My Stories
With Partners
By Rick
By Troy
By Tammy
About Me

Don Phelps Sr. e-mail:

"Damn! Summer Mondays can be one hell of a drag. Wish some customers would come in here and liven this place up," Dana said out loud but there was nobody else in the bar to hear her.

A few moments later, as if in answer to her wish, the door opened and three men walked in. Two sat together on the stage side of the bar and the other, stood alone at the bar, several seats away, but also on the same side. It was obvious that the three were not together. None of the men were regular customers as she'd never seen any of them in the bar before.

The two who sat together ordered Buds and the tall, good looking stranger ordered a Coors in a deep voice that was slightly rough, like a ragged kind of velvet as dark as his clothing. She quickly served the three men their beers, collected their money, rang it up on the register, gave back their change, and then went to the far end of the bar at the opening and sat down, waiting, watching.

The tall man who stood alone could only be described as damned attractive. He'd walked in like a cat, softly, making no noise even though he wore western boots, and he had filled the doorway when he'd entered. She guessed him at about six-foot-three and nearly two hundred very imposing and very masculine pounds. As he stood there at the bar casually sipping on his beer, Dana admired his muscular stance, square on both legs, as if measuring the earth beneath his feet. She couldn't help but notice his frank masculinity or his male sensuality that was both subtle and pervasive.

He wore a black western shirt, black jeans, and black boots. Those boots were not shiny, squared and showy. No, they were battered, sturdy, solid boots, polished with a patina of long and hard use. His wide shoulders stretched the fabric of his sweat-dampened shirt as it clung to every ridge and swell of his muscled torso, emphasizing the width and strength of his back, and tapered down to his lean hips. She tried very hard not to stare at the way his jeans stretched across his hips and suggested power in his legs.

His face was handsome in a rugged sort of way. His hair was intensely black, subtly curly, thick, long and hung down almost to his shoulders, setting off the clean line of his profile, his high forehead, the subdued sensuality of his mouth, the straight nose, the high cheekbones. His eyes were diamond clear icy blue-gray and widely set, framed by thick black eyelashes any woman would have envied.

Hard. Yes, that was the only word that came to Dana's mind. He was like a tower of granite, implacable and overwhelming, with a face that was all angles and shadows, yet it was the kind of face that women dreamt about.

His eyes were the only suggestion of softness about him until he noticed her staring at him and then he smiled, a smile that flashed in the gloom of the bar, a smile that was warm and soft against the hard lines and angles of his face. A smile that made Dana glad she was sitting or her knees would have buckled beneath her as images, dangerous images, flashed through her mind, lingered, then flashed again. An odd, lazy heat engulfed her as a warm, reeling sexual awareness took control of her body, leaving her almost giddy in its wake. Her pulse skipped a beat as she felt her blood heat and fire leap in her veins. A stab of desire shot through the most intimate part of her body such that the sudden intensity of her feelings almost frightened her, and would have made her sway on her feet had she not been seated.

He got up off his stool and sauntered on down to her end of the bar and sat down on a stool a couple of seats away from her. The mere sensation of his nearness held her as breathless as an intimate caress. An air of anticipation that had been flirting with her senses since he'd entered the bar was having an odd effect on her and she almost felt helpless to defend herself against his emotional and physical effect.

"Hi," he said. No fancy pick-up lines or corny come- ons, he was straight forward and direct. "My name's Alamo. What's yours?" he asked in the same soft southern drawl she'd noticed when he ordered his beer.

How could a man so big have a voice so soft and gentle? It turned her insides molten.

"Dana," she said in little more than a whisper as emotion welling inside her throat had almost choked off her voice.

"Well, hello, Dana. Got a question for you. Is it proper in these parts for a guy to buy the barmaid a drink? Where I'm from it's considered good manners."

"Yes, it's proper but I don't want one right now, thank you. Can I get a rain check on that drink for a little later?" She was almost afraid to get up for fear that her legs wouldn't hold her.

"Sure thing. I'm gonna be in here a while. Don't take this wrong but while I was sitting down the other end of the bar I couldn't help noticing that you are one hell of a sexy woman, and I just wanted to come over here and say hi."

To change the subject and get back on safer grounds, Dana asked, "Tell me, how did you end up with a name like Alamo? Is it your real name or just a nickname?"

