Monday, June 15, 2009

Once upon a time in a development not so far away.... a woman steps out of the bath

Once upon a time in a development not so far away….. A woman steps out of the bath.

I love it when the house is quiet like this, when all the visitors have left and I am alone again. Wrapping my body in a large, soft towel I wander into the bedroom and my breath catches in my throat. A blindfold sits on my pillow. However, a quick scan of the bedroom reveals no-one. There is only one person who would sneak into my house. My pulse jumps at the thought of you being near. I listen intently trying to discern your whereabouts but hearing nothing over the water draining from the tub, I turn my attention back to the blindfold. It is mine, which tells me you has been in my toy drawer; a thought which does nothing to settle my jumping pulse.

Under the blindfold, the corner of a piece of paper is barely visible. I cross to the bed, and move the blindfold to find a neatly folded note. Put on the blindfold and lie down. Goose bumps prickle over my damp skin. Anticipation makes my heart begin to beat faster.

I am immediately plunged into complete darkness, as I pull the blindfold over my eyes. Feeling for the edge of the bed, I climb up onto it, lie down as instructed and wait. Enough time passes to make me fidgety, just as I begin to wonder if this is all a joke, your voice in my ear makes me jump. How you move so quietly, I’ll never know.

“Don’t move.”

I start to talk but you put your finger on my lips silencing me. “Don’t talk either”, you add. Amusement is plain in your voice. It’s not often I am quiet and we both know it.

“Tonight you have to be completely quiet. Nod if you understand.”

I nod. The anticipation grows at the thought of this new game. My skin tingles. My breathing becomes shallower. That delicious warm feeling that is sexual arousal unfurls in my core, as you continue to lay out the rules.

“You cannot move, you cannot talk. You must be completely silent.”

Completely quiet and still? I don’t know if I can do that, talking is something I’m good at and usually do quite often. As I debate the likelihood of me remaining quiet, you lift one of my arms over my head. “Nod if you understand.”

Ultimately, my infernal curiosity gets the better of me and for the sake of a sexual adventure, I’m willing to try. I nod.

“Good.” I hear the satisfaction in your voice.

Relaxing, I let you draw my other arm over my head and leave it where it falls on my pillow. You run your finger along the inside of my arm raising more goose bumps. I try not to shiver. When your fingers encounter the towel still wrapped around me, you give it a tug, exposing my breasts. Maybe it’s the cooler bedroom air or maybe it’s the knowledge of what you can do to, and with, my body, but my nipples harden almost instantaneously. Leaving me feeling exposed and somewhat vulnerable, you spread my legs and then stand up.

Momentarily, I hear you pull your belt from your pants. The zing of leather as it is released from each belt loop and the final snap as you pull it free causes my breath to catch in my throat. My mind mulls over all of the potential ways you could employ a belt but the thump of the belt buckle hitting the floor is at once a relief and a disappointment. I had conjured up some interesting possibilities.

My thoughts are interrupted by noise of your zipper being drawn down. I hear your pants hit the floor and the stretch of a t-shirt as you pull it up over your head. The sound of a man undressing has never been so erotic.

In my minds eye I can see your body clearly; lovely, strong and sexy, pale in the moonlight filtering though the skylight. I smile. Having a vivid imagination is very helpful at times.

The bed shifts as you sit next to me. Suddenly I feel your fingers between my legs. I jump; shocked you have skipped some of the more traditional ‘build-up’ zones. I had expected a slower more sensual approach but I suppose part of this game is letting go of my expectations.

However, I am not used to giving up control like this. Taking a deep breath, I consciously let go, willing myself to relax and go along with whatever you have planned. Although, it’s not so difficult when your fingers are playing between my legs like that. In fact, it’s more difficult to think coherently as each second passes. Obeying the no noise rule, I stifle a moan. I’m also trying really hard not to move my hips to increase the contact between you fingers and my clitoris. Your teasing touches are quickly becoming almost unbearable.

You press a finger into me, curling it to find my happy spot. My insides feel like they are melting in a pool of warm sexual arousal. I instinctively close my muscles around your finger, trying to hold you inside me.

“You’re already wet” you say, I can hear the smirk in your voice. Again, I obey the rules and curb the smart arse comment that I would usually make. I only hope you appreciate how difficult this is for me. Forgetting you can’t see my face, I narrow my eyes at you in irritation.

