Fireworks - looking for female reviewers

Although I welcome everyone to read and enjoy this story, I'm particularly looking for comments and reviews from women. I've always tried to stretch myself as a writer/storyteller, to push the envelope. One of the ways that I've attempted to do this is to explore my feminine side - so to speak - by writing (or attempting to write) from a woman's point of view. It occurred to me from doing a great deal of reading and writing - particularly erotica - that men and women look for different things in an erotic story. I would love for women to be able to tell me what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong as a storyteller to make my stories more appealing to the female reader. Thanks in advance to anyone who might be willing to give me their insight.

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Fireworks

The temperature was already nudging 90 and it was supposed to get up to 95 before the sun went down; it was going to be another scorcher. Amy squinted as she wiped away a droplet of sweat that had rolled down her nose before flipping over in the lounge chair to roast the other side of her liberally oiled body. She knew, of course about the danger of staying out in the sun without a good sunscreen, but she didn’t plan on staying out that long. In fact, the only reason she was out there with nothing on but a teensy weensy bikini that covered next to nothing was to tease her husband Rick, who she knew was staring at her right this minute from the huge picture window that looked out over the back lawn from his second floor studio.

It was a little game they played during the summer months when it was warm enough outside. Rick usually got up early and took his morning coffee into his studio to work while she slept in. His job as an architect allowed him to work from his home office – which he had designed himself – rather than having to go into the office every day. When she got up, and was in the mood, she would shower and put on her little yellow bikini to go sun in the back yard by the pool. After a half hour or so, he’d be worked up enough to call her inside and they’d waste an hour or so making love before he headed back to work.

Rick was what her mother would have referred to as “a good catch”. He had a good job where he made decent money, and while they weren’t what she’d call rich, they were comfortable enough to afford a nice two-story house with a pool and a big, grassy backyard. He was also handsome, with a full head of sandy brown hair, a little on the short side at only five-nine; but well built, like an athlete, with powerful arms and legs from years of competitive rowing. They didn’t have children – yet. There was still time, and they were enjoying their couplehood before deciding to bring another individual into the picture. Her mom was persistent that they needed to get started, but so far, she had resisted her urging.

If there was one thing about her otherwise storybook life that unsettled her it was her love life. If things had gotten … if not stale, then at least a little tame. She liked excitement, and while Rick was a kind and patient lover, and knew what to do to get her motor running, things had gotten into a little bit of a rut. She liked turning him on with her tanned and glistening body, but the sex itself, well, it had become almost routine.

She glanced up and saw her husband, hunched over his drafting table, making notes on the plans in front of him. Poor Rick, he had been working so hard on this latest project and his client was so demanding. Last night he had mentioned something about an old episode of the “Bewitched” TV show where the character Darren, who was an architect himself, was asked to design a factory in the shape of a powder puff for unreasonable client who what the head of a cosmetics firm. He said he knew how Darren must have felt. She had never seen the episode herself, but she could see the stress etched on his face. Well, he probably wasn’t going to be in the mood today, so she decided to pack it in. Maybe she’d go visit her mother, leave Rick in peace to get some real work done.

As she entered through the mudroom at the back of the house, and hung her towel on the rack, her eyes alit on bag of fireworks Rick had purchased for the 4th of July weekend celebration. Rick was a big fireworks guy. She preferred the term pyromaniac, but she allowed him his fun. I was an awfully big bag, so she ventured a peek at what lay inside. Most of it was pretty standard stuff, firecrackers, bottle rockets, mortars, some bigger rockets. What really caught her attention was a big rocket with a smooth, rounded pink nose cap. It was a good 12 inches long and over three inches in circumference. The label said Big Bertha. Big Bertha, huh? That looked like it would cause one hell of a bang. Hm, that thought planted a little seed in the back of her mind. Maybe it could cause a bang in more ways than one. She ran her thumb lightly over the nose of the pyrotechnic device. Did she dare? Why not? The backyard was surrounded by an 8 foot privacy fence. No one could see inside, unless one of their neighbors happened to be standing on his roof. And what if he was? The thought was thrilling. She removed the object from the bag and headed back to her lawn chair by the pool.