"Oh, it's my real name all right. See, my great- granddaddy fought and died at the Alamo. My dad is real gung-ho patriotic when it comes to Texas so he named me and my two brothers after someone or something to do with the fight for Texas independence. My brothers are named Sam Houston Blackfeather and Jim Bowie Blackfeather.

She had momentarily forgotten the other two men in the bar when one of them yelled in a slurred bellow, "Hey, you! I said we wanted two more beers. Now get off your lazy ass and get 'em for us."

"Okay. Okay! Just hold your horses! I'll get them for you. And watch your mouth, too, buddy. I don't appreciate being yelled at like that," as she hopped off the bar stool and got them two more Buds. From his arrogant, belligerent tone, she was sure that he had probably had too much to drink already and she decided that she would only let them have this one last round. " If you continue to act like an idiot, I'll cut you off and ask you to leave."

"Yeah, bitch, and who's gonna make us leave? Whatcha gonna do, call the cops or something'?"

With that response from the drunk, she came out from behind the bar and headed behind them toward the phone by the stage door to call the police and have them ejected. But she never got that far. As she walked past the drunk, he abruptly stood up, knocking over the bar stool, reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. "Now whatcha gonna do, bitch? Who you gonna call now? Say, you're a sexy bitch. How about givin' me a kiss?" He wrapped both arms around her in a tight clamp and leaned over and kissed her a wet, slobbery, kiss that luckily for her, landed on her cheek when she turned her head at the last second.

His buddy said, "Hey, pack it in, Milt. Leave her alone and let's get out of here."

Just as the drunken Milt was about to reply, the tall stranger said in a dark voice, dripping with strength, yet in complete control, "You heard your friend. Pack it in. And let her go. Go on home, kid. Schools out."

Milt pushed Dana away causing her to fall over backwards and sit down hard on the floor as she tripped over the knocked over bar stool. With the sudden hard landing she yelped in pain.

She glanced over at Alamo and saw that his expression was all hard angles. She'd seen pictures of cold, merciless dictators who'd looked less severe. His eyes glinted dangerously.

Anger washed over Milt's face in a blaze of red and he began weaving and feinting, his body held in the stance of someone who'd been trained in unarmed combat.

Alamo slowly got off his stool, turned, and walked toward Milt. As though his calm approach un-nerved him, Milt attacked. Alamo deflected the charge with a deceptive, casual motion that sent Milt staggering off balance. He fell to his hands and knees, then scrambled to his feet and came at Alamo again.

Milt lunged again and again, each time finding himself on the bar room floor.

"Come on, kid," Alamo said in his soft, almost intimate, yet strongly controlled voice, "I'm gettin' tired of waitin' around for you to get smart and I'm also gettin' tired of seein' you make such a damn fool of yourself."

With a howling cry of rage, Milt came to his feet again for the fifth time, clawing under his shirt with his right hand, tearing free a hunting knife from a sheath on his belt. This time when Milt charged, Alamo made a single swift movement that sent Milt flying head over heels to land hard and flat on his back, the right arm outstretched above his head.

Alamo's boot descended on Milt's right wrist pinning it to the floor. Bending over, Alamo took the knife from his hand, stood up straight, tested the edge of the knife and then made a disdainful sound. "You'd be lucky to cut butter with this knife, boy."

Milt's eyes, glazed from the throw and from the beer, focused on Alamo who was tossing the knife from hand to hand, testing the knife's balance with the expertise of someone thoroughly accustomed to using a knife as a weapon.

"Other than the edge," Alamo said in quiet disgust, "it ain't a bad knife." There was a swift blur of movement followed by the solid kerchunk of steel on wood and the knife was buried in the floor only inches from Milt's face which had turned ashen at the sound so near his head.

Alamo removed his boot from Milt's wrist. "Now put that knife back in its sheath and get the hell out of here."

Milt slowly reached for the knife and just as slowly, cautiously, pulled the weapon out of the floor and put it back in the sheath, only momentarily pausing and thinking of throwing it at the man who had humiliated him. But the icy- steel glare of Alamo's eyes convinced him otherwise.

"You're learning, kid. Too bad. I was kinda lookin' forward to watchin' you eat that knife." Alamo leaned over, grabbed Milt's wrist and dragged the younger man to his feet in a single powerful motion. "Now, here's somethin' else for you to learn. From now on you will treat women with the decency and respect they deserve. You got that?" He continued to hold on to the wrist.

For the first time since the fight had started, Milt was close enough to really see Alamo's eyes in the gloom of the bar. He paled visibly.

