One Shot: Happy Ending

I'm finally done with the Robert massage story. Naturally it gets NSFW. 😉 Enjoy. ❤️❤️❤️

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Robert has you right where he wants you: naked and face-down on the bed. He knows you've had an exhausting day. He knows how to make it better.

He's thrown your red silk scarf over the lamp to dim the lights and set the mood. Barry White is playing on the stereo.

"I think this is warm enough now," he says. You can't see it, but you know he's talking about the bottle of oil that he was heating gently in warm water.

He straddles you, and his bare thighs rest against yours. You think of the best times when he has mounted you, face to face, and you’ve felt that same sensation of skin on skin. Then you get lost in visions of him onstage, his denim clinging to those soccer-sculpted thighs like a second skin. His legs are one of the many things that you love about his body.

The scent of sandalwood wafts to you and interrupts your pleasant fantasies. It's your sign that he has rubbed the oil in his hands to warm it further.

He glides his hands up your body to either side of your spine, then glides them back down. He repeats this a few times with strokes that get more and more firm.

“This is not an official massage move, but…” He lightly teases up the furrow of your spine with an impossibly slow finger. Then he cups the back of your neck with one of his large hands. He moves your hair to the side with his other hand and whispers, “I think you won’t mind if I mix some pleasure in with the business, yeah?” His tongue teases your ear and he kisses down the side of your neck before he resumes the massage.

He pauses for more oil and starts with the bottoms of your feet, working each surface in a way that is sublime after a busy work day.

You are surprised to realize how much tension you must’ve been holding in your calves and thighs when seconds of pain in those areas give way to total relaxation.

He shows his love for your ass by covering the area with a feather-light caress before he eases more tension away with a firm set of hands. Some of his strokes move your cheeks enough to tug at the lips of your core. You savor the feeling. You can’t tell if it’s accidentally or on purpose, and you don’t care either way.

He continues on. He works away the knots in your lower back, the tension higher up, and the stiffness of your neck. You’re feeling high, and the earlier part of the day is a distant memory.

He whispers in your ear. “Time to turn over, darlin’.” You marvel at how faraway his voice sounds in your stupor of pleasure. He has done a fantastic job so far.

You roll onto your back in what feels like slow motion. Your brain barely registers the scent of more sandalwood oil being heated in Robert’s hands before he massages the tension away in each of your toes and the front of your thighs.

Your arms feel like they could float in the air when he releases the tension in each one, and his work on your hands and fingers is also transcendent. You feel all of the stressed, nervous energy leaving your body.

You’re half asleep when he presses his weight on top of you and whispers, “I’m off duty now, girl… Strictly pleasure from here on…”

You’re too relaxed to acknowledge him with anything but a slow smile.

He cups your breasts, one after the other, with a light touch and licks your nipples to attention before nipping each one. The spark of mild pain from his teeth wakes you up a bit.

He follows up with more lapping and sucking of your breasts while his tongue ignites electric sensation inside of you.

You start to writhe on the bed. His hands journey down your sides while his tongue sinfully greets much of your torso. At this point, you feel his manhood dragging across your skin, making you more and more desperate to feel his size inside of you.

When he realizes that you're trying to lift your hips to meet his cock, he laughs. "You won't be feeling any of that for a long time, dear…" He continues with his tongue on a slow path below your navel. "But you will get more of this than you can stand…"

He rests his hand on your entrance and lets a finger fall between your lips, lazily trailing it in your wetness, while he holds your gaze. You can't help but squirm and grow impatient for the goodness that you know is on the way.

He rears up and kisses you one more time before he prepares to camp out at your entrance.

He gently spreads your outer lips and begins. You're still woozy from the massage, but the motion of his tongue wakes you up. A velvety warmth pools inside of you as your sensitive skin comes alive.

You savor the warmth and wetness of his tongue. His mouth is as nimble on your sensitive skin as it is on his harmonica.

You realize that he wasn't kidding about being in no hurry. Time becomes an otherworldly concept as he ushers your body through gradually escalating highs of pleasure, one apex exceeded after the other. Your clit aches for more, more, more, and your breathing turns staccato.

You’ve been watching the earnest movement of his head between your legs and the serpentine undulation of his curls across your skin, but you close your eyes and turn inward now. You begin to roll your hips to meet the lusty movements of his mouth. It’s instinct, meant to satisfy you and entice him to abandon his efforts and grind his body against yours in a primal dance.

It’s all you can think about now, his cock on the move inside of you. Your breath hitches at the thought.

He seems to sense your desires, and he puts two of his fingers to work inside of you. You enjoy the sensation, but it only makes you want his cock more. You wail and beg for him to penetrate you.

Robert smirks at you again. “It’s coming soon, darlin. You’ll get all of me really soon, don’t you worry. I can tell you’re close.”

Your voice rises and you begin to chant his name. You arch into him even more. You feel the last bit of your control slipping away.

You ride his finger and his mouth faster. It’s almost more than you can bear.

Just as you’re about to beg again for his cock your climax races through your body, causing you to tremble in response to its insistence.

You’re still trembling as Robert abandons his post between your legs to whisper in your ear: “I told you I’d take care of you, darlin’. Now,” he says, thrusting himself deep inside of you, “it’s your turn to take care of me.”

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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary.

One Shot: A Very Tropical Christmas

OK… I hope you agree with me that better late than never is a good thing. ☺️ This is the Christmas Maggie/Robert story that I mentioned last week. This takes place after the events I'm writing up in Eye of the Storm, soon after Maggie and Robert have gotten back from their separate tours. Robert has a special Christmas surprise that he thinks is well deserved for Maggie, after her success on the road. There's a good mix of fluff and NSFW smut. Happy belated holidays! ❤️❤️❤️

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"We’re almost there!” Robert was excited. Too excited. The suspension bridge jostled a little harder as he sped up his gait from his usual regal stroll.

Maggie was glad the walk was coming to an end, although the beauty of the lush jungle environment was a good distraction.

Brightly colored birds darted in and out of the variety of trees that closed tightly to either side of the bridge, all the while singing songs of joy to live in an undisturbed paradise. She breathed in the strong scent of tropical flowers and rich soil which, when coupled with the humidity that hung thickly in the air, gave the experience a dream-like quality.

She told herself she'd have to come back later with her camera so she could remember it all well into the future. Without exactly knowing what Robert had in mind, it was already a dream come true.

A few days before, Robert, grinning from ear to ear, confessed to Maggie that he had booked a special getaway for them. Robert succeeded in not blurting out the details, and Maggie was unable to get him to divulge any information after plying him with her repertoire of romantic tricks. Robert was committed to giving Maggie a big Christmas surprise.

After stepping off the bridge and emerging from the tree-lined gravel path, they stood before a multi-level treehouse. Maggie gasped. Robert had caught her admiring photos of this exact place in an issue of Look magazine right before she left on her tour.

He sat their bags down while he fished the key out of his shorts pocket. “Surprise and Merry Christmas! Welcome to our jungle hideaway.”

“Robert! My goodness, you remembered!”

“I’m always paying attention, love, even when you think I’m just ogling your--”

Maggie’s lips were on his before he could finish his sentence.

Once inside, the lovers explored the home, examining the wicker furniture in the living room, the large, mosquito net-covered four-poster bed in the bedroom, and the oversized claw-foot tub in the bathroom. For the next week they would indulge their senses and their fantasies in natural luxury.

“There’s also an outdoor shower, you know…” Robert hinted as they took the last of their things out of their suitcases. He stepped closer to Maggie and kissed her while his embrace changed to hands on a mission to remove her clothes.

“We could check it out now. There’s nothing else to do, I suppose…” She murmured and raised Robert’s t-shirt over his head.

“Well, there is one thing I’d like to do first…” He scooped Maggie into his arms and walked her to the bed.

The shower was a welcome experience after their indoor tryst. The open-air stall was surrounded by a dense array of trees and flowering shrubs for privacy. Two waterfall shower heads gently rained down from above, and smooth tiles in shades of blue and green made up the floor.

Maggie and Robert alternated bathing and arousing each other with lusty caresses. Being outdoors in the verdant rainforest of Costa Rica gave their togetherness a more primal edge.

“Wait here a tick,” Robert said, ending his embrace of Maggie and smoothing her hair out of her face. “There’s a present I want you to open now.”

"OK. I'll be here."

