I set down my cup of tea with a sigh as I logged in to the computer and opened both e-mail accounts - mine, and my adviser's, which I checked for him each morning. Another day, another pile of work. But wait - was there something here, something other than the usual spam and messages from colleagues?
Yes! I couldn't believe the news - the two e-mails we'd been hoping for, and they arrived on the same day. Not only had our paper been accepted by the journal, finally, after all those edits, but we'd also received an invitation to present at the upcoming national conference! Finally, some payoff for all the hard work, and something tangible to share with the friends and family who'd been mocking me and my work for the past year.
John wouldn't be in the office for another twenty minutes, so I had a chance to read the messages thoroughly, soaking in our success. Perhaps I should share a little background, to catch you up?
My name's Anna, and I'm a grad student, studying with one of the pre-eminent American sexologists. Yes, yes, I know. Go ahead and snicker, I'm used to it. But it's a legitimate field of study. Ever heard of Kinsey? Well, his work made a world of difference, bringing previously taboo topics into the scientific arena, and scholars today continue to expand on his work and branch out into entirely new areas.
But hey, who am I trying to convince? I'm proud of the work I've done, and the position I've found myself in at such a young age. By day, I'm surrounded by prominent scholars who treat me as an equal, and I am the only grad student John has ever taken on as a research assistant.
But, that said, it can be awkward. My friends tease me incessantly. My parents, while proud, don't like to discuss what I do, and blush whenever I talk about work. Trying to meet a guy is a crazy roller-coaster ride between two extremes: those who assume I'm a wild nympho, willing to try anything, to those who are afraid I'll whip out a ruler and laugh once I discover their dick is smaller than average.
Anyway, all that said, I was bouncing off the walls at this morning's news. Our paper, "Societal acceptance and pervasiveness of oragenitalism in America's cities: 1900-2000," would be appearing in print next month. John's name would of course be listed first, but I would actually be listed as a second author, not just in the footnotes.
Oh, and just in case I lost you with that title, it's basically an oral sex study. We compiled existing data from Kinsey and other historical sources with new research, from various surveys to interviews that John and I conducted ourselves. Our work analyzes both the societal attitudes towards certain practices, and also the practices themselves.
It was actually the interviews, and my transcriptions of them, which caused John to give me such a prominent role in this particular project. Once he trained me in his interviewing philosophy and methods, it was quickly obvious to both of us that many subjects felt more comfortable talking to me, a young woman, than to him, an older man. He was also very impressed with my writing, and since he didn't give such praise lightly, I was extremely proud of the trust he placed in me to actually write much of the paper once our research data was compiled.
Ah, here he was, finally. As John walked in, setting down his coffee cup and briefcase in their usual places, I couldn't help but notice how attractive he really was. He exuded confidence and brilliance, and his body revealed how he spent his time when away from his research - he was fit and tan from his love of all sorts of outdoor activities. He was 42 and married - to his work, that is - and our relationship was as professional as they come. Ironic, really, two attractive, single people working together on sex research, yet he never made a move.
"John, we got some great news this morning - the paper has been accepted, and you've been asked to speak at the conference in Chicago!"
"Ah, great news. Congratulations, Anna, your first major publication!" I half-hoped for a hug, but he interrupted that daydream with a gesture more typical of him, an enthusiastic handshake.
"I hope you don't think I'd leave you behind for Chicago? You'll come with me, of course?"
"Well, I was planning to attend anyway, to hear the presentations."
"No, Anna, I want you to be there with me to present the work. This project is yours just as much as mine. Now, I know I have a big ego, and I appreciate that you respect it, but I really do want to share the limelight on this one. You've earned it."
Giggling at his dry humor, I thanked him and immediately began work on the presentation we'd give at the conference. The next few weeks were spent pouring over my notes, pulling out a few particularly interesting interview subjects which John wanted to focus on in a panel discussion. He asked me to focus specifically on mazophallism and clitorilingus - I wasn't sure why he had picked those particular examples, but I'd long since learned not to ask such questions; I'm sure he had a good reason.
Oh - you need definitions? Mazophallism is masturbating the penis between a woman's breasts. Clitorilingus is oral sex performed on a woman, focusing on the clitoris. Forgive me, but I prefer to use the more academic terms. Otherwise, with my sorry excuse for a sex life, I tend to get turned on just thinking about these things, and lose my focus when I'm supposed to be working!
Anyway, the conference finally came. We arrived at the high-rise hotel just off Michigan Avenue, and lucked out with rooms on the 14th floor with a fabulous view of the lake and the city skyline - thankfully, because we hardly had time to leave the hotel. It was a flurry of activity as John and I attended a non-stop flurry of presentations, lunches, dinners, panel discussions, and finally, on the last full day, gave our own talk.
John introduced our work, explained the project, and then turned the microphone over to me and my pounding heart and sweating palms. It wasn't that I was a nervous public speaker, because I wasn't; I just suddenly felt the pressure of presenting our joint work. I handled it well, taking a deep breath and launching in to my prepared speech. I answered a few questions, John summarized our presentation, and then with applause and innumerable handshakes, I was back in my hotel room, changing out of my dressy clothes and packing for the flight home the next morning.
There was a knock at my door. "Who is it?" I asked as I approached the door, not expecting anyone so late.
"It's John."
"Oh, OK, hang on!" I made a quick decision that I would be decent enough to let him in if I firmly tied my bathrobe, and then opened the door to find him standing before me with a bottle of champagne and two glasses.
"Room service?" he said with a smile.
"You didn't have to do this, John!"
"Actually, Anna, I did. You've had far too little celebration, considering how hard you've worked on this project."
"OK, I'll accept that. One glass of champagne, please!"
"So, Anna," he said as we sipped the sweet bubbly, "thanks for finding those great examples from our interview subjects. They were exactly what I wanted."
"Oh, you're welcome. Now that the presentation is over, can I ask why you singled out those two practices?"
"Well, frankly, because they're my favorite. There's nothing that turns me on more than going down on a woman, bringing her to orgasm, and then reaching my own climax between her beautiful breasts."
Now, you have to understand, strange as it may sound, I didn't automatically assume this was an invitation to sex. If any other man said these words to me, I'm sure I would have, but with John, it was different. We'd maintained a completely professional relationship to this point, and after all, it wasn't exactly unusual for us to discuss sex.
But this encounter was different than any we'd had before. And not just because we were alone in a hotel room, drinking, with me naked under my tightly-cinched bathrobe. There was a look in his eye I'd never seen before. This wasn't hard-working, all-business, nationally-recognized scholar John. This was horny John. John who had just shared with me a desire that involved pleasuring me orally. And it was turning me on like crazy.
I could feel myself blush as his eyes moved over me, from my curly brown hair which cascaded down over my shoulders, to my nipples, now making themselves obvious even through the plush fabric of the robe, to my tanned legs, exposing my nakedness. I nodded ever so slightly as he reached for his belt and he smiled at my subtle invitation.
I took his glass and set it next to mine on the table, then slowly backed up to the bed, where I sat down, never taking my eyes off his. I watched with fascination as he undressed before me, studying first his torso, his strong arms and hands, then watching as he pulled off his slacks and boxers, freeing his impressive cock to jut out from his body. Suddenly overdressed, I quickly pulled at the ties of my bathrobe, standing up to free myself from the fabric, and John stepped forward to pull me into a passionate kiss.
