Affairs/specdeli
                                          Special Delivery
                        Veronique lay under her husband Roger, riding his swollen
                       cock for all it was worth. He was prodigiously endowed, a
                       solid 10 inches, with heavy, firm balls. He plowed away at
                       her with rigid detachment; trying so hard to make it last
                      long enough for her to cum. Almost without warning he came;
                       grunting and sputtering as his hot sticky cum splashed her
                       insides and ran down the crack of her ass. She screamed, 
                         "Yes, oh, Roger, fill me with your hot cum!" They lay
                     together, hearts pounding until he rolled off her and drifted
                      off to sleep. Safe from discovery, her tears rolled off her
                                      face as she sobbed silently.
                                                  ===
                          "Why, yes, we'd be happy to deliver that Mr. Fontaine.
                      Today? Um, well, I'll have to see who we have available for
                     drivers." "Tom, there's no one left to make a delivery today.
                        Ronny's gone to Hampstead and Billy's leaving early," I
                        offered. "This is Fontaine," Tom explained, cupping the
                       receiver; "he's placing a good order." "See if he can wait
                         until tomorrow, and I'll drop it off after we close."
                        "Must be nice to be loaded," I thought, placing a case of
                          Cheval Blanc beside the mixed case of Domaine de la
                     Romanie-Conti and Domaine Meo-Camuzet. $1900 worth of wine in
                       two cases. It was worth going the extra mile for customers
                     like these. The 25 minute drive was over in a flash; I'd made
                      it before and took a few shortcuts to avoid the construction
                     induced delays on the highway. I enjoyed the smell of freshly
                      mown hay as I traveled down the country road before turning
                         into the driveway of this most impressive home. Roger
                      Fontaine was a former NFL cornerback, a two time pro-bowler
                        who'd played for the Steelers in 3 superbowls before an
                       unfortunate injury to his anterior cruciate ligament ended
                                        his career prematurely.
                           I parked next to a black Ferrari GTO in the spacious
                         driveway. What a machine, I thought, as I inspected an
                      automobile that cost more than my condo. Athletes' salaries
                                        are so insane, I mused.
                        I went up to the front door and rang the bell. Ferdinand,
                          the male servant, answered the door with the kind of
                      arrogance that only servants to the filfthy rich can muster.
                     "Is Mr. Fontaine in?" "No, sir, he'll be out for the day. May
                       I help you?" "I have a delivery for Mr. Fontaine's cellar;
                     two cases of wine." "Oh, yes, the delivery entrance is around
                     back. I'll meet you there." And he turned to leave. I suppose
                      he wasn't discourteous, but the cold detachment, the "I can
                        scarcely be bothered with you" attitude was really quite
                                                grating.
                        I brought the car around to the rear entrance, and popped
                     the trunk. Grabbing the Cheval Blanc, I moved towards the door
                       when a movement in the pool area caught my eye. A gorgeous
                         woman was getting out of the pool. Must be the wife, I
                      figured. Ferdinand appeared presently and let me in. I took
                      the case down the stairs and put in on a large wooden table
                      in the cellar. I went back and got the other one, and placed
                       it beside the first. I looked about the cellar for just a
                      minute. Impressive. Verticals of a number of Bordeaux, some
                        prime vintages of burgundy, major california varietals.
                        Better than even my personal cellar, in sheer volume of
                       impressive wines. If nothing else, Fontaine had exquisite
                                                 taste.
                        As I got back to the top of the stairs, Mrs. Fontaine was
                      there. She'd put on a cotton wrap, but it really did little
                       to hide her beauty. I tried not to appear awestruck. "How
                        much do I owe you?" she inquired. "Nineteen-hundred and
                       seventy-five dollars," I answered, almost apologetically.
                     She didn't even bat an eye. Ferdinand supplied the checkbook.
                     "Thank you, Ferdinand. I won't be needing you anymore today."
                               "Very well, Madam. Good day." And he left.