She remained under the shower head while she waited for Robert to return. She closed her eyes. By their songs, she could distinguish at least four different kinds of birds flying around. Her attention melted into the sounds of the tropical forest and she relaxed even more.

She smiled to herself. Robert knew exactly what she needed after her time away on the road. She loved the outdoors just as much as he did, and the resort was sure to make the tour a distant memory. Not that she didn’t enjoy learning several of the band’s shows were sold out, or having to spend extra time signing autographs before retreating in the van, or hearing the hearty cheers that greeted them at the clubs for after-parties. All of that went better than she imagined. But she missed Robert.

She had grown accustomed to being his live-in partner, and she needed more than the couple of nights that he was able to come to her shows. Both of their bands were finished touring and had no plans to start recording just yet, so he was looking forward to returning to Malibu and their quiet life.

"Your sexy Santa has arrived, darlin'."

Maggie opened her eyes as Robert's cheerful return interrupted her thoughts. She stepped out of the shower spray toward him.

He presented a small box, about the size of an 8-track.

"This isn't a copy of Presence, is it?"

His face screwed up in mock consternation. "I assure you it’s something new that you’ll like. Though it is a bit of a selfish present."

"Classic Robert… OK, sexy Santa, let's get this over with."

"Yes, let's. I can't wait to use it!" The side of his mouth curled into a devilish smirk.

Maggie ripped the wrapping paper off of the box.

After removing the lid, she stared at the sprig of plant that was spruced up with a red velvet bow.

“You horny devil…” Maggie was not surprised to see mistletoe lying in wait in the box.

Robert grasped it and discarded the box, held it over her, and leaned in for a kiss.

"Merry Christmas, my love."

Robert’s lips felt warm against Maggie’s, which had been cooled by the stream of water on her face. He rested his hands on her shoulders while he slowly tongued inside her mouth.

Maggie felt like she was melting as the kiss went on. Her need for Robert was heightened, along with her senses, by knowing she was outside on a balmy day with the sun rays and occasional breeze coursing over her naked skin. They had enjoyed a similar scenario at Robert’s house many times, but being at the unfamiliar vacation destination made her feel much more alive.

“Let’s head back here,” Robert said, leading her under the shower.

Robert backed Maggie against the smooth stones of the shower facade, and they kissed some more. Then his lips traveled down her chin and neck. The sensation of Robert’s hot tongue made Maggie weak.

He licked down to her breasts and held one while he licked and sucked its nipple to life. She arched against the wall and let her hands glide up and down Robert’s back, thanks to the slickness of the streaming water. “Robert, that feels so good…” Her murmur segued into a yelp when Robert tugged at her nipple with his mouth while his fingers made inflammatory contact with her throbbing clit.

After a few moments of Maggie’s bucking and wailing against his fingering, Robert gave her breasts a squeeze and then cradled her back. He moved her hair from her ear and whispered. “Turn around for me, love? I want to feel that gorgeous ass while I’m inside of you.”

Maggie could barely make contact with Robert’s lust-glazed eyes because hers were equally heavy in the heat of the moment. She kissed him one more time before turning around and arching for Robert’s entry.

Robert groaned as he connected intimately with Maggie. She moaned as his hardness teased her with a promise of powerful release.

She met his thrusting with the hungry motions of her body, milking him slowly. The water felt a little warmer, and she realized that Robert had adjusted the shower while her back was to him.

His large hands gripped her waist, and the water splashed in time with their movement. Her moans deepened as the sensations of Robert’s love continued to wear away her control.

Over time, her cries blended in perfect harmony with the birds’ songs and Robert added his groans to the environmental sounds. He gripped Maggie’s ass tighter as the tunnel vision of climax slowly descended upon him.

“Fuck, Maggie. So wet… So soft… You always take such good care of me…”

She wailed and arched more. “Your dick… So big… I love how you take me…” “Shit…” Robert was overwhelmed by the tightness of Maggie’s core. His cock was beyond sensitive.

The sensation of their beating hearts was overpowered by the primal throb of their bodies. Each caress or stroke of Robert’s sex was intoxicating, addicting. They knew it couldn’t last forever, but they desperately wished it would.

A shiver snaked its way through Maggie’s body and she tensed against the wall, eyes closed, until the full climax exploded into a long stream of exquisite pulsation. She gasped and her rapid breath flooded her body with much-needed air.

“Fuck. Fuck! I’m right behind you!” Robert announced his orgasm as his noises became wordless with the insistent coursing of his seed.

Maggie turned around and kissed him. “Robert… I’ve never been happier on Christmas. This place is amazing. You... You were amazing.”

“We were amazing,” Robert corrected. “Every time, I’m convinced more and more that our bodies were made for each other. You’re the best, love.”

Robert kissed Maggie and walked her to a blanket on the lawn near the house. They lay next to each other in cuddling bliss, warmed by the tropical sun.

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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary.

Eye of the Storm, Ch 10

Here’s the next installment of this story. The master post is here if you’d like to catch up.

It’s the morning after, the first full day of living with Robert. There’s no smut, just Maggie letting it sink in that she’ll get closer to Robert than she ever dreamed. Lots of fluff, lots of joyful inner dialogue. ♥♥♥

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Sun streamed into the room through the glass balcony doors. Maggie opened her eyes. She was in a large, modern bedroom, with the sound of the ocean in the distance. She processed the fact that she was sprawled crosswise on the bed, tightly wrapped in a blanket. It took her a while to understand. But then she remembered.

Robert. She was living with Robert. They were together. For real. 

She couldn’t stop the smile that spread like wildfire on her face if she wanted to. Living with Robert was a milestone she had dreamed of. But as much as Robert seemed to want more between them, his focus had the attention span of a gnat sometimes. She was glad that serendipity had stepped in at the soccer match.

She broke free from the cocoon of blankets. She thought it was sweet that he had made her comfortable right where she had drifted off after indulging in the full menu of his lovemaking. Then she smiled at another loving touch from Robert: his concert cherry kimono was waiting for her on one of the posts at the foot of the bed. She mentioned when they were falling asleep that she had forgotten her robe at home, and he offered up the familiar garment for her use, admitting that it was too small for him now. She put it on and sat on the bed. Memories of the 75 tour floated back to her. Robert was frustrated with the time it took for his voice to warm up some nights, but when he kicked into high gear, the two hours-plus of the shows were back to their otherworldly standard.

She stretched and walked to the balcony. She couldn’t believe that this would be her life for the near future. She couldn’t believe how thoughtful Robert could be as a domestic partner.

She sighed. The ocean breeze was present, but the day would be warm and sunny. Directly below she took in the expanse of the yard and ticked off several areas that looked promising for writing songs or getting into romantic episodes with Robert.

The natural beauty and the comfortable modern home combined for a perfect love nest. She imagined some of the domestic-minded activities that would fill their days. Cooking together. Walking Strider every day. Half-watching TV while they made out. Making sensual memories across every conceivable square inch of the place. It was just what she needed: an environment that would fill her with all the love and contentment that she needed to carry her into the uncertainties of a new band touring a new album. 

While Maggie daydreamed, a delicious kitchen smell wafted through the open bedroom door and slowly gained control of her senses. Her stomach rumbled. She realized whatever energy her body could’ve gleaned from dinner must’ve been long gone after her extended romp with Robert.

She was impressed that he had kept his promise and had breakfast underway. She’d never experienced his cooking before and had been concerned, but there was no smell of charring in the air. That encouraged her.

She looked at her bags in front of the closet and decided the robe would be enough for now. For both of them. She smirked and more fantasies of being skin to skin with Robert filled her head.

She’d unpack later today and pick out something cute to wear. Robert was such a clothes horse that they’d need to clear space for her to hang up her things. But she knew he’d be eager to take this step to help her settle in. At some point during the night, he encouraged her to change how the house was organized to make herself feel more at home. He had injected his personality into the environment a little, but he admitted that most of the look was thanks to an interior decorator who worked the magic while he was in tax exile closer to home. She had ideas and couldn’t wait to execute them.

She headed to the bathroom to clean up. She hummed the melody for I Want You during the shower. She didn’t know the words yet, but she had heard the song enough during the night to know that much.

After the shower she rewrapped herself in Robert’s kimono and heard him singing I Want You in another room. She loved that they both had the song on their minds. They weren’t the kind of couple that finished each other’s sentences, but maybe they were of the same mind in other ways.