As his lips and tongue explored mine, he gradually moved me back to the bed, where I again sat down. His kisses now moved to my ear, down my neck, slowly exploring my shoulder, then down to my tits, pausing to suck and lick each nipple for a moment, before again moving on. He now climbed onto the bed, kneeling next to me, and gently spread my legs with his big, strong hands, his fingers teasing my inner thighs as he kissed around my navel.
He had yet to touch my pussy, yet I was already burning hot and wet. I could feel myself, almost out of my own control, squirming in an attempt to meet his touch, and yet he maintained his deliberate and gentle pace, moving ever closer to the source of my desire. Finally, his fingers reached my pussy lips, and he began stroking them, still avoiding my clit, still avoiding any penetration.
I couldn't believe the anticipation as he slowly intensified his touch, gradually pulling my lips apart and exposing my wet pussy and clit to the air. I felt his weight shift on the bed, and eagerly pushed towards him, expecting his tongue on my clit. But again, he was more patient, and instead of his tongue, I felt a cool air as he blew gently on my clit.
As I squirmed beneath him, he began to alternate the blowing with occasional touches to my clit with his tongue, each one so brief as to merely titillate, never allowing me to completely let go. Meanwhile, two of his fingers were exploring the entrance to my pussy, pressing without actually penetrating. The pleasure was overwhelming, already surpassing anything I had felt before, and yet I knew I was still climbing towards a higher, more profound climax.
Finally, he buried his face against me, sucking on my clit, pulling it into his mouth and gently rolling it between his tongue and teeth. I couldn't help but moan loudly, unable to form words as I reached the start of a huge orgasm. At the perfect moment, he thrust his two exploring fingers firmly into my pussy and began fucking me. But the true source of my pleasure was his expert tongue on my clit. I cried out, bucking wildly on the bed as I came.
Before I had completely come down from this incredible sexual high, he climbed off the bed, pulled me to the edge, and thrust his hard cock into me in one smooth motion. I gasped as he filled me, expecting him to fuck me, but then I remembered his fantasy. He moved in and out of me a few times, but then pulled out, his cock lubricated with my juices.
I knew what he wanted next, and positioned myself to give him the best access. I moved to the head of the bed, laid my head on the pillows, and pressed my 34C tits together for him. He practically jumped on top of me, his knees meeting my elbows, and pressed his cock between my breasts. His first motions were slow, allowing me time to explore the tip of his cock with my tongue, tasting my own juices and hearing him moan with pleasure at my touch.
Gradually he began thrusting faster and faster, my juices allowing him to slip easily between my luscious breasts. I pressed my tits together more firmly, and he pinched my nipples firmly in thanks for the change in sensation.
"Oh, yes, Anna, that's it. I'm going to cum! I'm going to cum all over your gorgeous chest."
After a few more thrusts, he jerked, arched his back, and shot an enormous load of cum all over my chest. I caught what I could in my mouth, eager to taste him, as he massaged his sticky cum into my tits.
"So," he said to me after we'd caught our breath, "should we document this for our next round of data collection?"
"Whatever you say, John. Now that I know your expert sexology isn't just on paper, I'm up for whatever you say."
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Spank Me, Please!
I heard the door open, and looked up. There he was, right on time. At 7:55 each morning, Joshua came into the coffee shop near campus, where I was working as a barista. I'd been there about six months, since the start of the school year, and had gotten to know several of the regulars pretty well. But Joshua especially. He was an attractive man, which had gotten my attention initially, but more importantly, we had instantly hit it off.
We bantered back and forth in our brief conversations each morning, obvious chemistry fueling our jokes and stories. He had an uncanny way of remembering everything I'd ever shared with him about my life. From a series of two-minute interactions each day, he had pieced together enough information about me to come up with surprising insights now and then, and he was one of the few people who always noticed if I was especially happy or a bit down.
And then there was his meticulous persona, which fascinated me. He was always impeccably dressed, his tailored suits showing off his strong physique. He always kept the same routine, arriving at the same time and ordering the same drink: a grande low-foam latte, at exactly 169 degrees. And believe me, as charming and friendly as he could be, he wasn't afraid to send back the drink if it wasn't exactly as he liked it. This behavior in itself could have been irritating, or at least comical. But he also had an easy-going confidence that was endearing.
Joshua was 39, he had shared one day, to my 20. He was a divorced businessman, and I was a single college student. But in spite of these differences, our friendship was easy, never forced. Our banter sometimes bordered on double-entendre, and I'd noticed him checking me out now and then, but somehow it didn't bother me the way it might with other guys. He never failed to pay more attention to my mood or my words than my chest, and that was enough for me to trust his motives.
I should probably explain that I am an unusually attractive young woman, so attention from men is nothing new. I'm 5'8" and sexy, 36-28-34. My most noticable features are my natural red hair, which I wear long and in waves, and my big blue eyes. As a somewhat jealous friend said to me once, quoting her favorite 80's movie, "I don't think it's a matter of opinion, empirically you are attractive."
Which was all well and good, but I tried to explain to her that it didn't automatically bring me what I wanted from a relationship. Believe it or not, a girl can grow tired of guys obsessing over her perfect body and doing everything in their power to get her in the sack.
Joshua interrupted this daydream with another of his uncanny comments.
"So, Amanda. How's life? Do you have all that you want and need?"
I blushed. How did this guy always seem to know what I was thinking?
"Well, I can't say I have everything, but I can't complain, either!"
"That's a great attitude, but a beautiful, talented young woman like yourself shouldn't settle. You should go for what you want."
"Well, OK, but I don't know if I can do that right here in the coffee shop," I replied with a wink, a deliberate attempt at double entendre.
Smiling, Joshua made the most of an opening I hadn't even realized I'd given him. "Well then, perhaps it's time you let me take you away from here, so that we can talk more about exploring your desires in life. Let me buy you a drink sometime?"
I blushed again. I had told myself when I took this job that I wouldn't date customers. But this was different - it was Joshua, who had become my friend. And it was also Joshua, a very attractive and intriguing man I'd be happy to have a drink with. What the hell.
"OK, sure, I'd love to!"
"Great. Shall we say tomorrow evening? Looking forward to it already, Amanda."
The time passed like molasses. I have to admit, it surprised me how much I was looking forward to the date, like a giddy schoolgirl. Would I enjoy his company as much on a 'real date' as I did in our brief moments together at the coffee shop? Could he possibly offer me something I hadn't yet found in a relationship? That element that was missing with the younger guys I'd been out with recently?
We had agreed to meet at the bar. I was so nervous that, even after taking an hour to settle on my favorite little black dress, I still showed up 15 minutes early. I ordered a glass of red wine and waited. When he arrived, right on time of course, he spotted me instantly, and gave me a warm smile and wave from across the room. He joined me at the bar and ordered a drink - Maker's Mark Manhattan, straight up, with a cherry. Of course.
"So, Amanda, you're looking lovely this evening. How are you?"
Still waiting for the alcohol to calm my nerves a bit, I babbled. Told him about my classes that semester, about the phone conversation I'd had with my mom that day, about tensions between baristas at the coffee shop. When I realized I'd talked for ten minutes straight, I came up with an open-ended question for him, hoping he'd take over.
"So, how did you get into the construction business?"
I knew he owned his own construction company, but had no idea of the story he shared with me now, about how he had started at the very bottom, as an hourly worker on jobsites, and worked his way up. I studied his strong hands as he talked, and admired his ability to move from grunt work to company ownership.
