Free Lessons and Lovers by Portia Da Costa Page A

camera, his hands rising elegantly to sweep back his tousled hair. Then he spread out his arms, stretched hugely, and as his naked body arched towards her, Hettie swallowed, her own body instantly stirring.
    It was as if he were displaying himself to her. She gasped, feeling sweat trickle between her breasts and her pussy fluttering in the age-old female response to masculine beauty.
    Darryl was skinny and sleek, just as she’d imagined him. An exquisite Adonis, smooth of chest and lightly muscled but with a cock between his shining thighs that was sturdy and impressive.
    Goddammit, he’s nearly as big as Starr! Her hand flew unconsciously to her crotch.
    He wasn’t fully erect yet, but Hettie could see that was about to change. She dropped into a chair beside the console, still watching, then reached for the contrast control. As the image sharpened, she saw Darryl lie down, stretch out his long brown limbs on the bed, then slowly and languidly reach down and take hold of his cock.
    She watched entranced as he first pumped himself to a complete imposing hardness, then let his fingers stray luxuriously over the rest of his body. Slowly and at leisure, he touched his belly, his chest and his thighs—and then when he pinched his nipples, his hips bucked upward and his penis swayed spectacularly.
    Hettie felt her own sex boil. Fulminating, it called on a primal, purely physical level to his penis, wanting it inside her. How would it be to climb onto that bed, kneel over Darryl’s slim silky body, and lower herself onto him?
    She imagined him filling her and stretching her, pushing up into her, thrusting hard and fast and battering the mouth of her womb. His long drives would pull on her clitoris and in seconds she’d be spasming and moaning and clasping his cock with the wet, yielding walls of her channel.
    And as—on the monitor—his fingers returned to his genitals, so—in the darkness of the old nanny’s bedroom—did Hettie’s fly urgently to hers.
    Lifting the shimmering fall of her skirt, she arranged the delicate cloth in folds at her waist and eased her legs apart. As Darryl stroked the tip of his cock, stimulating the most sensitive part of his body, Hettie mirrored him by touching her fingertip to the most delicate and responsive area of hers. There was moisture in abundance in her sex and she smoothed it copiously over her clitoris, imagining it was the hand of her gorgeous houseguest that was anointing her.
    “Oh God… Oh yes…please…” she moaned, then froze as the monitor showed her that he too was muttering. With her free hand she reached out to turn up the volume switch while the other resumed its delicate manipulation of her clitoris.
    Husky groans filled the room, the raw sound of a horny man uninhibitedly enjoying his own body.
    His noises were indecipherable at first, indistinct sighs and grunts and fragments of both English and Italian. But as he cradled his balls in one hand and stroked his streaming red shaft with the other, one clear unmistakable utterance seemed to fly out of the speaker and caress Hettie’s sex like a living, tangible entity.
    “Hettie! Oh Hettie!” he cried, his voice musical yet strangled as his hips lurched up from the bed beneath him and milk-white semen jetted out from between his working fingers and flew in an arc through the air.
    “Oh you sweet thing!” she gasped fondly as her own body gave itself up to pleasure and her clitoris danced beneath her touch. With her eyes locked on the jerking figure on the screen, she felt her pussy flex and pulse as if it were trying to grab the stiff dark thing that he held so tightly in his fist.
    “Oh God, yes! Yes!” she whimpered, coming superbly, but also painfully aware that she was empty and she needed to be filled. That it wasn’t her new visitor that she wanted to share these moments with, but someone else. Someone who was close by, but as distant in some ways as the stars he was named for…
    Darryl’s orgasm