Author Topic: Molly’s Rapturous Embrace by Millie Dynamite  (Read 710 times)

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April 11, 2019, 05:57:35 PM

Offline MillieDynamite

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Molly’s Rapturous Embrace


An erotic short story from
“Millie’s Vast Expanse”

By
Millie Dynamite


Forbidden Forced Fantasies Edition
License Notes

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© Copyright 2016, 2019 by Millie Dynamite
Published at Forbbiden Forced Fantasies
All Rights Reserved

NOTE: This work contains material not suitable for anyone under the age of eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic sexual nature. By reading this eBook, you assert that you comply with your local or state laws. This book is purely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons whether living, deceased, actual events, or locales are entirely coincidental. Drug use and promiscuous sex are harmful and only depicted for dramatic purposes.

Millie’s Vast Expanse

In the Expanse, there are many twists and turns to get from there to here or vice versa. There are all sorts of business people, salesmen, and saleswomen hocking their wares. Some ply their trade in business suits and ties, while others do so in silk stockings and form fitting dresses. Some offer goods for use by others, or to be resold – while some offer their bodies as the commodity.

Portrait of a night of debauchery, John is an aptly named businessman, unwinding after a tough day of selling widgets when he spots a dark beauty who likewise is selling her wares. John is a man who craves excitement, a brief freedom from the dull routine from the prison of life. A fling outside the matrimonial bed – a night of lusty rutting so exquisite that his existence can, for a moment at least, be lifted out of the ordinary.

She calls herself LaTonya, a comely ebony spider loitering at the center of her web, anxious for the telltale plucking of a silken strand. Her signal that a juicy fly is ready for her to devour. She’ll sprinkle on spice and seasoning, then take an arm followed by a leg, then gobble the whole thing down.

Then there’s Molly and her loving embrace – oh, yes, she plays such an important part in this little tale from Millie’s Vast Expanse. In the parlance of the profession – a johns made easier to handle when Molly comes along on the ride, for when she warms his heart, he opens his pocketbook.
Molly’s Rapturous Embrace

****

“Will you walk into my parlor?” said the spider to the fly.”
From the Poem: The Spider and the Fly by Mary Howitt 1829

Sauntering into the hotel bar, my short white dress was the perfect contrast to my mahogany skin. Passing him, I shot a side glance his direction and felt the first tentative tingle on the long thin strand of my web. Ah, I thought, an enjoyable juicy fly. Moving to the middle of the bar I positioned myself on the stool. Ignoring him, I waved a finger in the air to the bartender. He brought me my preferred drink, then walked down refilling the man’s wine glass. The good stuff, mmm, he has money. Waiting till my glass was near to empty, at last, I shot a tentative, flirtatious glance toward him. Tall, just approaching middle age, gray around the temples, still in good shape, though. Taut looking and nicely muscled. I felt another ripple in the web as he stared back at me. He might be wise, but wisdom always yields to lust and boredom.

The intensity of his gaze took me by surprise as he sat there sipping his wine, observing me — devouring me with his eyes. I should have been uncomfortable. The proper thing was to demurely avert my gaze. Instead, I glared back at him. When I say glared, I don’t mean a hateful glower, rather a lustful gaze, a sensual, intense, fixation of his eyes to mine. Lowering my eyes, I let him have a moment to contemplate his next move.

Would he approach me, sit there unmoving frozen in fear over my brazenness, or turn away? Perhaps jump up and run out of the establishment fleeing for his life. I felt the faint plucking of one of the strands of my web. Without looking to confirm his actions I knew he moved closer to me. I turned my attention to the bartender, holding a finger up for one more.

“Put it on my tab,” he said, sitting next to me. I turned my head, ever so slightly, glancing at him, my full lips gathered to the barest sliver of a smile. In an expression of acknowledgment, I bobbed my head, then licked my lips. He purred sweet words of my figure and face in my ear. Flatteries designed to win my affections, if only for a short time. I sighed, smiled, and thanked him — offering little conversation back I allowed him the privilege to prattle on about his successes in the business world. After a bit I said something, coy yet sultry. Just a flirtatious comment, followed by a knowing look or smile, sweet and sensual to keep his interest piqued, as he continued to sell himself.

