Melissa’s Tight Jeans

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


A quick one about a young man captivated by Melissa’s tight jeans when she arrive at the hotel. He braves security to speak to her at the poolside. He asks her to give him a picture of her backside in her tight jeans, but what, if anything, will she send him over the phone?

If you enjoy this, give me some feedback. Feedback can be via public comments below, PM on the Lit forum, or email. If you want a response to feedback then email is best.

I do try to correct errors, but since I can only proof off the screen there will probably be some remaining. If there are, I apologise.

I hope you enjoy the piece all the same.

GA – Cancun, Mexico – 13th June 2012.


Melissa saw the shadow fall across the page, and when it failed to pass on she looked up.

He stood with the haloed within a blaze of the sun’s corona, his face indistinct. He said nothing, but his outline told her he was a young man — standing erect, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, tight and compact.

‘Yes? Can I help you?’ she said.

‘I saw you get out of the taxi when you arrived,’ he replied, his face still a shadow. ‘I was at the front of the hotel.’

He added nothing further and Melissa said: ‘Are you staying here too?’

‘Not likely,’ he returned. ‘Not at the price they probably charge. How much is it for a week?’

‘Five thousand U.S., but that’s all-inclusive.’

He nodded. ‘Yep, way out of my budget; all-inclusive or not.’ He paused and looked around. ‘You must be rich.’

‘I do OK … But if you’re not staying here how come you’re in here? How did you get in? They’re usually pretty hot on security. And what do you mean by just walking up to me and telling me you saw me arrive? That’s pretty weird. Almost stalkerish.’

‘I come in to use the pool.’ She saw his shoulders shrug. ‘Sometimes they stop me, sometimes they don’t. It depends on who’s on duty. And I came over to talk to you because I thought you looked pretty sensational in those jeans … when you arrived … when you got out of the taxi.’

‘How old are you?’ Melissa asked.

‘Twenty-one …’

Melissa sighed and leaned over to place her book on the side table. ‘Do you have any idea how old I am?’ she asked and lit a cigarette. She saw him shrug again.


‘A good estimate,’ Melissa said. ‘And on the favourable side too …’ She drew in smoke before blowing a whisper of grey smoke stream through pursed lips into the high, blue sky. ‘You’re English? You sound it by your accent.’


‘So what’s a young English guy doing in Mexico hitting up old ladies?’ Melissa sucked on the cigarette again.

‘I inherited a house. I sold it and bought a plane ticket. Here I am.’

‘That simple, huh?’

‘That simple. I’ve got some money in the bank and I can live pretty cheap. Should be OK for a few years. Why are you here?’

‘Could you sit down or something?’ Melissa said. ‘You’re just stood there, looming, and I can’t see your face. And I can’t decide if you’re a crazy stalker or some dumb kid hitting on me.’

He moved and sat under the umbrella canopy on the unoccupied bed neighbouring Melissa’s. She saw a good-looking young man with unkempt blonde hair and beard stubble on his chin. He smiled at her, showing good teeth.

‘Better?’ he asked. ‘I can tell you I’m not a crazy stalker …’ He grinned at her. ‘So that makes me a dumb kid.’

‘I’m just here on vacation,’ Melissa said.



‘Husband at home?’

Mellissa tutted and shook her head. ‘God no; I gave that up a long time ago. Are you hitting on me?’

‘I suppose so.’ There was a pause. ‘I couldn’t take my eyes off you when I first saw you.’ He shook his head and gave a low whistle of appreciation. ‘Those jeans … and those red shoes … how do you walk in them? His eyes glazed as he apparently recalled the image of Melissa’s arrival at the resort in his mind. ‘And how do you get into those jeans? They were so tight … I have to say … you have a fantastic arse.’

Melissa snorted a laugh, dragging at the cigarette again as she eyed the young man sitting across from her, his elbows on his knees, hands dangling.

‘You don’t hold back, eh?’ She smiled. ‘Hitting on a woman old enough to be … well, a lot older than you.’ The smile shifted to a smirk. ‘And I know my ass looks great in those jeans; that’s why I wear ’em.’

‘It’s the way you moved too,’ the boy said.

‘That’s the shoes, darlin’. Those ol’ high heels make my ass swing side to side … seems the boys like that.’ Melissa, behind her sunglasses, saw the guy swallow heavily.

‘Could I …’ he began, his voice croaking. He cleared his throat. ‘Could I,’ he said again and paused.

‘What? Could you what?’

‘Could I have a photo of you … in your jeans … from behind …?’

Melissa stared at the young man for a long time. She smoked, her expression inscrutable, face masked by the shades.

‘You got a cell?’ she asked.

‘A what?’

‘A cell kurtköy escort phone …’

He nodded. ‘A mobile? Yes I have one.’