He then moved on to sharing a bit more about his divorce - it came up because he'd had a phone call from his ex just before joining me that evening. She was a 'good woman,' but there were certain unmet needs in the relationship, and it just wasn't working out.
"So, Amanda, let's get back to our conversation yesterday. It's clear to me that there's something you want out of life that you're not sure how to get, or you're afraid to ask for."
Again, just as I had yesterday, I blushed. Did that give him a clue?
With a wink, he asks, "Surely a hottie such as yourself is able to get laid anytime she likes, so that's not the problem?"
I laugh, and confirm that indeed, I have no trouble finding men who want to get inside my pants.
"But I notice that you didn't object when I brought up sex, so that makes me guess that your unfulfilled desire is sexual, perhaps something you think is a little kinky?"
This time, I blush hotter than I have before. I feel like my entire body must be bright red. Before I can stop myself, I nod, confirming that he is on to something.
"Since you're here with me, I'm assuming your desire isn't to be with another woman?"
"Right."
"And more to the point, since you're here with me, there's something that intrigues you about being with a strong, exacting man."
After a long pause, he continues, "An older, demanding man. You want to be spanked, don't you?"
I immediately break eye contact with him and look down at the table, humiliated. He's right, of course, but I hadn't admitted it even to myself until I heard the words come out of his mouth. And his perception has left me feeling terribly exposed and vulnerable.
"Look at me, Amanda. Amanda. Look into my eyes. You don't need to be ashamed. Tell me what you want."
I blush once more, and squirm in my chair, but don't take my eyes off his.
"I want you to spank my ass."
He smiled, and let my admission float in the silence of the air for a moment before replying.
"I thought you looked like you needed a spanking. Why don't we finish up here and go back to my place?"
After a short drive, we arrive at his place. Nothing about the apartment surprises me; it is impeccably tidy and organized, but also very warm and inviting, with beautiful artwork gracing the walls and candles, which he proceeds to light, everywhere.
He leads me to the bedroom and asks me to sit on the edge of the bed. Moving slowly and methodically (or does it just seem that way to me, my heart racing), he opens his closet door and then the lowest drawer of a dresser within. One by one, he pulls out various objects and places them gently on the bed next to me.
A silk cloth. A belt. A leather paddle. A long, thin, carved piece of wood. A small metal rod. A plastic ruler. I'm terrified, but also intrigued. And wet.
Standing over me, Joshua asks, "Amanda, are you sure you're ready to do this?"
I nod, looking up at him with a combination of bewildered innocence and excited lust.
"OK, then I'm going to ask you to follow my instructions. Keep in mind, you need to trust completely and follow instructions exactly, otherwise the punishment may be even greater."
I nod again, and await his first instruction.
"Stand up, turn around, bend over, and keep your hands on the bed."
When I did so, I realized that I could no longer see Joshua, or the various implements he had set out on the bed. It was then that I truly realized my vulnerability. With no way to anticipate what was coming next, I couldn't possibly prepare myself. I was completely at his mercy.
SLAP. I recoiled, jumping away from the pain, but quickly remembering his instructions and resuming my position.
"Good girl. That was my hand. Would you like it harder? Softer?"
"Softer."
SLAP. His touch was ever-so-slightly less harsh. And so our rules were established. He was in charge, and I was to follow his rules, his directions. But he would ask what I liked, ask for my guidance for his next touch. If ever I forgot myself, and reached back in an attempt to take control, the punishment was swift. He would grab me by the hair, pressing his body into mine, and whisper into my ear, reminding me of our respective roles. His warm presence, his body enveloping mine, was a comforting but firm lesson.
One by one, he introduced me to each of his toys. For a time, I remained fully clothed. Then, without warning, he yanked my dress up to my waist and pulled my panties down to my knees. Now I felt the harsher sting of each object against my skin - wood, metal, plastic. The pain was incredible, but the rosy warmth that took over after each swat melded with the psychological turn-on of giving up control, and before long I was begging for more.
I quickly learned that my favorite was his hand. He alternated between the lightest brushing of my skin, causing me to quiver with excitement, to the hardest slap of his big hand against my ass, and every touch in between. He would occasionally reward me by letting his hand travel to quickly brush or slap my clit, only to return his attention to my ass before I could move too far towards orgasm.
Suddenly, after a particularly hard slap that left me whimpering, he stopped. Seconds went by, perhaps a couple of minutes, I really couldn't tell. I knew better than to turn and look, and was left alone with my own thoughts and my oh-so-tender ass. Was it wrong to enjoy this so much? Should I worry about the dark reasons behind the fact that I had sought out an older man to spank me? Why was I turned on so much more by tonight's scenario than I had ever been by the standard dinner, movie, and a quick fuck with a guy my own age?
Just when I was on the verge of an answer, understanding that tonight's encounter involved more mutual respect and intimacy than your typical wham bam thank you ma'am, he was back. He pulled my panties all the way off now, helping me step out of them and tossing them onto the bed in front of me. He pushed my legs further apart, leaving my dripping pussy completely exposed.
I jumped as he pressed the cold metal rod against my clit, but began writhing against it as he left it there, pressed firmly against my skin. Just as I was getting into a groove, the rod was gone. Again, I whimpered. Then, silence. More empty time and space, as I wondered what was coming next.
I could feel his warmth as he approached me from behind. He was naked now, and I moaned with pleasure as his cock easily slid between my legs and came to a rest against my pussy. Then, another unexpected sensation, as I felt some sort of cool gel land on my lower back from above. He slowly began massaging my skin, starting with the small of my back as he rubbed his cock rhythmically on my pussy lips.
Soon, his hands were on my ass, but this time with no violent swats, only the gentlest soothing touch as the cool lotion served to ease the pain of my red-hot skin. Gradually, he worked his fingers towards my tight asshole, squirting more lotion there as he arrived.
"Relax," he whispered into my ear, and I responded instantly, my body melting completely into his. Had I known what was coming next, I might have risked the inevitable punishment to object, but by this point in the evening, I had given up trying to anticipate his next move.
He pulled his cock away from my pussy, replacing it with his hand, and thrusting three fingers into me. Groaning with pleasure, I ground against his hand, ready to move towards the orgasm that I assumed he would finally allow me to enjoy. Then, in one smooth motion, he pulled out his fingers and forced several inches of his hard cock into my ass. I cried out with shock and pain, and he froze, waiting for my virgin ass to adjust to his girth.
Soon, pleasure overwhelmed pain, and I allowed him to begin slow thrusts, first just a few inches, then finally his whole shaft. For the first time that night, I felt the roles of our little spanking game slip away. He was beginning to lose control, and was going to allow me pleasure unencumbered by instructions or suspense.
He was soon fucking my ass with total abandon, slamming into me with powerful, fast thrusts. After his hand had fallen from my pussy, I reached back to stroke my own clit, knowing he was too much in the moment to punish me for moving my hand.
I began to succumb to a powerful orgasm, my entire body throbbing with pleasure. I squealed with pleasure as my juices shot from my pussy. Joshua quickly reached down, caught what he could with his fingers, which he then forced into my mouth as he finally let himself go.
He pulled out of me just in time to shoot his load all over my still-tingling ass cheeks. I collapsed onto the bed, and he soon followed suit, slowly stroking my ass as we both recovered from our powerful orgasms.
After making sure I was OK with what had taken place - and I assured him I was more than OK with it - and asking whether I would be interested in a sequel - an enthusiastic yes - he drove me back to my apartment. "See you for coffee tomorrow morning!"