She was impressed by how quickly Robert had picked up the words. The stereo wasn’t on; it was him singing as though it were his song, putting the emphasis where he wanted, adding in his own typical ad libs, making it more passionate. She chalked it up to yet another example of his voracious memory, the steel trap that lay in wait under his fluffy cloud of curls. They’d had many detailed conversations over the years about his earliest music memories, and she was always fascinated by what his young mind had squirreled away. He also enjoyed picking her brain to discover her favorite Latin artists. Without fail, when she told him about a new artist, by the next time they met he could rattle off a wealth of information about the person and could prove he had immersed himself in the music by singing his favorite song of theirs.

But it wasn’t just the music; he remembered every minute tidbit of information she shared about her life. On their first night together on the 75 tour, after being apart for months, he greeted her and asked how an LA concert had gone for her band. It was one that she was particularly nervous about because she knew big artists and label executives regularly haunted the place. As self-centered and flighty as Bonzo and others around Robert teased him for being, he had proven again and again that he would always make space for anyone and anything that he cared about. It just came on his own unhurried schedule. 

She lotioned her body, removed the towel that was wrapped around her head, and shook out her damp curls. She left the bedroom, eager to experience Robert's cooking. 

He was still singing Marvin Gaye. She paused to listen and heard her name thrown into the song. She was flattered and enamored, but also turned on because she realized he was singing to her. There was a strong sense of ache in his voice now, and she wondered if he was pleading for something from her other than physical release. She lingered to hear every raspy note, every soaring run of his voice, every drop to a more seductive murmur. His artistry was impressive, and the feelings he put on display when he thought no one was listening were more romantic than Maggie could ever put into words.

Then thoughts of breakfast took over, as she mentally ticked off all the things he’d said constituted an English breakfast. She could tell it would be delicious, by the way it smelled. She was impressed before she had consumed the first bite. Robert was always full of surprises, like these latent culinary abilities. She couldn’t wait to see what other layers of him she’d reach while they were together.

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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag brownskinsugarplumlibrary.

One Shot: The Wanton Song

Here's another case of an idea that showed up unexpectedly and insisted on being written ASAP. NSFW and pretty vividly smutty, with Robert in the passenger seat for this encounter. ❤️❤️❤️

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"My turn," you say to Robert, feeling energized after his lengthy exploration between your thighs. The series of orgasms he has given you with his devilish tongue have destroyed you, exploded you into thousands of pulsating atoms, and rebuilt you into a less inhibited, more hungry version of yourself. And now you're ready to attack him with the vicious eroticism of Kali, drain him of his energy and his cum, leave him as an empty shell of a man, like a black widow moving onto the next unsuspecting male spider.

He reclines on the bed and strokes himself. He’s preparing for you and enticing you to give as good as you’ve gotten. He doesn’t say a word, but you can see it in his eyes. It's a dare. He wants it. He welcomes it. He knows you have it in you to grab his shoulders and hold him down, drown him in an overpowering sea of sensation with your most passionate moves.

You swoon for a second as you watch the enjoyment he’s giving himself, the slow dance of his hand on his abundance. Your body is pulsating deliciously again, without him even touching you. You touch yourself. Your clit is still engorged. Enraged. Aflame. You fast forward to visions of you atop Robert's sturdy thighs with his manhood buried deep inside of you.

Your fingers continue their soothing dance. The thought of being impaled on him hastens your breathing. You stop and put a hand on top of his busy one, letting him know that you’ll be taking care of him from here on out.

You straddle him and break the seal of his closed lips with a wet, teasing tongue. You taste yourself inside of his mouth. You tease his tongue with the touch of yours before you start gently sucking his. He moans his approval.

You continue to explore the cave of his mouth while your hands wind their way into his mane of curls and then out, onto his face and then across his broad shoulders. Your body undulates against his. His dick feels exquisite against your sensitive folds, even without penetration.

You begin to lick and suck on his neck, to the point that you’re satisfied marks will show up in the near future.

Like a ravenous lioness marking her prey, you leave a path of wantonness down his body with a wet tongue and a flurry of nips of his skin. No inch of his torso has been left undisturbed.

You trail your tongue down his trail. Desire pools inside of you when you pick up the scent of his manhood in the thatch of hair below his waist. The musky smell of his pheromones never fails to incite your base instincts.

At his cock, you rejoice and feast. You lick his length and torture him a bit with flicks of your tongue just below the head. You feel his body tense. He’s fighting a desire to writhe on the bed and clutch the sheets. Or, maybe he's fighting the urge to say fuck it, flip you on your back, and pound you into the mattress. Either way, you know you’ll make him lose that battle. He will get to a point of surrender. A smug smile animates your face.

You moisten his cock with your saliva and then you devour him, taking in as much as you comfortably can. You grasp with your hand, dragging up and down, up and down, a split second behind the movement of your mouth. You taunt him with sinful twists and turns of your hand every time you reach his head.

You love how Robert moans and gasps in response to the labor of love you're carrying out. You're at it a while longer, ratcheting Robert's reactions closer and closer to the edge.

His chest is heaving rapidly, and he's thrusting his pelvis lightly, lest he upset the tempo that you've set. His feet fidget aimlessly on the mattress behind you. His moans are punctuated with choice curse words. He is lost inside of himself. He is yours for the taking.

His dick is still in your hand, and you decide it's time to switch gears. You shift your position a bit to massage the tip of his cock against your damp, swollen pussy. You inhale sharply and buck. Your core feels wetter and wider by the second.

You can't take it any longer. You feed his length inside of you with one smooth, steady motion.

You pause and take in the moment, eyes closed. His length and hardness, and the connection of your bodies, it's all worth a moment of savoring. It's the calm before the storm. Both of you know it. Both of you steel yourselves for the frenzy ahead.

You've started fucking Robert. Briskly. You feel like an Amazon atop her prized stallion, breasts bared, all feral screams and grunts. You hold the reins. You control the fiery energy that threatens to engulf both of you. You know how to stoke the erotic vibes with your ravenous strokes or tamp it a little with a tender kiss. You want to make it last until you need it to be over with a grand explosion.

Robert is enjoying the ride. His hands sink into the softness of your ass. His tongue roves your nipples when you're close to him. His expression shifts between one of drugged pleasure to a steely glare that eggs you on. As far as his needs, you know they'll be met. It's the least of your worries and concerns.

You switch your angle of attack, as needed, to edge toward and retreat from the edge. There are delicious minor blips of orgasm along the way, but the final crescendo is still in the future.

You decide now is the time to chase it. Robert, to his credit, has not tried to lead. He loves it when you're in this state. His loopy, lusty smile grows wider and wider as you ride faster and faster, crashing into his lap recklessly on each down stroke. His body is no longer tense. He is properly high from your motions, slowly on his way to being worn out. He is biding his time until you finish him, and he's loving every second in the meantime.

Searing, passionate electricity courses up your spine. You fold forward to take him as deeply as you can. You're so wet that you glide on the expanse of his cock effortlessly. Your cries grow louder. Your vision tunnels to the wicked way your body is siphoning Robert's energy, and the gaze you hold on his glassy eyes.

You're closing in on your climax, and you ride on breathlessly. You've been working up a sweat, and the room feels like a sauna. The heat pricking your skin is almost as unbearable as the climax that is so close, yet so far away.

Moments later, your body spasms as the pleasure fans out from your core to your spine, and then your head. You feel dizzy. Only the momentum of your stiffened, trembling body is holding you upright over Robert.

His orgasm blasts sympathetically out of the ashes of yours. His end is usually punctuated by an unholy wail, but he can only muster a breathy moan in his state today.

His expended energy incites another, unexpected wave of release for you. You release his cock and drape his body with yours. His chest is warm, as are the strong arms he wraps around you.

A purr escapes his throat before he kisses you gently. "You were magnificent," he says with a lazy smile. You melt into his well-earned embrace and soak in the tenderness of his appreciation.

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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary.

One Shot: Infinite Loop

Had one of those nights. 🤷🏽‍♀️ Needed to get this man out of my head and into a word doc. ☺️🤷🏽‍♀️ It's short and NSFW. No particular Robert in mind; choose your favorite. ❤️❤️❤️

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Your body is rocking with the cadence of a subway car in danger of derailing. But you know you're safe, because your hands are gripping his back. Hard. You imagine there's an uneven line of half moon indentations in his skin from your nails.

