bfrug
01-14-2011, 12:46 PM
No trample or fetish really, but here's a little silly story I wrote recently when bored in a hotel room.
How the ladies would like it.
The gentle breeze softly moved the curtains through the open window. She stirred and turned over, not really awake, not really asleep. It was always like this when she travelled down to the secluded cottage before him. Usually, they travelled together, he would pick her up from her office and they would eat at a restaurant on the way, but today he had an important business meeting so she travelled down in her Mercedes SLK, a birthday gift from him and had made herself a light meal and left a snack out for him. The sounds of the nearby forest drifted into the bedroom, the rustling of the trees, the movement of the forest animals, probably the small deer that roamed freely about the area.
She thought about their lovemaking, it was always good, far better than with any other partner, taking their time and nearly always both of them climaxing at the same time. Often it would go on for hours and sometimes several times a night. Other lovers had been good, but none a kind and considerate as he was, well domesticated and a good cook as well. They had met at a seminar and were introduced by her friend. It was, love at first sight and they had been together now for nearly eight years.
She dozed for a while, not really fully asleep and some time later heard the tyres of his Aston Martin scrunching on the gravel drive as he drew to a halt outside. She was wide awake now, in anticipation as she strained to hear him. Ever so quietly he turned his key in the lock, opening and closing the door with hardly a sound, silently, he climbed the stairs as she pretended to be fast asleep.
He entered the room and she sensed, more than heard him undress, carefully hanging up the Saville Row suit, the handmade shoes and Jermyn Street shirt were carefully folded before he eased the satin sheet back and laid down beside her. He settled down and then, on his right side gently kissed her neck, she still pretended to be asleep and stirred, responding to his gentle caress of her left breast with his soft smooth hand, her nipples now fully erect. The fragrance of his cologne enveloped her as he gently, oh so gently moved until his supple athletic body was pressing down on hers.
Soon he entered her, she was ready for him, they were moving as one. They had not spoken, there was no need to, they truly were as one. Their lovemaking was always very slow and sensuous at the start and built up, time was unimportant to them when they were together at the cottage. They explored each other, he enjoyed suckling her nipples as she stroked his hair, both of them building up the pace, they both knew that this time would be one that they would never forget. They seemed to get to a peak and kept each other just on that brink for what seemed to be forever until he exploded into her at the same time that she experienced an orgasm that lasted for minutes.
Exhausted, they lay there for a while, savouring the moment, gently kissing and touching and holding each other until he slowly returned to her side and they fell into a deep sleep, holding hands with their legs intertwined.
Just before the sun rose he was up, shaved, showered, bathrobe clad and in the kitchen preparing breakfast. He selected a raspberry herbal tea for her and Earl Grey for himself. They always just had some yoghurt followed by toast, wholemeal for her, white for him. Everything was laid out on a silver tray with bone china crockery, solid silver cutlery and pure linen serviettes.
As he was preparing the breakfast she showered and as the morning sun steaming into the room, making her look radiant she returned to bed and awaited his return. As he entered the room she sat up, ready for him to place the tray on her lap. She smiled, the love in her eyes meeting the love from his. He gently caressed her face and touched her hair, “I love you so much” he said softly, she smiled in return and simply said “I love you too”. They took their time over breakfast and then they talked, about each other and what they were going to do later in the day, they had so much to choose from, riding was usually the first choice for the Saturday morning with a pub lunch in the village followed by a walk through the forest or by the river, sometimes a drive through the beautiful surrounding countryside. In the evening they would usually visit friends or entertain friends at the cottage.
The Sunday they would spend most of the morning making love and in the afternoon he would cook the meal which they would eat late afternoon before returning to the city, him leading in the Aston and her following in her Mercedes SLK.
How it actually is.
The wind whistled through the broken window as she tossed and turned unable to sleep. The sounds of the estate were always there, dogs barking and the odd urban fox fighting with the stray cats. Now and again an arguing couple could be heard, usually followed by the sound of police sirens as they arrived to break up the inevitable domestic. Indeed, in the past the police had been called to break up their own drunken arguments.