"Seein' grunts like you makes me real impatient," Alamo said very matter-of-factly, "and when I get impatient, I get clumsy. When I get clumsy, I tend to break things. Starting right now I'm beginnin' to feel awful damn clumsy. Understand me, boy?"

Slowly, carefully, Milt nodded yes.

Alamo opened his hand and released Milt's wrist which he had been holding since he'd picked him up off the floor. Milt's wrist felt like it had been in the grip of a closed vise. Alamo stepped back, his body completely relaxed and perfectly balanced.

"You're gonna get to thinkin' about this little fracas and then get to drinkin' more and then you're gonna think you can take me. So think real hard on what I'm about to say now, boy. If we ever meet like this again, then next time I'll strip you bare-assed naked right here in the middle of the bar and in front of all your friends, pin a diaper on you, and walk you right down the middle of that highway outside wearin' a little pink baby's bonnet. Know somethin' else? You won't have a mark on you, but you'll be marching double-time just the same." Alamo jerked his head toward the door. "Make sure I don't ever hear about you again, kid. I purely despise guys who try to bully women."

Milt and his friend backed away and then left the bar in a rush that was more eagerness than grace while Alamo watched.

Once the door had closed behind the two fleeing men, Alamo turned to Dana and asked, "Are you okay, honey?"

All during the fight which had seemed to last an eternity but had actually been over in a few short minutes, she had been sitting on the floor where Milt had shoved her, both hands in front of her mouth, gasping at the suddenness and thoroughness of Alamo's response to the drunken Milt. She realized that tears were flowing from her eyes, not tears of pain, though she ached where she'd landed, but tears of joy that Alamo had not been hurt in the fracas. She gave him a searching look but saw no triumph, no malice, no brutishness in his eyes, only a deep concern for her.

He walked the few steps over to where she sat on the floor and reached out his hands for her, waiting. She noticed that his shirtsleeves were rolled nearly to his elbows and she saw the power in his forearms, and she wondered if the rest of his body was built as powerfully. When she didn't respond right away, he bent over, placed his hands on her waist and gently lifted her to her feet. A tingling sensation spread outward from those powerful hands on her waist in rippling waves that flooded every cell of her body.

Dana had still not spoken, so once again and with even more concern in his voice he asked her, "Honey, you are okay, aren't you?" It was the second time in less than a minute he had called her by that endearment, the sound of which sent shivering waves of warmth all through her and a lump to lodge in her throat, cutting off her voice.

She nodded.

She stood there looking up at him, wanting desperately to be held by him, not hiding the undeniable invitation in the way her body swayed toward his. Reassured by his warm smile, she looked into his eyes and felt the stirring of his heat.

Watching her, Alamo saw the excitement build in her eyes until they suddenly lit with a flare of pure longing.

He took her in his arms with the urgency of a drowning man and the world, time, space, everything, retreated for her. She felt so alive in his arms and vibrant with the strength of him yet very vulnerable and fragile in his urgent embrace. His hands stroked and soothed until her shoulders relaxed and she rested her cheek against his sweat-damp chest while tears dampened his shirt even more. His gentle touch on her back was anything but soothing, more like seething. It sent more heat rising all the way from the soles of her feet, sweeping through her body like a brushfire out of control. She melted so completely in his arms they'd have to peel her off. She sighed with the sheer pleasure of being held. There was a wild ecstasy in feeling the long, hard pressure of his body against hers. Her slender body was crushed like a fragile stalk against his, so hard and unyielding.

He cupped her face in his hands, gently pulled it away from his chest and then softly kissed away her tears. His lips were smooth and incredibly soft as they brushed and licked the salty tears that flowed from her eyes.

She said his name and the word was an appeal, her voice thick with desire. Suddenly he pulled her hard against him and bent to her and his mouth swooped down on hers. His breath came out in a husky rush that she felt an instant before his lips fit over hers tenderly yet completely. His tongue nudged her lips apart and slipped inside her mouth. She parted her lips to take his thrusting tongue and worked her arms free to wrap them around his neck. A soft keening sound escaped from her throat and seemed to ignite him further. His kiss was possessive and hard yet incredibly soft, and was filled with hunger, passion and heat - unbelievable heat. A soft growl escaped from deep within his throat.

Her mouth relaxed and softened and her breath sighed between her parted lips as their mouths separated. His harsh intake of breath gave her some satisfaction. Apparently he'd been just as affected as she had.