You open your eyes. His are closed tight, but his mouth gapes open rigidly, guzzling air to feed the incessant jackhammer pace of his heart that you feel against your breasts.

You know any discomfort being inflicted by your clutch is not registering for him, not in the heat of the moment right now. His hair is wild, lush and curly in some places, straightened into submission by sweat in others. You realize that it is a rare moment when he couldn't care less about preening, flashing his devastating movie star smile, sending searing electrical pulses through your core with the twinkle in his eyes. He is lost in that boundless stream of creative energy again. It's the place where he dwells for writing and singing, but at the moment it's creation in the oldest, most primal sense of the word that had sent him to this exquisite trance state.

His body tenses with greed to stay there, live in the eternal coursing of ecstasy. Your grip is unyielding. You are going to claim pleasure for yourself by riding on his coattails, siphoning the surplus of his delight, angling yourself to feel his sex in its most rigid state of need, as deep as he can go.

It's lonely work until he opens his eyes. You connect your gaze with his, and the two of you are bound by the magnetic pull of lust. Eyes locked, pelvises locked, souls locked. You've never felt closer to him.

Your eyelids flutter and lower.

"Please darlin', keep looking at me." He cups a hand against your face, focusing your stare back to his. "And speak to me only with your eyes, as some genius bloke once said." He laughs softly and strokes your hair. He kisses you, and his tongue snakes in your mouth as if it has all the time in the world to orchestrate your climax along with the rest of his body.

In this moment, it feels like that's true. Robert has once again made time stand still with his mystic sensual presence, reducing the universe to the hungry embrace of your bodies.

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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary.

Deceiving Looks, Pt 2

This is a little shorter than I usually write for a chapter, but it feels right to end it here. Robert is trying to kill time before his rendezvous with Josephine, and he's in full panic mode. As always, Bonzo saves the day.

Read the first chapter here. ❤️❤️❤️

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“Bonzo? Bonzo!!! Oi!!!” Robert hisses to his friend, who fell asleep before he could turn out the lights in their bedroom.

“Bloody hell, Robert!” Bonzo mumbles, still half asleep, a bear not at all thrilled to be awakened from hibernation. “You know it’s fucking morning, mate. Get in your bed and go to sleep!”

Robert paces the room. “But that’s the thing, innit? I met an older, sophisticated brown-skinned bird...erm...lady… and she wants me to come back to hers! In, uh, 15 minutes now!”

“So go spray some more Sun-In in that mess of hair, have a bump, and leave me the fuck alone!” Bonzo puts a pillow over his head to drown out his anxious friend.

“But mate! You don’t understand, yeah? There’s not enough time for me to clean up! All the sweat from the concert and after the concert, a stain from the beer you poured in my seat…” He touches his hair. “And my hair! Hawaii is paradise until all that bloody humidity sets in, innit?”

“This bird obviously has looked past all of that already. Just like all the others, she just wants to see your body in all its skinny-ass glory, and your knob, yeah? Just ask if you can use her shower, give her a show, like you always do, and everyone’s happy! And now that I’ve solved your problem, either stop pacing and sit down, quiet-like, or get the fuck out so I can sleep!” Bonzo tosses a spare pillow that connects with Robert’s back. 

“Thanks, mate. Perfect idea. It’s to the lobby for me, then.” He throws the pillow at Bonzo’s head.

“Fucking wanker,” Bonzo grouses from under two pillows. “Turn the lights out before you leave?”

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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary

One Shot: Sea of Love

@callmethehunter, here’s the other part of your birthday present! 😁🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽 I have fleshed out your excellent idea of Robert and Maggie alone on a yacht. Thank you as always for sharing these story ideas with me. They’re always fun to write, and I always get lost in the whole fantasy of the thing. This one is no exception. I hope you enjoy this NSFW story. ❤️❤️❤️

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It was a perfect day, Maggie thought to herself. It was her birthday, and her wish was to spend it with Robert, and him alone. He'd hired a yacht, and they'd been enjoying the feeling of being lost at sea, not having seen the shoreline in hours.

The Pacific was on its best behavior for them, as calm as a mighty ocean could possibly be. The sun found a regular rhythm of spots to beam, mirror-like, off the water, before the rolling waves marred the illusion.

The captain remained in the wheelhouse, so it really felt like Robert and Maggie were the last two people in the world. Sex on the deck was transcendent, thanks to the feel of their world consisting of the cloudless blue sky and the slow-rolling ocean, nothing more.

That was a few times earlier. Presently, Maggie had been watching Robert swim, bobbing in and out of the waves, without a care to the seemingly infinite possibilities of creatures big and small that he might encounter. His skin had become more bronzed by the hour, and each flash of his arms and legs breaking the surface was in fine contrast with the hue of the ocean. She was a little shielded from the sun, under her straw panama hat, but the heat of the day had made her skin go darker, too, around her white bikini.

Robert had been teaching Maggie how to swim in his pool, and amid the flirty contact and lessons that dissolved into lovemaking, both were pleased with her progress. But as much as she enjoyed propelling herself through the pool, she was not ready to trust herself in the boundless sea--or trust its bounty of marine life. Instead, when she wasn't fantasizing about Robert's strong body in his tiny striped Speedo, she had been reading Interview With the Vampire, lost in a world of angst-filled antebellum immortals.

While reading and contemplating Robert's athleticism, she'd become inspired and turned to songwriting. The lyrics were very much tied to images of an overflowing ocean of romance. She realized it was tied to the fun of the day, but also inspired by Robert's delightful crooning of Sea of Love, a song that ranked high on his list of childhood favorites. It was one that he often sung at home, and one he'd seranaded her with today during lunch, unable to resist singing about the sea while at sea.

While lost in thought, with her pen dragging on the paper, she saw out of the corner of her eye that Robert was ascending the ladder to join her on the deck again.

She placed her pen in the inside groove of the spine and gave him her full attention.

She saw his dripping hair first, followed by his broad shoulders and wiry arms in motion. When the full swell of his chest came into view, her body pulsed, knowing what else was coming. Robert had regained composure from his gently labored breathing. He continued to climb, and he smiled his smug smile when he realized Maggie was watching as his waterlogged bulge went on display. By the time she was ready to contemplate his thighs he had hauled himself fully onto the deck.

"I've never felt so much like a Bond girl in all my life," he joked as he pantomimed shyly covering himself up with a nearby towel.

"I'm convinced that every second of your life is a performance in some way, Robert, but it really is, hands-down, the best show in town."

"I'm glad that you approve." Robert beamed as he stooped over the lounge to kiss her.

"Robert! My writing!" She quickly removed the pen and closed her book so the beads of water departing from his body wouldn't blur her words.

“Keeping a journal of all our escapades? Might make a nice book someday, when we’re all in our seventies,” he mused.

“Writing a song, actually, incorrigible man.”

“Can I read it?” He reached for the notebook on the table, which rested next to a near-empty tequila bottle that eventually would be discarded in favor of its unopened companion next to it.

“No!” Maggie squealed and grabbed the book. “It’s going to be a surprise.”

“Well you know I’m extra curious now, darlin’...” He climbed on top of Maggie on all fours and reached for her notebook, but she tossed it on the deck behind her before he could grab it.

She smiled a satisfied smile and moved his wet hair behind his shoulders.“Still curious now?”

“Always. He lifted her hat and set it on the table, putting a tequila bottle on the brim so it wouldn’t blow away.

“Have the best birthday ever,” he said before kissing her. The rhythm of their lips and tongues joining matched the gently rolling tempo of the ocean.

"I'm already on there," she said, staring into the depths of his stormy blue eyes.

Maggie slid her hands down Robert’s sides, enjoying the feel of the heat on his skin, mixed with the slowly warming feel of the last remaining salty droplets on his body. She kept her hands on the prowl until they reached his Speedo, which she tugged off of his hips.

“The lady knows what she wants, and I like it!” He stood and removed the wet scrap of material.

“Don’t you feel much better now?” She took off her sunglasses and sat up so she could view his growing hardness in living color.

“A little, but I know you can make me feel even better…” He sidled up next to her and edged his cock into her field of vision.

“I think I know what you want…” She scooted to sit in the middle of the length of the chaise and motioned for Robert to meet her in her new location. She placed a hand on the top of his thigh and the other around his hardness before she took him in.