Just as she was nearly off to sleep she heard the blowing exhaust of his borderline MOT case Astra in the distance, struggling to get up the hill, louder and louder until it ground to a halt in the front garden knocking over the wheelie bin. The engine wheezed to a stop and the drivers door creaked open. “Fuckin’ bastard bin” he said to know one in particular “silly fuckin’ cow’s not taken it round the back again, don’t know why the bastard fuckin’ bin men can’t do that”.
His footsteps were uneven, he staggered up to the front door tripping on the step, headbutting the door open in the process. Burping loudly he fell into the hall and tried to get up. Halfway up he fell down again and crawled into the kitchen on his hands and knees. In the kitchen he hauled himself to his feet and after some time fumbling managed to switch the kettle on. He looked for a clean cup and ended up using a dirty one from the mountain of unwashed crockery in the sink. Surprisingly he found some coffee and heaped four or five spoonfuls into the cup and even managed to pour some hot water into the cup. He drunk the coffee when it had cooled a bit and then struggled on all fours upstairs.
Tripping over the cat and cussing it off he went into the bedroom, taking off his Primarni jacket, Peacocks shirt and Burberry cap, most of which he scattered round the room and fell into bed. She did not know what was worse, the beer fumes or the kebab fumes, what was really bad though was the unshaven chin which he was now rubbing on her face as he clumsily tried to kiss her.
He grabbed her breasts with his rough calloused hands, almost pulling them off, although they had not made love properly for some years she was not in the mood at all and tried to push him away, but it was no use and after farting loud enough to rattle the unbroken window blurted “gis a shag luv” into her ear and before she could say or do anything, he was on top of her, beerly, kebab breath making her gag for air. She realised that he still had his trousers and boxers round his ankles as well as his boots still on.
God, how he changed she thought, when they first met he was good looking in a boyish sort of way, now he was quite rough looking and a couple of stone overweight with quite a beer belly, he even seemed to be proud of it. Mind, you, she had let herself go a bit too. She was always full figured but now, especially after bearing four kids she was borderline fat. She thought it best to just “lay back and think of England”, because he did not usually last long and in any case she had forgotten what it was like to have an orgasm. After several fumbled attempts he realised that her knickers were still on so he roughly pulled them down as far as her knees and then managed to get partway inside her, but after several strokes down it went and off he cursed again “bastard fuckin willie, what’s the matter with the funkin’ thing”, brewers droop she thought to herself and with one last great burp and long fart he fell off turned over and fell asleep snoring away and keeping her awake.
In the morning she rose to the sound of the rain pelting down and kids arguing and fighting, so, after shouting at them to keep quiet she went down into the kitchen and made a large pot of tea. Several cups later she heard him get up, fall over and then burping and farting, probably scratching his balls too and made his way into the bathroom. Half an hour later he came down the stairs, falling down the last few steps to the sound of “fuck, bastard stairs”.
“Any breakfast goin’” he said, “no” she replied, “get it yourself, you lazy fuck”. “Lazy fat bitch” he said and settled for some stale corn flakes and milk well past its sell by date.
They glared at each other over the table and he eventually went into the lounge, picking up a couple of lagers on the way and turned on the old box TV, the sixty-two inch plasma having been repossessed the week before.
Lunchtime they went out after jump starting the Astra because he had left the lights on the night before. Lunch was a beer or two at the Burberry Arms followed by some jellied eels from the seafood stall. They had a good choice of things to do in the afternoon - some shopping at Aldi, Lidl or Netto’s maybe as they had been banned from Tesco’s because he was caught drinking lager before he had reached the checkout.
On their way back home they were stopped by the police for no road tax or insurance, the car was seized and they had to walk home. The early evening was spent in front of the telly with microwaved ready meals and lager, later on some of his friends, just released from prison came round and they all went back down to the pub leaving her to look after the kids.