“I thought about tying you to the bed.” You tell me in a low whisper. The bed shifts again as you change your position. To what, I don’t know as you are no longer touching me at all. You have removed your hand, leaving me feeling empty and unsatisfied and decidedly vexed. “But if I tied you to the bed you would be unable to move.”

I am confused, you told me not to move so what’s the difference?

“This way you can move,” as you continue you pinch my nipple, the touch shocking in it’s unexpectedness as well as its brevity, “but I want you to choose not to.”

Realization dawns and I have to admire your deviousness. Tied down the choice to move would have been taken away. This way I have the choice to react, move or protest, each and every time you do something new but you want me to choose, every time, to submit.

“It’s much more fun to allow you to move but instruct you not to.” you say confirming my suspicions. But even as I am thinking evil thoughts of revenge and payback my body is aching for you to touch it again.

When you bend down to kiss me, I realize I am smiling. I do love a challenge. And as you entice open my lips with your tongue, I remember just how much I love kissing you. After a few moments of this kissing, I think that I could be quite happy just making out with you…. But really? Who am I kidding? I always want more. I won’t be completely satisfied until I feel you come inside me.

You break the kiss. Once again I am left with no physical contact at all. This contact no-contact thing is driving me crazy, both physically and mentally. I don’t know where you have gone or where you will touch me next. My mind swims with possibilities. My body simply aches; aches for more, whether you are touching me or not.

When I feel your tongue on my nipple I nearly cry out. You tantalize me with lips and tongue; it’s very difficult not to arch my back to push more of my breast into your mouth. I want you to suck my breast into your mouth, roll my nipple on your tongue... but you are gone again.

Seconds pass which feel like hours until I hear a sound which I quickly recognize as you jerking off. I scowl again, annoyed. I want to feel your dick; I enjoy feeling you harden in my hand. It’s one of my favorite things.

But when I do get to feel your erection it isn’t in my hand. You kneel above my head to rub the tip of your dick on my lips. I open my mouth to accept you and you sink your cock into my mouth. I have always liked how you taste. I like the feeling of your hard smooth dick sliding over my tongue. As I suck and lick your dick, you lean forward until I feel your hot breath and the tickle of your goatee between my legs.

Within seconds, I begin to have a very hard time remembering to be quiet. Your warm mouth and tongue on my clitoris are teasing and arousing me to the point of distraction. You do something with your tongue that makes me moan despite myself. Immediately you stop, and I suppress a whimper of desperation. I let go of your dick to see how you likes it and am gratified to hear your sharp exclamation of frustration. To my immense relief you resume your ministrations to my clitoris; while, of course, putting your dick back in my mouth.

Your tongue does whatever that thing is it does and I realize am close to coming, from oral sex alone. This is almost unheard of for me. But you stop before you push me over the edge. I’m not sure how much of this stop start I can take. I want to come. I need to come.

You are breathing hard and I derive some satisfaction from the knowledge you are also turned on. If your erection is anything to go by, I’d say you are fully aroused. You push your hips down and I think for a second you are going to come in my mouth but you pull away and sit back on the bed next to me. Leaning down, you kiss me again. I can taste my own juices on your lips. I like it.

Then you are gone again. When I hear you are rummaging in the toy drawer, a million thoughts race through my mind. Which toy will you chose, one for me or one for you? Suddenly, your mouth is on my breast, your fingers on my clitoris and the smooth cool plastic of my dildo against the opening of my pussy. My internal debate rages, I desperately want to tell you how you have to go slowly because I know exactly how big the dildo is, almost too big. Almost. But if I speak you will leave, of that I have no doubt. I chose to remain silent, hoping you’ll be sensible.

You push my legs even further apart with your knees and slowly press the dildo into me. I fight back a cry. My hands are gripping one another tightly over my head in an effort to lie still. The dildo fills me completely.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, “that’s so fucking hot.” Wishing I can see what you are seeing my imagination takes over. I create the image of you kneeling between my legs, my body, pliant and spread open on the bed, the pale plastic of the toy buried inside me.