His delicate skin was still a little cool and tasted of the sea. He growled softly as he slowly warmed up with her teasing.

A gentle moan caught in Maggie's throat. She enjoyed the work, as she always did. Robert stooped a bit to slide his hand down her back and untie her bikini top. She paused to remove it from her body.

“Oh, Maggie girl…” Robert let loose with a rugged gasp. “Fuck…”

Robert stood, legs apart, hands on his hips, pelvis forward. It was a stance that Maggie had seen him assume many times onstage, and in this moment, its magnetic pull was exalted, probably because Robert's enjoyment was so damn incendiary. With very little movement, save his back locking rigidly in place and his slow, shallow breaths, Robert was a sex god in a very pleased body.

Maybe it was the never-ending supply of heated sun rays, or the thrill of so much passionate intimacy on display outdoors, or just the splendor of such a delicious birthday celebration, but Maggie had never felt more alive.

"Always so good..." Robert sighed before withdrawing from Maggie's mouth. "I don't want this to end, darlin', but I can't be that greedy on your special day. Lie down?"

Maggie swung her legs back onto the lounge.

Robert peeled away Maggie's bikini bottom and resumed his place on all fours over her. His long, tender kiss set the tempo of their latest tryst to slow-boiling.

It felt like hours of Robert's playful, roving tongue in Maggie's mouth, slithering down her neck, bathing and awakening her nipples, trailing down her abdomen, and making a home in the pool of sweet nectar in her sex. Robert diligently painted love onto her aching bud and every fraction of an inch of her soft folds. There was little force in the forearm that held Maggie’s hips in place. It wasn't needed. She wasn't going anywhere while Robert expressed his admiration in such an incomparably passionate way.

Maggie enjoyed Robert's rapid, ravenous movements when neither of them could wait for release, but in this moment, her climax was a blooming of energy, or an unfolding, like a spring flower revealing its beauty in spite of itself, while nature took the lead in a chain reaction older than time.

Maggie’s body radiated with transcendent energy. With her eyes closed, it felt like the heat and light of the sun were byproducts of her ecstasy.

"Robert, that…" The words never made it out of her mouth, because Robert's was on top of hers.

Robert covered the full length of Maggie's body with his. He swirled the head of his sex between Maggie's lips below, with as much reverence as a master painter committing a tentative, but passionate, brush stroke to a blank canvas of endless, beautiful possibilities.

When Robert glided inside with smooth, steady motion, the combination of pleasure and savage fullness made her back arch involuntarily.

Robert lowered himself to be closer. This round of lovemaking was unhurried and exquisite, with each thrust of Robert's being a gentle blast of bellows that flamed Maggie's pleasure higher in the smallest of increments. Their rhythm, like the sway of the boat on the ocean, was hypnotic. Robert's loving strokes were a tender lullaby that was soothing and the sweetest torture at the same time.

"Ay, Robert, you're so good to me… Maggie was thoroughly intoxicated by Robert’s ministrations, and the words tumbled from her mouth like she was talking in her sleep.

Robert chuckled. "I've only just begun, darlin'..."

Robert's thrusts, while still slow, become more deliberate. His thickness and length become dozens of satisfying birthday presents, and over time, each became more extravagant than the last.

Maggie clutched Robert and thrusted faster.

Robert tisked and grinned apologetically. "Not this time, sweet girl…" He gasped while he delivered the bad news; the sensations of pleasure were building in an undeniable manner for him, too, but he refused to rush.

Their primal slow dance continued. The sun persisted at full strength. The boat rocked with a bit more animation, and a cool ocean mist gave a little relief to their sun-warmed, lust-inflamed bodies.

A tear formed in the corner of one of Maggie's eyes. Their lovemaking was so beautiful, so romantic, so intimate, so overwhelming. "Yes, baby, come on," she sighed.

Both of them could sense climax on the horizon, as their steady simmer of sensations began to boil over into extreme need.

"I don't think I've ever felt this high from you…" Robert murmured as he lifted himself to thrust with more passion. "Fuck, I'm going to come, baby !" He groaned loudly with desperation.

"Me, too, love… Oh my God!" Maggie wailed as she gasped for air.

Their amorous greed and, at last, impatience, made the last few minutes the hard-driving healing they both craved. Robert's cock felt larger than life as their blistering tempo of fucking took over.

There had been no sound of seagulls as far out as they were on the ocean, but their cries filled the air nicely. When their clamor abruptly faded in the face of their synchronized orgasms, the ocean provided all the zen-like sounds they needed while the racing of their hearts abated.

Still inside of Maggie, Robert relaxed and cradled her face with his hands before kissing her with lazy, love-sedated energy.

“Feliz cumpleanos, bonita…”

“Of course your Spanish consists of the most charming phrases.” Maggie teased as she drew large circles on Robert’s back with her hands.

“Somebody’s got to do it for you, innit?” He kissed her nose. “And I hope there are many more with you.”

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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary

Deceiving Looks, Pt. 1

I have several kiss prompts in my queue still from a few months back, and I’ve finally polished up the first bit of the next one. This comes from @callmethehunter's request and is for a forbidden kiss. I guess you could say this isn’t forbidden as much as it would be less likely... There are a few reasons why this couple would turn heads in the early 70s.

I intend to write more of this, including smut (this first installment is PG-13-ish). This is a fun pairing! ❤️❤️❤️

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Robert makes his way to a bench and sits down before he stumbles again. He watches Bonzo stagger around the pool and through the front door of the hotel. He is too out of it himself at the moment to be of any use to his friend.

He sweeps his curtain of curls to the side and produces a joint that was resting inconspicuously behind his ear, and he pulls a slim pack of matches from his back pocket. He lights up. He figures any hotel staff unlucky enough to be walking the grounds at 5 a.m. will only care if he doesn't offer a puff or two.

He stretches his long legs but can't get any relief. His jeans are clinging to his body tighter than usual in the humid, cloud-covered Honolulu morning air, and he can't wait to peel them off for the last time before going to sleep.

He exhales, closes his eyes, and lets himself go from the frenetic dash to the show, the volley of energy thrown at the band from thousands of fans, and the good, bad and ugly of the groupies available for the choosing for hours after the final note had been played. He closes his eyes and smiles. It's good to be Robert Plant, he thinks. It has become a mantra for him when he gets homesick, or when the last journalists without a clue insist on writing negative reviews.

"You've got something there that I need, I think. May I?"

The voice is feminine, throaty, and assured. Almost seductive. His smile grows to epic proportions.

He prepares to feast his eyes on a lass who seems to have followed him back to the hotel, but his sexy comeback gets caught in his throat. Rather than a twenty-something in a t-shirt, jeans, and shorts, he sees pink heels, brown legs, and a rose-colored Chanel skirt, with its matching suit jacket draped over an arm ending with gold bangles and colorful rings. Above her white sweater shell, he finds the smiling face of a woman who, he's sure, always gets what she wants. Her poise is perfect as she stands, and a rolling suitcase rests next to her. She has the regal sensuality of Diana Ross, and the flawless makeup and hair to match. He smooths his hair a bit, but he knows it's a losing battle, after the night he’s had.

His smile falters. "Ma'am?" he stutters out. He realizes with horror that his accent must make it sound more like "mom" to her ears, and he can't fight the Mrs. Robinson fantasies that flood his still-sluggish brain. "Miss?"

“Your cigarette,” she says. She realizes that he’s a little out of it and smiles sweetly, waiting for him to come around.

“Well, ah, it’s not a typical cigarette, I’m afraid… It’s, uh--”

“--I know. Trust me, it’s exactly what I need right now… I hate flying." She sits down next to him and places her hotel key in her purse. She holds out a hand of slender, tapered fingers that have never seen a day of manual labor. Her smile is still open and encouraging.

“Oh… Ah, I see now... Here you go.” He passes his joint to the woman. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’m a little out of sorts… It’s been a long night and a long morning.”

“I see you’re a little worse for wear right now. But,” she says, brushing a strand of hair from his eyes, “I can also see that you’ll clean up really nicely. What a handsome face...” She takes another hit of the joint and passes it back to Robert.

“Now, what have you been up to all night long?” She crosses her legs slowly, and the look on her face is stern.

Robert stares blankly. He opens his mouth to speak, and then closes it. “Uh…”

“Relax! I’m teasing you. Besides, I think I can imagine...”