‘Give me your number,’ she said. ‘I might feel generous later and send you a picture over the cell.’ Melissa smirked again. ‘If I’m feeling generous,’ she added.

The young man looked confused as he patted the pockets of his faded shorts.

‘Uh …’ he mumbled.

Guessing his dilemma, Melissa ground the stub into the ashtray and rose from the sun bed. ‘I’ll get a napkin and a pen from the bar.’ She ducked under the periphery of the umbrella. ‘No looking at my ass,’ she called over her shoulder.

He watched her buttocks jiggle in the briefest of brief bikini bottoms.

‘Write the number down,’ she said upon her return and handed him the things. ‘Did you look at my ass? You did, didn’t you? You watched my ass all the way over there, huh?’

He nodded.

‘Well I might send you a little something over the phone … I might not. You’ll just have to wait and see.’

Two hours later he lay on his bed and watched the ceiling fan rotate and thought of the woman.

‘She won’t send anything. You’re an idiot to imagine she would. She’s just a rich old bitch who saw the chance to tease you …’ He grinned in spite of himself. ‘But she’s got a great arse on her …’

His phone, hitherto silent for the preceding three months let forth a series of piping notes.

He turned his head and surveyed the instrument lying across the room amidst the untidy heap of clothing.

‘Fucking hell,’ he said.


Melissa watched him as he walked away. She waved back at him when he paused, the azure water of the swimming pool between them, and lifted a hand in farewell.

‘That’s not a bad ass you’ve got yourself, kiddo,’ she said quietly. ‘In fact you’re put together pretty well.’ She lit another cigarette and ordered a margarita from a passing waiter. ‘Shame you’re just a kid … Twenty-one,’ she scoffed. ‘Put it right out of your mind, Melissa honey …’

She picked up the paperback.

Fifteen minutes later Melissa let herself into the apartment. She flung the towel and tote bag onto a chair. She showered and then, after towelling herself dry, lifted a small cloth bag, drawn tight across the top like a money sack, from her suitcase. Sitting on the bed she unfastened the draw cord at the mouth of the pouch and upended it. The contents spilled onto the bed cover. After a moment of deliberation Melissa made her selection — a rubber phallus — and fingered its spongy texture for a second or two, tracing the raised criss-cross of ridges and knots intended to simulate veins and other protuberances.

‘Come to momma,’ Melissa sighed as she rested against two thick pillows, her torso angled, legs wide. She twisted a knob at the base of the faux-penis, turning the dial until she achieved, as she knew from much experience, the optimum vibrational output. Splaying the lips of her sex, already tacky with arousal, Melissa introduced the outsized instrument to her clitoris. ‘Oh sweet fucking Jesus,’ she blasphemed. ‘Melissa Wheeler, you’re a nasty, dirty girl …’ She groaned and pressed the buzzing thing against her body.

As was her habit, Melissa came to a quick, intense orgasm, and then settled down to a more enjoyable, languid period of masturbatory delight.

‘He watched my ass,’ she said, her face twisting as she pushed a full four inches inside herself. ‘I could feel his eyes on me, crawling over my ass.’ Melissa gasped, her free hand mauling roughly at her breast. ‘Did you like it, baby? Did you like looking at my ass? Did it make you hot for me?’

The air-conditioning hummed quietly against the rise and fall of the vibrator as Melissa jammed the thing into her body. Her face twisted into a rictal snarl as she grunted loudly, with her thighs tense, stomach taut. Melissa’s fingers plucked at her nipples, teasing the pink teats to thick, elongated thimbles. Her areola tightened and puckered, reducing their usual saucer-sized circumference down to the area of a ten peso coin.

‘Fuck me, baby,’ the woman gabbled to her fantasy lover, incoherent in her pleasure. Her labia clung to the ridged and gnarled shaft as it stretched her opening to a cerise band of tight flesh. A glistening coating of desire lubricated the vibrator as Melissa’s need burned hotter. She fucked herself hard and fast, punctuating the rapid plunging with prolonged pressure from the bulbous tip against her clitoris.

“Oh fuck,’ she sobbed, fingers quick against the slick nub of her clitoris as she pushed the dildo deep. ‘Oh fuck, oh fuck …’

Her climax burst, sending the woman into a paroxysm of writhing limbs, snarled obscenities and twisted facial features.

Recklessly, still caught in the throes of orgasm, Melissa staggered to the tote. She plucked her cell phone from inside along with the napkin. Returning on shaking legs to the bed she slid half the length of the vibrator back inside her body. The thing hung there, an obscene tongue, malatya escort with Melissa’s thick, meaty, labia curled around the shaft. Angling the phone with one hand she held herself wide open to reveal a clitoris swollen to the size of the top joint of her pinkie finger. She took three photos and punched the number from the napkin into her phone.