Already adjusting to the size of the dildo, when you start moving it, I enjoy it immensely. You start slowly, pulling it almost all the way out before pushing it back in. Your hands are everywhere, my breasts, my clit, my face, legs, stroking, touching, caressing. I can no longer keep track of the individual sensations and give myself over to the whirl of sensual experience.

The pace of the dildo fucking has increased. Soon I feel an orgasm building and have a momentary flash of panic. How am I to keep still and quiet while I come? Then again, the evil little thought pops into my head, if I have a gloriously noisy orgasm and you leave…. I’ll still have come. And you won’t have. Hah!

That thought gives me a selfish sort of comfort so I decide to let the orgasm build. However, almost as if you have read my mind, you stop. Unfortunately, you know me well enough to realize if you make me come, there will be little incentive for me to keep quiet and still. Damn it! Plus, I think you are enjoying pushing me to the edge but not letting me go over.

I begin to question why I like you.

When you pull the dildo out, I cannot help the whimper that escapes my lips. Waiting to feel what you will do next is tortuous. I want to tell you to fuck me. I want to tell you how empty I feel and how much I need you to fill me back up, how much I want to feel your dick inside me, how I need the heat of real flesh. Your flesh, your dick. But again I chose to remain quiet, cursing you all the while, and let you do whatever you it is will do next.

When you do slip your dick into my pussy, I almost cry with relief. I am so ready for you, you sink into me easily. The heat of your body fills me. This is what I want; this is always what I want. Everything else we do is wonderful and fun and exciting but this feeling, your dick inside my pussy, this is what I really crave.

I reflexively close my muscles around you, holding you inside me. If you pull out now, we will have a big problem. Luckily, you show no sign of wanting to pull out. In fact you pull my legs up so you can drive further into me. My legs are quivering with the effort to stay still. I desperately want to grind onto your cock, rotating my hips to help push us both closer to orgasm, but I have to settle for using my pelvic muscles to massage your dick.

You hold my hands, our fingers entwined, to act as a counter balance to gain even more depth. You are so far inside me I can feel your balls squished against the cheeks of my ass. I grin widely. I love this feeling.

“Next time,” you whisper, “I’m bringing a friend.” I am stunned. “One of us will be fucking you like this,” you begin to fuck me with long, smooth strokes. “The other one…” you pause your breathing is becoming labored. I love hearing you breath hard in my ear. I hope that you are turned on as I am, not only by what we have done tonight but also by the idea of what we can try next. “The other one can be in your mouth, but who knows? Maybe he could be taking pictures, he could be watching, or giving instructions, and jerking off. Maybe we will take turns trying it all.”

Whether you are serious or not, the idea is erotic beyond compare and listening to you whisper these naughty thoughts has pushed me back to the edge. As you talk, you are fucking me hard and fast and I feel the orgasm I have been desperate for, build again. My heart is racing, my skin flushed, the pulsing inside me is reaching a crescendo. I really need to come this time.

If you back off now, I promise myself that I’ll kick you out and finish the job myself. But when I feel your dick thicken inside me, I know that you are about to come too. With a great sense of relief, I give myself over to my rolling orgasm as you empty yourself into me.

When the last waves of my orgasm fade, I wonder if I can talk now. Screw it! “That’s was amazing” I say.

You laugh, “Great! Now I have to leave.”

“Good. Et your shit and get out.” I smile as I say it. You’d leave anyway now we are done and that’s just fine with me. I like our arrangement. You roll out of bed and get dressed.

“Were you serious about another man?” I ask, taking off the mask. You give me that non-committal smirk you know drives me nuts. I make up my mind on the spot, next time I will surprise you. With a friend.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Hotel Story Part 3.

I have completed Part 3 of the hotel story. It's filed in the archives (archives - that sounds terribly important, doesn't it? ). Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

Now back to writing the male POV. Ugh! I have come to the conclusion that the male POV isn't what women really want to hear. A woman would like to think when she offers up some hopefully blisteringly good sex, that her intended thinks somewhere along the lines of... "She is beautiful; I need her more than I have ever needed another woman. I must have her or die!".... okay, maybe not those exact thoughts.

Whereas the reality is, when presented with the opportunity to have sex with a reasonably good looking woman, a man will likely think, "Cool. I'm going to get laid". In fact, the I'm going to get laid part might indeed be pushing it. They probably stop at cool!