"Yes, bright and early!"
We bantered back and forth in our brief conversations each morning, obvious chemistry fueling our jokes and stories. He had an uncanny way of remembering everything I'd ever shared with him about my life. From a series of two-minute interactions each day, he had pieced together enough information about me to come up with surprising insights now and then, and he was one of the few people who always noticed if I was especially happy or a bit down.
And then there was his meticulous persona, which fascinated me. He was always impeccably dressed, his tailored suits showing off his strong physique. He always kept the same routine, arriving at the same time and ordering the same drink: a grande low-foam latte, at exactly 169 degrees. And believe me, as charming and friendly as he could be, he wasn't afraid to send back the drink if it wasn't exactly as he liked it. This behavior in itself could have been irritating, or at least comical. But he also had an easy-going confidence that was endearing.
Joshua was 39, he had shared one day, to my 20. He was a divorced businessman, and I was a single college student. But in spite of these differences, our friendship was easy, never forced. Our banter sometimes bordered on double-entendre, and I'd noticed him checking me out now and then, but somehow it didn't bother me the way it might with other guys. He never failed to pay more attention to my mood or my words than my chest, and that was enough for me to trust his motives.
I should probably explain that I am an unusually attractive young woman, so attention from men is nothing new. I'm 5'8" and sexy, 36-28-34. My most noticable features are my natural red hair, which I wear long and in waves, and my big blue eyes. As a somewhat jealous friend said to me once, quoting her favorite 80's movie, "I don't think it's a matter of opinion, empirically you are attractive."
Which was all well and good, but I tried to explain to her that it didn't automatically bring me what I wanted from a relationship. Believe it or not, a girl can grow tired of guys obsessing over her perfect body and doing everything in their power to get her in the sack.
Joshua interrupted this daydream with another of his uncanny comments.
"So, Amanda. How's life? Do you have all that you want and need?"
I blushed. How did this guy always seem to know what I was thinking?
"Well, I can't say I have everything, but I can't complain, either!"
"That's a great attitude, but a beautiful, talented young woman like yourself shouldn't settle. You should go for what you want."
"Well, OK, but I don't know if I can do that right here in the coffee shop," I replied with a wink, a deliberate attempt at double entendre.
Smiling, Joshua made the most of an opening I hadn't even realized I'd given him. "Well then, perhaps it's time you let me take you away from here, so that we can talk more about exploring your desires in life. Let me buy you a drink sometime?"
I blushed again. I had told myself when I took this job that I wouldn't date customers. But this was different - it was Joshua, who had become my friend. And it was also Joshua, a very attractive and intriguing man I'd be happy to have a drink with. What the hell.
"OK, sure, I'd love to!"
"Great. Shall we say tomorrow evening? Looking forward to it already, Amanda."
The time passed like molasses. I have to admit, it surprised me how much I was looking forward to the date, like a giddy schoolgirl. Would I enjoy his company as much on a 'real date' as I did in our brief moments together at the coffee shop? Could he possibly offer me something I hadn't yet found in a relationship? That element that was missing with the younger guys I'd been out with recently?
We had agreed to meet at the bar. I was so nervous that, even after taking an hour to settle on my favorite little black dress, I still showed up 15 minutes early. I ordered a glass of red wine and waited. When he arrived, right on time of course, he spotted me instantly, and gave me a warm smile and wave from across the room. He joined me at the bar and ordered a drink - Maker's Mark Manhattan, straight up, with a cherry. Of course.
"So, Amanda, you're looking lovely this evening. How are you?"
Still waiting for the alcohol to calm my nerves a bit, I babbled. Told him about my classes that semester, about the phone conversation I'd had with my mom that day, about tensions between baristas at the coffee shop. When I realized I'd talked for ten minutes straight, I came up with an open-ended question for him, hoping he'd take over.
"So, how did you get into the construction business?"
I knew he owned his own construction company, but had no idea of the story he shared with me now, about how he had started at the very bottom, as an hourly worker on jobsites, and worked his way up. I studied his strong hands as he talked, and admired his ability to move from grunt work to company ownership.
He then moved on to sharing a bit more about his divorce - it came up because he'd had a phone call from his ex just before joining me that evening. She was a 'good woman,' but there were certain unmet needs in the relationship, and it just wasn't working out.
"So, Amanda, let's get back to our conversation yesterday. It's clear to me that there's something you want out of life that you're not sure how to get, or you're afraid to ask for."
Again, just as I had yesterday, I blushed. Did that give him a clue?
With a wink, he asks, "Surely a hottie such as yourself is able to get laid anytime she likes, so that's not the problem?"
I laugh, and confirm that indeed, I have no trouble finding men who want to get inside my pants.
"But I notice that you didn't object when I brought up sex, so that makes me guess that your unfulfilled desire is sexual, perhaps something you think is a little kinky?"
This time, I blush hotter than I have before. I feel like my entire body must be bright red. Before I can stop myself, I nod, confirming that he is on to something.
"Since you're here with me, I'm assuming your desire isn't to be with another woman?"
"Right."
"And more to the point, since you're here with me, there's something that intrigues you about being with a strong, exacting man."
After a long pause, he continues, "An older, demanding man. You want to be spanked, don't you?"
I immediately break eye contact with him and look down at the table, humiliated. He's right, of course, but I hadn't admitted it even to myself until I heard the words come out of his mouth. And his perception has left me feeling terribly exposed and vulnerable.
"Look at me, Amanda. Amanda. Look into my eyes. You don't need to be ashamed. Tell me what you want."
I blush once more, and squirm in my chair, but don't take my eyes off his.
"I want you to spank my ass."
He smiled, and let my admission float in the silence of the air for a moment before replying.
"I thought you looked like you needed a spanking. Why don't we finish up here and go back to my place?"
After a short drive, we arrive at his place. Nothing about the apartment surprises me; it is impeccably tidy and organized, but also very warm and inviting, with beautiful artwork gracing the walls and candles, which he proceeds to light, everywhere.
He leads me to the bedroom and asks me to sit on the edge of the bed. Moving slowly and methodically (or does it just seem that way to me, my heart racing), he opens his closet door and then the lowest drawer of a dresser within. One by one, he pulls out various objects and places them gently on the bed next to me.
A silk cloth. A belt. A leather paddle. A long, thin, carved piece of wood. A small metal rod. A plastic ruler. I'm terrified, but also intrigued. And wet.
Standing over me, Joshua asks, "Amanda, are you sure you're ready to do this?"
I nod, looking up at him with a combination of bewildered innocence and excited lust.
"OK, then I'm going to ask you to follow my instructions. Keep in mind, you need to trust completely and follow instructions exactly, otherwise the punishment may be even greater."
I nod again, and await his first instruction.
"Stand up, turn around, bend over, and keep your hands on the bed."
When I did so, I realized that I could no longer see Joshua, or the various implements he had set out on the bed. It was then that I truly realized my vulnerability. With no way to anticipate what was coming next, I couldn't possibly prepare myself. I was completely at his mercy.
SLAP. I recoiled, jumping away from the pain, but quickly remembering his instructions and resuming my position.
"Good girl. That was my hand. Would you like it harder? Softer?"
"Softer."
