We talked for hours. It was well past midnight by the time we left the bar, lurching slightly as I searched for a way to get alongside the river. By then I was holding her hand, partly to break that first boundary of physical contact, partly to lead her in the direction I wanted to walk. We sat alongside the water for a time, conversing; as a tugboat pushing a barge out towards the bay passed us, silence descended for a moment. And then I kissed her.
She keeps her eyes closed most of the time. I don't. It lasted for a long time... hands, fingers, noses, lips, and tongues exploring. I found it very difficult to break off and resume our walk. Her pheromones and faint scent of perfume were driving me insane with lust, but perhaps something more than that, too. Tenderness? What seemed like centuries later (although really only an hour or two), we did resume walking and talking. Tired, slightly drunk, and exhilarated, I guided her to a train station for an early-morning ride home. I left her at her front door with a final kiss, giddy with thoughts of potential. I wanted to see her again, and soon. As it turned out, 'soon' meant 13 hours later.
My suspicions of her deviant nature had been haunting the back of my mind all the previous night; subtle things in our conversation, body language, and even the way she kissed me back all conspired against her hiding it from me. Perhaps I have been interested (and to some extent, involved) in the natures of dominance and submission for long enough that I can now more easily read subtext.
When we met the next night, my eyes started at her feet and travelled up her body, taking in every curve, every detail. The blue jeans. The grey babydoll top. The coat. Her glasses. Her flowing, straight brown and blonde hair. Her blue eyes. The choker. A narrow, jeweled band sitting tightly around her neck, the gems winking at me with suggestion. Her sexuality symbolized in a way which not everyone would understand. At that moment, I knew it would be all she was wearing when the evening would wrap around into morning and limbs would untangle. At some point very shortly after that thought, I said it aloud.
We ate dinner, and talked again - but this time the words were distracted by other desires. We discussed favorite movies, Hollywood denizens we would sleep with. Asian culture. Three hours later, at my apartment, the credits of the second episode of Firefly passing by, there was a moment of intellectual conversation about the TV show (she likes it) followed by a practical explosion of lust into which the rest of the world evaporated.
Her upper body bare before me, pert breasts and perfect nipples eager for the taking, I found myself torn between a desire to be tender and violent. Lips and tongue slowly gave way to teeth and her breathing, the sensual rising and falling of her chest told me that I was free to make my choice at any time between the tenderness and violence; either one will be accepted and even craved. Instead I instructed her to lay still and spilled/poured wine into her bellybutton and surrounding flat stomach. I licked it up, the taste of her skin blending perfectly with the four-year-old aged Napa Valley cabernet sauvignon.
Boots unzipped, jeans slid down. Her pale, smooth legs running from delicate feet up to soft thighs; her most intimate of places still hidden seductively from me. I was not in a rush; I wanted to kiss and lick that sensitive skin; tickle it with my goatee. As I nibbled closely along her upper inner thighs, the scent of her arousal told me that I would like the way she tastes. Panties gone. I did like the way she tasted, which is unusual.
One climax later, the relaxed smile on her face and slightly lost look in her eyes is a reward for a hopefully skillful tongue. "You certainly know your way around a woman's body," she whimpered at me. Had I stripped and shoved my cock into her pussy right at that moment, I would have encountered no resistance; we both knew it. But I chose to take pleasure in some psychological torture by telling her that I am not going to fuck her tonight. I didn't.
My jeans, off. Her hand on my cock, through my boxers. She wasted no time in extricating my raging hard-on, but spent a moment complimenting its size and commenting on how I am not circumcised. I consider myself average, so I appreciated the praise, but am then distracted entirely from that line of thought by her tongue swirling, lips wrapping, head bobbing, and hands massaging. She was unsure of the best position to please me - I wanted her on her knees on the floor between my legs - but I let her make the choice. It was too soon yet for me to impose my will, even though I know she wanted that.
She asked me to tit-fuck her, and eventually I did, but not before face-fucking her as she lay underneath me. She quietly gagged on my cock once or twice and I decided I'd better stop forcing myself so deep into her mouth for fear it'll ruin her from ever wanting to suck my cock again. I slid between her tits as she pushed them together from either side... two fingers on the base of my cock, pushing it down through the valley she has created. Her tongue circled and flicked at the head on each stroke. The sweat started to bead on my back and chest, and the wonderful, intense pressure began to build in my groin. I was less in control then, my focus on bringing that orgasm up from deep in my balls. When it arrived, along with the deep-rooted feeling of ultimate masculinity, there was cum everywhere. Her hair, face, and tits were covered in streams of white juice sprayed by me. She squealed like a little girl with glee, a broad smile on her face - and that was the final signal to me of her submission.
She licked some of it off her fingers which traced wet paths around on the skin of her tits, telling me I taste good. She didn't know I've always been self-conscious about that. Watching her lick her fingers some more, dehumanized images of her licking my spilled cum off the floor or drinking it from a shot glass flashed through my mind.
More kissing, caressing, exploring. A mild spanking, enough to make her sweet ass pink and hot to the touch. I knew I was in trouble - wondering if perhaps I have met my match. My head swam as we lay together on the couch again. I wanted to see her climax again, but this time at the mercy of her own fingers. She complied without question, her body damp with sweat and curled up into a ball as the waves of pleasure slowly subsided. It was time to sleep, and I have still not yet fucked her, although I know she was lusting for it as much as I.
I never could fall asleep while wrapped around someone else, but this time I did and it is not until morning that I broke my hold of her to turn over and sleep some more. I was really surprised by this.
Later in the morning, I woke up; the excitement which fills my mind at seeing her had clearly already taken hold down below. I rolled her over with some effort of foreplay, but I no longer wished to play the game of being more reserved than she is. Within minutes I filled her wet pussy with my rock-hard shaft, grinding against her; I was more making love to her than giving her the pounding I knew she craved - all good things in time! We rested, and then again I was inside her; this time lowering her body onto mine as I laid on my back. But there was no mistaking the control I had at that point. She may be on top but every plunge onto my cock was controlled by me. This time, she was wracked with a powerful orgasm which shortly afterwards drew the cum from me. Collapsed against me, she was shaking. I was not at full-strength either, but I held her closely for a time.
Conversation ensued, and ended a while later with the start of another spanking. I held her down, changing positions several times to get varying angles of attack on her beautiful ass. I found myself challenged with not knowing how much she could take (and not wanting to dish out more than she could handle), so I changed the dynamic by pausing periodically and making her tell me if she wanted more. It was a long time before she said, "maybe a break for a little while"; my hand was nearly stinging, but her ass and upper thighs were furiously red, and I could again smell how aroused she was. But this time, there was no sexual satisfaction for either of us - I sent her home on the bus, taking great pleasure in knowing she would be sore for at least a day - and somehow knowing she'll love that too.
1 subjugations:
very nice
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