He showered and dressed. His clothing was creased but there was nothing he could do about that. When he stepped out into the street it was still daylight and he estimated the time at six fifteen. He walked down past the shop fronts, recognised now by the patrons who no longer pestered him to buy a hammock, a tee-shirt or a cigar. He turned left and walked through boulevard of bars and restaurants parallel to the beach.

He came to a halt outside the imposing facade.

‘OK,’ he muttered. ‘You’re invited; there’ll be no problem tonight.’ Smoothing down recalcitrant hair with the palm of his hand he stepped into the air-conditioned foyer. The opulence surrounded his ragamuffin form. Raised eyebrows regarded him from several quarters but no one barred his way.

She smiled as he approached the table. ‘You came,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t sure you would after …’

‘I don’t know what to say,’ he said, standing awkwardly across the table from Melissa.

‘Well, don’t say anything about it then.’ Melissa’s cheeks flamed, the blush creeping along her throat to spread into the décolletage of her canary yellow, open-necked shirt. ‘But I’m wearing the jeans. Yellow shoes this time … Lethal heels.’

At her invitation he sat. A waiter attended and she ordered wine.

‘I have to say,’ she began when the man glided away, ‘that I’m so sorry for sending those pictures. I don’t know what came over me. What was I thinking? I can’t imagine what impression you have of me now. I don’t make a habit out of sending explicit pictures to strange men.’

‘Who do you normally send them too then?’ he said.


‘Nothing. I was joking. If you don’t send them to strange men, then who do you send them to normally?’ He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter. About the joke I mean …’

‘I get it,’ she said. ‘Ha ha.’

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m a bit nervous. I always do that when I’m nervous. Make jokes.’

The waiter appeared with the wine. Melissa went through the rigmarole of tasting.

‘Si, gracias.’ And the man smiled and left the bottle.

‘I liked the pictures.’

‘What?’ Melissa asked. ‘I didn’t hear.’

‘I said I liked the pictures. A bit of a surprise, but …’ He nodded, his blue eyes on Melissa’s face.

‘I got a little carried away,’ Melissa said.

He sipped the wine. ‘That’s nice. It isn’t often I get to drink wine. Not on my budget.’ His eyes met Melissa’s again. ‘I got a bit … erm … carried away too … When I got the pictures.’ His gaze slid from her face.

‘What did you do?’

‘What do you think?’

‘I’d like you to tell me,’ Melissa said quietly. ‘Did you masturbate?’

He nodded, his eyes fixed on the table cloth in front of him.

Melissa continued: ‘Did you look at those pictures and think of me while you did it?’

‘Yes. Yes, of course I did.’

The silence between them grew protracted. All around them was the polite, subdued murmur of conversation between well-dressed, impeccably-mannered diners. Cutlery chinked against crockery, a quiet chuckle came forth, a harmonious scene of well-heeled vacationers enjoying their time.

Eventually, Melissa sighed. ‘I could do with a smoke. Bring the bottle. Let’s go outside for a time.’

He followed, holding the wine bottle by the neck like a dead rabbit while Melissa carried both glasses, a small leather bag wedged between an elbow and ribs.

Outside they had the long pier to themselves, and he followed Melissa’s tight jeans along the quay where it jutted out into the purple twilight while the Caribbean sloughed against the pilings below.

Melissa sat on the planking with her legs dangling over the inky dark water. He sat next to her as she lit a cigarette.

‘Did it feel good?’ she asked. ‘Masturbating I mean.’ She pushed the lighter back into the bag.

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘When did you last have sex?’

He thought for a moment and then answered: ‘About two months ago. A chubby German girl … She was really pretty.’

‘Where is she now?’ Melissa asked, drawing smoke deeply and staring out at some unidentified vessel’s navigation lights way out to sea.

‘With some Australian bloke we met in Nicaragua. We shared her for a few days until she made up her mind. She went off with him.’

‘You shared her? You mean …? Did you both fuck her at the same time?’

‘Well, we had a dorm to ourselves for three nights. It was her idea.’

Melissa thought for a while. She smoked and sipped the wine with him sitting next to her on the pier.

‘Would you like to fuck me?’ she asked and flipped the half-smoked cigarette into the dark.

He watched the orange spark kayseri escort arc.

‘What do you think?’

Melissa looked at his profile. His hair moved in the soft waft of breeze coming in from the Caribbean.

‘Let’s go to my room,’ she murmured.

He turned his head to look at her. They both leaned in at the same time. Their lips met and her mouth opened itself to his tongue. She tasted of wine and tobacco. His cock stiffened instantly.

They left the wine and glasses perched at the end of the dock while they walked, his arm around her waist as she tottered precariously, the dangerous heels clipping with hurried, metronomic regularity against the planks.

In her room she went to him suddenly, her mouth open, tongue sliding into his mouth.