SLAP. His touch was ever-so-slightly less harsh. And so our rules were established. He was in charge, and I was to follow his rules, his directions. But he would ask what I liked, ask for my guidance for his next touch. If ever I forgot myself, and reached back in an attempt to take control, the punishment was swift. He would grab me by the hair, pressing his body into mine, and whisper into my ear, reminding me of our respective roles. His warm presence, his body enveloping mine, was a comforting but firm lesson.
One by one, he introduced me to each of his toys. For a time, I remained fully clothed. Then, without warning, he yanked my dress up to my waist and pulled my panties down to my knees. Now I felt the harsher sting of each object against my skin - wood, metal, plastic. The pain was incredible, but the rosy warmth that took over after each swat melded with the psychological turn-on of giving up control, and before long I was begging for more.
I quickly learned that my favorite was his hand. He alternated between the lightest brushing of my skin, causing me to quiver with excitement, to the hardest slap of his big hand against my ass, and every touch in between. He would occasionally reward me by letting his hand travel to quickly brush or slap my clit, only to return his attention to my ass before I could move too far towards orgasm.
Suddenly, after a particularly hard slap that left me whimpering, he stopped. Seconds went by, perhaps a couple of minutes, I really couldn't tell. I knew better than to turn and look, and was left alone with my own thoughts and my oh-so-tender ass. Was it wrong to enjoy this so much? Should I worry about the dark reasons behind the fact that I had sought out an older man to spank me? Why was I turned on so much more by tonight's scenario than I had ever been by the standard dinner, movie, and a quick fuck with a guy my own age?
Just when I was on the verge of an answer, understanding that tonight's encounter involved more mutual respect and intimacy than your typical wham bam thank you ma'am, he was back. He pulled my panties all the way off now, helping me step out of them and tossing them onto the bed in front of me. He pushed my legs further apart, leaving my dripping pussy completely exposed.
I jumped as he pressed the cold metal rod against my clit, but began writhing against it as he left it there, pressed firmly against my skin. Just as I was getting into a groove, the rod was gone. Again, I whimpered. Then, silence. More empty time and space, as I wondered what was coming next.
I could feel his warmth as he approached me from behind. He was naked now, and I moaned with pleasure as his cock easily slid between my legs and came to a rest against my pussy. Then, another unexpected sensation, as I felt some sort of cool gel land on my lower back from above. He slowly began massaging my skin, starting with the small of my back as he rubbed his cock rhythmically on my pussy lips.
Soon, his hands were on my ass, but this time with no violent swats, only the gentlest soothing touch as the cool lotion served to ease the pain of my red-hot skin. Gradually, he worked his fingers towards my tight asshole, squirting more lotion there as he arrived.
"Relax," he whispered into my ear, and I responded instantly, my body melting completely into his. Had I known what was coming next, I might have risked the inevitable punishment to object, but by this point in the evening, I had given up trying to anticipate his next move.
He pulled his cock away from my pussy, replacing it with his hand, and thrusting three fingers into me. Groaning with pleasure, I ground against his hand, ready to move towards the orgasm that I assumed he would finally allow me to enjoy. Then, in one smooth motion, he pulled out his fingers and forced several inches of his hard cock into my ass. I cried out with shock and pain, and he froze, waiting for my virgin ass to adjust to his girth.
Soon, pleasure overwhelmed pain, and I allowed him to begin slow thrusts, first just a few inches, then finally his whole shaft. For the first time that night, I felt the roles of our little spanking game slip away. He was beginning to lose control, and was going to allow me pleasure unencumbered by instructions or suspense.
He was soon fucking my ass with total abandon, slamming into me with powerful, fast thrusts. After his hand had fallen from my pussy, I reached back to stroke my own clit, knowing he was too much in the moment to punish me for moving my hand.
I began to succumb to a powerful orgasm, my entire body throbbing with pleasure. I squealed with pleasure as my juices shot from my pussy. Joshua quickly reached down, caught what he could with his fingers, which he then forced into my mouth as he finally let himself go.
He pulled out of me just in time to shoot his load all over my still-tingling ass cheeks. I collapsed onto the bed, and he soon followed suit, slowly stroking my ass as we both recovered from our powerful orgasms.
After making sure I was OK with what had taken place - and I assured him I was more than OK with it - and asking whether I would be interested in a sequel - an enthusiastic yes - he drove me back to my apartment. "See you for coffee tomorrow morning!"
"Yes, bright and early!"
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
My First Real Job
I buttoned my mint-green and white striped blouse, brushed my long brown hair free of the fabric, and looked at myself in the mirror. Perfect. The color complemented my light green eyes, but more importantly, the blouse accentuated my best asset, my prominent and, so I've been told, perfect rack.
I was headed to campus for the Career Fair, and wanted to find the right balance between flirty and professional. While I'm confident in my resume and educational background, I also see no reason not to take advantage of all of my assets, including my appearance. And if I've learned nothing else over the years, I do know that my 36D tits always draw attention my way.
My name's Kylie, and I'm 22, excited to be graduating from college this spring with my Business degree. I'm a popular, outgoing, and confident young woman. When I'm not in classes, I like to stay in shape and love to spend time at the beach with my study buddies, keeping up our tans as we keep up with course readings.
Anyway, back to my story. Since I don't have any job offers yet, I figured the Career Fair was worth my time. As I entered the Student Union Building, I was awed at the sheer chaos of it all. The entire first floor was filled with tables staffed by business reps, surrounded by nervous young prospects, each person talking louder than the next to be heard. The university's banners announcing the event were everywhere, trumped only by the many give-aways at each table: pens, keychains, individually-wrapped chocolates and mints with company logos.
As I began to make my way through the crazy scene, it took me a few moments to gather up the courage to elbow my way up to the first few tables and introduce myself. But soon I was in the thick of it with the rest of the crowd, pressing my way to the front of each line and making my case as the best prospect for whatever entry-level position this particular firm was currently hiring.
I had probably been there for about an hour, discouraged that I wasn't finding the job of my dreams, when I came to his table. The company, which I won't name, was national, and I was surprised that they had sent a rep to our school's event. Unlike many of the other companies, who had two or even three reps crowded behind their table, there was just one man here: tall, dark and handsome.
For a moment, I hesitated, intimidated by my attraction to him and his calm, confident demeanor. But when I noticed his eyes quickly dart to my chest when he thought I wasn't looking, I realized the playing field was even, and I made my move.
"My name is Kylie," I said to him with a smile and an outstretched hand. "I'm graduating this spring with honors, and would love to hear more about the opportunities with your company."
"It's nice to meet you, Kylie," his eyes meeting mine only for a second as he shook my hand; he seemed mezmerized by my tits! "My name is John. Let me tell you a little bit about what we do, and what we're looking for."
As we talked, he impressed me with his grasp of the business, and I felt that I made a good impression as a talented prospect. Other students came to the table occasionally, and John would excuse himself from our conversation to chat with them, but always returned to me and my chest.
"Listen, Kylie, I'd like to talk with you more, one-on-one. I think you show more potential than anyone else I've met today, but we can't really get anywhere with all the noise and interruptions. Could you meet me here at 5, when the fair is over for the day, and I'll buy you a drink, so that we can talk more?"
I was thrilled, and didn't for the moment care whether it was my brains or my tits that had gotten me this extra chance to pursue a great job. "Absolutely, I'll see you back here at 5. Thanks, John!"
I had just enough time to go back to my apartment, so decided to change my clothes so that I'd be a little more comfortable for what might be a late evening. I knew better than to change out of my lucky blouse, but did switch from my business black skirt and pumps to a pair of great-fitting jeans and flats. After tying my hair back and touching up my lipstick, I headed back to the campus, not wanting to be late.