Robert puffs a couple of times before passing back to her. He curses himself inside for being so tongue-tied. He’s not sure why he’s at such a loss for words, but he’s hoping the edge will wear away soon, so he can give the mystery woman the full effect of his charm. He knows that she is enjoying making him nervous, but he senses that she would prefer a little more flirtatious back and forth, even if it feels like he’s the last person who should have her on his arm.

She smokes some more. “But I must ask: Where did you get the money for this? It’s top quality.” Her expression relaxes noticeably as the high slowly makes itself known.

“Ah… A fan of Acapulco Gold, then? It just has a way of showing up for us at the concerts, you know? I mean, certainly we have our favorite friends with the best of herbs, but it’s everywhere, wherever we are. Nothing but the best.” He takes the joint back and smokes some more.

“Concert? We? Are you in a band? Must not be an American band, by your charming accent.”

“That’s right, it’s a British band. Led Zeppelin’s the name. We have 4 albums out now, came together in 1968. Maybe you’ve heard ‘Stairway to Heaven’ on the radio?”

“Well, I just listen to Motown, but Led Zeppelin… I think that name sounds familiar... I do know there are a lot of young rock bands, a lot of them from England, making a lot of noise… Free, sexy noise... A bunch of wild boys, stirring up all kinds of feelings with their guitars… What’s your name, dear?”

“Robert. Robert Plant. I’m the singer for Led Zeppelin. And I know my fair share of Motown.” He grins.

“Do you, really? Sing something for me?” She crosses her legs the other way and gazes up appreciatively when Robert stands. She could tell his legs were long when she first saw him, but she’s not prepared for him to be so tall. She realizes that he’s wearing boots with heels, but still.

“I might be a little rough right now… The concert was about three hours long, and I haven’t had a second of rest since then…”

“Three hours? That’s a lot of stamina, young man...” The joint dangles in her mouth while she takes this information in.

Robert can feel his manhood slowly waking up. “Bloody hell, you’ve got as much cheek as me… Uh, excuse my French, by way of West Bromwich…”

“I’m used to hearing all kinds of language, so it doesn’t bother me. And don’t let the Chanel fool you; I’m originally from Harlem. So, which song are you going to sing for me?” She inhales more of the weed.

“Hmm… City upbringing checks out, I think, because that’s very New York minute of you, the way you cut to the heart of the matter… OK, miss…?”

“Call me Josephine, Robert.” She looks him in his eyes, but the bulge in his pants that stands defiantly at the edge of her periphery keeps tempting her to shift her gaze.

“Right. Here goes…” He smiles and takes a deep breath.

“If I have to sleep on your doorstep all night and day

Just to keep you from walking away,

Let your friends laugh, even this I can stand,

'cause I wanna keep you any way I can.

Ain't too proud to beg and you know it,

Please don't leave me girl,

Don't you go,

Ain't too proud to plead, baby, baby,

Please don't leave me, Jo,

Don't you go.”

“You clever devil… Slipping my name in! Wow… Bravo, Robert. Where’d you get so much soul and passion from? Your voice is so rough one minute, and then so loving the next. I… I can’t tell you how much I love the way it sounds…”

“How about you show me, if you can’t tell me?” Robert sits back down, grabs the joint and then stubs it out and places it in his pocket. He gazes in Josephine’s eyes, and his wry smile means that he’s back on his game.

He’s not sure where this brazenness is coming from or, more accurately, he has mixed feelings about propositioning an older woman. He doesn’t think he’s misread her flirting, but being with her doesn’t seem as easy as it is with someone more his age. But he doesn’t have long to ponder it, because her face draws near and her lips connect with his.

She grabs his hair. He realizes that passion is the same, no matter the age or color of the person at the other end of the kiss. He cups her face and invites her tongue to dance with his in a sultry tango.

“Somebody’s hit his stride, and I like it! Would you like to continue with me in my room, Robert?”

“Yes. Yes, Mis-- erm, Josephine. I think we have a lot we could learn from each other.”

“I think so, too…" She stands up. "Say, give me 20 minutes or so and meet me at my room? It’s room 548.”

“548… I’ll be there.” His eyes sweep her body, and by the time his eyes search for hers, he realizes she’s also appraising his youthful, athletic frame.

“See you soon, Robert,” she says over her shoulder as she wheels her suitcase toward the hotel.

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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary.

Eye of the Storm, Ch 9

Got a little more NSFW, smutty hanky- panky for you. Maggie contemplates the life of a burgeoning rock star with a megastar boyfriend, and Robert gets vulnerable while in a vulnerable position. 😈 Thank you @firethatgrewsolow for the talk on the relationship angst.

Just want to reiterate that this story is AU--I make mention of Robert not being married. ❤️❤️❤️

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After some hushed pillow talk and more teasing and connecting of their bodies, Robert and Maggie drifted off to sleep.

Some time later, Maggie woke up, enveloped in Roberts arms, to moonlight flooding the room and the muted sound of the ocean. She smelled her perfume on him, mixed with his earthy, masculine scent. He was sleeping on his back and snoring softly. He’d piled his hair behind his head in hopes of cooling down after their lengthy tryst.

She nuzzled her cheek against his chest fuzz. It was one of her favorite places in the world to be, and it felt good to be back.

She had missed him, as she always did when tour dates or oceans separated them.

The lengthy gaps in their connections were the worst part of their unique relationship. Robert was always eager to wallow in the things that excited him about America while in the country, always eager to spend as much time with her as possible, but once his plane pointed toward England, things weren’t the same between them. He’d told her that he needed a few weeks alone to shake off his tour persona, but by then he was off to another pub or soccer pitch with his best mates, and English life with family and friends became far more seductive than she was.

Eventually he’d come around and they’d reconnect through letters and calls. She could feel his laughter during their phone conversations, and his sexy murmur still affected her from thousands of miles away when he unleashed it, but there was always a slight sense of distance. She knew that he didn’t have a wife and kids waiting for him, like Bonzo and Jonesy, and she knew that he cared for her, but he could not be moved from his wish for sanctuary and time for the rambunctious US fans and silver-tongued hangers-on to fade away.

It, by far, was the worst part of their arrangement, worse than knowing that Robert was galavanting with other women while on tour. There was no human competition; instead, there was a wall he’d built to guard his real life. She was glad to hear him admit earlier, at last, that the distance between them, this time apart in the same big state, hurt him as much as it hurt her.

It was satisfying to hear Robert speak from his heart, without hiding behind jokes or the sweet diversion of his seduction. She hoped this revelation, and the bond that would be formed with their extended time together, would lead to her first trip to his country sometime soon.

Maggie loved that Robert was so unflinchingly sure about his vision for their future, and she was beyond excited about it, but she wondered what would happen when they encountered people who didn’t care about any of that.

She had recently became more aware of the perks of being a front woman, and she could understand why being the lead singer was such a drug for Robert and others. The reaction from her regional touring was much more intense than when her band played the hyperlocal bar circuit in San Diego. It was new and exciting, she had to admit–having such a large number of eyes on her, knowing the crowd had felt and enjoyed the energy she gave to them, feeling the rush of their collective, appreciative energy washing powerfully over her, and gaining groupies of her own.

She knew her throng of admirers was nowhere near the harem that often waited for Robert backstage, a spectacle she had witnessed plenty of times, but there were men who showed up with flowers and flattering words for her, more than before. Their smiles were sometimes admiring, sometimes leering. Many of them made her skin crawl, or she sensed a creepy, possessive threat behind their flirtation. But some were men who sincerely enjoyed her music and wanted to spend a little more time with her. Some of that number were cute, too cute to resist. She had found herself in this same nighttime cuddling position with those men, but she could say it never felt as right as it did with Robert.

She sighed and stretched her legs. Robert stirred and held her tighter without waking up. The thoughts of future tour life persisted. She realized that it had been a few years since Robert last brought up the topic of her post-concert nights. Robert had told her many times that he couldn’t possibly demand exclusivity from her, knowing his reality, and now she wondered if his lack of curiosity was due to an easygoing spirit or a delicate heart. Only time would tell, under their new arrangement.

Knowing those concerns could wait, she turned her attention back to Robert. Even asleep, without his expressive face in motion and his arsenal of charming words, he was irresistible. His classical jawline was relaxed, with his mouth open slightly, but his eyelashes fanned over his skin, creating a shy, boyish expression. It made her wonder what the schoolboy version of Robert had looked like.

