atlnite2.txt
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                           º    "ATLANTA" by Night    º
                           º         SAGA #2          º
                           º    Written by Atlanta    º
                           ÈÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍͼ

     "Hello Atlanta -- Houston here.  A lone eagle will be landing
     Friday, 5:38 p.m., Delta flight 74.  Meet me there...if you dare."

     As the other passengers disembark, I finally catch a glimpse of
     you.  Looking about first to determine that you are truly flying
     solo this trip, I greet you with a warm, "Hello, Houston", and
     passionate kiss.

     "Uhmm...a hint of mint...wintergreen, perhaps.", I think as my
     tongue seeks yours.  Your immediate arousal is apparent as our
     pelvises collide.  After a few moments, we part, and begin the
     journey to collect your baggage, hand in hand.

     We exchange intimate glances and soft gestures as we wait for your
     bags.  You notice my raincoat and I tell you of the pending rain
     forecasted for our area.  Finally your bags appear and we can
     leave.

     As we exit the airport terminal, you inquire as to where I've
     parked and I nonchalantly say, "Oh, just out front a piece."

     As we near the front curb, I ask you to humor me a moment by
     shutting your eyes -- I've got a little surprise for you.  With a
     nod of my head to the chauffeur, a stretch limousine pulls up to
     meet us.  As I say, "Welcome back, Houston.", you open your eyes
     in surprise.  The chauffeur whisks away your bags -- except for
     your briefcase -- then carefully deposits us inside.

     The music is soft and seductive, the champagne already chilled and
     waiting, as we settle back into the dimly lit interior.

     You look at me and smile that incredibly warm smile of yours and
     draw me near for another passionate embrace.

     Momentarily, I lift the intercom handset and instruct the driver
     to proceed as planned.  With the touch of a button, the privacy
     partition is raised and we are finally alone -- secure from any
     intrusions.

     Turning in the seat to face you, I ask, "Are you pleasantly
     surprised?".  Your response is in the form of kisses, beginning
     with my lips and ending at my fingertips.

     Popping the cork on the champagne, I ask if you are hungry and you
     answer with a quick, "Yes, I'm starving.  I couldn't bring myself
     to eat much of the airline garbage.  Would you like to stop
     somewhere for dinner, Atlanta?"

     "Perhaps.", I reply.  "But just in case, I've prepared a little
     appetizer for you."  Handing you a class of bubbly and with the
     words, "Shall I serve now?", I untie the sash of my raincoat to
     reveal my near nakedness to you beneath it.

     In one gulp, the champagne is consumed and glass discarded on the
     floor.  You moan softly as you bury your face between my breasts,
     drinking in the scent of my perfume and desire.  Your hands squeeze
     and clutch their way under my buttocks, drawing me closer and
     closer to your body.  Your lips seek mine and entwine in a deep
     soul-searching kiss.  Your tongue then playfully licks a trail from
     the back of my right ear, down the hollow of my neck to the tops
     of each breast.  With deftness you expose my nipples from beneath
     the black lace bustier and lick each one in succession making them
     grow harder with excitement.

     A hand then caresses a gartered inner thigh seeking hidden warmth.
     With lightening speed its fingers slip into the moist abyss sending
     ripples of excitement throughout my body.  Sensing my need, you
     bend on one knee and send your tongue where your fingers first
     explored.

     Each flick of your tongue sends shivers up and down my spine.  The
     waves of pleasure soon bring about those tingling sensations.  I
     try to put the pleasure I'm feeling out of my mind so that I may
     enjoy more, but it is impossible.  My need to find release is too
     great.  Within moments my toes start their familiar curl, eyes
     close tightly and I am shot with rocket speed into ecstacy.  With
     each wave I clutch you tightly and whisper your name, over, and
     over, and over again.

     As I open my eyes, you smile at me, lick you lips and say, "That
     was a great appetizer...is the main course next?".