The band started playing a slow song, and my body swayed on the stool. Dancing with myself I felt his eyes drinking in the sight and without turning to look at him I lifted the glass and drank down the fluid.

“Would you care to dance,” he asked.

“Next slow song, I promise,” I said to him. “Tell me, do you come here often?”

“No, I’m from out of town,” he answered.  I felt the web again as its sticky little strands trapped my prey, and he didn’t even realize it. “Here on business.” His left hand rested on the bar; I ran my finger over the pale white mark on his ring finger.

“So, you took your wedding ring off,” I mentioned, leaning into him. Out of instinct, he wrapped his right arm around my shoulder. “You looking to be a naughty boy while you’re here?” My mouth hovered near his ear. My lips nearly touched his lobe and my hot moist breath teased the rest of his ear.

“Yeah, maybe,” he gulped in air as he spoke. His Adams apple jumped when he talked, “But you’re right, I’m married.” I put my free hand on the back of his head, with gentle encouragement I guided his face to mine.

“So,” I interjected moving closer to him lubricating my lips with my tongue just before our hungry mouths met. My tongue parted his lips, darting in out of his mouth before snaking in and exploring his tongue and teeth. My hand moved over his hand. I felt his heat building. The band stopped and then began playing another slow song.

“Let’s dance,” I insisted, sliding off the stool. I moved away from him, knowing he would follow. The thread of the web tingled again, as his hand touched my lower back. He moved beside me, and I turned to him. Arms held out for our dance, we embraced, and our bodies moved in synchronicity to the beat of the music.

With each step, our bodies moved closer, till there was no space between us as we oscillated together. Sliding my hand from his shoulder to his chest, I roamed over his pecs, feeling the hard, chiseled muscles beneath the silken material. I could sense the quickening of his heartbeat. I saw his eyes dilate when I ran my tongue over my lips and smiled at him.

“Will you walk into my parlor? Said the spider to the fly,” I said. I felt him settling into my web, his struggle finished. Now I could devour him at my leisure. He towered over me, leaning down placed his mouth at my ear.

“I’ve never been with a black girl before, but I have always wanted to,” he whispered.
“Would you contribute to my college fund?” I asked him, my satin voice vibrated in his ear. “I’m so poor and needy, can you help me out with my tuition?”

“How does five-hundred-dollars sound?” answering my question with his own.

“Like a start, but it isn’t enough, not for a whole night of study, double that and we have a study date,” I declared, my voice husky and lusty. He stopped, stepped back and looked at me. I rolled my eyes, twisted my head, looking up at him with innocence. “I absolutely, desperately need help.”

“Yeah, I guess I can do that,” he said. “I’ll need to get some more cash from an ATM.” I quickly moved close to him, standing on my tippy toes I put an index finger to his mouth.

“Ssshhh,” let’s finish our dance first. We again embraced and danced; our bodies undulated with the music while my hands roamed over his herculean frame. I felt his bulge grow, as it pressed hard on his pants, straining against my belly.

When the dance ended, we walked back to the bar. He walked behind me, close, ever so close, to hide his growing erection. He looked disappointed when I ordered another drink. I leaned into him pressing my firm breasts into his side, pressing my wet lips against his ear, I whispered soft and sultry.

“Don’t rush it,” I ordered, throaty with sensual tones, “we have all night.”

“I’m anxious,” he acknowledged, “and excited. You’re so stunning.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” I told him.

“What’s your name?” he questioned.

“LaTonya,” I lied. “And yours?”

“John,” he answered.

I giggled.

“What?” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “John, seriously you don’t get it,” I said tauntingly.

“Oh,” he said, the joke, at last, sinking into his mind. We kissed and talked about nothing then made our way to the door. He led me to the parking structure and his car, a big, blue Cadillac Escalade. I stopped him. Turning him my direction, I again stretched up on my tippy toes as our lips met.