She grinned, hoping her expression conveyed bold daring, rather than the jittery nervousness she really was feeling. She stood on tiptoe with her arms still wrapped around his neck. Her mouth met his in a slow sensuous caressing kiss. "Am I getting through to you yet?"

"I'm not sure," he said in feigned puzzlement, a faint smile teasing the corners and deepening the creases of his mouth. "Could you repeat the message?"

"With pleasure!" and her lips trembled as she once again placed her mouth on his and kissed him with an abandon that made her feel weak. She felt the instant, uncontrollable response of his rising desire, so urgent and incredibly hard against her lower abdomen as he held her close.

His mouth coaxed, caressed, teased hers with an urgent pressure yet was as delicate as rose petals. Her tongue darted in and out of his mouth in a game of cat and mouse as she deepened the kiss, turning it from a caress to an urgent claiming. He plundered her mouth with a hunger that raced through him like wildfire. His kiss was all she'd longed for, tender and intimate, hungry and demanding, and she gave herself up to it, savoring, clinging and demanding in turn.

She opened her lips wider for his tongue, which he used to stroke the soft interior of her mouth. The tip of his tongue touched the sensitive peak of her upper lip then withdrew only to return and touch again. Passion built between them until she felt as though her soul had been seared by the magnitude of their kissing.

His hands drifted down the curving slopes of her side to rest on the supple sleekness of her hips and then moved to cup her bottom, squeezing them lightly, and pulled her tighter against him so that she could once more feel the hard evidence of his arousal.

His breath whispered a caress along her neck and turned her blood to flame that fired her body from inside out. He kissed the sensitive areas behind her ears and nipped her earlobe then ran his tongue inside, and she shivered all the way to her toes. She moved her head just a little and opened her mouth against his throat, kissing it. She felt his body tense and she smiled, loving the exhilarating sensation of power the action provided her. She continued pressing kisses against the strong cord of his neck, lapping him with her tongue, sucking and giving him tiny love bites.

"Damn you! I didn't want this," she whispered, immediately confirming the depth of her lie by once again laying claim to his mouth and his kisses. Her hips rotated, picking up the rhythm of his caresses, silently pleading with him, using the movements of her body to communicate her heated desires.

"If you don't want it, then stop now! I'm so hard it aches!" he warned raggedly in a voice so husky it could pull a sled. He held her tight against his body, hip intimately fit to hip, thigh caressing thigh. She trembled and nearly wept in joy at the sensation of his heated hardness pressed firmly against her.

"I can't," she breathed in a raw whisper, sensing the helpless rush of feelings that came over her.

With a groan, he scooped her up and looked into her eyes for directions. "Where?" was all he could manage to say in a barely vocal whisper. He let his gaze slip down from her face to where the top buttons of her blouse lay open exposing most of the upper curves of her breasts almost to their hardened crests.

"Over there. In the dressing room." she purred throatily. She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him, busying her fingers in the thick, long, dark hair at the nape, nuzzling his throat, licking him with the fever that burned within her as he carried her into the room she'd pointed out. She felt weak in his arms and was becoming dazed by the sheer animal excitement of this encounter with the man who had so mysteriously appeared in the bar and had then protected her from the drunken Milt. His uneven breathing told her he was equally effected.

As they entered the dressing room, he hooked one foot behind the door and pulled it closed behind them and then gently sat her down on the edge of the dressing table. He cupped her face between his hands and rained kisses over her face, her heavy-lidded eyes, her flushed cheeks, her sensitive ears and neck, her seductive mouth, his tongue hungry in its exploration. His lips were hard and compelling and so hot she felt singed down to her toes. Her returned kisses were ravenous, undisciplined and carnal. His mouth covering hers in that kiss was hard, hot and coaxing, a kiss with a fierceness that robbed her of her breath and caused her blood to pound through her veins.

He fiddled with the buttons on her blouse, peeling it open with an excitement that caused his hands to shake. He raised his hands and eased the cloth away from her shoulders and down her arms. His hands reached around behind her back and expertly unfastened her bra. She heard him catch his breath as it fell to the floor exposing her breasts to his hot, emotional gaze. Her nipples stood upright and rigid, waiting, wanting him.

