Afternoon Delight Read online

  The boots in Jessica’s size were bright red. An equally scarlet slicker with a hood, slightly too big and long enough on her small form that it hid her walking shorts, completed the ensemble. The boots and slicker closest to Ray’s size were a more decorous shade of dark green.

  She emerged feeling more than slightly ridiculous. “The ultimate sex symbol!” she joked, dropping Ray’s boots and jacket to assume a cheesecake pose. Butt thrust out playfully, she peeked flirtily back over her shoulder. She had to bite her lip not to laugh.

  And then she saw Ray’s expression.

  He was staring at her, or more to the point, at her boots and raincoat, like she was the ultimate sex symbol.

  Very strange, but it was hard to resist the man she loved looking at her that way.

  “You look adorable.” He pressed up against her outthrust butt and nuzzled her shoulder. Or maybe he sniffed it, because his next words were, “And you smell good, too.”

  “I smell like a rubber raincoat.”

  “Is that what it is? I like it.” He worked his hips against her, and even through the raincoat and his jeans she could feel his cock swelling.

  At that, she couldn’t help laughing, although it was a throaty, sexy laugh. “Perfume you don’t notice, but this gets you all worked up?”

  She could only see a little of his face with him pressed up behind her, but what she could see looked rapturous. “Yeah,” he said, and he sounded rapturous too. “So sue me.”

  He pressed even closer and the raincoat crinkled. He seemed to enjoy that as well. “You have no idea how hot you look. You’re so little and feminine, and the boots and coat are so big and clunky and practical looking. And shiny. And that smell mingling with your smell and the hints of sex from earlier….” He sniffed like a dog in the woods. “I can’t get enough of it.”

  Okay, this was beyond weird. She knew some people were into rubber and latex, but she pictured such people wearing slinky rubber dresses or latex catsuits, not an outfit that made her feel like Paddington Bear.

  On the other hand, while the outfit wasn’t doing much for her, Ray’s reaction to it was.

  And if she played it right, she’d get to act on one of her favorite fantasies while indulging his. She’d always wanted to fool around in a castle. If she had to do it in Wellies and a slicker, so be it.

  Heat surged through her at the thought.

  He ran his hand below the raincoat, cupping her sex. “Damn, you’re still wearing your shorts.”

  “For now. But they can come off later.” She squirmed under his exploring fingers, wishing she was bare to his touch, but enjoying the diffused sensations spiraling through her sex. They filled her body with heavy warmth and her mind with evil ideas. “Like at that castle ruin.”

  His eyes widened. They’d talked about that fantasy a lot, but he’d always been nervous about the whole sex-in-public thing—even if it was a very private “public.”

  “Come on, I bet no one but a couple of crazy Americans will be up there on a day like this.”

  He looked her up and down and nodded slowly. “I guess it would be nearly as private as indoors—and a lot more romantic,” he conceded, a nervous (or maybe excited) edge in his voice.

  “Of course, you’ll want to wear your Wellies and slicker too. Why don’t you put them on while I go take care of a few things?”

  Ray whipped her around, grinning like a man who’d been handed a dream. His eyes were full of love as he kissed her and caressed her body through the raincoat.

  She broke away. “Be right back!” she exclaimed.

  In the other room, she took off her clothes and shoved them into her day pack.

  She shivered as the slicker went on over her bare skin. The cool, slightly sticky touch wasn’t something she’d have thought of as erotic, but it turned her nipples into hard, eager points. Her belly was quivering from naughty nerves, and her vulva felt slick and swollen, pressing against itself as she moved.

  Yeah, this was going to work, shades of Paddington Bear or no.

  She returned to the main room to find Ray sporting a slicker, Wellies, and a beatific smile. His shorts and shirt were tossed on the floor. He was sniffing his own sleeve, looking like a cat indulging in catnip.

  His slicker was tented in the front.

  She grinned and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go!”