                         I couldn't help but stare at Mrs. Fontaine. Her delicate
                     and feminine features were most alluring. Long chestnut brown
                    locks were pulled back in a pony-tail. I was close enough to her
                      to smell some very expensive perfume. Fortunately it was as
                        light and delicate as her beauty and not overpowering or
                     cloyingly sweet. I surreptitiously inhaled deeply, closing my
                       eyes. Exquisite. I opened my eyes to see her looking at me
                        with considerable amusement. I blushed deeply and wanted
                      nothing more than to get the check and disappear. "You like
                     that?" "Um, yes, it is a most delightful scent." "It's called
                       Jungle Gardenia." She handed me the check. "Thank you very
                     much," I blurted and turned to leave, but her hand touched my
                               arm and I couldn't bring myself to move. 
                       "It's really quite warm out, could I offer you something to
                       drink?" Meanwhile, her feminine touch on my arm is setting
                     off deep primordial urges in my loins. "Um, sure," I breathed
                       nervously. I thought to myself how utterly unsmooth I was
                       being. "What would you like? We have all sorts of wine, we
                       have beer, a full bar-- Ferdy's gone for the day so you'll
                         have to fend for yourself. There's wine in here," she
                        drawled, indicating a half-size refrigerator. I chose an
                     alsatian riesling. "'Screw?" I asked. "Um, I mean, corkscrew."
                     There I go blushing again. "Sure, to both questions." She had
                      the corkscrew in her hands. When I went to reach for it, she
                      pulled it away. She did this twice. Then I put my hand out,
                        palm up, and she put the corkscrew into it. I opened the
                       bottle without further ceremony, and filled the two Riedel
                       crystal glasses she had produced. I savored the bouquet of
                     the wine, inhaling deeply. I nodded and took a sip. Crisp and
                      lively and fully dry in the traditional alsatian style. Most
                                              refreshing.
                        She put her glass down and before I knew it her arms were
                       around my neck. I was very nervous. Christ, if her husband
                        showed up I'd be leaving in a plastic sack. "Relax," she
                      whispered reassuringly, "he won't be back today. He's off to
                        San Jose on business." I put my glass down, put my arms
                      around her waist and asked her what on earth she wanted with
                       me. Her face clouded and she pouted for a second. "My sex
                        life is tremendously unsatisfying. I haven't had a real
                      orgasm that I didn't give myself in months, maybe years. My
                      husband is hung like a horse but he thinks that's all there
                      is to sex. Foreplay is minimal when there's any at all, and
                      he never, you know, eats me. So I never cum. I have to fake
                       it to save his ego." "Wow, that was quite a mouthful. What
                        makes you so sure I'll be any better?" She never really
                            answered. "Just shut up and kiss me you fool." 
                          Our lips met and it was electrifying. Our bodies melted
                     together and I ran my hands over her back as we embraced. Her
                       hungry tongue pushed its way into my mouth and our tongues
                    swirled together in a timeless oral pas de deux. Our collective
                        breathing deepened. Finally I broke the kiss. My initial
                       reservations were rapidly being consumed by the insatiable
                                             fire of lust.
                        She grabbed her glass and took a sip. "Brilliant choice; I
                     love it." She turned and walked away, to my extreme confusion.
                       She turned back, "Well come on!" I didn't need to be told
                      twice! I grabbed the bottle and my glass and followed her. I
                      walked directly behind her, watching her graceful curves and
                     movements. She was rather feline, I decided, as I watched her
                            move. No doubt about it, this was one hot woman.
                        We went up the stairs to her bedroom. I began to relax and
                       enjoy myself. Here was a beautiful woman about to exchange
                     mutual carnal knowledge with me. Life could be worse! She sat
                         on the edge of the bad. "Um, Mrs..." "Veronique," she
                         interrupted. "Oh, Veronique" I said, employing my well
                       developed french accent and noticing how she crinkled her
                      nose with enjoyment as she smiled when I said it, "you have
                       beautiful hair.

