitting or leaning against the stainless steel bar that ran the length of one wall. There was a smell of good food cooking in the kitchen, and Neil Young was playing on the stereo.

We moved to one of the booths and sat facing each other on the leather seats. I unzipped my jacket and she unbuttoned and removed her coat. Underneath she was wearing a cream sweater and a chain around her throat that was to simple looking to be anything but real gold. Just as I was about to speak a waitress came to the table. She was very young looking and seemed nervous when she asked if we would like anything to drink.

Although my French is unspeakably poor I knew enough to get by in a bar, and I ordered a beer for myself my companion ordered the same. I noticed as the waitress took our order she kept glancing at her, and after we told her what we wanted she didn't leave. I spoke in English;

'Is something wrong, Mademoiselle?'

The waitress lowered her eyes. 'No Monsieur, I was just hoping that I could ask Miss Ledoyen for her autograph?' She turned to the woman with a hopeful expression.

'Of course,' she said, and the waitress handed her a pen, with which she signed a small signature across the back of the order pad. The waitress looked at it for a moment with a wide grin, before trotting merrily away to sort out our drinks. I watched her go, and then turned back.

'I'm James Connelly,' I said.

'I'm Virginie Ledoyen,' she answered.

I smiled. 'Now I recognise you. I thought your face was familiar to me in the park but I just couldn't place you.'

'Hardly surprising with my face streaked with tears.'

The waitress came back with our drinks then, still smiling as she placed two glasses next to the two bottles of Stella Artois.

'I've just seen your new film, Miss Ledoyen. You were brilliant in it.'

Virginie smiled. 'Thank you, that's very kind.'

'Is this your boyfriend,' said the waitress, looking at me with large eyes. I felt the colour rising in my cheeks.

'No, he is my friend. May we order please?,' she said quickly, I suspect to save me any further embarrassment.

Virginie chose a grilled chicken salad, and I settled on the monkfish. I had eaten at Marion before and I knew how good the food was. After we had ordered she leant back in her seat and had a good slug of beer straight from the bottle. She placed the Stella back on the table with a bump and let out a long sigh.

'All right?' I said from behind my own bottle.

She nodded. 'Much better now I'm out of that wind. Thank you for inviting me here, it's a nice place.'

'Even with excitable waitresses?'

She shrugged. 'It is part of the job, getting recognised. To be honest with you it doesn't really happen all that much, and when it does people are usually only saying nice things to me. I can't complain.'

'Do you live in the city?'

'Yes. For the past four years. Are you a tourist here?'

I took another gulp of beer, shaking my head as I did so. 'No, I live here too. Only a few streets from this place.'

'What's a nice Englishman like you doing in the big City, James?'

I proceeded to relate to her how I had ended up in France. I'd been looking for a good location to set my novel, and after much deliberation had settled upon Paris. Instead of taking a couple of sightseeing trips and working from references, I'd actually wanted to write the book in the very centre of the fictional landscape that I was creating. I took the advance that the publishing company had given me and added some of my own savings, before packing a bag and jetting out. I'd spent a couple of nights in a cheap hotel before chancing upon the apartment, and that was where I'd been situated ever since. And it was, or had been, working out fine. I'd been writing around six to seven thousand words per day, keeping myself to myself and having Sundays off to relax and see the city. Every week I'd e-mail pages to my editor, and amazingly I was getting a good response. Everything was happening just as I'd planned, until the severe case of writers block had infected me and work had ground to a shuddering halt.

Virginie listened intently as I told her all this, and by the time I had finished our food had arrived. We were both quiet for a couple of minutes as we ate. My monkfish was delicious, and when I offered Virginie a taste she accepted, taking the succulent fish straight from my fork as I held it out to her.