He offered me a smile as I walked towards him; he was busy talking on his cell and simultaneously packing what had been on his table into a small suitcase on wheels. "Thanks for coming back, Kylie. Walk with me?"
I happily followed him just a few blocks off campus, to his hotel. He escorted me to the bar, where he ordered our drinks - scotch neat for him, on the rocks for me - and then asked that I wait as he went upstairs to drop off his things and freshen up.
As I waited for him to return, I found myself thinking about the situation. Even though I knew this was how professional networking took place, and that he probably just wanted the chance to interview me in a quieter setting, I couldn't help but wonder if he had other plans for the evening. And how I wouldn't mind in the least if he did.
Before I had gotten too far with this daydream, or with my drink, he was back. I guessed at his age as I watched him walk towards me - late 30's? 40? One drink turned into two, and then into dinner, as our conversation flowed easily, and it was clear neither of us wanted it to end. As I gazed into his eyes and soaked it up, he explained what was so exquisite about the single malt scotch we were drinking, walked me through the finer culinary points of the dinner menu, and described some of what he liked to do in his spare time.
I learned more about the company, he learned more about me, and we gradually fell into the flirtateous game of introducing more and more physical contact into our conversation. First, he touched my hand as he laughed at a joke, then I moved things forward by brushing against him as I got up to visit the ladies' room. All the while, it was obvious he couldn't take his eyes off my breasts.
Finally, I took a bold step, catching his eye and slowly unbuttoning one button of my blouse. I was still decent from the perspective of others in the restaurant, but was offering him a stunning view of my cleavage. I held my breath, waiting and unsure of his reaction, but I was soon pleasantly surprised. Reaching across the table, he grazed two fingers past one of my breasts, momentarily squeezing the nipple. "Would you like to come upstairs with me, Kylie?"
I immediately nodded, excited at the prospect of intimacy with this guy. A bit tipsy, I leaned against him as we walked, and he pulled me into a kiss as we rode upstairs in the elevator. As soon as we were through the door to his room, he quickly finished unbuttoning my blouse, tossing it aside and grabbing my tits, kneading them vigorously for a few moments before also unhooking my black lace bra and tossing it aside as well.
I expected him to begin undressing as well, or to move on to unzip my jeans, but instead he continued his attentions on my breasts. His hands still working them, he walked us over to the bed, where he pushed me to sit on the edge as he kneeled in front of me. In this position, he was face-to-face with my ample, perky bosom, and he immediately began sucking on my nipples, one by one, giving them more attention than they'd received from every guy I'd ever been with, combined.
He also seemed delighted with the tan lines left by my bikini, which frankly barely covered my tits, leaving triangles of pale white skin around each nipple. First with his fingers and then with his tongue, he traced each of these triangles again and again, and my nipples soon jutted out, fully erect. I could feel my clit throbbing, and all this foreplay was making me quite wet.
Looking down, I could see the prominent bulge growing in his slacks, and wondered when he'd make his move. The college guys I'd been with would have had their cocks in my mouth or pussy by now, but John seemed completely content to suck, knead, lick, pinch, and fondle my breasts. My mind wandered for a moment, and I imagined him as the veteran hitter, content to stand on second base after hitting a double, while the young guys were striking out trying to slam one out of the park.
Just as my nipples were beginning to get sore from their constant erection and his constant attention, he pushed me down so that I was lying on the bed. Finally. But before I could reach to unhook his belt or unzip his fly, he had stood up and walked a few steps to a table next to the bed, from which he picked up a small bottle. Lubricant? But why? I had never been so ready.
He stood over me, turned the bottle upside down, and squeezed, several drops of the warm gooey liquid landing on each of my breasts. I could feel my skin warm at the touch of it, and also noticed a strong fruity scent - was that strawberry? I had to admit, the feeling was sensational as he smeared the lube around on my skin, leaving my tits glowing with moisture and my nipples even more erect. He put the bottle back down and quickly stripped, tearing off his shirt, whipping his belt from his slacks, and stepping at once out of both slacks and boxers.
As he stood over me, naked, I gasped at the impressive girth of his cock, definitely larger than what I had experienced before, and I reached for it with one hand, hoping to stroke him until he was ready to fuck my mouth or my tight little pussy. I hadn't gotten the hint about the lube on my chest.
Before I could touch him, or reach down to unzip my jeans, he was on top of me, straddling my chest, his hard cock pressing against the skin of my chest. OK, fine, more foreplay. I pressed my tits together for him as he began to move slowly back and forth between them, the lube making the motion smooth and easy, and the tip of his cock reaching my lips with each stroke. I was dying to touch myself, to rub my clit, to slip a finger into my pussy, but I knew I couldn't reach far enough with him straddling me.
I also knew I didn't want to let go of my tits. All the attention he had given them, combined with the warming lube, had made them more sensitive than I ever knew they could be. Grasping them more firmly now as I pressed them together for him, I began squeezing my nipples between my thumb and forefinger. I let my mouth fall open, licking my lips as I looked up into his eyes. As he began to thrust harder and faster, I opened my mouth wider for him, and pleasured the tip of his cock each time it reached my tongue.
It was right about then that I realized this wasn't just foreplay. We weren't leading up to anything. This was a sex act in itself, and the thrill of fucking my hot perky young tits was going to bring him to orgasm. I was still desperately wet, my clit tingling and my pussy feeling empty as he pounded away, his thick cock jutting in and out of sight between my perfect tits.
"Yes, Kylie, that's it, press them together for me, your spectacular tits and your tight cleavage are so hot!"
I was fascinated. Even though I knew my tits were a guy magnet, I had never been with anyone so obsessed with them. And I had never let a man cover me with his cum before. The thought now turned me on as being incredibly naughty.
"Oh, Kylie," he moaned as he approached his orgasm, and his thrusts became irregular. With no warning, cum shot out of his cock, some of it hitting me in the eye. I gasped and pressed my eyes shut instinctively, so was unprepared for the next spurt as it shot into my mouth. I opened my eyes as I tasted his cum for the first time, rich and salty, a nice contrast to the fruity smell of the lube which had filled the room as he fucked me.
He was still moaning above me, holding his cock in his hands and guiding his load so that his cum covered my breasts, hit my cheek, landed in my hair, dripped from my chin. I was shocked at the length of his orgasm and the size of his manly load.
When he was finally done, he collapsed on the bed next to me, completely spent. I was a sticky mess, with my own needs thoroughly unsatisfied. Or more accurately, unfulfilled, if you get my drift. And yet somehow, it had been the most erotic experience of my young life. I felt so sexy from all the attention from this attractive, confident older man.
I closed my eyes and took it all in, the sticky warmth on my skin, the smell of sex filling the room, and my hands instinctively moved towards my crotch. I quickly unzipped my jeans and peeled them off, tossing them to the floor. My panties were quick to follow, leaving me finally naked. Pulling one leg up onto the bed and leaving the other dangling over the edge, I began to stroke my clit with my left hand and brush my right hand against my dripping wet pussy lips.
Before long, I was completely lost, exploring all the feelings which had built up deep inside as John had pleasured himself with my tits. I wasn't even aware of him leaving the bed or returning, but he obviously had, as he now pressed a freshly damp washcloth to my skin, gently cleaning away the remainder of his cum. All the raw lust he had displayed while fucking my tits was now replaced by a profound tenderness, and this vast spectrum of his passion turned me on even more.