The kiss was one of those slow, wet, decadent French kisses that send the temperature soaring in your private regions. Our tongues danced together as he picked me up off my feet. He lifted me up to him. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I felt his member swell even more. He held me tight to him as one of my hands ran down his chest, down his rock, hard tummy, down to his crotch. I felt the engorged pecker through his pants. It grew angrier, struggling against its prison, yearning for freedom.

My fingers clutched his zipper and with a slow, deliberate motion I pulled down the fly. His cock needed no invitation. It sprang out ready, willing to be used. I worked my dress up over my hips, pulled my thong to the side, grasped his prick and positioned it.

“I thought I would have to pay first,” he pointed out. Risky as it was, I took the chance – shit I was too hot to wait.

“Shut the fuck up — before I change my mind,” I told him. With a fast, hard lunge he entered me. I breathed in and gasped. He twirled around, laying me back against the SUV. He thrust again, I snorted as he sent himself deeper inside me, panting. One more jab and he drove himself inside me balls deep.

I kissed his lips as his powerful, hips thrust quick and hard. My hands felt his back, chest, and belly. I fumbled with his shirt trying to unbutton it and grasping hands full of cloth I yanked. Buttons flew from the shirt, pinging as they hit the ground.

Traffic moved by us just yards away on the street. People chattered a few feet from where we fucked, just the other side of the half wall in front of the front bumper of the vehicle.

Running my hands over his hard muscles, I dug my nails deep into the hard flesh. His birds nest hair felt coarse under my soft palms. I scratched him but took care not to go to deep. He quickened his pace. The cool night air did nothing to dampen our desire.

The car moved under the brute force with which he fucked me. My craving bloomed as my wetness oozed over his member, out of me over the front of his faded jeans. He whispered in my ear how beautiful I was as I screamed out vulgar encouragement for him to fuck harder.

A hushed gasp came from near us. I knew someone watched us. I felt the spasms as his cock spit his seed deep in me. I was so worked up, I needed more but knew it had to wait. His cock deflated inside of me, plopped out, then he lowered me till my feet touched the ground. He pulled the ruined shirt off and tossed it to the ground.

“Never liked that shirt anyway,” he explained, laughing while he put his cock away.

Peering over to the car parked across from him I saw an old lady gawking at us. Lifting my middle finger, I squatted and forced as much of his cum out on the asphalt as I could. She got in her car and left. The two of us laughed about our elderly voyeur as we drove to an ATM.

He stood at the money machine, punching in numbers and taking several hundred dollar bills out at a time, repeating the procedure twice. Then returned to the car, stuffing the handful of bills into an already fat wallet as he sauntered back to the Caddy. I could see rows of cards in the little folds, jackpot, I thought. I enjoyed the sight of my sweet cum spread over his jeans.

When we drove back to the hotel, he shot through several red lights. I warned him the traffic cops in this town were ticket happy. He responded that he could afford it. We were lucky no one was near as we walked in. Me in my sexy little white dress and him in his jeans, bare-chested. No awkward questions to answer. No disapproving leers to endure. He pushed the call button and the doors of one of the cars opened.

When the doors closed on the elevator, we clutched each other’s bodies. Kissing, squeezing, hugging all the way until that familiar bounce as the elevator stopped. We moved down the hall, clasped together, he picked me up carrying me as our scorching kiss continued. Leaning me against the door, he fished out his key card and shoved it in. I laughed at how hard and fast he thrust it in and withdrew the card. The door flew away from my back, and he carried me inside, kicking the door shut behind us.

Gotcha. The spider pounced. He never stood a chance.

****
Down the Rabbit Hole

I noticed her the moment she walked in the bar, watching her reflection in the mirror behind the bar as she walked through the door. She moved like a great cat of prey; her mahogany flesh was so dark. Deep licorice tones in stark contrast to her form-fitting pale gray mini dress. Her eyes darted to me when she moved past. I knew she was hooker – I didn’t care. I wanted her – but she’s prime rib, and prime cost a lot more than hamburger.

She sat at the bar not far from me, and I drank in her essence, feeling ravenous for her dark, hot, curvy flesh. Twisting off my wedding band, I shoved it in my pocket then approached her, hoping she was a dark rose for plucking and not a whore. She responded to my advances but when she ran her finger over the tan line of my missing ring, I feared the game ended. I made a confession of being married.

