Unleashed-The Alexis Summers Compilation, Volumes 1-8

By A.K. Scott

Eight incredibly steamy stories about a hot wife’s journey from timidly seeking pleasure outside of her marriage with her husband's consent to increasingly more indulgently seductive experiences. With her husband's approval, and usually in his presence, she embarks upon a journey of self discovery deep into a sexually charged world of limitless possibilities.

It begins with Masquerade, where she and her husband begin her journey with a mysterious stranger involved in an intimate encounter.

From there, Wet takes things a step further, where Alexis allows her burgeoning sexuality to take flight as she makes plans for some match-making for her husband's business associate.

In Quenched, Alexis sets her eyes on her landscaper who so deftly cares for her well-manicured grounds.

Plunged finds Alexis and her husband becoming fast friends with their new next door neighbor. A bachelor with a proclivity for frequent female companionship, could it be that he may actually set his sights on Alexis as well. What starts as an innocent invitation for drinks and hot tubbing winds up taking a decidedly interesting turn.

Winter time romance in a destination resort is the setting for Tryst, where Alexis finds that not only is she interested in some quality alone time with her husband, but suddenly catches the eye of an enterprising young bellhop who is only too eager to see to the hotel guests' every need.

A springtime getaway is the backdrop for Torrid, where Alexis and her husband set off for the desert and a much needed reprieve from the cold, gray drizzle of home. Her husband has thought of everything that will make her forget about the cares of home and what begins as an intimate couple's massage in their room winds up going down a path that not even he had imagined.

Special Delivery is simple tale of wanton and spontaneous lust and passion on an otherwise typical and unassuming suburban day. Who knew that having new appliances delivered could end up in such a wild and debaucherous adventure?

Finally, in Punished, Alexis is fully in her element of sexual excess and lasciviousness where the ruse of a weakly suspected fling between her husband and his secretary serves as the backdrop for a night of bondage and cuckolding the likes of which no one suspected.

Here is the first collection of hot Alexis Summers' adventures.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.K. Scott
• Release date: Dec 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370729975

A.K. Scott

I am a romance reader from as far back as I can remember. But to everyone, "Romance" means something very different. Sure, I like the flowery 'heaving bosom' stuff my mom used to read, but I'm a bit racier than many, and like to spice my romance up with a fair amount of rather raunchy sex. Do I go too far? Maybe. Oh, it's always legal but pushes the boundaries of what some might find acceptable. But then again, so do I. I love to have fun, and writing is fast becoming a truly enjoyable outlet for me...a glorious, bawdy outlet. Writing (and reading) "Romance" stories is like falling in love with a new man every week, and I ask you: What could be better than that?I'm new to publishing my stories, and love feed-back, be it good or bad. That's how I learn. I also have a fairly positive outlook, therefore I fully intend on perfecting this craft and selling more books than I ever could have imagined.Please feel free to email me at [e-mail] to tell me what you'd like to read...I'm always looking for new ideas and love to stretch my imagination.In the meantime, I want to thank you for reading my books. Remember, outside of a dog, a book is a (wo)mans best friend, inside of a dog, it's too dark to read. - Gotta love Groucho.Happy Reading!

Book preview

Unleashed

The Alexis Summers Compilation, Volumes 1-8, 

A.K. Scott

Table of Contents

Volume 1-Masquerade

Volume 2-Wet

Volume 3-Quenched

Volume 4-Plunged

Volume 5-Tryst

Volume 6-Torrid

Volume 7-Special Delivery

Volume 8-Punished

This Compilation Copyright 2017 by A. K. Scott

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or otherwise, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system without written permission of A. K. Scott. 

All characters portrayed in this collection are all consenting adults of 18 years of age or older. The people, places, and situations contained within this book are figments of the author’s imagination, and in no way reflect real or true events. 

Or do they… 

Warning

These stories contain graphic descriptions of sexual acts between consenting adults. If these kinds of descriptions are offensive, you should not read this book. Please keep this material away from children.

Masquerade

Volume 1

Copyright 2015 by A. K. Scott

For the first time in our marriage, I was ready first. I had planned this evening for weeks, if not months prior, so my preparation went like clockwork. I had showered and buffed my skin to a sexy, sultry glow earlier in the day, piled my hair on top of my head in a cascade of loose curls, expertly applied my make-up and donned my masquerade costume, checking myself in the mirror to make sure I had seen to every detail. My clothing clung to my voluptuous curves and pushed and tucked my body to perfection. The mask was the final detail I would see to before leaving with my husband to this year’s New Year’s Eve masquerade gala. As in years past, it was taking place at the palatial estate of the President and CEO of my husband’s company. An invitation to this gathering of the most impressive business minds in the state, along with their typically beautiful spouses, was incredibly sought-after, and I had been eagerly anticipating this for months.