Fully awake now, she decided to rouse him for some company. She gingerly pulled back the covers. By the light of the moon she could see his chest gracefully rising and falling, the soft ripples of his abdomen, his dormant manhood, which still teased with possibility, and his sturdy thighs.

She wanted to trail her tongue and lips over every inch of his skin, but she knew that focusing on his sex would be the most efficient way to get his attention.

She wrested herself from his embrace as slowly as possible, and then she headed south. She trailed a finger down the length of his cock which, in its relaxed state, was still larger than what some of the groupies presented to her. She sighed and shuddered with delight as some of the best moments of the last few hours played themselves back in her mind and body.

She lifted and encircled her fingers around Robert’s manhood, licking him to life with straight and circular lashes, similar to the varied methods with which she polished off her ice cream cone during the day. Back at her car, Robert had given a blow-by-blow (as he insisted on calling it) commentary on her ice cream consumption and became engrossed in her work to the point that his cone started to melt and drip down his hand. The thought made her chuckle with pride while she continued her current labor of love.

“Mmmm… What’s so funny?” The vibrations of her laughter had done the trick. “He not getting there fast enough for you, lusty woman? Even he needs a rest from time to time.” Robert’s voice was more breathy and husky than usual upon waking up, and the sultry tone made a strong current of need surge inside of Maggie.

She paused and crawled up to kiss Robert insistently. “I was just thinking of how much you like this.”

“That I do, love…” Robert propped himself up with pillows while she headed back to his lap and continued. He smoothed her hair out of her face. She looked up at him briefly and her eyes did the smiling while her mouth was completely preoccupied with the full swell of Robert’s sex. And then, eyes closed, she continued.

“My favorite was that one time we flew from LA to Seattle. Remember? The turbulence? Ah, the sweet feel of your mouth, the tease of life and death in the balance with each unexpected dip of the plane… I tried to get you back in your seat, but you were committed… Fuck, ‘til the very end… Every last drop… Best flight since the first time we left the British Isles… We’ll have to see if our schedules align for the long flight to Texas next year, love… Mmm…”

Maggie opened her eyes briefly and saw Robert’s head slowly roll backward. His lips were slightly parted, and she could hear his hungry breathing.

"You always did spoil me, Mags. Mmmmm…" He inhaled sharply as she teased his sensitive underside.

"Now's my turn to spoil you… Breakfast in bed, coming up in a few hours. Full English. I love Betsy’s cooking dearly, but you Yanks just don't have that touch of English domestic magic. Had to get my mum to ship some packages of our bacon, even. You can only eat those American fried fat strips so many times you know?"

"Fuck, darlin'... Feels like you could be down there for the next couple of weeks, if I let you! Mmmmm…" He held her hair tighter with one hand, while the other migrated from a shoulder to one of her breasts. He put the pad of his thumb to work on her nipple, adding to the pleasure she was getting from his reactions.

He started to thrust lightly. “I know exactly which stores we should visit for your tour wardrobe. But why don’t you also pick out a few things of mine? I’d love to see someone wear that black bolero again… The one with the white trim that I was still wearing around the time we met? Won’t be fitting me anytime soon…”

Maggie moved one of her hands to cup Robert’s heavy-laden balls as she continued to bob her head and corkscrew her other hand on the expanse of his shaft.

Robert groaned and his body became restless with the slow build of pleasure. “I had a dream about you onstage… Couldn’t get your moves out of my mind, I suppose… Perfectly filled pair of hot pants and the tiniest T-shirt that put your tits in the spotlight… I was in the front row, and you kissed me. I fully enjoyed being on that side of the groupie exchange. Let’s just say I showed my appreciation of you in your limo... You almost screamed as loud as you did in the kitchen earlier!” His pride in his dream performance pulled the corners of his mouth into a Chesire cat grin.

“But you know, I must see your lovely ass in some leather pants. Maybe a leather halter, too? I saw a bit of Chaka Khan in concert, and she had on a sexy ensemble like that… Leather, feathers… It would look great on you, too.”

Robert moved his hands to Maggie’s shoulders and thrusted deeper.

“Fuck! Woman… Uh…”

Robert’s chatter dissolved into agonized moans for a time before he continued. “I’ll… I’ll need a private concert, of course… Uh… Yes, love… Right there… It’s high bloody time I cash in on the perks of rock royalty, you know? I can see it now, the band breaking into a saucy rhythm, and mi amor, all hips and waist movement and flying hair… And… And.. Ohhhhh… That voice…”

Robert closed his eyes and let his body take over. His hands flew to the sides of her head as he chased the climax on the horizon.

“I bought a bootleg of one of your concerts… Forgive me, love, but I know you have some of ours! Uh… Uh… Shit, I’m almost there!” he hissed. “I couldn’t stop listening to ‘Last Night.’ That’s my favorite, I think… Reminds me of us! ‘Last night, when we rocked and rolled, oh, you struck my soul, and you filled that hole in my heart.’” He gathered the last of his waning strength to belt out the song, the same as she had.

“You really lost yourself in the song… Your voice! So wild. Fuck! Baby… Yes, Maggie, yes, Maggie, yessssss… Uh… The first time I heard the boot… Hot as fuck… I couldn’t help myself, I… I… Uh… Ohhhhh, baby, yes… I thought of you on top of me, and I… Made me so fucking hard… My hands… Needed you… Had to make do… But not tonight, baby… Not tonight, not tomorrow… You’re here… In my life, in my house, my bed… Right where you should be… I’m so glad you… Ohhh…. Oh! Fuck! I…” Robert’s body stiffened suddenly and his seed coursed. His final moan rolled on for almost as long as his climactic note in Kashmir.

Maggie’s lips softened their grip as she withdrew his cock. She kissed the glistening head before retiring to Robert's outstretched arms.

“I’ve never been so happy to be up at 4 a.m.,” he said, glancing at the glow-in-the-dark clock. “Hell of a wake-up call, Magdalena dear…”

"Great conversation," she teased. “Can't wait for this breakfast you've promised."

"You'll have to wait a little for that meal, but I'm going to have a delightful feast now…" He guided Maggie to rest in his spot on the bed, and with the first stroke of his tongue in her sex, she knew breakfast could wait.

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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary

Still working on the next chapter of Eye of the Storm. Here's some of the NSFW shenanigans these two are up to now.

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Robert’s voice was more breathy and husky than usual upon waking up, and the sultry tone made Maggie’s body surge with the electricity of need.

Robert propped himself up with pillows while she continued, and then he smoothed her hair out of her face. She looked up at him and her eyes did the smiling while her mouth was preoccupied with the full swell of Robert’s sex. 

“Remember the time when we flew from LA to Seattle? The turbulence? Ah, the sweet feel of your mouth, the tease of life and death in the balance with each unexpected dip of the plane… I tried to get you back in your seat, remember? But you were committed… Fuck, ‘til the very end… Every last drop… Best flight since the first time we left the British Isles… We’ll have to see if our schedules align for a flight to Texas next year, love… Mmm…”

Maggie opened her eyes in time to see Robert’s head slowly roll backward. His lips were slightly parted, and she could hear his hungry breathing.      

Eye of the Storm, Ch 8

Here is the first bit of smut in the story. I wanted to have 2 scenes of smut in this chapter, but I think the other will work better as a separate chapter. So, there will most likely be smut for the next chapter, too. 😉

Shout out to having a laptop now, rather than toiling away on my cell phone. It really is a much more fluid experience to get the words out. 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽 Shout out also to @callmethehunter , for letting me play around with Maggie in the first place.

OK here they are, being all NSFW... 😈

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Robert removed the rest of Maggie’s clothes in the dining room and hoisted her onto the table.

“Good thing you helped me clear the table, Robert.”

“Teamwork always prospers, love.” Robert stood between her outstretched legs and kissed her again while his hands delighted in the feel of her soft skin wherever he felt like touching her.

He grabbed the open wine bottle and drank. Maggie did the same when he offered it. To her relief, he sat the bottle on the kitchen counter when they were done with it. It would not get jostled around or spill on her with their movements.

When Robert returned to his station in front of Maggie, she removed his shirt and unbuckled his belt.