Nor did they have long to wait. The back of his fingers rubbed against the hollow of her neck, then trailed lower until they stroked over her breast. The nipple seemed to tighten into a harder, even more sensitive bud than she would have thought possible. The shock seemed to cut all the way through her. He cupped one breast in his fiery hand, gently squeezing, kneading. She nearly died with pleasure when he brushed his work-roughened thumb over her beaded nipple. All she could think about was how good it felt for those warm, blunt, sand-papery, callused fingers to stroke her sensitized flesh, and it left her weak and trembling and moaning.

Alamo couldn't help but hear her moans and they were like the music of the Sirens that drove a man mad with desire.

He dipped his head, lowering his mouth to the other breast, and took its puckered nipple between his lips, suckling the pebbled bud. He gently clamped the hard nubbin of flesh between his teeth and lashed it with his tongue. Her hands cradled his head, pulling it tightly against her breast. His tongue licked and swirled over her aching, burning nipple, a nipple of unbearable hardness, lost in the feminine taste of her.

The touch of his hard hand and his hot mouth on her breasts set off an aching sort of pleasure that rippled down to settle in the lowest part of her belly. She arched her back and longed for his hand and lips to follow the downward path of those devastating ripples, her whole body tense with the wanting of his intimate touches.

His lips continued to torture her nipples exquisitely, first one then the other, until her yearning was so potent she thought she would die from the want alone. He stroked and massaged each breast in a leisurely, circular motion with a feather-light touch, lingering over each nipple until they quivered and throbbed.

He slid his hand up the inside of her thigh, stopping just short of the apex of her shorts. The minute his hands experienced the silky, soft skin of her warm, inner thigh, he knew there was no stopping him. She made no protest when he removed her shorts. He stopped there, permitting her the small modesty of her panties. For now. But she didn't want even the skimpiest buffer between them and told him, "Please, take them off, too. Now!" In only a moment she was totally naked in front of him.

He was bare to the waist in what seemed no more than a single urgent tug of his shirt. Belt and jeans, jeans that seemed to cling to the muscular length of his thighs, followed before she could even begin to delight in the broad, muscular expanse of his chest. Unlike most men, he wore no undershorts.

She found herself swallowing hard at the sight of his naked body, trying desperately to rid herself of the lump of emotion stuck there. His awesome size made her feel petite, fragile, vulnerable, yet made her thoughts careen wildly to images of provocatively tangled limbs and sweat-dampened skin.

Standing erect between her naked thighs, he leaned over just enough to lightly brush the dark, curly hair of his chest over the tantalizing tips of her nipples. They didn't need anything more to bring them to an aching hardness.

"Does that feel good?" he whispered huskily.

"Oh, yes...very good," she moaned. The throbbing in her nipples and the ache between her legs refused to stop. She could feel her strength ebbing, her body aching for release as the intensity of her passion increased in a wild crescendo of sublime ecstasy.

Her own hands reached out and stroked the supple muscles that spanned his broad chest, seeking the masculine nipples that were buried in the sweaty swirls of his dark, matted hair. Sharp, twisting sensations coiled in the pit of his stomach. She had no idea how fiercely she aroused him.

Slowly, willfully, he slipped a hand from her proud breasts and down the supple curves of her naked hip, the outside of her thigh, and down to her knee where it crossed over between her legs, and began the reverse journey. As he moved his hand lower, she had to bite into her bottom lip to keep from moaning at the delicious, carnal strokes of his fingertips. He allowed his hand to barely brush her inner thigh, releasing a flood of heat inside her as it moved upward, searching higher and higher for the exposed treasure awaiting him. His fingers and palm teasingly brushed over the sweet triangular patch of curly auburn fleece between her thighs. A stab of desire shot through the most intimate part of her body causing her to cry out in aching pleasure when his hand touched her intimately and her pelvis to shove even harder against the torturing hand. Her unguarded, sensual response sent a shock wave of heat through him.

He teased one finger down along her outer lips. She was wet and ready. His finger took possession of her and dipped into the well moistened cleft of flesh, exploring the innermost part of her body. As it slipped inside, a soft mewling sound rose from deep within her throat and again she arched her hips toward him, inviting more pressure from his exploring fingers. The hot sensation that shot through her was incredible, indescribable. His wet finger brushed over and found her clitoris and teased it, taunting the nub, He played with it until the pleasure button stood rigid and inflamed. Pleasure screamed through every nerve in her body making her squirm and moan as shock waves of sensation flooded her insides and washed over her body in ecstatically wild and ever increasing heat.

