DEAR READER

THE STORY IN THIS BLOG IS COMPLETELY FICTIONAL, NO HARM OR DISRESPECT IS INTENTED TO THE ACTUAL PEOPLE MENTIONED.

8.03.2011

LIV


After taking a shower Richie and Frédérique took the elevator downstairs, where they kissed lingeringly. Once in the lobby they parted ways: Richie exited through a secondary entrance and Frédérique walked out the main one - it was Frédérique’s suggestion that they should go to the restaurant separately in order to avoid being photographed together by either the fans or the paparazzi gathered outside the hotel.

It was hot and sunny, so Frédérique decided to wear a pair of olive, linen, high-waist shorts (the linen belt tied up in a bow); a tight, sleeveless, Mao collar white shirt with zipper instead of buttons (which she left unzipped just enough to show some cleavage) and cream, platform peep toe sandals with ankle strap. She also took with her the Hermés brown leather handbag that Richie had given her as a welcome present and she wore her hair in two loose braids that hung to the front over each of her shoulders.

Frédérique was the first one to arrive at the restaurant, which was rather simply decorated and basically unpretentious, but Frédérique promised Richie it was the best Greek food joint in all of London. It was set on a rather quiet little street off the tourist circuit and she remembered having eaten there more than once when she spent some time in London preparing for her English exams. They ate lazily, had a couple of shots of Ouzo and Richie could confirm Frédérique’s opinion of the place, but most of all he appreciated being able to experience this kind of undiscovered but surprising places. It made him feel normal and carefree. She always made him feel like that.

“Would you like to have something for dessert?”, asked the waitress when they were finally done.

Richie looked into Frédérique’s lustful eyes.

“Nope”, he answered with a smirk, without taking his eyes off Frédérique’s.

On his way back to the hotel Richie had come up with all sorts of naughty stuff to do with her cute girlish braids, what had already made his fly uncomfortably tight. He found her waiting in front of the elevator, silently scanning her surroundings and taking in all the architectural details. She was so lost in it that Richie’s arms around her waist startled her a bit. He kissed her cheek.

“Goin’ up, gorgeous?”, he asked seductively against her ear.

“I was thinking about going down”, she teased, “but I’ll go wherever dessert is going”, she giggled and the elevator’s doors opened. They walked in, barely able to wait until they closed back for their lips to meet for a fiery kiss. However, the doors slid back open.

“Is there room for one more?”, asked Jon without waiting for their answer and walking in.

It took them a moment to react, but they finally managed.

“What’s up, bro?”, asked Richie as he released his grip of Frédérique’s hips, freeing his right hand and fisting it to meet Jon’s fist in the air.

“Jeez…dontcha know you need to press a button to tell the elevator which floor to go to?”, joked Jon with mock lack of patience and pressed the button. All three of them chuckled and then Richie told him about the restaurant they’d just been in and passed the suggestion to his friend. Jon couldn’t help but cast a couple of glimpses on Frédérique’s legs, sponsored by the fact that neither Richie nor Frédérique herself paid much attention to him as they shared steamy glances. The three of them were still doing some small talk when they walked out of the elevator and started walking towards their respective suites. Once in front of Richie’s suite Jon asked, but Richie recognized the imperative tone.

“Got five minutes?”

“Sure”, he answered as he looked apologetically at Frédérique. She nodded silently and he gave her a loud smooch, then gave her butt a quick pat before continuing his walk down the corridor towards Jon’s suite. Jon was already walking in.

Around twenty minutes later Richie finally made it to his suite and, walking in, he instantly perceived bluesy notes coming from the bedroom. He recognized it was a riff he’d taught Frédérique before traveling to London. He felt a warm rush wash over him as he walked toward the door. Frédérique was playing his Sand nylon-string guitar while seating on the ottoman that lay by the foot of the bed. She was barefoot, one leg was folded and tucked underneath her, the other one hanged to the floor and swung slightly to the rhythm.

