SERIES: For All The World

PART: 1 of 1

RATING: NC-17 (Explicit Heterosexual Sexual Activity, Adult thematic material, language, adult content)

PAIRING(s): L/L

DISTRIBUTION: To Myself  so far; any other archives are welcome to ask, but disclaimers must be included, my email left intact. send a URL, and provide full disclaimers as well as credit me fully. Please inform me if you are going to submit my work to any sort of search engine.  Please do not submit my work to a search engine that picks out random sets of words and uses them as key words, such as "Google"

Please contact me in order for this story to be placed on an archive, or if you want know of a friend who would enjoy my works, please email me their address and I will mail them the stories, expressly for the purpose of link trading. MiSTiers are welcomed! Please do inform me that you'd like to do the MiSTing, however, and send me a copy of the finished product. I'd also love to archive any MiSTings that are made of my work!

CATEGORY: Romance, Birthday Fic

FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!

SETTING IN TIMELINE: Post-Show AU

SPOILLER/SUMMARY: One pair of thigh highs and pearl earrings.  They might be a little late for his party..

NOTES: Third of the three stories written for Shotzette's birthday in 2006.  Happy birthday!

***

"What do you think?"

He looks up from his magazine and she's standing at the foot of their bed, facing away and looking at herself in the pier glass at the corner of the room.  From his position - lying sideways across the bed and draped limply against a warm quilt  - he can see her entire body in rear-view as she screws her seed pearl earrings into place. 

He gulps, getting a good eyeful of her bare rear - she had neglected to tell him she's naked except for the black lace-and-satin thigh highs.  She raises her arms higher, dark brown nipples erecting and wrinkling as she pulls her hair into a bun at the crown of her head - watching herself with an expression of displeasure.  He knows there's a tape playing in her head telling her she's not beautiful.  She has no idea that she looks like every wet dream he's ever had.

He tosses aside the Rolling Stone, crawling to the edge of the bed and sticking out his tongue.  She doesn't know what's coming until he tickles her with it, right at the point where stocking meets right thigh, then licks an an unbroken line up her buttocks, to her spine and up that slim channel, until he reached her neck and nips it. "I like," he says.

She meeps, leaping against his form as he rises on his knees behind her.  "Geez, Len!"

"Geez, Len," he parrots, in a teasing high-pitched voice. 

"You scared me," she points out.  To distract her from that fact, he begins massaging the back of her neck, just below an especially tense point where it joins the shoulder.  Gradually, her body begins to go limp, but her eyes are unforgivingly focused on the glass.  "What are you doing?"

"What am I doing?" he snorts.  "Catch up with me, Vernie.  I'm taking my ugly hands and putting 'em all over your pretty body."

"Mmmm.." she finally moans, tilting her head back and resting against his shoulder - trapping his hand between their bodies.

"You're beautiful," he tells her, pulling himself free and sending it down over her smooth skin - her bare breasts and belly.  She feels sleek against his palm - different from any other woman he's ever touched. 

"We're going to be late," she says, her voice warbling a little as he barely brushes her nipple. 

"They won't miss us."

She turns around and gives him a look of utter confusion.  "It's for your promotion.  Shirley'll start calling if we're not at her place by five."

"What time is it?"

"Four forty."

"I can take the phone off the hook..."  he puts his other hand to work now, both fingers swirling around and around each peak, playing with her nipples as a schoolgirl might a piece of gum. 

"Lenny..." he feels her spine begin to cave, like a puppet with the pins pulled from its limbs.  He kisses her shoulder, right to left, then between the shoulder blades - her breath speeds.  Her hands release her hair, the arms go backward, up, over his neck, and he catches a whiff of My Sin when he brushes the side of her throat with his lips.

She moans softly, and he responds, both hands finally cupping the crests and giving them the satisfaction of his touch without friction.  He can hear her blood boiling within - a simple touch isn't enough anymore, and she moves her torso in frustration - back and forth, a slow rocking, brushing the small of her back against his groin.  Soon watching her tease herself becomes unsatisfactory, and he has to squeeze the soft mounds with his strong palms.

She whines, the sound coming from a hidden place beyond her throat.  She arches her slim neck for a kiss and he manages to find her lips, kissing her sideways and putting a crick in his neck.  They release one another, and she tries to turn in his embrace but he restrains her.