So maybe I'll write what women want to hear as the male POV. This is fantasy after all!

Once upon a time, in a hotel room not so far away - Part 3

Once inside my room, I close the door behind us and turn to face him. Elements of doubt suddenly creep into my mind; not doubts about what am I doing, I am more than sure I want to take this man to bed, but more along the lines of what do I do next?

He looks at me hungrily. I feel a small smile form at the corner of my mouth. Who doesn’t like being looked at that way? His eyes are bright; his breathing audible. I wonder if my eyes are as bright. I’m certainly turned on. Mr. Sinatra, Frank takes a step towards me. The door prevents me from backing up. Not that I want to back up. He is intense and intriguing and I want him. Sexual attraction not only has my breasts tingling and my underwear getting damp, but my heightened senses make me aware of how my clothes feel on my skin, the heat in the room, the smell of his soap. Everything. I love this feeling. Like all my senses are hyper-focused on this one moment.

Any doubts I had quickly dissipates as he leans in to kiss me again. He kisses very well, softly, letting me come to him. I can’t stand it when a guy sticks his tongue down my throat. Don’t get me wrong, I like kissing, I like kissing with tongues; it’s just aggressive tongue thrusting tells me he isn’t listening to me. He’s not exploring, letting us find each other. Kissing, like sex itself, is something two people do together not something one does to the other. A man shoving his tongue in my mouth without being invited might end up getting bitten.

In contrast, his kisses invite me to explore; they hold promise, promise of a man who will not only listen to me but will enjoy that journey of discovery. This is an equal seduction. As the kiss continues, my heart rate goes up. Our tongues meet; he rolls his tongue over mine, slowly and sensually.

While we kiss, his hands work their way up under my sweater. I’m thankful I’m wearing my good bra. He squeezes my breasts gently, wrapping his long fingers around them. Pulling down my bra he frees my nipples, teasing them until they pucker under his thumbs. My breasts appear to be connected directly with my womb; sparks of heat travel swiftly to my core making my insides ache.

When he pulls away I’m confused. I feel like I should offer him something to drink, be a better hostess, but all I want is more kissing, then touching, undressing and …..

“I feel I should offer you something to drink,” I practically pant, “but can I play hostess after we have sex?”

He smiles, “Sure. Afterwards is good.” I’m glad to see his breathing is also a little laboured. “If I sit on the bed, would you take off your clothes for me?”

“All of them?” I ask.

“All but the stockings.”

“That, I can do.” I grin. Once again, with this simple request, he has captured my imagination. I half expected a frenzied, pulling off of each others clothes, or at least enough of them to allow a quick fuck. But rather he has opted to slow things down, take our time. I like it.

He takes a seat on the bed, turns a couple of pillows vertical behind him, and leans against the head board. I’m not sure if he is looking for a full striptease, or just a slow undressing. I figure I’ll start slow and he can direct me if he chooses.

I start with my sweater. I pull it up my torso, over my head and off. Dropping it on the floor, I shiver slightly as the cooler air of the room moves over my exposed skin. I have my camisole, bra, skirt, stockings and boots left to remove. The zip for my skirt sits on my hip, I turn slightly so he can watch as I draw it down. Raising my hands over my head, I give a little shimmy and the shirt slips over my hips, pooling in a heap at my feet. I step out of it, kicking it to the side. Tripping over it and landing on my face, is not the kind of impression I would like to make!

I bend down to unzip my boots, giving him the rear view. My lace boy shorts might not be the smallest panties in the world, but they do give my ass a fine shape. I linger over pulling the boots off but when they are off I toss them over by my skirt. Left in my underwear and camisole I ask, “Keep going or do you want to help?”

“No. No, you can keep going.” If the big grin on his face, or the fact his hand is down his pants, indicates anything, I suspect he is quite happy with the show so far. Deciding to embellish a little I run my hands over my breasts, cupping them, smoothing my thumb across the nipple. I give a little sigh. Only half faked. This is fun and erotic. My hips sway. I begin to dance. My hands float all over my body, touching, rubbing, teasing. When I sigh next, I’m not faking it at all. I wonder what he wants to see. How far I can go? His hand is still down his pants, so I pull my underwear to the side and touch myself.