“I’ll take it from here…” Robert tossed his jeans on the floor. He paused to grab Maggie’s panties from their perch on one of the living room lamps. There was no rhyme or reason to where they had thrown their clothes in haste. It looked like a hurricane of passion had whipped its way through the room, but things were just getting started.

“I think there’s one more thing we need for this scene…” Robert walked over to the stereo, and Maggie watched his regal, chest-forward saunter in profile. His hard cock was still the same tantalizing spectacle and always would be.

“Hot off the presses…” He flashed the cover of a new Marvin Gaye album, I Want You. “I haven’t listened to it yet, but Cole assures me that it’s truly fucking hot.”

The congas, strings and swirl of other instruments on the title song started up as Robert made his way back to Maggie. “What a sexy groove… Mmm…” He snapped his fingers and added his own moans and ad libs to the song’s instrumental introduction. He lost himself for a minute in a performance for Maggie, undulating his waist, rocking his hips, letting his mane fly. It was his first time stepping back into his Golden God persona after so many months, and it felt like home, even moreso because it was a mating dance with one specific person in mind.

“I told you that you wouldn’t have lost a step when you got back into it…” Maggie’s eyes glazed over as Robert teased her by grinding his hips and massaging his cock with a firm grasp. He moaned softly and she fixated on the satisfaction he had gained for himself. She felt her sex pulse and knew that she was growing wetter by the second. His manhood became a lightning rod for the sensual energy that surged at her core.

“You made it possible, love. I couldn’t help myself. You deserve the best from me." He brushed his lips against hers. "You deserve all of it. Starting now…”

Maggie wrapped her arms around Robert’s back as he littered her neck with kisses and nips of his teeth.

“Robert, Robert, Robert…” She sighed. Her anticipation for more was sweet torture. He had moved on to laving her nipples, and then her navel, with his warm tongue. At any other time it would’ve been heaven, but now, it simply wasn’t enough. She whimpered in frustration at Robert’s slow pace.

“Shhh… Good things come to those who wait, darlin’. I promise…” He grinned his most devious grin, the kind that promised all the dirty things that drove her wild.

Robert lowered himself to his knees as his hands trailed down her thighs. There was no mistaking what his eyes were telling her would come next. She would be his dessert, and only time would tell if he was in a mood to hastily devour or savor the delight between her legs.

She moved as close to the edge of the table as she could and draped her legs over his shoulders. He cradled her back with one hand and held her folds in place with fingers from his other hand, creating a pedestal for her swollen clit and his worship of it.

Broad strokes of his tongue washed over her bud and the rest of her sensitive flesh in seemingly never-ending waves. She arched into his swirling motions and held his head in place with both of her hands. Every sensation that she was feeling was one she had cherished many times before: the ethereal softness of her hands in his cloud of curls, the warmth of his prowling tongue, and now the stretch of two of his fingers inside of her. “I missed you so much, baby…” Her words nearly caught in her throat as she reveled in Robert’s ministrations.

Robert didn’t stop to respond; rather, he tugged gently at her clit with his lips and continued to feed her longing in the best way he knew. He couldn’t see the look on her face, but he heard every moan and gasp and felt her buck harder against his face.

She knew he was proud of his work when she felt his mouth broaden into a smile against her skin. There was no time for her to appreciate his joy, however, as his labor paid off in a fiercely transcendent climax soon after.

Maggie couldn’t ever remember screaming so loudly. She realized it was because there was no threat of hotel security coming, no angst from her too-close-for-comfort neighbors or endless teasing from her brother. She and Robert were alone. No interruptions would be forthcoming, and there’d be no walk of shame in the morning.

Robert had changed from the young man she had met, the hotel-dwelling neophyte with the tangled hair, patches in his jeans and, astonishingly to him, the overnight success of four wildly popular albums released in rapid succession. He was now a grown man with his own sprawling place in America, a place she knew he would insist on calling their place now. He wasn’t a man-child at the mercy of the managers and assistants in his home, he was the one who paid the bills and made the decisions. Here, in this Malibu hideaway, he had all the power and privacy that he had wanted all along. It was his domain, where he was king, and she had just been dubbed his queen. It was liberating.

She was excited to chart a life with him, and to have him in her corner for her future in music. She had never experienced that kind of support and freedom before, and this climax seemed to usher in a period of life on a plane she never dreamt possible.

“You’re really enjoying yourself, then?” Robert teased as he stood and kissed Maggie. His lips were moist with the wetness that gushed from her when she came; she felt the dampness and caught the scent of her essence on his face.

“You have no idea...”

“Hmmm… This table seems like a lucky spot for us. Shall we continue here?” He stood between her thighs again and lowered her back to the coarse material of the tablecloth.

“That’s fine with me, baby.” She made herself comfortable and then lifted her legs, bringing her ankles to rest on Robert’s shoulders.

“One of my favorite ways to take you, love…” He wanted to tease her more, but he figured they both had waited enough. He leaned in. The head of his cock cleared the tightness of her lips, and he groaned.

“Welcome back, baby…” she said in a husky purr.

“Fuck, so tight still… Mmmm…” Robert had abandoned his plan to ease inside of Maggie gradually and instead sunk into her core, to the hilt, in one smooth motion.

“Robert… Oh, Robert… I missed your big dick so much… Mmmm… No one else has filled me like you can… Always so good…” His hands were splayed on the table, and she clutched his hard-flexed arms tightly as she undulated against his pelvis.

“I’m so glad we found each other today… I shouldn’t have waited… I missed you, too, darlin.’”

Maggie closed her eyes and surrendered to the familiar sensual dance with Robert. The push-pull of their energy, and the pleasure being generated between them, made it feel like it was only yesterday when they had last been this close. No passion, no intensity, no love had been lost. It was bliss. She basked in the intense sensations he was unleashing in her body with each measured thrust.

Their lovemaking felt just as right as all the things she cherished about Robert when they laughed together and shared thoughts on everything under the sun. After several years, their coupling had become warm and familiar, but it was still exciting, somehow fresh each time. This latest time was no different. She closed her eyes tightly and moaned.

“Fuck! How do you do this to me?” The rasp of Robert’s voice was ecstatic and anguished. He began to thrust harder.

“Closer…” Maggie cried. Robert obliged, leaning further into her. It was tempting for Robert to gallop off into the oblivion of climax with hard, swift motion, but he set them on the scenic route to carnal ecstasy with long, deliberate strokes.

Maggie arched into Robert more sharply, ensuring she was not being deprived one fraction of an inch of his goodness. Every thrust Robert delivered was as vital as each beat of her heart. He had ignited sweet, molten ecstasy that flowed from her core until she was paralyzed by the climax that ensued. She was trapped in a pleasurable loop of pulsating, orgasmic waves, rooted to the spot like an insect trapped in resin and, much later, amber, before it could react. It was too beautiful to be a prison, but nevertheless she was locked into sensations that had an unbreakable hold over her.

It was not lost on Robert that his lover had been rocketed off to somewhere unreachable, somewhere inside of herself that was pleasurable energy, love, and light. He was torn between comforting her and greedily chasing his own end.

The answer was made for him while he deliberated, in the form of a shockwave of pleasure. It was like a lightning bolt that furiously seared the air one second and was a vague wisp of itself seconds later.

Maggie slowly lowered her legs. When Robert withdrew himself, her body started up with exquisite tremors all over again. This time, Robert kissed her, smoothed her hair, and lightly held her shoulders. He grinned as he watched the persistence of her enjoyment, proud that he still knew how to please her.

Robert was still panting and brushed his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes once more. Maggie’s breathing had made it back to normal, and she was riding the last, weakest waves of satisfaction. She opened her eyes moments later.

“Robert…” She breathed his name and flashed a dreamy smile that he realized was not unlike her reaction to his quaaludes.

“Maggie…” He helped her to sit up on the table.

She laughed softly and they bonded once again, by their eyes on each other.

“I know, Mags… I know. I never could’ve imagined my day would’ve ended like this, but I’m so glad it did.”

“Me, too.” She trailed a hand from his damp chest to his abdomen.

“I’ll be right back.” He kissed her softly. Marvin’s falsetto croon nicely summed up his feelings for the day: “but since we're still friends, let me make love to you again, baby.” Robert smiled uncontrollably and turned off the stereo.

“Let’s go, darlin’.” Back at the table, he offered his hand, helped Maggie down, lifted her into his arms, and carried her off to the bedroom.

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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary.