Date Nite - Second Act

Dinner was going well. It usually does. No matter what sort of mood I'm in, once I sit down and we start talking over a few glasses of wine, I relax. My fears, insecurities, all those irrational thoughts melt away. I like it. Sometimes I wish I could live just like this. In our little bubble. Anyway, our conversation is good. I'm looking at her and thinking how gorgeous she looks. I look up and see the woman I clocked before a couple of tables over. Odd pick for a couple. She looks like she's not having a great time. Almost like she doesn't want to be there. He's gesticulating and talking too much. It looks to be about himself. I can see his legs outstretched under the table. Hers are firmly placed under her chair. Not a good sign. She looks up at me. Our eyes lock briefly. I can't place what it is about her, but we have some sort of connection. I don't know her do I? She gives me a slightly sad and longing smile.

We're at the table, my date and I. His name is Brad and so far I know a whole lot about him as he has not stopped talking about himself since he tapped me on the shoulder 20 minutes ago. I wish I had organised a friend as an excuse - you know the kind where you text them and then they call you with some fake emergency which gives you are decent reason to leave the date? All I can come up with as my reason so far is that he is quite obviously a douche bag. Perhaps I am too quick to judge. So far Brad has talked about his job - he's an investment banker; his car - he drives a Lexus and his house. He hasn't once stopped to ask me anything about myself but still I sit, waiting for our meal, drinking our shared bottle of wine at an alarming rate. I nod and smile, although I think it wouldn't even matter whether I was there or not. I suspect he could talk this way to a brick wall. My eyes meet with the guy I spotted at the bar earlier. I give him one of my "please help me" looks and a wan smile, as if that is going to save me from the situation. I still think I know him. I wish right now I did. I would rather be sitting at his table with his girlfriend that with Brad the lad.

The night has progressed somewhat. I've become a bit obsessed with the girl at the other table. Maybe I'm being judgemental but the guy just looks like a dick. She isn't enjoying herself any more than when I first saw her. If anything she looks ready to run from the restaurant. I'm giving a running commentary to my lady. She's intrigued too. We start chatting about this woman. Assessing her. I'm surprised by the path of the conversation. It's odd for her to let me discuss my (can't place it) attraction with this woman. For some reason it seems natural. She gets up to go to the bathroom to eavesdrop on their conversation. Unlike me she has to know the tone of the conversation. She walks past slowly, stopping the waitress while next to their table. I can tell she's listening. Sly... She continues on to the bathroom. The woman gets up a minute later and heads in the same direction.

I am still being bombarding with Everything Brad. While I'm all for a healthy self esteem, Brad takes the concept to a whole new level. In my periphery I notice the female part of the couple from the table nearby get up and start talking to a waitress nearby, before heading off to the toilet. With the amount of wine I have consumed I need to go too. I excuse myself and walk off. One stall is taken and the other I enter before sitting with my head in my hands. I mutter, "Oh god" out loud and hear a chuckle from the neighbouring cubicle. It must be the woman who is part of the couple. She says, "Having a rough night?" We both leave the cubicles at the same time and wash our hands as we chat. I tell her about my appalling blind date and plead with her to shoot me now and put me out of my misery. We laugh and our eyes meet. It's one of those rare moments you have where you lock eyes and experience a connection. It is only fleeting but it makes my heart beat a little faster. It's just nice to be able to vent to someone, and have them listen and laugh and share a moment. She walks out before me, and she has the most lush arse I have seen in a very long time. I let my eyes linger on it as she walks out and heads back to her table. It's back to reality for me, in the company of the tedious Brad. I sigh inwardly and order another bottle of wine.

My lady comes back to the table after taking a bit of time. Apparently she's met the woman from the other table. It's a bad blind date. I laugh. Never really have those myself, although I'm not the blind dating kind. It's too awkward for me. The woman seems to be at her wit's end. I chat a bit more with my lady but keep drifting back to look at her. My girl looks slightly wistful. I ask if she actually likes her. She tells me she just seems genuine, like there is something just so familiar and natural about her. Surprised, I say the same. We look at each other. My heart beats a bit faster. I'm nervous for some reason. We laugh. I ask if we should save her from her date. She agrees but she doesn't want to go over there. Oh well, I'm happy being the fall guy. I get up and walk over having no idea what I'm going to say.

As if it can't get any worse with Brad, it just does. He is now in full flight talking about his ex-girlfriend who apparently is the most beautiful and sexy woman in the world. She's a sports model. I ask if that is like a sports car and Brad just looks confused. He then goes on to explain that she models in bikinis at various sporting events. I am already well into the second bottle of wine. I may as well write myself off. I look desperately at the table where the couple sits. They seem to get the idea, to understand how awful my date is. I see the male part of the couple get up and start walking towards my table.

As I get to the table I just start talking. "Do I know you? You are just so familiar". She looks up at me, pauses for a bit and looks me in the eye. She looks over to my lady and then relief visibly floods over her. I know she knows we're together so I'm taking it as gratefulness. "Yes" she replies, "We met at a conference last year." "Really, which one was it?" I say. "The one with all those idiot salesmen," she quips back. "Oh my god!" I reply, "I remember now," lying easily. We banter a bit about how conference people tend to be idiots. I like her. She's quick and smart. She doesn't once look at her date or try to introduce me. I can feel his gaze boring into me but I don't look. If anything it makes me cockier. "Looks like my dessert's here," I say, without even looking at the table. "How would you like to come join us for coffee or a drink?" I hear a slight splutter from the guy but still don't look at him. She looks at me hard. I can't quite read her. She gets up, grabs her jacket, the bottle of wine on the table and her purse and says, "That would be nice." We turn around and walk back to my table. I can't resist looking at the guy. He's looking at her in shock. He is slack-jawed. I smile and walk on by. I can tell his ego won't like this but I know he'll leave without trouble.

This well-dressed man now stands at my table and starts a conversation. Apparently we know each other from a conference, but I know we don't. I just go along with it. I sense he is throwing me a lifeline and there is no way I am going to muck this up. We chat naturally, paying absolutely no attention to my date. He tells me his dessert has arrived. I have no idea how he knows this as he hasn't once broken my gaze. He asks if I would like to join them for dessert or a drink. I grab my jacket, bag and purse as well as the remaining wine, and head across without hesitation. The look on Brad's face is priceless.

Date Nite - First Act

We have it once a month. It's a way of staying close, staying in touch. Talking. Really talking, about nothing and everything. Date night. And I like it. Sometimes I get shitty or work is too much but when I get outside that I let myself go and relax. Just dinner tonight. But that's OK. We take our time and sometime even go out for a drink afterwards. But it's her turn so her choice. So I’m picked up after work. I always feel comfortable going out after work in my suits. My vanity gene kicks in. I love walking around in a custom made suit. It gives me confidence. Even more so with my lady. And she's good for my ego too. It had been some time finding her and even though I feel like I'm getting older she makes me feel young. Hell, she looks a lot younger than me too. Anyway, she picks me up after work. A busy day and I'm tired and half of me doesn't really want to go out but the other part is grateful I am. She looks good as usual. I love the way she dresses. Her full figure in those tight fitting dresses. None of it tacky of course. Or too revealing. Just so I can see the outline of her body and know that I get to see it later in the evening. We're walking into town. The benefits of working close to the CBD.

I’ve had a huge working week with a lot on my plate. I have finally got myself organized to go out for dinner. Actually, a friend has got me organized. I think she thinks I am hopeless. All work and no play apparently makes me dull. I feel anything but dull, but then compared to her, perhaps I appear that way. I’ve reluctantly agreed to a blind date, set up by her. I’m asking myself why I agreed to this already. Do I need this right now, after a massive week of meetings and proposals? I think no, but it’s too late to back out now. My friend assures me he is a great guy, but what I really think already is that he is a corporate twat with his head so far up his ass he can’t breathe. Not a great start to the evening is it? I haven’t even met the guy yet. I leave straight from work, after a quick spray of deodorant and perfume and a touch of lip gloss. It’s about as glamourous as I can muster, although my corporate suit transitions easily into a relaxed look, once my jacket comes off. I quickly remind myself of where I need to be: Botticelli.

We hold hands as we walk through the streets. Just comfortable in each other. Chatting about our day and randomly spotting things of interest to each other. It's fun feeling like we're dating again. Although I do have trouble trying to forget seeing her naked later. I still adore that body of hers. Maybe I will never grow tired of the thrill of being next to it. Sure, I look at other women and many I find attractive. Many I desire. But I know it's just in my mind. She knows I look and she knows I'm hers no matter what. We arrive at the restaurant. I've never been there before. Actually never heard of it. Botticelli. Must be Mediterranean. She's booked (of course) and there are a few people at the bar so we decide to have a drink first. She orders for me. It's nice sometimes not having to choose when you know someone so well. I don't have to think. Looking around the bar there are quite a few people already seated. Not many mains out but a few with starters. Most still drinking and looking at the menus. I see a woman in her suit and look at her. For some reason she catches my eye. I can't place it. I shrug it off and go back to my baby who's just finished ordering the drinks.