As I continued to touch myself, my eyes still closed, he began covering my body with wet kisses, beginning all around my face, and gradually moving down my torso, until his mouth replaced my hands on my pussy. No man had ever gone down on me, and I couldn't control the moans as he slowly licked from my pussy to my clit, nibbling gently every few strokes. Just when I began to writhe beneath him, the start of a profound orgasm coming over me, he pulled away and climbed onto the bed, pulling us into a new position.
He kissed me passionately, and I realized I was tasting my own juices for the first time. My own salty juices, mixed with a faint reminder of the fruity lube he had licked from my skin, and an even more distant flavor of the scotch from earlier in the evening. My current senses overwhelmed, I finally opened my eyes, just in time to see him positioning the tip of his cock against my pussy lips. I sighed deeply as he pressed slowly into me, and when he finally bottomed out, I was filled more fully than ever before.
He remained inside of me for a moment, motionless, as he again shifted our position. Grabbing one of my ankles in each hand, he pulled my legs up until my feet rested on his shoulders. Once there, he finally began moving in and out of me, and almost immediately my long orgasm began again. I could immediately tell it would be unlike anything I had experienced before.
I had never enjoyed so much foreplay before sex, never been so wet and ready for someone to fuck me. I realized now that I had never before cum with a man inside of me. As John kept his motions regular, with slow, deep thrusts, I could feel a warmth build deep inside. Soon, I could feel my pussy muscles clenching around his sliding cock. I couldn't have remembered my own name at this point, but somehow I managed to open my mouth to ask John for what I needed to achieve the ultimate pleasure.
"That's it, John, I'm cumming. Yes, fuck me harder now, faster, deeper. Keep going, yes, keep going. Oh, god..."
I couldn't speak anymore, only feel. As he pounded me, I lost all control, my juices flowing around his still-hard cock as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me. It was the longest, most powerful orgasm I had ever experienced. As I gradually came down from my high, John slowed as well, until he finally pulled out of me and once again collapsed on the bed next to me.
Propping himself up on one elbow next to me, John spoke after a long silence.
"Kylie, I want you to know that you had earned a job even before the first drink tonight. But I'm glad you chose to join me. How was it for you?"
I could only smile.
I was headed to campus for the Career Fair, and wanted to find the right balance between flirty and professional. While I'm confident in my resume and educational background, I also see no reason not to take advantage of all of my assets, including my appearance. And if I've learned nothing else over the years, I do know that my 36D tits always draw attention my way.
My name's Kylie, and I'm 22, excited to be graduating from college this spring with my Business degree. I'm a popular, outgoing, and confident young woman. When I'm not in classes, I like to stay in shape and love to spend time at the beach with my study buddies, keeping up our tans as we keep up with course readings.
Anyway, back to my story. Since I don't have any job offers yet, I figured the Career Fair was worth my time. As I entered the Student Union Building, I was awed at the sheer chaos of it all. The entire first floor was filled with tables staffed by business reps, surrounded by nervous young prospects, each person talking louder than the next to be heard. The university's banners announcing the event were everywhere, trumped only by the many give-aways at each table: pens, keychains, individually-wrapped chocolates and mints with company logos.
As I began to make my way through the crazy scene, it took me a few moments to gather up the courage to elbow my way up to the first few tables and introduce myself. But soon I was in the thick of it with the rest of the crowd, pressing my way to the front of each line and making my case as the best prospect for whatever entry-level position this particular firm was currently hiring.
I had probably been there for about an hour, discouraged that I wasn't finding the job of my dreams, when I came to his table. The company, which I won't name, was national, and I was surprised that they had sent a rep to our school's event. Unlike many of the other companies, who had two or even three reps crowded behind their table, there was just one man here: tall, dark and handsome.
For a moment, I hesitated, intimidated by my attraction to him and his calm, confident demeanor. But when I noticed his eyes quickly dart to my chest when he thought I wasn't looking, I realized the playing field was even, and I made my move.
"My name is Kylie," I said to him with a smile and an outstretched hand. "I'm graduating this spring with honors, and would love to hear more about the opportunities with your company."
"It's nice to meet you, Kylie," his eyes meeting mine only for a second as he shook my hand; he seemed mezmerized by my tits! "My name is John. Let me tell you a little bit about what we do, and what we're looking for."
As we talked, he impressed me with his grasp of the business, and I felt that I made a good impression as a talented prospect. Other students came to the table occasionally, and John would excuse himself from our conversation to chat with them, but always returned to me and my chest.
"Listen, Kylie, I'd like to talk with you more, one-on-one. I think you show more potential than anyone else I've met today, but we can't really get anywhere with all the noise and interruptions. Could you meet me here at 5, when the fair is over for the day, and I'll buy you a drink, so that we can talk more?"
I was thrilled, and didn't for the moment care whether it was my brains or my tits that had gotten me this extra chance to pursue a great job. "Absolutely, I'll see you back here at 5. Thanks, John!"
I had just enough time to go back to my apartment, so decided to change my clothes so that I'd be a little more comfortable for what might be a late evening. I knew better than to change out of my lucky blouse, but did switch from my business black skirt and pumps to a pair of great-fitting jeans and flats. After tying my hair back and touching up my lipstick, I headed back to the campus, not wanting to be late.
He offered me a smile as I walked towards him; he was busy talking on his cell and simultaneously packing what had been on his table into a small suitcase on wheels. "Thanks for coming back, Kylie. Walk with me?"
I happily followed him just a few blocks off campus, to his hotel. He escorted me to the bar, where he ordered our drinks - scotch neat for him, on the rocks for me - and then asked that I wait as he went upstairs to drop off his things and freshen up.
As I waited for him to return, I found myself thinking about the situation. Even though I knew this was how professional networking took place, and that he probably just wanted the chance to interview me in a quieter setting, I couldn't help but wonder if he had other plans for the evening. And how I wouldn't mind in the least if he did.
Before I had gotten too far with this daydream, or with my drink, he was back. I guessed at his age as I watched him walk towards me - late 30's? 40? One drink turned into two, and then into dinner, as our conversation flowed easily, and it was clear neither of us wanted it to end. As I gazed into his eyes and soaked it up, he explained what was so exquisite about the single malt scotch we were drinking, walked me through the finer culinary points of the dinner menu, and described some of what he liked to do in his spare time.
I learned more about the company, he learned more about me, and we gradually fell into the flirtateous game of introducing more and more physical contact into our conversation. First, he touched my hand as he laughed at a joke, then I moved things forward by brushing against him as I got up to visit the ladies' room. All the while, it was obvious he couldn't take his eyes off my breasts.
Finally, I took a bold step, catching his eye and slowly unbuttoning one button of my blouse. I was still decent from the perspective of others in the restaurant, but was offering him a stunning view of my cleavage. I held my breath, waiting and unsure of his reaction, but I was soon pleasantly surprised. Reaching across the table, he grazed two fingers past one of my breasts, momentarily squeezing the nipple. "Would you like to come upstairs with me, Kylie?"
I immediately nodded, excited at the prospect of intimacy with this guy. A bit tipsy, I leaned against him as we walked, and he pulled me into a kiss as we rode upstairs in the elevator. As soon as we were through the door to his room, he quickly finished unbuttoning my blouse, tossing it aside and grabbing my tits, kneading them vigorously for a few moments before also unhooking my black lace bra and tossing it aside as well.