‘I must be insane,’ she breathed after his fingers had unbuttoned her shirt. She moaned when, after he’d unclasped her bra and freed her breasts, he sucked each of her nipples in turn.

‘Turn around,’ he gasped, his hands forcing her to move. ‘Let me see your arse.’

‘My ass,’ she purred and walked away from him. The shirt slid from her sun-kissed shoulders as she moved. ‘I only had these jeans laundered today,’ she said. ‘They’re pretty fucking tight, eh?’ Melissa discarded her bra. She moved to the vanity table fixed to the wall. ‘Stay there,’ she ordered. ‘Watch.’

He stared at her back and saw the ruddy glow of her three day tan, the skin paler where the bikini had been. Her fingers slipped against the button at the front of her jeans, and after a brief tussle she gave a cry of triumph and unzipped. She heard him gasp as she pushed the waistband down over her hips.

‘Look at my ass, baby,’ Melissa crooned as she pushed the dark blue denim to the backs of her knees. He gasped again when the woman knelt upon the small stool in front of the table and, while regarding his reflected image, pushed her backside towards him.

‘No knickers,’ he breathed.

‘You like that ass, baby? Is that what you wanted to see?’

‘Oh … Fucking hell … Yes!’ He moved to her quickly, his gaze fixed on the round globes of Melissa’s buttocks. ‘And I can see your …’ He gulped and stammered, ‘I can see yuh … your pussy.’

‘Oh I know you can see it. A little clam peeping out at you back there, huh?’ Melissa’s hips swayed. ‘Why don’t you lick it? Lick my pussy. Come and see how hot I am.’

Two steps and he was there. He growled and fell to his knees, a supplicant at the altar of her pouting sex and heart-shaped backside.

Melissa squealed when his fingers parted her buttocks. ‘Oh fuck. You can see all of me back there.’ She craned her neck, looking back over a shoulder.

He pressed his face to the intimate places, his nose against her anus while his tongue probed into the opening of her sex. His tongue squirmed and wriggled, slipping across her clitoris and eliciting a low groan from her throat.

After laving at Melissa’s cunt he pulled back, his fingers still holding the cheeks of her buttocks apart. He examined the dark stain of her sphincter.

‘Oh, you filthy bastard,’ Melissa groaned. ‘You’re licking my ass. It tickles. I can feel you back there. That’s it, baby. Lick my dirty hole. That’s good, so fucking nasty. I love it.’

‘The German girl liked it too,’ he said.

‘Did you fuck her ass? Did she take like that?’

He slid his tongue against Melissa’s sphincter again, fingers working at her front opening.

‘No,’ he said when he finally broke away. ‘She didn’t go that far. She sucked one of us while the other fucked her. That was about the limit.’

Melissa reached an arm back and pushed him away. She stood and turned around before sitting down on the stool. She unfastened each of her shoes and kicked them off. She then stood and rolled the jeans down over her calves.

‘Would you like my ass?’ she said, hands on her hips and looking into his face.

‘Anything,’ he said, his eyes fixed on the severe stripe of pubic hair. ‘I’ll do anything.’

‘Take off your clothes.’

He did, quickly, and when he was naked Melissa eyed his long, lean body. ‘Hard already, eh?’ She pointed to his erection hanging like a jib. ‘Is that because you’re horny for me?’

‘I’ll say,’ he replied and stroked his cock.

Melissa walked to the bed and lay back against its acreage her legs open.

‘Eat my cunt some more. Make me come and then you can fuck me in the ass. I like it in there sometimes … especially when I’m so fucking hot.’

He licked her again, fingering her opening and sucking her clitoris. After her orgasm, Melissa took a small tube of unguent from the draw-cord bag.

She handed it to him. “Smear some of that on your fingers and then massage it into my ass.’ She knelt on the bed on hands and knees and pushed her hips towards the ceiling. ‘That’s it, baby, lube me up good and your cock will slide right in.’

When he was finished, Melissa lay on her side. She pointed to the bed behind her. ‘Here,’ she said. Lay down behind me.’ Her fingers spread her buttocks and revealed her sphincter glistening with goo. ‘Put it in slow, baby. Just ease it in. Let it fill my ass. I need to settle down before you can fuck me properly.’

He got on the bed behind Melissa.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

kartal escort film izle seks hikayeleri izmir partner escort kartal escort ankara escort esenyurt escort avcılar escort kayseri escort antep escort malatya escort bayan kayseri escort bayan eryaman escort bayan pendik escort bayan tuzla escort bayan kartal escort bayan kurtköy escort bayan ankara escort gaziantep escort tuzla escort izmir escort ataköy escort bahis siteleri bahis siteleri bahis siteleri bahis siteleri bahis siteleri canlı bahis webmaster forum