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" I stroked it, decided the ponytail was a
                       problem, and undid the bow which held it up. Her chestnut
                     locks cascaded over her shoulders. It was much nicer to touch
                       this way. I brought her head to my chest as I ran my hands
                        through her silky hair. She purred contentedly. I put my
                       glass on the nightstand, touched her face and brought our
                                            lips together. 
                       More electricity. Our mutual lust was spreading, growing in
                      strength and urgency. We devoured each other's mouths. Hot,
                         sweet kisses here and there; tongues probing, tasting,
                       loving. I opened my eyes and her face was lightly flushed.
                     "My, but you're an excellent kisser!" she exclaimed. "Oh, I'm
                       quite oral," I laughed. Her eyes danced with anticipation.
                      Her hands flew to my shirt and deftly undid each button. She
                      put her hand inside and felt my firm pecs, gliding her hands
                       through the forest of chest hair and gently tweaking each
                       nipple in turn and then together. It felt so good. I took
                     another sip of my wine as she did this, then put the glass to
                     her lips and tipped it carefully. "Mmmm, that really is good,
                                   isn't it?" she inquired. I nodded.
                        I stood her up and removed her cover up. Her nipples poked
                      through the fabric of her expensive french bikini. I pulled
                         the top off, and her breasts stood proudly before me.
                        Perfectly formed, creamy white and firm, they were like
                      melons ripe for the taking. I caressed them softly, kneading
                       them gently, urging further nipple arousal. She whimpered
                        softly. "Your hands," she whispered. "Tender touches..."
                       Her nipples were wildly erect now, virtually screaming for
                      some attention. I leaned over and licked over a nipple with
                      deliberate slowness. A tiny, feminine gasp escaped her lips.
                       I did the same to the other one. I stood, and grabbed the
                      bottle. I lay her on her back, and poured a few dribbles of
                       riesling over her nipples and breasts. I quickly kissed up
                      every drop. Her pulse quicked with every kiss and nibble. I
                      dribbled more. Kisses and licks swabbed up the wine, and the
                      occasional odd nip kept her off balance. "Oh my God, I can't
                        believe how good that feels!" she squealed like a child.
                        I was getting almost dizzy, between the rush of blood into
                        my now aching penis and the alcohol in my bloodstream. I
                        pulled off my pants to release some of the pressure, and
                      dropped my underwear as well. I was now fully naked, with my
                       pulsing pole standing at attention. I skillfully hooked my
                     fingers under her bikini bottom, and slowly pulled it down to
                      reveal a well trimmed bush. As she spread her legs, I could
                         see her pink-brown lips were distended and glossy with
                        arousal. I kissed the top of her mound, and she tried to
                      bring her clit in contact with my tongue. "All in good time,
                      Veronique," I teased. I wanted her frustration to continue,
                      for now at least. I refilled my glass, finishing the bottle.
                     I pulled the rest of the capsule off the top and held the top
                       in one hand as I toyed with her pubies with the other. She
                     was squirming now, so I leaned over and took a nipple into my
                         mouth and sucked- hard. Her vocalizations became less
                      intelligible, but the message was clear. She loved the way I
                                         was playing with her.
                        After a few minutes, the top of the bottle was warm, and I
                       maneuvered myself so my cock was at her tit level. "Rub my
                      cock on your tits," I instructed. Soon I could feel her ripe
                     breasts and hard nipples under my raging pecker. I spread her
                        legs apart and began running my fingers along her lips,
                      spreading the wetness around. She was getting quite charged
                       from all of this. I began to play with her pussy with the
                      slender wine bottle. Like many german wine bottles, those of
                          Alsace are long and tapered. I would soon put these
                       attributes to good use. I began rubbing her clit with the
                      bottle, then I went back down along her slit. She looked up
                       to see what I was doing, the sensations were so different
                     from anything she'd experienced. I leaned over and licked her
                     burning pussy with long up and down strokes. She shuddered in
                         pre-orgasmic bliss. I worked two fingers into her and
                      massaged her g-spot for a minute or two. Her excitement was
                      reflected in her expanding pussy. I slowly and carefully put
                       the bottle against her vagina and pushed steadily until it
                     started to go in. A cry from the other end of the bed made me
                      stop. "No! Don't stop!" I began a careful in and out motion,
                      working the bottle in a little more each time. I got four or
                      five inches in, and the bottle was getting pretty big around
                        at that point. I didn't want to stretch her too much. I
                      leaned over and after a few manipulations of the bottle and
                      some neck craning moments, I was able to tongue her swollen
                     clit. It took less than 10 seconds to push her over the edge.
                         She came, screaming, writhing, hot snatch pulsing around
                      the glass intruder. She was completely incoherent, thrashing
                       and moaning. I stopped licking her so she could relax, and
                     slowly slid the bottle out of her crack. She lay panting next
                      to me, but hardly finished. She rolled over on top of me and
                      began furiously sticking her tongue down my throat, tasting
                       her own juices on my lips and tongue. She was like a woman
                     possessed. Now she began biting and sucking my nipples, which
                     got them very sensitive, as I played with her firm breasts.  I
                      was on the verge of blue balls at this point. I've had blue
                       balls more often than Papa Smurf, but that wasn't going to
                       happen this time. She went down on me and slurped my bone
                      into her mouth. She was an accomplished fellatrix, that was
                     immediately apparent. Up and down, tonguing my balls, pushing
                      my legs apart and licking over my anus; I was quickly being
                                            sent into orbit
                          She looked up at me, slyly, and took my balls into her
                      mouth while maintaining eye contact. It was intensely erotic
                      seeing her suck my nuts that way. With a plop they fell out
                      of her mouth and she began slurping on the purple head. Then
                         she did something I found extremely intense; she began
                      talking dirty to me with her mouth full of cock. She told me
                       how she loved sucking me off and how she looked forward to
                     tasting my hot cum. She kept it up for several minutes before
                        my eyes closed involuntarily and I braced myself for the
                     eruption. I began squirting hotly into her mouth; it was such
                     a powerful orgasm that the first spasm lasted about 3 seconds.
                         I must have spurted alot because she started choking.
                        Then the spasms came closer together as I proclaimed my
                      enjoyment. She kept up with it as best she could until I was
                      done. I was actually seeing stars, I was hyperventilating so
                       much. She wiped a few strings of cum off her lips, and lay
                                               beside me.
                         She began running her hands over my chest and licking my
                       ear, and I never really got soft. She straddled me and her
                       hot muff slid over my turgid rod with silky smoothness. No
                         wonder her husband couldn't hold it very long. She was
                       exquisite, she'd clench her muscles and milk my cock, then
                      ride more. I rolled us over so I could be on top. I had her
                     put her legs together so my cock slid directly over her clit,
                      then began pumping rhythmically. Our sounds together were a
                      symphony of love. Sweaty bodies sliding together, desperate
                     breathing, moaning and crying gave way to shrieks of pleasure
                         as we climbed the plateau. Her body became rigid then
                         quivered like a bowstring as she shot over the cliff.
                        Incomprehensible cries filled the air as I joined her in
                                         a paroxysm of ecstasy.
                            We lay there together, enjoying the post-orgasmic
                       aftershocks. Nothing like servicing your accounts, I say.
                                                -- 
                                                  
                                                   
                                                  
                                                  
                                                  
                                                  

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