I expected him to begin undressing as well, or to move on to unzip my jeans, but instead he continued his attentions on my breasts. His hands still working them, he walked us over to the bed, where he pushed me to sit on the edge as he kneeled in front of me. In this position, he was face-to-face with my ample, perky bosom, and he immediately began sucking on my nipples, one by one, giving them more attention than they'd received from every guy I'd ever been with, combined.
He also seemed delighted with the tan lines left by my bikini, which frankly barely covered my tits, leaving triangles of pale white skin around each nipple. First with his fingers and then with his tongue, he traced each of these triangles again and again, and my nipples soon jutted out, fully erect. I could feel my clit throbbing, and all this foreplay was making me quite wet.
Looking down, I could see the prominent bulge growing in his slacks, and wondered when he'd make his move. The college guys I'd been with would have had their cocks in my mouth or pussy by now, but John seemed completely content to suck, knead, lick, pinch, and fondle my breasts. My mind wandered for a moment, and I imagined him as the veteran hitter, content to stand on second base after hitting a double, while the young guys were striking out trying to slam one out of the park.
Just as my nipples were beginning to get sore from their constant erection and his constant attention, he pushed me down so that I was lying on the bed. Finally. But before I could reach to unhook his belt or unzip his fly, he had stood up and walked a few steps to a table next to the bed, from which he picked up a small bottle. Lubricant? But why? I had never been so ready.
He stood over me, turned the bottle upside down, and squeezed, several drops of the warm gooey liquid landing on each of my breasts. I could feel my skin warm at the touch of it, and also noticed a strong fruity scent - was that strawberry? I had to admit, the feeling was sensational as he smeared the lube around on my skin, leaving my tits glowing with moisture and my nipples even more erect. He put the bottle back down and quickly stripped, tearing off his shirt, whipping his belt from his slacks, and stepping at once out of both slacks and boxers.
As he stood over me, naked, I gasped at the impressive girth of his cock, definitely larger than what I had experienced before, and I reached for it with one hand, hoping to stroke him until he was ready to fuck my mouth or my tight little pussy. I hadn't gotten the hint about the lube on my chest.
Before I could touch him, or reach down to unzip my jeans, he was on top of me, straddling my chest, his hard cock pressing against the skin of my chest. OK, fine, more foreplay. I pressed my tits together for him as he began to move slowly back and forth between them, the lube making the motion smooth and easy, and the tip of his cock reaching my lips with each stroke. I was dying to touch myself, to rub my clit, to slip a finger into my pussy, but I knew I couldn't reach far enough with him straddling me.
I also knew I didn't want to let go of my tits. All the attention he had given them, combined with the warming lube, had made them more sensitive than I ever knew they could be. Grasping them more firmly now as I pressed them together for him, I began squeezing my nipples between my thumb and forefinger. I let my mouth fall open, licking my lips as I looked up into his eyes. As he began to thrust harder and faster, I opened my mouth wider for him, and pleasured the tip of his cock each time it reached my tongue.
It was right about then that I realized this wasn't just foreplay. We weren't leading up to anything. This was a sex act in itself, and the thrill of fucking my hot perky young tits was going to bring him to orgasm. I was still desperately wet, my clit tingling and my pussy feeling empty as he pounded away, his thick cock jutting in and out of sight between my perfect tits.
"Yes, Kylie, that's it, press them together for me, your spectacular tits and your tight cleavage are so hot!"
I was fascinated. Even though I knew my tits were a guy magnet, I had never been with anyone so obsessed with them. And I had never let a man cover me with his cum before. The thought now turned me on as being incredibly naughty.
"Oh, Kylie," he moaned as he approached his orgasm, and his thrusts became irregular. With no warning, cum shot out of his cock, some of it hitting me in the eye. I gasped and pressed my eyes shut instinctively, so was unprepared for the next spurt as it shot into my mouth. I opened my eyes as I tasted his cum for the first time, rich and salty, a nice contrast to the fruity smell of the lube which had filled the room as he fucked me.
He was still moaning above me, holding his cock in his hands and guiding his load so that his cum covered my breasts, hit my cheek, landed in my hair, dripped from my chin. I was shocked at the length of his orgasm and the size of his manly load.
When he was finally done, he collapsed on the bed next to me, completely spent. I was a sticky mess, with my own needs thoroughly unsatisfied. Or more accurately, unfulfilled, if you get my drift. And yet somehow, it had been the most erotic experience of my young life. I felt so sexy from all the attention from this attractive, confident older man.
I closed my eyes and took it all in, the sticky warmth on my skin, the smell of sex filling the room, and my hands instinctively moved towards my crotch. I quickly unzipped my jeans and peeled them off, tossing them to the floor. My panties were quick to follow, leaving me finally naked. Pulling one leg up onto the bed and leaving the other dangling over the edge, I began to stroke my clit with my left hand and brush my right hand against my dripping wet pussy lips.
Before long, I was completely lost, exploring all the feelings which had built up deep inside as John had pleasured himself with my tits. I wasn't even aware of him leaving the bed or returning, but he obviously had, as he now pressed a freshly damp washcloth to my skin, gently cleaning away the remainder of his cum. All the raw lust he had displayed while fucking my tits was now replaced by a profound tenderness, and this vast spectrum of his passion turned me on even more.
As I continued to touch myself, my eyes still closed, he began covering my body with wet kisses, beginning all around my face, and gradually moving down my torso, until his mouth replaced my hands on my pussy. No man had ever gone down on me, and I couldn't control the moans as he slowly licked from my pussy to my clit, nibbling gently every few strokes. Just when I began to writhe beneath him, the start of a profound orgasm coming over me, he pulled away and climbed onto the bed, pulling us into a new position.
He kissed me passionately, and I realized I was tasting my own juices for the first time. My own salty juices, mixed with a faint reminder of the fruity lube he had licked from my skin, and an even more distant flavor of the scotch from earlier in the evening. My current senses overwhelmed, I finally opened my eyes, just in time to see him positioning the tip of his cock against my pussy lips. I sighed deeply as he pressed slowly into me, and when he finally bottomed out, I was filled more fully than ever before.
He remained inside of me for a moment, motionless, as he again shifted our position. Grabbing one of my ankles in each hand, he pulled my legs up until my feet rested on his shoulders. Once there, he finally began moving in and out of me, and almost immediately my long orgasm began again. I could immediately tell it would be unlike anything I had experienced before.
I had never enjoyed so much foreplay before sex, never been so wet and ready for someone to fuck me. I realized now that I had never before cum with a man inside of me. As John kept his motions regular, with slow, deep thrusts, I could feel a warmth build deep inside. Soon, I could feel my pussy muscles clenching around his sliding cock. I couldn't have remembered my own name at this point, but somehow I managed to open my mouth to ask John for what I needed to achieve the ultimate pleasure.
"That's it, John, I'm cumming. Yes, fuck me harder now, faster, deeper. Keep going, yes, keep going. Oh, god..."
I couldn't speak anymore, only feel. As he pounded me, I lost all control, my juices flowing around his still-hard cock as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me. It was the longest, most powerful orgasm I had ever experienced. As I gradually came down from my high, John slowed as well, until he finally pulled out of me and once again collapsed on the bed next to me.
Propping himself up on one elbow next to me, John spoke after a long silence.
"Kylie, I want you to know that you had earned a job even before the first drink tonight. But I'm glad you chose to join me. How was it for you?"
I could only smile.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)