I arrive at the restaurant with time to spare and quickly neck two shots of tequila. If I’m going to make it through the evening I need a little propping up. I feel the warm buzz spread through me and immediately think this might not be so bad after all. I catch the eye of a guy nearby at the bar. He seems familiar although I can’t seem to pinpoint where I have actually seem him. Sharp dresser, beautifully tailored suit, and quite obviously with his girlfriend or maybe even his wife. She is ordering drinks, and just as I contemplate another, I feel a tap on the shoulder. My date has arrived.

Orbit

He sits on the same couch as her. They’ve been doing this for a while now, sitting close but not touching. She is pretending to listen when he speaks, but finds herself mesmerized by his words, drawn into the tone of his voice and the movement of his lips. When she speaks he is distracted, his eyes drawn to the swell of her breasts and the way her trousers press tightly against her crotch as she sits with one leg tucked under her. They laugh and chat and conversation jumps from topic to topic. He imagines his hand pressed against her crotch. He imagines the sensation as the warmth radiates through the fabric and onto his skin. He feels a stirring in his pants. She senses the change and knows they are close, that it is almost time, and that they have just launched themselves into this inevitable orbit around each other. Now there is no turning back. Now they can say as little or as much as they like, because there will only be one outcome. It will end in a tangle of arms and legs. Sweat and saliva and hurried, heated breath. Fingers and hands and muscles straining, chests heaving and words, passionate words. Swearing and angry looks and her hands on his hard body and his hands on her softness. Words whispered in her ear that will melt her and take her further until she feels her wetness running down between her legs. Until he finishes inside her, or in her mouth. Until they have one last kiss and fall asleep in each other’s arms. Until the next night, on the couch, where it starts all over again. Where they start their inevitable orbit once more.

You are all I need

I know you sit and think and write and want to just do everything. To be everything. To completely lose yourself in another person, even for the moment. But then on evaluation you think you should have more. Think that those films you watch are real and all sex should last for hours fucking intensely. Every orgasm the perfect one screaming. Isn't that what everyone tells you you should want. I am the best lover you have ever had. You are a god and you have to fuck all night.

Most of the time its Ok that you just want a quick fuck. We perfected it. And it is perfect. Tired after a day of work. The stress of everyday life. To forgo sex is unforgivable. But it doesn't always have to be the olympic trial. Foreplay is nice but just being naked and kissing is enough. Slow fucking on our side. Always being erect just at the feel of your body. My cock just sliding in and out as you get wetter. You rub your clit, slowly at first. We barely move. Just lie there looking at each other, kissing occasionally.

I wait till you start rubbing faster. I start fucking more (but still barely moving). I see you are coming. I let myself go. We come together more often than not. And it's fantastic and quick and perfect. Riding each other's orgasms.

Sometimes that's all we need.

Collared

I am not sure where I go when I am with him. I have some sort of temporary amnesia. I forget myself and lose myself and I am hungry and I am his his his. I don’t recall when the collar came out. I don’t recall the sensation of it being placed around my neck. I do recall a slight fumbling at the buckle and the click of the lead as it was attached to the collar (the mere thought of that click sends a zing of half pleasure to my clit). I do recall the faint scent of new leather, and the sound of the chain as it jangled loosely. I have three shifting memories. Three memories that attempt to escape me despite my best attempts at corralling them. Me on my stomach and he behind, his cock inside my wetness (oh so very wet) while he tugged at the lead which in turn tugged at the collar, causing me to raise myself up to relieve the pressure against my throat. Me ordering him between my legs and receiving that look in return, which told me that I should behave myself and ask nicely for what I wanted. And lastly, the chain taught between the swell of my breasts, pulled tight so it reached my clit (while he watched). I recall the chain and its coolness against my clit, me frantically rubbing, chasing a fast and furious orgasm. I know there was more. I know my mouth was on him and I know I wrapped my legs around him as he rode me. I know all I was wearing was a cream pair of knee high angora socks. I know we kissed and loved and became some sort of single entity. I know, I just know, that in losing myself, in giving myself to him, I have found myself so completely.

Post script: Mid sentence I just remembered his head between my legs, his mouth on my smoothness, and mouthed “Oh god” three times (as if for effect – even in real life I repeat things for effect). Yes. I remember that part now. Oh.

More than one use for a vibrator...

Away on business again. I like it and I don’t. I get to go away and see interesting places and get tied up in conference food and conversation that could have been done back at the office.  The endless lectures and presentations. Sales people and falseness abound.  I guess at least the pretend they care. Although why is it they all dress the same. The sales in the suits and the ‘business’ people in their chinos and boat shoes. Americans….

I like being in the nice big room with the big bed all to myself. Ill watch the hotel porn occasionally – of note recently Avatar the adult edition. Nothing like watching blue people fucking. I love the feel of the hotel sheets. I love the feeling of lying naked in them. The clean starched feel on my body. Arousing it.