How the ladies would like it.
The gentle breeze softly moved the curtains through the open window. She stirred and turned over, not really awake, not really asleep. It was always like this when she travelled down to the secluded cottage before him. Usually, they travelled together, he would pick her up from her office and they would eat at a restaurant on the way, but today he had an important business meeting so she travelled down in her Mercedes SLK, a birthday gift from him and had made herself a light meal and left a snack out for him. The sounds of the nearby forest drifted into the bedroom, the rustling of the trees, the movement of the forest animals, probably the small deer that roamed freely about the area.
She thought about their lovemaking, it was always good, far better than with any other partner, taking their time and nearly always both of them climaxing at the same time. Often it would go on for hours and sometimes several times a night. Other lovers had been good, but none a kind and considerate as he was, well domesticated and a good cook as well. They had met at a seminar and were introduced by her friend. It was, love at first sight and they had been together now for nearly eight years.
She dozed for a while, not really fully asleep and some time later heard the tyres of his Aston Martin scrunching on the gravel drive as he drew to a halt outside. She was wide awake now, in anticipation as she strained to hear him. Ever so quietly he turned his key in the lock, opening and closing the door with hardly a sound, silently, he climbed the stairs as she pretended to be fast asleep.
He entered the room and she sensed, more than heard him undress, carefully hanging up the Saville Row suit, the handmade shoes and Jermyn Street shirt were carefully folded before he eased the satin sheet back and laid down beside her. He settled down and then, on his right side gently kissed her neck, she still pretended to be asleep and stirred, responding to his gentle caress of her left breast with his soft smooth hand, her nipples now fully erect. The fragrance of his cologne enveloped her as he gently, oh so gently moved until his supple athletic body was pressing down on hers.
Soon he entered her, she was ready for him, they were moving as one. They had not spoken, there was no need to, they truly were as one. Their lovemaking was always very slow and sensuous at the start and built up, time was unimportant to them when they were together at the cottage. They explored each other, he enjoyed suckling her nipples as she stroked his hair, both of them building up the pace, they both knew that this time would be one that they would never forget. They seemed to get to a peak and kept each other just on that brink for what seemed to be forever until he exploded into her at the same time that she experienced an orgasm that lasted for minutes.
Exhausted, they lay there for a while, savouring the moment, gently kissing and touching and holding each other until he slowly returned to her side and they fell into a deep sleep, holding hands with their legs intertwined.
Just before the sun rose he was up, shaved, showered, bathrobe clad and in the kitchen preparing breakfast. He selected a raspberry herbal tea for her and Earl Grey for himself. They always just had some yoghurt followed by toast, wholemeal for her, white for him. Everything was laid out on a silver tray with bone china crockery, solid silver cutlery and pure linen serviettes.
As he was preparing the breakfast she showered and as the morning sun steaming into the room, making her look radiant she returned to bed and awaited his return. As he entered the room she sat up, ready for him to place the tray on her lap. She smiled, the love in her eyes meeting the love from his. He gently caressed her face and touched her hair, “I love you so much” he said softly, she smiled in return and simply said “I love you too”. They took their time over breakfast and then they talked, about each other and what they were going to do later in the day, they had so much to choose from, riding was usually the first choice for the Saturday morning with a pub lunch in the village followed by a walk through the forest or by the river, sometimes a drive through the beautiful surrounding countryside. In the evening they would usually visit friends or entertain friends at the cottage.
The Sunday they would spend most of the morning making love and in the afternoon he would cook the meal which they would eat late afternoon before returning to the city, him leading in the Aston and her following in her Mercedes SLK.
How it actually is.
The wind whistled through the broken window as she tossed and turned unable to sleep. The sounds of the estate were always there, dogs barking and the odd urban fox fighting with the stray cats. Now and again an arguing couple could be heard, usually followed by the sound of police sirens as they arrived to break up the inevitable domestic. Indeed, in the past the police had been called to break up their own drunken arguments.