When she heard Richie walk in, Frédérique immediately stopped, but Richie encouraged her softly with a little smile that carried a hint of satisfaction.

“Go on, sounds good”

As Richie relished in the vision in front of his eyes, he took off his military green jacket with camouflage sleeves. He motioned to sit by her, but she did some encouragement herself.

“Go on, I like my dessert with no wrappings”, she commanded seductively as she looked into his eyes, arching one eyebrow, her fingers still producing the same bluesy tune.

He smirked naughtily and proceeded to silently take off his boots, then he threw them to one side. His eyes were still locked with Frédérique’s, the mere fact that he was the one that elicited that desire made his blood sizzle. When he reached for the hem of his burgundy T-shirt, Frédérique interrupted him.

“Slowly”, she ordered, hardly able to contain the smirk threatening to curl her lips. She involuntarily licked her lips as Richie slowly uncovered his stout stomach, then his perfect pecs and finally eased the T-shirt over his head, his biceps twisting sculpturally even with the slight effort. He chuckled softly when he heard her lose a beat.

“Now pants. Off.”, she told him, but realized she couldn’t continue playing, she wanted to give his glorious body full attention. “Slowly”, she reminded him firmly but huskily, then rested the guitar against the bed and unfolded her leg so now both feet rested on the floor, legs slightly spread. As he unbuttoned and unzipped his black leather pants, she, in turn, began to slowly unzip her shirt to expose her pink lace bra. Richie let out a soft moan of appreciation at her gesture and gave his black leather pants just enough persuasion along his trim legs so they bunched at the ankles. His cock visibly throbbed when Frédérique took off her shirt and undid her bra, lips parted at the arousal Richie’s naked body produced. Richie’s pulse started kicking up as he finished walking out of his pants. Frédérique spoke again, her voice thick and husky.

“On the bed”

Richie smirked devilishly and shook his head.

“My turn to watch now”, his voice was deep and throaty as he walked over to her, took the neck of the guitar with one hand and used the other to pull Frédérique up from the ottoman and close to his body. Her hard nipples together with her braids brushed against the soft skin of his pecs, making him tickle. He took her lower lip in his and she replied by brushing her tongue against his upper lip.

“Shorts. Off.”, he whispered his command against her cheek, then he released her grip of her arm and sat on the bed, leaning against the fluffy headboard with one leg folded under the stretched one, placing the guitar on top of him before starting playing another bluesy tune.

Frédérique felt a sizzling wave of desire run through her veins as she watched his delicate but firm fingers wrap themselves around the guitar neck and skillfully produce a sensual melody.

She puckered seductively and gently swayed her hips as she untied the bow of her linen belt, then undid the button of her shorts and lowered the zipper.

“Slowly”, Richie growled smirking sideways and slightly changed the position of the guitar to accommodate his building erection.

Frédérique conceded by hooking the waist of the shorts and lowering them just enough to show her pink lace panties. She swayed her hips a little more and pulled the shorts back up before turning her back to Richie. With one swift movement she bent over to slide the shorts down her legs and in Richie’s chest a moan rumbled – he could never get enough of that perfect ass. Being the guitar a perfect vehicle for Richie’s emotions, the notes coming from the guitar began to sound more demanding and anxious now, and  Frédérique found herself lost in the waves of desire that traveled up and down her body, her own arousal burning inside of her.

She closed her eyes as if in trance, lips parted, both her hands gliding over her breasts, her ribs, her stomach, then up to her neck, increasing her arousal as she imagined Richie's hands all over her body. She let her head fall back and a little whimper escaped her lips as the tempo and energy of the music increased, completely overtaking her. Her hands traveled back down to hook the waist of her panties, which required only a little pull down over the hips to hastily fall to the floor along her legs.

Then, the music suddenly stopped.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Lol you stop there!???

Barb said...

You got to stop it there? I didn't want it to. Think I need to take a cold shower now.

Bayaderra said...

Toti,
This is a slow torture!
I have to go to work now....in this condition!