  They opted to drive as far as they could, leaving the walk for another, less sexually charged, time. The car park for the ruins was tiny, awash in mud, and other than their rental car, empty. The rain had stopped for the moment, leaving the ruined castle half obscured by mist and looking mysterious and inviting. She clenched at the thought that soon she and Ray would make love there.

  Although warm, it was windier than Jessica had thought, and climbing the steep, rain-slicked trail in Wellies was awkward, but every time she started to think this had been a silly idea, Ray would kiss and caress her doubts away. She had to admit that his touch through the rubberized coat was different in an exciting way: cool and diffused, yet curiously intimate because of the look on Ray’s face, the catch in his breath as he enjoyed the feel of her under the smooth, stiff material.

  And Ray’s reaction to her pressing his slicker against his swollen cock more than made up for cool, damp wind on her bare legs and the nagging suspicion that she looked ridiculous no matter how much Ray liked it. He squirmed against her, pleading inarticulately for more, and his cock felt huge and hard and hot through the rubber.

  It took more willpower than she’d imagined to make it as far as the castle so they could fulfill both their fantasies at once.

  The hollow windows, fallen walls, and stairs leading nowhere looked desolate and romantic in contrast with their damp, lushly green, wildflower-studded surroundings. Any other time, Jessica and Ray would have started poking around immediately, Ray taking pictures while Jessica attempted to reconstruct the castle in her mind and imagine the lives of the long-ago residents.

  But the castle had been here since the fourteenth century; exploring it could wait a little longer.

  Jessica’s eyes were drawn to a tumbled wall that would be just the right height for leaning over, but Ray had another idea. “I want pictures to remember this,” he said, pulling his camera out of the mac’s front pocket.

  Of course. How many more chances would he have to get pictures of her naked in an Irish castle?

  She started to unzip the slicker but he shook his head. “Oh, no, leave that on.”

  He took a whole series of pictures: Jessica posed in an archway, Jessica in her earlier cheesecake pose with her bare ass sticking out of the raincoat, Jessica above him on a wall so the focus was on the Wellies, Jessica lying on her back in the damp grass among the ruins, knees bent, so he could get a good shot of the muddy boots and her wet pussy, Jessica with the raincoat open to reveal her in all her naked, rubber-framed glory. She took a few of him too, although he wasn’t too crazy about getting his picture taken, even with all his clothes on.

  She started out laughing, but his intensity got to her and soon she was aflame with reflected desire, feeling as beautiful and sexy in her red Wellies as Ray thought she was.

  And when he showed her the pictures, she could see it.

  Now that she could see herself, she conceded flashing under a slicker was sexy in a playful ’50s pinup way. And that shade of red looked good on her. But what really got to her were the pictures of Ray. He was usually so awkward in pictures, his good looks disguised by a pained, fake smile. In these, he was glowing, somewhere beyond aroused and on to ecstatic.

  And that all the sexy pictures were taken in a castle in broad daylight didn’t hurt one bit.

  “I like the one,” he said, “with you leaning over the wall, looking out over the hills. The way your pussy peeps out. I bet when we get it on the computer, it’ll show how wet you are.”

  “I liked that one too,” she said throatily. “I was thinking about you fucking me from behind.”

  His answer was simply, “God, yes!”

  After the long teasing, she was more than ready and so was Ray. But she decided to give him one more treat. Sinking to her knees in the damp grass, she licked at his cock through the raincoat. She couldn’t manage a full-out wrapped-in-rubber blow job because there wasn’t enough play in the material, which was probably just as well; the flavor didn’t do much for her. The slick, cool, mist-damp texture, with his heat emanating through, was another story. His moans, and his fingers tangling helplessly in her hair, went straight to her weeping pussy, making it contract around nothing and yearn to be filled. She wanted, oh, she wanted, but she took her time, teasing and pleasuring Ray until he grunted out, “Can’t…take…much more.”

  Only then did she lead him to his chosen wall and bend over in blatant invitation. “Fuck me,” she begged, and she didn’t need to ask twice.

  He eased inside her like friction had become obsolete.