"Don't.  Not yet."  He kisses the side of her face, the side of her neck, down her shoulder.  Now she arches her chest against his hands with a soft whine of frustration.  He gives her what she wants - the faintest pressure on her nipples.  She shivers against him, her weight somewhat heavier against his chest.  She's watching his face as he plays with her breasts.

When he looks again, the people in the mirror seem enraptured by a love spell - her eyes are on him, her thighs trembling as he plucks and strokes at the nubs capping her breasts.  They look like a clinch cover from one of her favorite romance novels, with a distinctly naughty twist.  He rolls her nipples between his fingers and her spine arches, a groan catching within her throat.  He wants to put his mouth there, to nibble her neck like a vampire, to kiss her nipples, to scrape his teeth against them and hear her scream, but she's not ready yet.

He watches the woman in the mirror as her thighs began to pulse- he knows she's squeezing her mons between her thighs and stimulating the clitoris hidden within.  He feels the heat in her, knows what she wants, but decides to spend a little more playing around.

He releases the weight of one breast, its crest sharply erect and she trembles again, moaning something indistinct against his shoulder.  He strokes her with the lightest touch, recalling exactly what she likes, precisely what she needs - careful fingers over her belly, tickling her navel and teasing her ribs, and just the pads of his fingertips rustling the blood-clot colored pubic nest...

She starts against him, involuntarily jerking at her arms downward and yanking on his neck, forcing him to whine in pain.  "Sorry."  Her voice sounds rusty and mysterious, and she kisses his shoulder lovingly. 

"Want me to stop?"

"NO."  She spreads her thighs wider, pulling his hand down from her belly and against her pubic mound.  He strokes the soft lips hidden in the darkness and she sighs, her hand releasing his neck, the back of it stroking down his chest easily, silk on a bed of fur.  "Lenny?  Please?"

He knows what she wants, but he always makes it worth the wait.

The mirror is forgotten as his attentions move to her hidden places.  When he breaches her outer lips, she calls out - when three of his fingers fill her in a movement of boldness, she begins to tremble.  When she begins to sway in his arms, his fingers speed their stroke - rapidly, he takes her this way, hearing the odd unmuffled sounds of her pleasure, seeing her green eyes flash as they flutter closed again.  Suddenly, he pulls away from her, plopping onto his back and scooting to the edge, placing his head between her thighs and hanging off the edge of the bed.

She looks down.  "I don't think I can take it..."

"Lean on me."

She leans back, into his outstretched arms, half standing, half propped in his grip, and he arches up his neck, bringing his tongue in contact with the exposed flesh between her thighs.

He works his tongue gently and thoroughly - through the sour-sweet and guarded folds until they part in a willing, liquid pucker, then deeper, into the strong, flexing sheath that he wants more than anything to be held by.  When her hips begin to bob against him - up and down, round and round - he knows it's time to bring her off.  His tongue finds her clit, peeping out from the vulnerable hiding place and flicks, wagging playfully against her.  Her spine goes stiff and she sounds as if she's in pain.

Another lick.  Two three four...

Her strong thighs clamp his head, breath violently billowing in and out as her spine stiffens against his grip.  He feels her body twitch and heave against his moist lips and knows she's coming as she becomes a thousand times wetter, a thousand times tighter against his tongue.  Then it's over and she sags forward like a rag doll in his embrace.

He waits beneath, taking a little of her weight on the chin as she recovers her composure. Abruptly, the pressure leaves and he feels the mattress dip, followed quickly by a cool rush of air as she yanks down his briefs. He kicks them away and sprawls out on the bed, causing the Rolling Stone to tumble onto the floor.

When he opens her eyes she's kneeling at his side, her stocking-covered toes wiggling over the edge of the bed as she takes in his nude body and decides what to do with him.  Impatiently, Lenny moves toward her and she, mock-shyly, moves back. 

"Don't rush me," she instructs.

"I ain't the one in a hurry," he says, his voice coming out husky.  Impulsively, he reaches out to stroke her thigh and she allows it, eyes half-closed in both thought and anticipation.  She decides, her hand rising and then placing itself upon his belly, then stroking lightly knee to chest and back down again.