Gradually, slowly, he lowered his head to the area that was quickly becoming the pulsating center of her entire universe. Her eyes widened and desire stole her breath. He was looking at her in the most intimate way possible, doing it boldly and with erotic pleasure on his face. She trembled and tried to close her legs. He shook his head no. His hands splayed on her inner thighs, stroking their softness. He bent over and placed his mouth to a thigh, his breath warm and moist against the silky flesh. His lips moved upward. He wasn't going to...? But he was and he did and she nearly fainted at the hot surge of pleasure delivered by the intimacy of his mouth against the inner core of her body. His tongue... his mouth... so hot... so wet!

She moaned!

Dana was so hot she was sweating. She could feel the droplets as they ran down between her breasts, her body was so sensitized. Her head rolled side to side. She was flushed and dazed, her small whimperings increased to cries of unrestrained gratification. Desire, as demanding and insistent as anything she'd ever experienced, overwhelmed her, took her breath away. His hands found her breasts again and his thumbs whisked back and forth across their sensitive, hard, erect tips. As though the two parts of her body where he was centering his attention were somehow irrevocably linked, electricity arced back and forth between her nipples and her clitoris and she cried out softly as wave after wave of fiery pleasure washed over and through her body.

Her desire for him was a sharp racking, pleasure-pain sensation that made her body ache and rocked through her until she was certain if he didn't take her soon her bones would melt. Wantonness snuck up on her and her insides turned fluid and molten. Then there was no thinking at all for the yearning in her inner body reached an end coming to a glorious conclusion. An enormous feeling of satisfaction swept through her in mind-blowing ecstasy as passion exploded in a burst of rainbow colors. It was good, fantastic !

"Don't suppose you liked that?" Alamo laughed softly.

"Oh, no!" Dana lied in a soft groan.

"I thought not. Or this either!"

Dana still sat on the edge of the dressing table. He stood up in front of her and leaned into the cradle formed by the V of her thighs and she spread them wide, accepting him between her willing legs. He gripped her hips and dragged her even closer to him. He moved his hips, presenting his swollen masculinity to her in its rawest form, rubbing against her, teasing her, taunting her with his arousal. Her heart leaped into her throat at the sensual contact and he felt her shudder with tiny, quick explosions when the pulsating head of his shaft throbbed at the entrance to her. Every fiber of her being was alive and demanding release - carnal release. Her thighs flexed, tightening, holding him.

"You want it, don't you?"

She nodded, her whole body weak with longing, pulsing with a need so great it surpassed desire. She wanted him to rush, to send her flying with all the brightness of fireworks in a night sky.

"Then ask for it like a lady," he teased.

"Alamo," she gasped, "please."

"Yes?" the breath of his voice hot and moist against her.

"I want you," with barely enough breath to add, "inside me. Now! Please." "Please put it in me! I can't take any more of this teasing!" Dana pleaded whimperingly, impatient for the first thrust of his body within her own.

Her words of wanting stirred something hot and primitive in his stomach. His body was immersed in a sudden, primal urge to have her. His restraint broke and with a cry of joy he leaned into her body with his. Her legs wrapped around him, held him tightly to her, and he rewarded her with a raging, hungry kiss.

He eased into her slowly, a little bit at a time, reveling in the satiny smooth feel of her as the hot, humid tunnel of her belly closed over him. She moaned soft and long, filled with complete satisfaction as he stretched his way into her body until his groin rested snug against her aching pelvis. He felt the tension in her body as it strained toward that moment of pure ecstasy that lurked just out of reach. He slid his hands behind her, grasping the tight globes of her buttocks, and pulled her tighter against him, increasing the angle and penetrating deeper. A deep sigh of astonishing contentment shuddered through him.

Her arms went around him and at long last she knew the agony and the ecstasy of surrendering to the force of her own desperate longing. She felt his desire, urgent and incredibly hard within her. The fire between them raged fast and hot, consuming her with its powerful, demanding embrace. Now there was only this violent claiming of him, the deep down hunger that overwhelmed her, easing only when he was buried deep inside her, when their bodies were joined in hot, elemental sex.

He clasped his arm around her back, pulling her toward him as he bent forward. His open mouth landed with damp impact on her breast and he suckled greedily, moving his lips from one breast to another until she whimpered with the explosive desire that pitched through her. She grabbed his ears, pulling his head hard against her chest, and he branded her breasts with his hot, ardent kissing that sucked so greedily at their tips.