When Scott came to the top of our staircase, he took my breath away. Wearing tux and tails and a cape, he was the most handsome and dashing Phantom of the Opera I could ever imagine. I was, as always, delighted to be this man’s wife and took a moment to relish the fact that I was the luckiest woman alive. The night hadn’t even begun and I was already moist with anticipation, thinking about how I would unbutton, unzip and unmask him at the end of the night. He descended the staircase with a flourish, offered me his arm and said, Shall we, my love?  

I would follow you anywhere, my darling, I said, as we made our way to the waiting limo in our front drive. He sat across from me and took me in: from the top of my perfectly coiffed head, low cut cleavage bearing neckline, corseted waist, and full gown, all the way down to my four-inch heels.

What do you have on underneath all that? He teased.  

Nothing much, unless you count the garters and stockings.

He sharply drew in his breath and told the driver that we’d like to have some privacy. I knew exactly what was on his mind as the window ascended between our driver and us. However, I was not about to try to maneuver this much dress around in this car, and take the risk of arriving disheveled. 

Later, my darling. I reassured.  I promise to be worth your wait.  

My husband is a brilliant, hardworking and driven businessman, but he can pout like a spoiled child when told no. I expected nothing less, but he seemed just as giddy as I was to be going out for the evening and to be a part of the festivities.

Instead he came to my side, took my face in his hands, and kissed me gently. I kissed him back chastely at first, but then parted my lips ever so slightly, which of course he took as an invitation to lightly probe my mouth with his tongue. The moistness I felt before started to build and I considered making better use of our time alone before arriving at the party. Our kiss turned passionate and I had to pull away, panting, before things went beyond the point of no return. 

Patience, my darling. I teased, and we both settled uneasily into our seats for the remainder of the ride.

Dane Lewis’ house is an astonishing sight to behold from the moment you turn onto his private drive. The one-mile long tree-lined driveway was beautifully lit to showcase the grand old trees that somehow looked even more beautiful bare than when in their full bloom of summer. The ‘house’, if one could call it that, sat at the base of a massive craggy mountain, whose year-round resident elk herds could often be seen grazing on the expansive front lawn. The whole house was lit from within, casting a magical glow on the adjacent countryside. In the middle of the circular drive, sat an enormous lit fountain, which was surrounded by waiting limo’s and their drivers. Everyone knew that the champagne would be ever flowing, and therefore very few revelers drove themselves. This was the gala that perfectly culminated the romance of the holiday season and everyone put his or her best foot forward.

Our driver stopped at the massive steps leading up to the impressive entryway, opened the door and my husband leapt out first. 

I want to be the only man that touches you tonight. He said as he offered me his hand, helping me to gracefully exit the car.  

Shall I dance with no one else then? I flirted. 

You are mine and mine alone, my love, and don’t you forget that.

The gala was gloriously appointed in every way, including the chamber musicians, floral arrangements, sumptuous food, and the amazing costumes that all the party guests wore. Our host and hostess were gracious and saw to their guests’ desires in every conceivable way. This truly was something seen only in a movie, and I felt honored to be there, especially as one of the founding partner’s wives.  

My husband and I danced, flirted and kissed and joked about utilizing one of the many guest suites upstairs, and as the night wore on, and the champagne continued to flow, we found ourselves more and more amorous with each other. It was a well-attended party, after all, and the number of guests exceeded 200. Surely no one would miss us?

On the dance floor, with his hand firmly on the small of my back, pulling me into him, he whispered in my ear.

Look around. There are people everywhere and no one knows who anyone is. Can you recognize a single person on the staircases coming or going? Of course not! I cannot wait another minute to see what’s waiting for me under your gown. 

My husband is many things, and persuasive tops the list. The anonymity of our costumes, the anticipation of making love to him later that night, and the gaiety of the event made for an electric atmosphere and I felt young and carefree and hot for my sexy husband.

I agreed to meet him upstairs, in one of the three guest rooms down the first hallway on the right, and he suggested that he give me a few moments’ head start to allow me a bit of time to freshened up. I walked up the grand curving staircase and said hello to a few people that were making their way from floor to floor, all in various degrees of inebriation. 

The second floor contained a large billiard room where many men were standing around with drinks of a different sort in their hands. Champagne is not for everyone, after all. Dane bought, of course, the finest Scotch and cigars and these men appeared to be taking full advantage of both. As I walked by, many of them either whistled or catcalled and I had to admit that even while finding it disrespectful, it still thrilled me that I can elicit this type of response from a group of men. I noticed that there were at least three other phantoms of the opera in that room alone, although none of them cut as fine a figure as my one and only.

