His Angel

I'm not new to my sexuality, but I am new to letting its desires take control. My last few stories have been centered on three people sharing pleasure. Well, last night, I got to be part of that type of pleasure sharing experience. I was invited by Rae to join her and the delightful Naughty for a romp in the instant messenger. I know it sounds strange, but it was actually very fun! Oh yeah...and pleasurable! I've always been turned on by the written word. And the words written last night were certainly turning on type words. So, I offer up thanks to Rae for letting me get a little more in touch with this naughty girl's desires. If you're interested in reading more about the experience you need to head here or there.

Now...about this story. This is one of the very first stories that I ever wrote. I had just been to New Orleans for the first time and loved the atmosphere of the city. Also, my friend Drew was the first to realize that there might be more to the good girl than what met the eye. He simply encouraged me to tell him a fantasy. He let me talk and well...this is what came out. At the time, I certainly wouldn't have pictured myself as any one of the characters. Now, I can look back and find traces of myself in all three of them. Yes, I said three...again. Now, in an effort to be up front and honest, there are not three physical bodies in the story. But I've come to realize that memories of a lover or the desire for someone else can certainly be just as real as another body between the sheets. Read into it what you will, but enjoy!

He couldn't get her out of his head or his groin for that matter. She had begun to dominate his days and invade his nights. He hadn't felt her young, tender body thrashing beneath his in weeks. He'd lost his temper and she'd left...furious with him. He didn't tolerate losing well and he'd decided the first time he'd seen her that he'd never loose her. For all of his money and power, he was still unable to find her. That fact angered and frustrated him. She had eluded his most trusted of muscles. The thug had lost her scent down in the Louisiana bayou. She had grace and an innocence about her that delighted and intrigued him. He had to have her back. He had to have her back soon.

A knock on the door brought him back from their past. Another young lady hesitated at the door. This girl was a far cry from the elegant woman he searched for, but in the dim light and if she kept her mouth shut would warm his bed and satisfy his lust. He had crawled between her thighs and vented his pent-up rage before and tonight he would do it again.

He'd first selected the girl from the nightclub's staff because she had a Southern accent like the woman he truly desired. He beckoned her in from the door and experienced a flash of annoyance. She never would have hesitated at his door. She would have breezed in and demanded his time whether he had the time to spare or not. She wasn't timid and frightened of him like this chit seemed to be at times.

After directing the girl to his bedroom, he poured himself a shot of bourbon. He tossed it back, felt the sting as the drink slid down his throat like liquid fire. After pouring himself another one, he grabbed the crystal tumbler and made his way to the bedroom. Passing a photograph on an end table, he silently tipped his glass to the glossy photograph of the woman he only associated as his. Promising himself that it wouldn't be long before she was back where she belonged and that she would never dare to leave him again, he continued on to the waiting whore.

As he watched her remove the flimsy black peignoir, that still bore his angel's scent, he had to turn away. After the first fuck, he had sent the girl away with specific instructions to have her hair restyled and dyed to match the dark mahogany strands of her predecessor. While in the dimmed light of the bedroom it gave the girl her coloring, the girl's hair lacked the silky texture and thickness that hers had. As the girl removed the thin covering, he noted more differences between the woman and the girl. The woman's waist had been smaller than the girl's. So had her breasts. They had been full and rounded, but not due to implants. He angled his gaze to the thatch of light curls between her thighs and scowled. She'd been dark, a stark contrast against her cream hued flesh that never failed to inflame his blood and make his cock twitch. No, this girl would never be his angel, but she would satisfy his need for release.

With a sharp edge to his tone, he commanded the girl to lie back on the bed. Flipping the switch that would bathe the room in darkness except for the light glow from the window, he undressed and pictured her waiting for him against the sheets. For these moments he could picture the one he truly wished to be possessing instead of the girl she had forced him to turn to for comfort. As he moved between the legs of the redhead beneath him, he could almost believe she was his angel.

His angel he thought as he filled his hands with her pale breasts and squeezed. He shoved himself into her, smiled when she sucked in a breath at the rough entry. But when her eyes widened, he saw that they were blue and not the deep emerald green he wanted to see. He ordered the girl to close her eyes, allowing him to recreate the illusion that it was her beneath him and not the girl from the club. When she obeyed the command he began to move inside of her again. Sweat beaded between his shoulders, along his forehead, and above his lip even though the room was chilled.

He pumped into the her. Harder. Deeper. Faster. Ignoring the girl's moans and fingers clawing at him, he thought of her. He thought about how beautiful she was, of how perfect she was, of how he had trained her in the ways to please him, of the envy he saw in other men's' eyes when they saw her with him, of the knowledge that no other man had come before and that no other man would ever have her. Only him. As he rammed his cock into the girl's drenched pussy, he remembered the first time with her. He'd brought her body to fever pitch and then eased his throbbing rod deep inside her warm, tender flesh. She'd closed around his dick and milked him with each contraction of her velvet muscles. She'd clenched him and braved the storm as she cried out his name in pleasure.

Finally he felt the scorching rush of semen that had been building to a peak in his balls. He drove himself into the young girl's pussy one last time balls deep and shouted another name as spurts of the warm sticky cum splashed inside the girl's womb. Then he collapsed on top of her. The girl glanced up at him adoringly, spoiling the fantasy and causing his anger to rise to the surface. Leaning back from the girl, he took in everything about her. From her tangled hair, the light blue eyes, the enlarged breasts, the parted thighs, down to the god awful hot pink nail polish on her toes...it all cause hatred to burn through him.

This girl was not the fiery woman who was his equal in all things sexual. She didn't move the right way and made the wrong sounds. She begged for acceptance like a damned puppy dog. Even while the sight of this whore from the club aroused his flesh, she disgusted him on every other level. His anger shown through on his face and the young girl took on the frightened look that never failed to annoy him further. He reached for her and tossed her back against the tangled sheets. She made a pathetic attempt at calming him but her efforts were useless. He spread her legs apart, threaded his fingers through the tight curls. Light blond curls, he noted, enraged again that the defect had once again pulled him from the fantasy. He entered her in one swift thrust sliding easily into her pussy that was still slick from the last coupling. Her breath caught at the uncontrolled violence. He pretended once again that it was her sweet body beneath him. It was her moans he heard filling the room as he drove himself into her. It was her voice that cried out his name as pleasure engulfed her. He pretended that it was her that he'd once again mastered and made his own.