She lay her towel back down and stretched out placing the rocket on the little table next to her. Looking up, she could see that Rick had stepped away from his table and was stretching in front of the window. He had taken off his shirt, as he often did when the heat from the summer sun warmed his studio, his smooth, muscular, tanned chest practically glowing in the intense light. Damn, he looked hot! She reached around and untied the top part of her string bikini, allowing the two small triangles of fabric covering her breasts to fall away, exposing her sensitive pink nipples framed by a triangle of milky skin.

He cocked his head as if noticing her for the first time, and moved closer to the window, clearly curious over this new development. “Yes, baby,” she thought. “Feast your eyes on this.” She lifted the rocket from the table and slowly moved it toward her thighs. She fully intended to put on a show. She began by lightly rubbing the head against her inner thighs, ever so slightly caressing the skin, sending thrills through her lower body. Her head was lowered, but she raised her eyes, almost coquettishly to make sure he was watching. With her free hand she allowed the tips of her pink painted nails to trail gently along the flesh of her other thigh. A slight gasp escaped her lips as the plastic tip grazed across a particularly sensitive spot.

Moving higher, she slid the head of the missile underneath the thin layer of fabric that concealed her sex from his view. Teasingly she worked it back and forth over the lips of her labia, a thin smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she lightly closed her eyes, letting go and allowing the sensations to take control of her body. She felt so naughty being out in the open, exposed and wantonly masturbating herself for her man. Reaching over with her free hand, she undid the string tie that held the front and back halves of her bikini bottoms together allowing the bright yellow triangle of lycra at the front to move freely, revealing tantalizing glimpses of her pussy lips as she continued to play with her new toy.

Sensing that she was now well lubricated, she ventured to carefully slide the tip of the object along her slit, drawing a little yelp from her as it bumped over her sensitive clitoris. She ventured to open one eye to ensure that she still held Rick’s attention. To her shock, and tremendous satisfaction, she could see that he was standing at the window with his shorts pooled around his ankles, stroking his generous erect cock. Pleased to see that her actions were having their intended effect, she again closed her eyes and surrendered to her emotions.

She was now working the entire upper length of the rocket along her wet slit, and the lip at the end of the nose cone where it joined to the body was sharp and the grating sensation experienced as it glided over the most sensitive areas of her sex was incredible. She shuddered and shook as her breathing became more heavy and rapid. Though she could not see him, she hoped her husband was getting an eyeful. She began to thrust her hips in time with the strokes from the makeshift phallus, driving her even wilder. Plaintive cries emerged from her glossy pink lips as she willed herself closer and closer to climax. A thin stream of juices oozed from her making the paper coating of the firework damp. She had a feeling that she was going to make it useless as a pyrotechnic … a least it wouldn’t be a total dud!

Without even pushing the missile inside she was on the verge of cumming. She chanced a look upstairs and she could see that Rick has increased the pace of his stroking and his eyes were still firmly locked on her writhing body. Without a conscious decision she thrust almost the entire length of the device into her pussy. The shock nearly threw her out her seat, and she let out a long low shriek as the head found it’s mark. A shattering orgasm shot through her body, every muscle alternately contracting and releasing as waves of pleasure washed over her. She continued to work the cock-like object in and out, fucking herself frantically. God, it was fantastic. Her eyes were open now, fixated on her husband, whose own eyes were locked into hers. It was as if they were fucking in unison now, physically apart, but their souls joined as one.

“Fuck me baby … oh, fuck me,” she cried out, even though she knew that he couldn’t hear her.

He could, however read her lips, and feel the sexual power in her eyes. He climaxed with a grunt sending a jet of white cream onto the expanse of glass through which he was staring. The sight of Rick’s seed splashing against the window and running obscenely down to the hardwood floor was wicked enough to throw her into a second powerful orgasm that caused her to shut her eyes and her body to react in a paroxysm of quivers that were set off by the slightest sensation such as touch of a finger or hint of a breeze.

She didn’t know whether she sat there for a minute or ten minutes, but when she reopened her eyes, Rick was no longer at the window. He had cleaned the spot where his cum had run down the window, but he was not in sight. Maybe he was cleaning himself up. At first she didn’t see the rocket she had used to fuck herself with, but rising slightly she saw it lying in the grass, its paper casing soaked and partially torn away, its cardboard shaft bent at an odd angle. Well, that thing surely wouldn’t be doing any flying; although it had certainly made her soar, she thought with a wicked smile. She was sure Rick wouldn’t be too disappointed. After all, she’d given him a display he wouldn’t soon forget.