“So,” insinuating her indifference to my revelation. My hope she wasn’t a hooker diminished.

On the dance floor she revealed to me that, indeed, she was a prostitute. The truth of it didn’t shock or even surprise me but the cost, oh god, the price was expensive; screwing her would be extravagant. Hell, I decided in a heartbeat to indulge in this fantasy. I had never been with a such a dusky beauty in my life, never experienced a black woman in bed. I told her I would have to get more money from an ATM, hoping she would settle for less. She held firm on the value she placed on herself, so, we left to go find an ATM.

I had been nervous about her, fearful it could be set up for a robbery, but when I fucked her on the hood of my car in the parking structure, my fear melted. She didn’t charge me in advance. The girl indicated that she intended to spend the whole night to earn her money. She took a chance that I would just leave her there high and dry. I knew there was no way she would do me wrong. While we fucked, she ripped my shirt open to get at my chest. Her hands were soft as she touched me, scratched me, and ran those hot fingers over my hard muscles with expertise. She held onto her small white handbag, even when I fucked her. I wondered what she carried there, her money, a gun or knife for protection, a badge to flash when I paid her. Though we had fucked already, wouldn’t that make it entrapment?

When I got the money, I was careful not to show how much I got or how much I already had. On the way back she lit up a hookah pen, a sweet strawberry creation and offered it to me. I hadn’t had a smoke for hours, so I craved the nicotine. I pulled that mixture in my lungs and felt better instantly.

“A special blend, concocted just for me,” she purred, biting my ear in an affectionate, playful manner. She toyed with my cock through my pants all the way back to the hotel. We clutched each other on the ride up the elevator. When the doors opened, I carried her to my room, kicking the door shut behind us.

Her hands were soft and tender, running them over my hairy chest, digging those long nails into flesh, just enough to send chills over my whole body. I lit up the e-cigarette again as she peeled my pants off me. Dragging the vapers down into my lungs the pleasure rushed through my veins. I could feel her touch, so sensual, and so much deeper a pleasure now. I took in more of the fumes. She switched the TV on and turned it to a music channel.

Barry McGuire sang out with his raw, coarse voice about the “Eve of Destruction.” LaTonya guided me to bed, and I laid back on it. She shimmied out of the white dress, her large breast swayed before my eyes, the thin waist and wide hips gave her a perfect hourglass figure. Her face, how like a dark angel’s it looked, the licorice skin with its shade of black, yes different shade of black. Creeping onto the bed, she turned her full attention to me, crawling up my body a feline snatching its victim. Kissing my chest, working her tongue down my belly, lower, finally, concentrated her attentions even lower, with a skilled mouth and tongue she coaxed me to respond.

Her mouth was wet, warm and inviting. I responded, oh how my body reacted. I could feel those thick lips moving over me, her tongue dancing around my prick. I had never felt like this, never experienced this much pleasure from a blowjob before, not in my whole life. Her breasts lay against my belly a big fat nipples pushing. Tits touching me had never felt this magnificent. I took another hit on the e-smoke. Her head dipped down slow and steadying as she gobbled me down right to the base. She milked me with her mouth and tongue, squeezing me like a tit on a cow’s udder. Her fingers ran over my balls, my legs, and stomach. This light loving touch, then a hard but gentle squeeze.

“White Rabbit” started playing and Grace Slick’s voice filled me – I felt I lived the words to the song right on that hotbed of passion. The rabbit hole swirled around me as the dazzling colors rushed through my head. I don’t know how long it lasted. Her touches danced over my white-hot body. I thought it odd she hadn’t collected any money yet. Her mouth, oh sweet Jesus, her mouth engulfed me – consumed me, filling me with pleasure. She smelled of lilac, that scent filled me, that fragrance and the vapor’s aroma mingled together deep down inside my lungs. I could feel the smell becoming part of the blood coursing through my veins.

The colors of the room became brighter to me. In spite of the dim light, I could see it all in clarity as though every light burned. The colors kept shifting shades, the reds turned pink, the blues aqua and then back again. Everything changed from one moment to the next. The constant was her mahogany flesh, jet-black, sable and swarthy shades of her complexion.