Just as she was nearly off to sleep she heard the blowing exhaust of his borderline MOT case Astra in the distance, struggling to get up the hill, louder and louder until it ground to a halt in the front garden knocking over the wheelie bin. The engine wheezed to a stop and the drivers door creaked open. “Fuckin’ bastard bin” he said to know one in particular “silly fuckin’ cow’s not taken it round the back again, don’t know why the bastard fuckin’ bin men can’t do that”.
His footsteps were uneven, he staggered up to the front door tripping on the step, headbutting the door open in the process. Burping loudly he fell into the hall and tried to get up. Halfway up he fell down again and crawled into the kitchen on his hands and knees. In the kitchen he hauled himself to his feet and after some time fumbling managed to switch the kettle on. He looked for a clean cup and ended up using a dirty one from the mountain of unwashed crockery in the sink. Surprisingly he found some coffee and heaped four or five spoonfuls into the cup and even managed to pour some hot water into the cup. He drunk the coffee when it had cooled a bit and then struggled on all fours upstairs.
Tripping over the cat and cussing it off he went into the bedroom, taking off his Primarni jacket, Peacocks shirt and Burberry cap, most of which he scattered round the room and fell into bed. She did not know what was worse, the beer fumes or the kebab fumes, what was really bad though was the unshaven chin which he was now rubbing on her face as he clumsily tried to kiss her.
He grabbed her breasts with his rough calloused hands, almost pulling them off, although they had not made love properly for some years she was not in the mood at all and tried to push him away, but it was no use and after farting loud enough to rattle the unbroken window blurted “gis a shag luv” into her ear and before she could say or do anything, he was on top of her, beerly, kebab breath making her gag for air. She realised that he still had his trousers and boxers round his ankles as well as his boots still on.
God, how he changed she thought, when they first met he was good looking in a boyish sort of way, now he was quite rough looking and a couple of stone overweight with quite a beer belly, he even seemed to be proud of it. Mind, you, she had let herself go a bit too. She was always full figured but now, especially after bearing four kids she was borderline fat. She thought it best to just “lay back and think of England”, because he did not usually last long and in any case she had forgotten what it was like to have an orgasm. After several fumbled attempts he realised that her knickers were still on so he roughly pulled them down as far as her knees and then managed to get partway inside her, but after several strokes down it went and off he cursed again “bastard fuckin willie, what’s the matter with the funkin’ thing”, brewers droop she thought to herself and with one last great burp and long fart he fell off turned over and fell asleep snoring away and keeping her awake.
In the morning she rose to the sound of the rain pelting down and kids arguing and fighting, so, after shouting at them to keep quiet she went down into the kitchen and made a large pot of tea. Several cups later she heard him get up, fall over and then burping and farting, probably scratching his balls too and made his way into the bathroom. Half an hour later he came down the stairs, falling down the last few steps to the sound of “fuck, bastard stairs”.
“Any breakfast goin’” he said, “no” she replied, “get it yourself, you lazy fuck”. “Lazy fat bitch” he said and settled for some stale corn flakes and milk well past its sell by date.
They glared at each other over the table and he eventually went into the lounge, picking up a couple of lagers on the way and turned on the old box TV, the sixty-two inch plasma having been repossessed the week before.
Lunchtime they went out after jump starting the Astra because he had left the lights on the night before. Lunch was a beer or two at the Burberry Arms followed by some jellied eels from the seafood stall. They had a good choice of things to do in the afternoon - some shopping at Aldi, Lidl or Netto’s maybe as they had been banned from Tesco’s because he was caught drinking lager before he had reached the checkout.
On their way back home they were stopped by the police for no road tax or insurance, the car was seized and they had to walk home. The early evening was spent in front of the telly with microwaved ready meals and lager, later on some of his friends, just released from prison came round and they all went back down to the pub leaving her to look after the kids.