  For a few seconds they stayed fitted sweetly together, cock to pussy, skin to skin, rubber to rubber, enjoying the sensation and, in Jessica’s case at least, the view of the Galway countryside with the village in the distance, the reminder that they were in a ruined Irish castle having sex.

  Then Ray began to move, slowly at first, then faster and harder until he was stabbing deep inside her, hitting a spot that unfurled wave after wave of hot pleasure as red as her boots and coat. He clutched at her breasts through the raincoat, kneading just on the right side of almost too hard.

  The stones bit into her hands and she kept bumping into the wall from the force of his thrusts, but the thought of souvenir bruises and scrapes from castle-sex added to her excitement.

  Her orgasm built. Ray was lost in his own world, sniffing at her raincoat, muttering curses under his breath
as he was trying to hold off coming.

  Castle. Ray. Rubber. Ray. Kinky pictures. Ray, Ray, Ray.

  Ray’s cock pounding into her, Ray’s hands caressing her, Ray’s arousal, knowing she’d dared something new and liked it because Ray loved it…it was all too much.

  Jessica clenched around the cock that filled her and cried out, startling a small flock of birds that she’d been too busy to notice until they flew off in a whir of wings and angry chirping.

  “Love you,” Ray gasped as he exploded inside her. “Love you…in Wellies.”

  They sank together to the grass, laughing and sighing.

  And as they lay wrapped around each other and Ray talked about how they needed to buy Wellies of their own and replace these slickers with identical ones so they could claim the ones they’d fucked in, the sky opened and cool rain poured down.

  “Well,” Jessica laughed breathlessly, “it’s a good thing we dressed for the weather.”

  FORBIDDEN FRUIT

  Ric Amadeus

  A t noon, she entered his study with a plate of food. He had been up since five, disturbing her only slightly as he climbed out of bed. She had spent the morning picking fruits from their organic garden, while he worked tirelessly to complete his research paper.

  “Lunch, darling?”

  “I’m too busy,” he said, fervently working his scientific calculator as he scribbled and erased, scribbled and erased on a tattered sheet of quadrille graph paper. A half-dozen books were spread across his desk: Pesticide Residue in California Watersheds, Malathion Studies Annual, Ethnobotany Digest 1984, Problems in Biochemistry, Agricultural Pest Control and Cancer, Bug Spray and You. His computer flashed long strings of numbers, the pop-up window showing a blue bar slowly creeping past 24 percent as it worked on calculations needed to prove his thesis.

  She set the tray down on top of his papers and leaned against the edge of his desk, well aware that her pink bikini top, a fetching and saucy garment with cherries adorning the pink fabric, didn’t hide much of the fetching swell of her breasts. Her tight jean shorts were unbuttoned at the top, revealing the matching cherry-print bottoms underneath and the candy red tattoo of an apple just above the waistline of the low-cut bottoms that featured the scripted legend: ORGANICALLY GROWN Her long, smooth legs were dusted with the soil of the garden, and her smooth belly swelled slightly from all the organic morsels she’d eaten as she picked. The tiny bulge accented the sparkling silver ring through her navel and the tattoo. Her full, kissable lips were still stained red with the juice of organic cherries.

  She said, “Baby, you’ve got to eat.”

  He looked up at her angrily, pushed his chair back, and sighed.

  “But I’m close to solving this problem,” he said. “I’m close to establishing beyond the shadow of the doubt that pesticide consumption is responsible for the destructive and uncontrollable rise in chronic hypersexuality in adolescent females.”

  “Adults, too?” she asked nervously.

  “That remains to be seen,” he said, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed. “Further study is needed.”

  “But you should eat,” she said. “You didn’t even have breakfast.”

  “I had a cup of coffee,” he said defensively. “The organic decaf Guatemalan.”

  “We’re out of soy milk,” she said.

  “I drank it black,” he told her.

  “If you lose your strength, you’ll never prove your thesis.” She bent down low and kissed him on the cheek, her barely clad breasts gently brushing his arm. “Take a break, have some food, and you’ll feel so much better. Everything will become clear after lunch.”