The closer I got to climax the more the ants crawled over my flesh, tiny little bastards, they didn’t bite they just moved over me. I burned in the fire of lust, the ants and lust were pleasant – her mouth consuming my cock was an adrenaline-charged sensation. My heart raced, I felt my head – it was on fire and cold simultaneously, the ants jumped from my head in massive waves. Sex had never done any of this to me before – hell this was worth a grand.

When I blew my nut, it was stream after stream of thick globs. I think, it was the most I had ever cum. She didn’t stop sucking. Just kept going working on my deflated cock until again it was throbbing, and LaTonya positioned herself on top of me. Her beautiful face moved to mine, and she kissed me, all the while her hands roamed over my body. Her long tongue snaked into my mouth, the waves of the hot ants shooting off my head increased, the pleasure embraced my body, and my mind – fire and ice exploded inside, competing to be the victor.

I felt her pussy. A dripping wet flame that clutched my prick, her hands on my body, the ants scurried from her fingertips rushing over my flesh, and that lovely aroma deep in my lungs. I drew more of the vapors down inside as the sweet love potion rushed through me. Her hips rolled gently, and it all overwhelmed me. Deep satisfaction passed over my being, while passion burned inside me, blasting out of every pore. As I touched her soft yet firm body, the heat from me passed between us in shared passion. I felt more alive than ever before. I could feel the sheets making love to me. Her face made love to my face – the whole room fucked with passion. I wanted this moment to last forever. I would o anything, give anything, to have this continue.

“Sweet Daddy,” she interjected, “can I have all the money in your fat full wallet? If you give me all that lovely money, I’ll take you to heaven,” Oh god, heaven. Could it be even better – my body wanted more of her. I felt as if she consumed me, and I so wanted to give more – get more. Her hips undulated on me, twisting and turning, rubbing me, sending freezing shivers over me and hot burning blast of passion mixed together.

“Oh baby, you can have every damn dollar,” I blurted out. Her head bobbed up out of view then back down as she rode me. Her breast heaved with her heavy, fast breathing. I bucked into her pressing my cock deep. She put the hookah pen smoke back in my mouth, and I sucked in hard. The ants filled my lungs, then moved to my veins – swarming through my body and running through my brain in such pleasure. As she fucked me, she took the wallet and pulled the money out.

“You’re sure? All of it?” I nodded, she gazed into my eyes and smiled as she put the cash in her clutch. The strange potion moved through my mind arousing my yearnings. Pulling a small notepad and pen out of her handbag she asked, “What’s the pin number for this card?” All the while her hips rolled, her pussy massaged, her body used me and that look on her dark, sultry face held me spellbound.

“4250,” I answered, pulling more of the wonderful vapors deep into my lungs, deep down holding it – feeling it move from lungs to blood, to brain. Oh god, I craved this moment, this feeling, this fucking.

“And this one?” I gave it to her along with all the other pins and how much you could take out at a time, I told her what would trigger a shut down on the cards. She kept her snatch moving on my cock, her scorching, damp pussy milked me. Pressing her body into me her mouth next my ear, her warm breath moved over my ear as she spoke.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good baby,” I felt my cock spasm, as rapture moved over me and I shuddered, losing another load inside my African queen. Over and over, all through the night, we fucked – it seemed I couldn’t go limp. I kept sucking on that fucking e-cigarette – inhaling all that lovely vaper. It all felt so beautiful, so delectably sinful that I couldn’t resist. I just kept fucking her until – I have no idea when. Her blackberry flesh covered mine as blackness overtook me, still I felt her and the ants, crawling over me. It ended, and the dreams began to run through my mind. I slipped into a dark, nightmarish sleep.

I didn’t wake until the lady declared, “House Keeping.” All my debit and credit cards were gone; all my cash missing. I called the cops and waited for them to arrive. I felt like shit, I also felt stupid, I had bits and flashes from the night, but remembered nothing clearly from the moment I saw her in the mirror behind the bar. I would have to come up with a convincing lie for my wife.

****

Ethan Hunt: Relax Luther, it’s much worse than you think.
From the movie: Mission Impossible 1996


Alethea put her badge on her uniform and admired herself in the mirror, placed her hat on her head then strutted from the locker room into rollcall. Her partner smiled at her as she sat next to him. Looking so pleased, so happy, he couldn’t help but ask her about it.

“So, get lucky last night?”

“Very,” she exclaimed. After rollcall, the pair went on patrol, and around noon, they were called to the Plaza Hotel. On the ride up her partner incessantly complained to her about tourists getting taken by whores. Entering his room, they noticed him sitting on the bed looking at the TV. With dull eyes and blank expression, it took a few second for the man to realize they were even there.

He began to babble about the girl, the e-cigarette, the money, and cards. He stopped talking, suddenly running out of words and returned his attention to the TV.

“Still on whatever she gave him,” the male officer asserted. “Mollied, I bet.”

Alethea agreed, snapping her fingers to the distracted man on the bed. “Sir! Need you stay with us.”

He looked at her and smiled, she was beautiful, such lovely skin. Dusky and dark like a Hershey Bar. He felt safe talking to her. She would help.

“Tell me what happened last night,” she asked.

“Alethea, can you take his statement? I’ll go get us some lunch.”

“Sure, I’ll get to the bottom of this in no time,” she told her partner.

“See you in the cruiser in a few,” with that he left.

“Now, Mr. Mann,” she said, sitting beside the abject creature on the bed.

“You can call me John,” he interposed.

“Okay, John, can you tell me what happened? A little more clearly this time.”

“Well, I remember seeing her in the bar downstairs … I remember dancing and how sexy she was … I can’t quite make her face out … I knew she was a whore.”

Althea interrupted him. “Let’s not call her a whore. Let’s say prostitute or working girl. I think it is rude to call a girl a whore, don’t you?”

“Oh, sure sorry, well I knew … I can tell a working girl when I see one … I remember doing something in the parking lot and going to the room … I remember her asking me for my pin numbers, and I must have given them to her,” he babbled, then stopped looking into Althea’s eyes. She was so appealing, and somehow familiar in the cobwebs of his mind.

“She probably maxed you out on cash withdrawals,” she responded. “Undoubtedly got the money in her college fund already.”

“Wh…what…?” Something of the night flashed before him.

One of her eyebrows rose at that moment as her lip curled into a gentle smile. “Go on. What else do you remember?” she asked.

“I … I’m not sure…” he tried to speak, then faltered. It was a blur. A wonderful, hot, passionate, sexy blur.

“Yeah, you may not remember the details, but you know you got the fuck of your life, right?” she reassured him.

“Oh, God, yes.”

Standing, Alethea turned to him. “Now, if you’ll take my advice, you should probably get out of this town while you can.” She leaned down to him, the curve of her breast close to him, her sharp eyes inches from his glazed orbs. “Unless of course, you want the same treatment.”

“Uh…” he stammered, drawn to her eyes. Those eyes. So familiar.

 She stands up again, writing a few more notes before holding her pad out to him, “I think we have all we need if you can sign this please, John.”

He looked up sharply at the way she said his name, then signed without reading the statement. He shook his head, looking off into the distance, trying to remember more. “Enjoyed it,” he told her, “can’t tell you how much.”

From the TV, Althea heard a line from the movie that was on. “Relax Luther, it’s much worse than you think.”

“Man knows what he’s talking about,” she smiled, as John drew his eyes back to her. “Take care of yourself, John.”

He nodded, flashes of memory of a black goddess with hands of pure gold on his skin.

She leaned down to him again as her tongue ran lightly across her lips. “But if you want someone else to take care of you, that can probably be arranged.” As his eyes widen, she smiled, turned from him and walked out letting the door close behind her.

Slowly he nodded in the empty room, still sitting on the bed. She was a nice woman. He knew she’d help. And the woman was oh, so familiar…
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April 12, 2019, 02:25:58 AM
Reply #1

Offline vile8r

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Great story, Millie! It's so nice to see such a versatile writer as yourself, who can do consensual and non-con stories both so well!