     Knowing that you really are, in fact, hungry, I once again instruct
     the driver.  Presently the limousine comes to a stop.  I secure my
     coat, check my makeup and dab your lips with my handkerchief.  A
     knock at the door window lets the driver know we're ready and it
     is opened.

     The restaurant I've selected is an Italian/Seafood grotto.  The
     waiter shows us to a quiet table, though not too far removed from
     the other diners.  I remembered that you once told me you enjoyed
     watching people immensely.

     As you are the hungriest,  I ask you to order for us both.  You
     select a blanc de noire from the proffered wine listing to begin,
     followed by fresh prosciutto and melon, Caesar salad, the house
     special -- a "Fresh Seafood Pasta in a delicate Alfredo Sauce with
     just a hint of nutmeg", and Tira Missou for two for dessert.  The
     waiter complements you on your selections, as do I, and then asks
     if I would like him to take my coat.  A slow grin spreads across
     your face from ear to ear as I reply, "Perhaps later.  I need to
     warm up a bit first."

     We chat intimately as we await to be served.  The wine is crisp and
     fruity to taste.  The melon, flavorful -- prosciutto, lean.  The
     Caesar is made table-side, but we watch with little interest.

     You lean closer to me and ask if I've noticed the couple next to
     the window.  With a furtive glance I spy the couple in question.
     Somehow they seem out of place in our surroundings.  The restaurant
     invokes an ambiance of romance, seduction and intrigue.  Upon first
     impression, one would expect these two to bow their heads in prayer
     at any moment or shout "Hallelujah! -- Praise be!".

     Turning to face you once again, I slip my hand into your napkin
     covered lap, sliding it slowly up your thigh until reaching the
     already firm bulge in your pants.  Shifting in your seat while
     clearing your throat, you enable me to access the zipper of your
     pants.  A gentle pull of the tab and it is open.  Slipping my
     fingers into the void I firmly message all within my grasp.

     Never taking our eyes away from one another's, we answer the
     waiter's questions regarding our salads -- "Would you care for a
     little fresh cracked pepper on your salad?" -- "Is there anything
     else you might require now?  More wine?  Bread?  Hhmm?".  We both
     mentally think, "Yes, there is more that we require at this time.",
     but the waiter is not the one who can provide what we both yearn
     for.

     Glancing over at our holier-than-thou couple, I notice that the
     husband has taken a few choice peeks at us, raising his eyebrows
     on occasion, obviously becoming somewhat aroused.  Looking directly
     at him, I smile, take a bite of my salad and continue to caress you
     under the napkin.

     You continue to watch me as I am being watched by our "friend", and
     eat bite after bite of your salad.  Occasionally we trade bites,
     intimate bits of conversation, a moan or two, neck nuzzles and warm
     wet kisses, making our "friend" all the more uncomfortable.

     The man's wife continues to drone on in her high-pitched whine of
     a voice, much to his dismay, never noticing what is happening at
     the next table.  Can't she see that he is not even listening to her
     -- that he is enthralled with the events at the next table?

     Finishing the last bites of my salad, I concentrate more on you and
     your greatest need at hand (pun intended).  Cupping you in my hand,
     squeezing and manipulating the length of you with my fingers and
     palm, delicately running the tip of one finger under the hood of
     the head and finally establishing a steady rhythm which you may
     rely upon for a climactic finale.

     Sensing your impending need (and the approach of our main course
     at any time), I drop my head lightly into your lap, engulfing you
     in my mouth just in the nick of time.

     With a final lick of my lips and a few pats with your napkin upon
     rising, I see the gentleman's mouth and jaw snap back into place
     from where it had dropped in disbelief.

     As the waiter serves our main course, I notice the wife leave for
     apparently the ladies room.  Without an apparent second thought,
     the man approaches our table.  Leaning downward so as not to be
     overheard by others he says,  "Mister, I'd give anything to be in
     that seat of yours right now.  I saw what you got for an appetizer
     and now can only imagine what the main course will be!".  And with
     the turn of his heel, he leaves, meeting his wife as she comes from
     the lavatory.