"What do you want this time?"   his cock interrupts her by poking at her wrist.  She opens her eyes, looks down at him and chuckles - not in a mean way, but an affectionate one. "Shut up!  I wasn't asking you!" she tells his cock, cupping him in her open palm and running her hand gently over the wet, loose skin covering his shaft.

"You always know what he wants," Lenny murmurs as her fingers tickle the head.   He strokes her soft hair with one hand, the other stroking her arm.  Then he pinches her perfect ass and she jumps and laughs.

"Lemme lick you," she mutters, lying down beside him.  "Letting" was never an objective for Lenny - he would let her do anything to him she wanted, aside from vivisection... 

Her mouth takes the head of him into her hot, wet confines and he groans deeply, not quite able to keep his eyes open to watch her play.  He listens to the soft rumbles of frustration, feels them along his cock, as she struggles to take him down her throat.  A little flash of pride fills Lenny, followed by one of guilt as he hears her gag - they've been together for a year and she's never been able to deep-throat him the way she seems to want to.  He runs his hands over her lower back and side, trying to give her comfort, and she acknowledges the touch by stroking his belly and hip.

Finally, she gives up, pulling him halfway out of her throat, concentrating on licking and sucking on the fat, rounded head of his erection.  Lenny groans - exactly what he needs.  If he could suck her tits while she did this for him, he'd be in heaven.  He closes his eyes and prepares to lose himself in the moment and wait for the late evening to screw her brains out.  Abruptly, her touch is gone and he opens his eyes to see her bound up off of the bed, walking over and standing against a wall, bracing herself against the closet door, her thighs spread and her right hand between her legs.

"C'mere," she says, waiting for him, touching herself. 

"You wanna do it there?" he asks, slightly confused.

She nods her head.  "Let's try something new."

Her words force him into quick action.  He grins at her, feeling devilish as he jumps off of the bed and strides to her, then presses a kiss to her open mouth.  Laverne's hands find the back of his head, arms resting against the side of his neck and thighs widening to allow his cock to press against her lips.  They touch - she hisses. 

"Please..." she murmurs, but Lenny holds back, savoring the sight and feel of her - reveling in the knowledge that this was his hot-blooded wife, Laverne, these her smooth thighs and stockinged shins trying to find rest against his hips, these her breasts still full from his teasing fingers, she, so eager for him in her fancy stockings, propped against their closet door and uncaring of anything but being with him. 

He grasps her rear with his hands, feeling the strong flex of her athletic body as he lifts her up and pins her between the wall and his body, her thighs going around his hips and his cock filling her quickly but deeply. 

"Oooh!" she sighs approvingly, running her fingers over his sweat-covered back. 

"Umm..." he responds, savoring her softness and sinking forward into her, bracing himself against the doorframe and hearing the wood creak.  Her thighs squeeze his hips approvingly, hands braced around his neck.  Moving with her this way feels a little bit like doing push-ups into her body, but her appreciation and the pleasure racing along his cock is sufficient encouragement.

She tries to move her hips, but that causes their bodies to lose traction; instead Lenny holds her down with the weight of his torso, hands pressed hard to the sides of the door, awkwardly thrusting into her with small stabbing motions.  She moans, her eyes close, her hips twitching involuntarily with his lonely rythm. 

Just as her breathing begins to turn into shallow panting, just as he feels himself reaching a critical pinnacle, the phone rings.

They both pause and look at one another in amused disbelief.  Teasingly, he thrusts on beat to the ringing, causing Laverne's laughter to nearly choke her.

"Len!  Shirl's gonna...oooh...she's gonna kill us..."

"Vernie, I can't stop..."  It stops.  He looks the ceiling.  "Thanks!"

Now she howls her laughter into his ear and kisses his neck, gasping softly as the rhythm between them begins to throb harder, faster.  "Yes, Lenny," she whispers into his ear.  "Fill me up."

His cock nearly obeys her, swelling, pulsing, jumping, but he can still see the frustration in her face as she tries to reach for her clit and can't make it without their bodies sliding down the wall.  Decisively - as much as it pains him - Lenny yanks himself free of her and she gasps in surprise as he sets her upon the floor.  "Why?"