I opened the first door on the right beyond the billiard room, but thought better of it because I wanted a bit more privacy if I was going to be making love to my husband, which I had every intention of doing. I’m no prude but I’m no exhibitionist either. I closed that door and went into the room at the very end of the hallway. Beautifully appointed with a large four-poster bed, a massive fireplace that lit with the touch of my finger and a built-in sound system that lightly filtered in the music from downstairs, it rivaled any luxury suite in the finest hotels I’ve stayed in around the world. The Lewis’ had exquisite taste and employed the best decorator in town, and this room was no exception.  

I slid out of my gown, and used the attached bathroom to freshen up while waiting for my husband. The anticipation grew, as the wait seemed interminable. I shut the lights off, climbed onto the bed and reclined on the sumptuous linens, fantasizing about what lie ahead of me. Sometimes I still feel like a love-struck girl thinking about my husband’s hands on me, what he will do to me with them, and how much he drives my body wild. I am wet between my legs at the thoughts swirling in my head and need him to get here quickly to help quench the fire that’s burning inside of me.

Tired of waiting for Scott to arrive, I start without him by lightly touching my own body. I begin with my breasts, my nipples peeking out over the top of the push up bra I was wearing to achieve the maximum cleavage in my gown. My breasts have always been exceedingly sensitive and just his playing or sucking on my nipples can bring me to orgasm. I started there, slightly pulling and twisting my nipples at first, then kneading my entire breast with more urgency. I quickly found my hand wandering down my stomach toward my pussy. I had no panties to serve as a barrier to my probing fingers and the level of my arousal surprised even me. I slipped a finger inside of myself and shuddered at the sensation. Just thinking about being with my husband makes me wet.

I lost myself in the moment, as I alternated between pushing my finger inside of myself, and spreading my juices up and around my rapidly swelling clit. I started to feel like I might finish without my husband, so I tried hard to back off and wait. 

Thankfully I soon heard the door to the room open as he entered. The room was dark and I only could see my husband’s silhouette and the flutter of his cape as he took it off and placed it over the sofa that was between him and the bed. He walked slowly over to me, removing his clothing as he went, draping his tux jacket on the other end of the sofa, his shirt on the accompanying chair, and finally his slacks, which he allowed to fall to the floor. 

He moaned softly when he got close enough to me to recognize that I was disrobed and starting to pleasure myself. I could see just enough of his silhouette to see that he had his cock in his hand and that it was enormously hard. He stood at the edge of the bed, placing his legs between mine, and climbed up between my parted legs. He rubbed the tip of his cock up and down my slit, making his head wet with my juices, then slid his entire cock inside of me with one urgent push, until I felt his balls rest up against my lips. The champagne had definitely gotten to him, I thought, as his style is usually more soft and gentle, but then again, we were stealing a romantic interlude while the rest of his company was downstairs drinking champagne and mingling. 

I was certainly not complaining, because the thought that we could be missed or found added to the sexual tension that had been building between us all night. He started to thrust wildly inside of me, quickly bringing me just to the edge of my climax, as I met his thrusts with my own. I clung to him, biting his neck softly at first then with more fervor, then taking his head in my hands and sucking his bottom lip into my mouth, something that has always driven him wild. He pulled away and drove his tongue roughly into my mouth instead. He pushed my hands over my head and held my wrists to the bed as our tongues twirled and danced around each other’s as we fucked, both of us panting and moaning. I closed my eyes and felt the momentum of my orgasm begin to build. I came in savage torrents and bucked against him wildly, feeling like I was drowning in a passion that was pulling me down further and further into its seduction. 

The room started to spin as my orgasm overwhelmed me and he continued to fuck me deeper than he ever has. He felt like he was hitting spots that he’d never reached before and I was cumming harder than I ever thought possible. Was it the champagne, the costumes or the illicit nature of our rendezvous? I wasn't sure, but I didn't care. 

When my shudders started to subside and the noise in my head quieted, I opened my eyes and was startled and more than a bit ashamed to see a man standing at the foot of the bed staring at my husband and me in the throes of our erotic embrace. I gasped, and tried to warn Scott, but he seemed to neither care nor be capable of stopping. I struggled beneath his weight, but the harder I tried to pull away, the harder he held me down by my wrists, and the more fervent the fucking became. 

At first, I was too embarrassed to look at the stranger. Somewhere in my champagne-induced buzz I thought he might not recognize us as we still had our masks on. The realization settled over me slowly, as I understood it was no stranger staring down at me at all. It was my husband. 

Thoughts ran through my head so rapidly that it was impossible for me to focus. How could that be my husband if someone is inside of me? Was the room so dark that Scott didn't understand what he was seeing, namely another man fucking his wife? But if I could see him, surely, he could see me. Why wasn't he pulling him off me? Was this a dream or a nightmare? 

My husband slowly and seductively pulled off his mask and then a wry smile settled on his handsome face, and it became crystal clear that he wasn't angry or concerned; no, he was enjoying the show that was playing out before him. He walked slowly