     You turn to me and grin.  Your eyes are laughing brightly as you
     draw me near for another embrace.

     As we finish sharing the last morsels of dessert and sips of
     coffee, you ask what else I might have in store for you this
     evening.  Nuzzling your neck and ear I whisper, "You'll just have
     to wait and see, won't you?".

     The limo door is opened as we exit the restaurant.  You enter it
     ahead of me as I pause to give the driver further instructions
     regarding the evening.  Once again we are ensconced in luxurious
     privacy.

     Bumping into your briefcase as I get comfortable, I ask if you
     would like me to have the driver put it with your other bags.  You
     decline saying that we may need it later, depending on what I have
     in mind for the rest of the evening.  I ask what you would like to
     do for the rest of the evening and your response is immediate.

     "Atlanta, the only thing I can think of that would make this
     evening any better is to have you sitting on my lap this very
     minute."

     Without hesitation, I oblige you.

     Your hands work my coat apart as I untie the sash.  You cup my
     breasts in the bustier, pulling it down to expose my nipples once
     again.  Your tongue flickers across each one in frenzied succession
     as your hands knead my buttocks.  My hands reach for your belt
     buckle and zipper as I seek your mouth in a passionate kiss.

     "I want you, Atlanta!", you moan as your desire builds from within,
     "but, I'll need my briefcase now unless you've got something for
     me to use."

     I hand you the briefcase and watch as you fumble with each
     combination.  Inside I see the usual contents of any businessman -
     - a spare tie, breath mints, paperwork, files -- and a few
     exceptions -- a box of condoms, yellow baby rose bud, video tape.

     You hand me the rose and apologize for the wilted condition as you
     had meant to give it to me earlier, but had been a little
     preoccupied with the events of the evening thusfar.   Regardless,
     I kiss you deeply in appreciation of your thoughtfulness and
     sensitivity.

     Picking up the spare tie, I admire it and slip it around my neck.
     It feels cool to the touch.  You remove the box of condoms as I
     quickly grab the roll of breath mints and close the case.

     With the briefcase stowed away at last, you reach for me again.
     Gently I push you back against the leather seat and tell you "We've
     got lots of time -- let's not rush.".

     I straddle your lap again and reach forward to un-do your tie,
     placing it around my neck with the spare I'd removed from your case
     earlier.  The buttons come undone easily and I remove the shirt,
     folding it neatly as I go.  Reaching down I remove the belt
     entirely and playfully rub it across your nipples as it goes into
     the pile with the shirt.  Slipping to the floor between your knees
     I remove each shoe and sock, then reach under your buttocks and
     begin sliding your trousers down and finally off, mindful of the
     pocket contents.  And lastly, your briefs, are tossed carelessly
     into the mounding pile.

     Slipping a mint from my pocket into my mouth, I settle back onto
     your lap.  I can feel you stirring beneath me, aching to find inner
     warmth.  I lick your lips and teeth with my tongue, giving you a
     taste of the cool wintergreen.

     Trailing my way down your neck, shoulder and left arm, I finally
     kiss the palm of your hand and lick each finger.  Silently I remove
     one of the ties about my neck and tie it about your wrist, securing
     the other end to the door handle.

     Working my way back to your soft lips, I kiss you deeply once
     again, grinding my moistness into your loins.

     Again trailing a path down your neck, shoulder and now right arm,
     I kiss your palm and lick each finger.  The remaining tie is soon
     wound around your wrist and secured to the other door handle.

     Once back at your lips, I tease you slowly with my tongue -- the
     first of many tauntings to come.  Slowly working my way down your
     chest, my tongue flickers over each nipple, making them ache with
     desire.  As I continue to slip slowly downward, over your stomach,
     flicking at your belly button, you moan in ecstacy and whisper my
     name, "Atlanta".

