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Authors: Isabella LaPearl

ConneXions

C
onneX
ions

By Isabella LaPearl

Published by Horn
y Devil Publishing

Copyr
ight 2012 Isabella LaPearl

 

 

ISBN
978-1-62518-003-2

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

ConneX
ions
 
Cop
yright © 2012 Isabella LaPearl

Edited by Kat Marshall
and Colette Stone

Cover art by Dee All
en

Electronic book publication

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Horny Devil Publishing LLC, P.O.
Box 2508, Palm City, FL 34991 .

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (
http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/
). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the
author’s rights is appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

 

 

Always for you my love, truly, madly, deeply.

 

Page
|
5

 

The Gift of Surrender

Sometimes it's the sight of someone else, making memories of their own that sends me back in time with a shiver and a smile to a perfect moment.

A perfect day.

To a perfect recollection of yesteryear and a favored cafe on Ponsonby Road, where we got engaged and planned our future together=.  The seafood platter we would order and share of red snapper, green lipped mussels and the fat scallops with their bright orange roe that we fed to one another.  And the oysters in their half shells, do you remember how I licked the juices from your chin?  The thrill that ran through me as you’d groan in my ear, your fingers caressing my throat with a promise of more...

I smile as I write, remembering it all as though it were yesterday.  Time.  Time when we spent hours, days, weeks at a time, loving one another.  Trying with our bodies to show the other how deeply we felt.  To fit in each moment, each minute that flew by too quickly, before you would be winging your way back across the Pacific.  Taking my heart with you and never knowing if or when you would return.

Remember the night I came to your hotel room?  A balmy summer’s eve dressed in a short halter neck silk dress.  My hair tied back with a matching long silk scarf.  I remember your smile as you saw me and drew me inside and into your arms, how hot and hard your body was pressed up against mine.  How deliciously naked you were and the hours you seemed to take, just to undress me, laving, licking, biting, and teasing my skin as it was revealed.  How you stopped the words that started to tumble from my lips with your own, and how the fire, already burning under your onslaught turned nuclear.

Lost in passion.  Unraveled and completely consumed by the fiery lust racing through my bloodstream, as you kept my hands immobile with one of yours wrapped around my wrists.  Took me as you wanted and tapped into a hunger to be dominated in bed that I never knew I had.  All I could do was feel and melt around you, as your mouth, your tongue, your teeth, and the fingers from your free hand drove me so high that I touched the sky in a blissful surrender, long before you ever slid inside me.

Your hiss of pleasure as my hands, finally free to roam at last, gripped you to me tight, my nails digging into your back, your ass; the slow friction of our bodies as you set the pace, almost unbearable in my need.  Your eyes on mine, the laughter in them as I went wild beneath you, but still your hips kept the slow steady pace you set.

Reaching for the scarf, you ran it over my skin; down my neck and slowly over each breast.  My nipples were so hard that the sensation of the silk over the tips sent me crashing and screaming into oblivion again.  I tried to take you with me, but instead, you held yourself still and deep, your eyes closed and your mouth opened as you groaned through my climax.  My beautiful man...

Before I even had the chance to come down, my foggy brain realized you were tying my wrists together and I panicked.  Struggling, bucking against you as I tried to get free, only to have you still my fears once more with a kiss.

Tethered to the bed with
my legs spread-eagled, all I could do was watch you in shock as you then took that away too and covered my eyes.  Fear was my first thought.  We hadn't known one another that long and the fleeting thought of a headline, with my name and murdered in it, flitted through my mind as I moaned weakly at my own stupidity.  Until you blew it away with a soft caressing stroke down my face and whispered words in my ear telling me to relax and enjoy.

Utterly vulnerable.  Open.  Unable to hide me or my responses from you behind a chosen mask.  All pretenses gone as I submitted completely to your control.  Trusted you implicitly to see to my needs.

Never had I ever felt anything as much or felt truly as alive as I did that night.  I had thought the exquisite agony of bearing a child was the ultimate sensation I could live through.  It was nothing to what you gave me, showed me, shared with me and still do.

Thank you my love.