He felt Dana's acceptance and began to move, each thrust deliberate and absolute, his muscles tense, pulsating with his efforts at control. His strong thighs collided against her delicate flesh in deep grinding strokes. Rhythmically, in and out, he worked passionately on her, feeling the sensation of their intimate joining.

"How does that feel?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Ohhhhhhh! God," she groaned through pleasure clenched teeth, "Good! So damn good! I love it!"

He pulled out, pausing momentarily and she reached for him, her nails digging into the muscles of his back, trying to draw him back into hot body.

"Noooo!" she moaned, "Noooo, I want it bac..." and her words were cut off as he answered her request.

"Nooooyeessss!" she cried, her whole body tense. With hard lunges, he crammed himself inward, impaling her to the hilt with his lust hardened flesh.

"My God! Yesssss!" Dana cried, spreading her legs further apart to allow him the access that she wanted. Her head jerked from side to side as a succession of undulating waves of increasing pleasure exploded inside her.

Slowly at first, gradually faster, their tempo increased in a primitive, seductive rhythm old as time. His thrusts became raw and hungry. Her pelvis leaped forward to meet each ramrodding plummet and tried to hold his glistening manhood locked within her humid tunnel. She whimpered and begged for him to plunge harder and deeper. In answer, he pumped into her fiery liquid core in long, hard strokes, their bodies meeting in loud, wet slaps, her demanding movements aiding his lust filled sword to drill deeper and deeper.

The inner walls of her smooth, willing tunnel contracted and clamped tightly on his engorged organ as it pushed through the folds of her inner lips and into her harboring heat as if trying to suck the friendly intruder deeper into the recess of her burning desire-ridden body.

He moved in a swift unbroken rhythm, but soon stopped, his breathing making hissing sounds through his clenched teeth. Her eyes flew open and she discovered him with his head tossed back, eyes squeezed tight, battling for control of his body.

Unable to resist, Dana rotated her hips once.

"No! No," he pleaded. "Don't move!"

She placed her hands on his pronounced hipbones and slowly, seductively moved her pelvis in a flurry of small movements that served to draw him deeper inside of her. He released a tremendous groan. She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled his head forward far enough to plant a wild, abandoned kiss on his lips, a kiss that was both carnal and lascivious. Her tongue darted deep within his mouth, glorying in the way his body trembled before her. She realized there was no holding him back any longer, and she smiled contentedly at his cry of joy as with one final, hard, stroke he thrust forward, deeply penetrating the hot, ultimate, intimate shelter of her body. He crushed his body to hers, his breath scalding and broken. Like lightening, the precious control of his body splintered into a million sparks of dazzling light. She felt the white fountain rocketing from his gut, coating her contracting inner walls, as he climaxed deep within her body.

Dana whimpered with joy at the pleasure of having a man in her complete and total control for those brief moments. A man is very much under a woman's power during that time. For those few seconds, he helplessly and willingly surrenders himself to her and her alone, while he becomes a mere babe in the cradle of her sex.

Shaken by the storms that had swept her to the top countless times, Dana tossed her head from side to side, reveling in the wild sensations his action commanded. She was near tears as her own sweet, final, devastating explosion rocked her like a roman candle igniting within her belly, bursting and spinning in resplendent colors. He felt her control shatter, heard her whimper change to an exultant cry of joy as exquisite pleasure pulsed through her and she cried out his name one final time, savoring the spasms of release that gripped her and tore her world into a kaleidoscope of fulfillment. He was with her all the way as her final cry mingled with his. They had scaled the heights together and they remained aloft for an unbelievable, magical time.

He collapsed against her, holding her tightly in his strong arms and planted swift kisses on her eyes, mouth and neck. Dana was replete, spent and swooning, enraptured by a sensation of lassitude, of utter peace and calm, as though every nerve ending were dipped in honey. Snug against his damp chest, a deep, satisfying contentment stole over her as they floated slowly back to reality from the spiraling madness that had taken control of their bodies, too deliciously inert to even think of moving.

Nothing had ever been this good. No one had ever given her the incredible feelings that he did. Dragging in deep, gasping breaths, Dana couldn't seem to keep from whispering, "It's never been like that for me before. Never."

His voice a raw, husky whisper, he replied, "Not for me either, Dana. Not for me either."

Copyright, 1995 - 2006 by Cindy. Not to be used without express permission.