     Taking you into my hands, I begin stroking you up and down its
     length.  Your eyes are closed as your body and brain drink in the
     pleasurable experience, thusfar.  Slipping one hand into my coat
     pocket, I remove a small object and carefully put it over your
     penis, sliding it down to its base.  Cradling your balls in my
     hand, I slowly lower my lips in the most intimate kiss imaginable.
     I can feel you throbbing with excitement inside my mouth.

     Stroking, licking, kissing, nipping and tongue-ing my way up, down
     and all around, you begin to moan.   The wintergreen of the mint
     in my mouth has spread a cool tingling sensation over every inch
     that it has touched.

     "Atlanta, I'm going to cum soon if you don't stop.  Do you hear
     me?"

     I hear you.  I know you want to cum and I know that you will cum,
     but not until I am ready for you to do so.

     Drawing back, I reach for the condom box.  This should be
     interesting considering the fact that I've never had to put one of
     these on a man before.  Removing the wrapper, I slowly place the
     center down over the head and work it gently into place, attempting
     to make this as comfortable, and pleasurable, as possible for the
     both of us.  Satisfied with my handiwork, I rise to a stooped
     position and straddle your lap once again.

     With a kiss to your lips, I begin lowering myself downward, taking
     in a little more of you with each stroke, making you want to buck
     up against me with your pelvis in search of total penetration.
     Soon I am riding the full length of you.

     Your hands cannot touch me -- only your eyes -- and oh, how you use
     them.  Slipping both hands inside the front of my coat, I message
     my nipples, making them stiffer...harder...hotter.   Working the
     coat off my shoulders and arms, it slips to the floor, giving you
     a bird'seye few of my bouncing breasts and flesh.

     Closing my eyes, I begin caressing my breasts, nipples, abdomen,
     hips, thighs, buttocks, ending with the trigger of my excitement.
     You watch every move that I make as I continue to ride your
     throbbing penis.

     "Oh, Atlanta, I can't control myself any longer.  I'm going to cum.
     For God's sake, let me cum now."

     In one fluid motion, I dismount and lower myself between your legs.
     With deftness of hands, I envelope your penis with my breasts as
     you stroke to a near-bursting climax.  Your body shudders with each
     quake as I continue to message with my breasts.

     As you come back down to earth and I untie your hands, you tell me
     of the wonderful experience you have just had -- of the intensity
     of your orgasm -- how you've never had one like it before.

     Smiling, I reach for your trousers, remove your handkerchief and
     with a polite, "Excuse me, Atlanta.", you prepare to take care of
     yourself.  After removing the condom, you continue to feel a slight
     constricting pressure at the base of your penis.  Upon further
     exploration, you discover the cock ring.  Turning to face me, you
     begin that slow ear to ear grin, then pull me toward you for
     another warm embrace.

     "Thanks, Atlanta.  It was heaven!", you whisper breathlessly in my
     ear.

     It's nearly 2 a.m. as I instruct the driver to go to your hotel
     finally.  We dress each other on the short ride there, kissing
     intimately here and there, packing certain unmentionables away in
     your briefcase.

     Soon the door is opened, bags are removed and I am kissing you once
     more before saying "Good night, Houston.  Atlanta's got to go."

     The look on your face is one of surprise.  You ask me to come up
     to your suite with you, but I decline.  You ask if you'll see me
     tomorrow morning for breakfast -- maybe.  Lunch then? -- maybe.
     Dinner perhaps? -- maybe.  Then when? -- you'll have to wait and
     see.

     And with a gentle caress to your bearded face, I once again return
     to the confines of the limousine, and am whisked away into the
     moonlight.

     ÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍ
             Gary & Heather's BBS, Atlanta, Georgia - (404) 244-7059
                    OUR OWN GROWN QUALITY STORIES OF EROTICA