 

Page
|
5

 

Lunchtime Interlude

Once upon a time, a hundred years ago, I worked in an office in Auckland close to a public
park, with
hectares of beautiful trees, duck ponds and private areas to walk or sit. 
Idylli
c spots abounded where one could
cop a squat
to enjoy the ambiance and beauty of such a magnificent place, with spectacular views to the Hauraki Gulf and where the great volcanic conical snout of Rangitoto Island rises up from the sea.  On any given day there'd be yachts aplenty with brightly colored sails and depending on the wind, spinnakers flying free and high as the sunlight sparkled like diamonds upon the ocean blue to bedazzle the eyes of the viewer.

A favored place, I loved going to the park during my lunch
hour; lived
for the chance to escape outside and went there daily, come rain or shine.  When it was warm, I'd be there in a quick five minute walk, sprawled on the grass, removing the wide-brimmed straw hat I donned. 
My high heels and suit jacket, if there'd been a nip in the air, would come off next
and
lastly I’d let down
my hair from the knot I normally kept it in at work. 
It was my daily
treat to just
relax completely for forty minutes or so and
veg out
in my
favorite spot
where I'd eat my sandwich and read my book in peace.

The place I chose was actually quite private and shady with
trees
on all sides.
 
It was just
off the beaten track and gave me the perfect blend of privacy, sun, and shade.  It happened that it was also in a slight depression so that I was almost invisible to anyone passing as I lay there in the grass, unless you happened to walk on top of me.

One rather memorable day, I'd been reading about Ayla and Jondalar from one of Jean M. Auel's marvelous books from a series about Earth’s Children and had reached the part where Jondalar was sharing a ceremony with Ayla and the Mother's Gift of Pleasures.  After peering around to be sure I was indeed alone, I immersed myself in the story once more and became stirred to excitement as the erotic scene unfolded in front of me.  I undid a couple of buttons on my skirt and reached through and beneath my panties to stroke myself.

Lost in a world of my own, captivated by the words on the page that were vividly playing out in my mind
.  Lying stretched out on
my side, the book now casually discarded beyond my outstretched hand that flexed and grabbed at the grass.  I arched my neck back and closed my eyes to the shafts of sunshine that caught me in the face through the tree branches.  Panting softly, I felt the heat rise
, my juices
flow and
surrendered to the fantasy and the sheer naughtiness of the moment.

On the verge of climax, the sound of a zipper unraveling instantly startled me into awareness
again.  I found myself
staring into the eyes of a handsome young stranger about my own age.  He lay on the grass opposite and facing me, my straw hat tucked firmly under his arm.  Perhaps the light breeze had picked it up and flung it his way.  He'd slid a hand into his underwear, released his cock and was stroking himself slowly from crown to root and back again in front of me.

Frozen, stilled into shock by his sudden appearance, I simply stared unsure in that moment what to do.  How could I not have heard his approach?  I remember the rising heat of the blush that flamed my neck and
cheeks; how
I couldn't breathe yet felt my heartbeat thundering madly in my veins.  My first instinct was panic, to
flee; to leap to my feet
and run off.  I’m laughing as I recall as I was a long distance runner in those days and what I lacked in speed, I made up for in stamina.

But he just smiled at me, brought his fingers to his lips in a shushing motion then gazed to where my wet fingers still
lay before moving lower and to the
view beyond.  He licked his lips and he really was rather cute…

Something passed between us.

Though we never said a word to one another, as if by some mutual unspoken agreement, we resumed our play. 
We each watched
the other.  The excitement of
seeing
and the thrill of what we were doing in broad daylight in a public park no
less – not
to mention we were perfect
strangers – had us both
on the verge of climax in minutes.  Biting the knuckles of my free hand
, my eyes remained
glued to the mesmerizing movements of his hand as he quickened the rhythm in a fascinating
show.  I came hard – still too loudly
, even with the fist I'd
jammed into my
open mouth
.  He was suddenly groaning
his own enjoyment, spilling his seed in a heated rush and spurting on to the grass between us.  Thrilling me completely.  Heady stuff indeed!

After resting for a moment, we grinned at one another, tidied ourselves up and walked away in opposite directions.

I never saw him again, but the following afternoon I cautiously returned to
my spot
, where I found a fresh bunch of freesias.  They lay in a posy where I'd
lain o
n the grass.  I looked about me warily, still somewhat unsettled by my brazen
behavior of the previous day,
yet
eventually relaxed
when I realized I was indeed alone.  Bringing the flowers to my nose, I drank in their perfume that to this day still makes me smile in remembrance.  Were they from him?  Who knows... I’d like to think so.

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