Candy in the Sack Read Free Page A

a line down the exact center of each buttock, as she used the lower edges of her wrists to drag down his clothing.
    Once past his butt, his trousers and under shorts fell easily past his knees, landing around his ankles. On the front porch, now lit only by moonlight and a few bright points of stars, the witch drew her right hand back, with her other hand still holding from behind and pulling him closer to herself. She slid her hand between his legs, palm upward, cupping the blood-hot and tightening sac of his flesh.
    “Does that feel good?” The teasing laughter ebbed from her voice leaving only a whisper.
    “Very.” His hands had moved upward from her naked shoulders to the sides of her head, fingers running through the silk of her hair. “You know it does . . .”
    “How about this?” The edges of her fingernails slid along his groin as she drew her hand back once more.
    He said nothing; he couldn’t. Through his clenched teeth, he drew a deep breath, turning his head to one side. A couple of houses down the street, the last light in any of the windows disappeared. He and Sherri were alone out here, as though the entire world had gone to bed and fallen asleep.
    Her words stopped for the moment as well, though her tongue still had more to say. Her hand settled around the base of his erect flesh, circling the rigid shaft and holding it tight. She didn’t need to lift it toward her parted lips; it seemed to strain of its accord toward that opening. Bryan could look down and see the fringe of her lashes against her cheeks, her eyes closed, her breath coming faster to match her pulse. The wet red tip of her tongue ran a couple of inches along the underside of the hard flesh that she grasped, then circled along the curved crest of its head.
    “You see?” She had pulled away from him for a moment, while still holding on to him with one hand. “I do have occult powers . . .” She nuzzled the captive flesh with the side of her face, while gazing up at him through her lowered eyelashes. “Don’t I?”
    “I knew that . . . already . . .”
    “It gets better.”
    He closed his eyes and felt the warm, wet sensation of her taking him inside her mouth. The underside of the shaft slid along the softly textured velvet of her tongue. The head, swollen and almost painful now, touched the roof of her mouth, just behind her teeth; the taut skin’s contact with those edges was like invisible electricity sparking through the clenched muscles of his buttocks and into the base of his spine. Between his shoulder blades and up into his skull, the hot charge rolled, blanking out every conscious thought.
    Even with his eyes closed, he could see the night s stars and the shadowed horizon. Nothing spoke inside his head all words were gone but memory opened relentless. There had been another time when Sherri had taken him like this, deep inside her mouth, her skin and his exposed to the night. On a camping trip in the Sierras, far away and secluded from anyone else, with the dying embers of their fire the only illumination and warmth. And now as before, thinking was replaced with pure sensation and a jumble of images inside his head. He held her close against himself, his hands tangled now in her hair, feeling as if the earth’s equator had somehow shifted to the ground between her knees. The stars wheeled above his head, useless night clouds scattering behind the earth’s relentless forward motion, guided by the merest touch of his fingertips at the back of his wife’s neck.
    Crazy things; but he didn’t care. She drew him farther into her mouth, the point of her tongue curling beneath the flesh thrusting toward her throat. Another image welled up into his mind that he recognized from before; not imagination, but memory, from when he had been a kid. He had wandered away from his family — they had been on vacation far from home—at a zoo that had seemed as big as a city, smelling of hot Californian sunshine beating down