  He sighed, took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes. “All right,” he said. “I’ll have some lunch.”

  “Come sit on the couch with me,” she said. “It’s good to get away from your desk.” She picked up the tray and carried it over to the small, tattered sofa that adorned his study. She set the tray on the coffee table while he joined her, looking grumpy and angry that she was making him eat. This sort of thing happened frequently, though; he was such a dedicated scientist that he very often forgot to nourish himself—ironic beyond measure for a man whose lifework lay in proving the dangers of pesticide use and the advantages of organic farming.

  She knew that once he ate, everything would seem different.

  She poured him a glass of thrice-filtered water and took the unbleached cotton napkin off of the beautiful assortment of sliced apples, cherries, oranges, unyeasted home-baked bread, and yogurt-cultured soy cheese that she had prepared for him.

  “I guess I am pretty hungry,” he said, and seized a piece of bread. He ate quickly, piling three slices of soy cheese on three slices of bread and adding a small slice of apple to each.

  “The one thing I can’t figure out,” he said, holding a fragrant morsel near his lips, “is what kind of effect this pesticide-induced hypersexuality would have on a man. The data is clear for young women—with improper pesticide use, they become completely unable to control themselves.”

  “Explains a lot,” she said, leaning back into the softness of the sofa and propping her shapely legs on the coffee table. “You know, I’m younger than you.”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “But you’ve been raised on organic produce. Thank god for your parents, particularly your father. If it hadn’t been for his critical early work in nourishing you entirely on organics, I might never have been able to carry the torch. Now, I’m close to a breakthrough.”

  Her eyes lowered and she flushed slightly. She looked at the food poised so teasingly near his mouth.

  “Eat your apple, darling,” she said.

  He stuffed his mouth full of food and washed it down with filtered water, barely taking time to chew. As he swallowed, his eyes narrowed.

  “Is that your new swimsuit you’re wearing?” he asked.

  She smiled shyly, running her hands down over the full swells of her ample breasts. The nipples had begun to peek through the pale fabric.

  “Yes it is,” she said. “But I don’t think I could get much swimming done while wearing it.”

  “That’s for sure,” he said.

  “Do you like it?”

  His eyes widened and he drank in the beauty of her tits while he chewed another slice of apple. “I love it,” he said. “Fuck, it’s amazing. Your tits…your tits are incredible.”

  She smiled. “You never call them that.”

  “I guess I don’t,” he said, his mouth stuffed so full she could barely understand his words. “God, they’re magnificent. Why have I never noticed how magnificent they are?”

  “I remember you thinking they were magnificent last night,” she said, smiling.

  “Did we make love last night?” he mused, reaching for another apple slice. “I can’t recall. My mind must have been engaged.”

  She frowned bitterly.

  “Have another slice of apple, dear. They’re good for you.”

  As he chewed, his eyes grew wider and he seemed unable to take them off of her tits. She could see his cock swelling in his polyester pants, stretching them noticeably. She looked at him and licked her lips.

  “Would you like to see them bare?” she asked.

  “I need to get back to work,” he said, his voice hoarse. “As soon as I’m finished eating….”

  “No harm in looking while you eat, is there?” she asked, and pulled the front of her bikini top down.

  His eyes, now as wide as they could get, drank in the lush beauty of her full tits with their pink nipples. He absently placed another apple slice in his mouth and chewed as she ran her fingers over her breasts, pinching her nipples gently.

  “Nice, aren’t they?”

  “Beautiful,” he uttered in a barely comprehensible mumble around half-chewed pieces of fruit. His hand had found its way into his crotch.

  “Do you realize you’re stroking your crotch, darling?” she asked.

  He swallowed. “Am I?” he muttered absently, rubbing his cock more firmly through his pants. “God, I can’t take my eyes off of you.”

  “You don’t need to,” she said. “Keep eating.” She reached out and handed him another three slices of apple, then unfastened her bikini top and slipped it off. She tossed it away so that it draped over the plate of food. She began to caress her own tits.