"It's together this time," he tells her, walking back over to the bed and sitting down, cock sticking up straight, "or nothing."

She smiles.  "I love you so much," she sighs, climbing onto the bed and straddling his lap before he guides himself carefully inside of her.  The connection between them - swift, sweet, instantaneous - makes her cry out and him groan.  She begins the rhythm this time and soon they move together poetically - up and down, slowly, rolling her hips, free to love at her own whim, her fingers between her legs and playing with her clit.  The damn phone begins to ring again, but they're both so close to the end that it sounds like nothing so much as white noise.

Her rolling hips, the low-pitched groaning, the roll of her eyes signal Laverne's orgasm - now that Lenny can see it instead of simply feel it, he takes in the image of her like a voyeur with a telephoto lens.  She pulses around him like a heart, her hips jerking as she calls his name and then goes still. 

As carefully as possible, he rolls her off of his lap and climbs back over her body and between her thighs, quickly recoupling their halfway-off-the-bed bodies.  Her head dangles backward into space as she stretches out her legs and arms, accepting his body back into hers.  He feels her softness still twitching as he begins thrusting harder, deeper, faster, his cock fat and heavy in her depths. 

"Uh, please, fill me up, please..." she whines, reaching up for him, arms hanging around his neck, kissing his face and neck sloppily. 

His body jerks against hers, his hips hammering himself home, pushing as deeply as he can manage and gasping as he tumbles over the edge of the cliff, clinging to her, the world going momentarily black as he shoots into her for what feels like ages.

When Lenny's world reconsolidates, Laverne's lips are pressed to his neck, he's still deep inside of her, their bodies teeter crazily off of the bed, her arms are around his shoulders and the mother fucking phone is still ringing.  Regretfully, he forces himself to roll off of her and sits on his heels, trying to regain his breath.  Nude, his wife rolls off of the bed and onto the floor, regaining some sense of gracefulness as she jumps to her feet and rushes down the hallway, where she picks up the phone.  When he can breathe again, Lenny climbs to his feet, then staggers out to the hallway and eavesdrops on her conversation. 

"I'm sorry -- we just kinda got caught up in something...no it's not important..."

She gasps when Lenny pulls the phone from hand.  "Shirl, give us five more minutes."

The staticy wail of his hostess makes the hair on the back of Lenny's neck stand up.  "Leonard, the roast is going to be ruined!  I have a room full of starving people and..."

"So, feed 'em some cheese and crackers!"

"I would, but Squiggy ate the crackers and the cheese!  Even what we had in the mousetraps..."

"We'll be there, hold on..."

"Lenny, why can't you get here now?"

"We would, Shirl, but even I think it's kinda weird to show up at a dinner party naked."

"Oh, honestly, Leonard..."

"Gimmie that!" a soft elbow lands in his side, and he relinquishes the phone.  "Yeah, we'll get there after we shower, Shirl.  See you, bye!"  Laverne hangs up the phone and turns in Lenny's arms.  "Sneak," she proclaims, sounding not at all mad.  "I think that bought us ten minutes."

"I ain't the sneak in this house.  Which one of us started it this time?  'Oh, Lenny, do my stockings look good on my gorgeous naked body?'" 

"I wasn't trying to start nothing, really!  I just wanted to know if I look good."

"You always look good to me," he kisses her rosy mouth gently and she sighs against his lips.  She gently breaks the embrace and bends over, rolling the stockings down her legs and draping them over the hall table.  He gawks and she grins. 

"We can't take 'em into the shower with us," she points out, sauntering back to their bedroom, rolling her hips with those little saucy waves that make him hard and weak.  Back in their room she takes off the earrings, too,  until she's naked of everything but the tiny diamond and wedding band set he bought with his last hundred dollars two years ago. 

"Save some hot water for me," he requests.

She grins at him over her shoulder, turning in the doorway.  "Lenny," she says, sounding so very serious, "I said we have ten minutes."

He laughs in self-depreciation.  "Yeah, and it usually takes me twenty minutes in there."

"Me too...but together it'll take us ten."

Her meaning dawns on him, and he bites his palm as she turns and runs into the bathroom on a laugh, leaving him to do the catching up this time.

The End!