But I was bored. I’d love to have a wank but I really missed my girlfriend. I was sick of whacking off. I mean it’s good and all but it can get less that satisfying. I wanted something different. I wanted her. The feel of her body, her tongue on mine. Even just her hand to grab my cock. The little things.

So I turn on the computer. Maybe I could just surf a bit of porn. Check email and I have my morning message from my lovely woman. An attachment. I open and just stare. I’m confused at first, not really sure what I’m seeing. Well I know what I’m seeing but she’s not the type. I check the message. A present for me. Yes it is. There are 2 pictures. I open the other one. What I see in both of them are her. Her gorgeous body. And she bought new underwear. Nice underwear, sexy underwear. And she looks stunning. A model. I love her body, naked. I’m obsessed with it. All of it. But seeing it on my pc in a random hotel room, adorned and hidden in the best possible way is like a shot to my cock. Instant feeling.  I could have come with little stimulation right then. She still turns me on so much.

But I wanted to savour this. Wanted something different. To do these pictures justice. I can’t be there and spend ages just looking and touching her. I just have to look. But in the absence of anything else I just start stroking my cock. Gentlly with my forefinger only. Up and down the underside of the shaft. Feeling its silky smoothness. Up and down. Lingering on the underside of the head. It’s intensity there making me feel fantastic. All the while staring at these amazing pictures.

I grab my cock more firmly. I’ll come too fast. I want to tease myself so I go back to stroking up and down the shaft. Slowing as I get near the underside of the tip.  A thought pops into my head. At her request I’d brought a new vibrator. Just plain run of the mill.  Maybe I could use it on my cock. I pull it out. No batteries. I check the tv remote. Thank god. Quickly inserting them I turn it on.

The vibrator is moving up my cock now. Not quite the same as my finger but I love the feeling. It needs lube. I close my eyes. Focusing on how good my cock feels. I leave the vibrator on tip of my cock. Nice. I move it back down slightly and just let it rest. Holy shit. That feels good. I push it more firmly. Not moving it. Just feeling the vibration. It’s nearly too much. Getting so aroused without actually moving anything. My cock spasms slightly. I can’t believe how good this feels. I groan slightly. Fuck. I want to come. I feel like I should but I can’t and still it keeps building up. I want to come so badly. My whole body is nothing but my cock. My balls start tingling, They’re aching.

It starts right down at the base of my cock. Down past my balls. Rising slowly up.  Its indescribable.  I groan more loudly. My cock spasms more and more. I can feel myself about to come. The tension is too much. The amazing sensation combined with nothing moving but he constant vibration on the top of my cock.  And then I’m coming. I near yell at the release. Feeling my come spill onto my stomach. Satiated as completely as any fucking I could imagine.

I love you baby. Thanks. X

We

We’re watching the end of a DVD. We’re both still in our pyjamas, he in a white singlet and striped boxers that I chose in one of those ‘shopping for boyfriend’ moments, I in a black slip with lace trim that does nothing to hide my cleavage. The kind of cleavage you could happily sleep between. The kind that had been the centre of his attention a few hours before. (He remarked how responsive my nipples were: I, close to cumming through the bites and flicks of tongue alone on budded nipples, thinking this isn’t how Good Girl’s bodies respond). I have my head on his chest, and his long arm is wrapped around me, a network of veins and pale freckled skin. I place my hand casually on his cock, or at least in the vicinity of it, knowing that that action alone will pinpoint its exact location it is within seconds. He makes a small chuckle of something, perhaps appreciation. My touch is gentle, not at all urgent. My fingers trace the outline of his cock as I marvel at how easily it transforms under my touch.

(I think of the night before, of my eyes filled with delight as the stripper dances naked for me, and he, the proud swell of his cock barely contained within his pants, his lustful eyes on me as my lustful eyes are trained on another woman, a slight blush colouring my cheek).

It makes sense to undo that little button on the front of the boxers. It makes sense to slide my fingers in and touch the smooth skin of his shaft. It makes sense to wet my fingers and return them to their treasure, letting them rub gently at whatever surface they can find. And so, I tug his cock out of its cozy home and through the hole in the front of his boxers. I tug it out as he lets out another chuckle (of approval). I slide my head down to his lap and take the head of his cock gently into my mouth. This is my thing. This is what I do best and if there is just one thing in the world I want, it’s to give the perfect blowjob. To know that at that one moment that man is completely under my control and has never ever felt anything so good. I have been told that I am exceptional. I do not doubt this, because giving head is my thing. It’s one big continuous improvement programme. I have skill with mouth and tongue and lips (and teeth) combined with hands. It’s my pièce de résistance. I go through moves in my head, what my lips will do, where my tongue will go, building neural pathways like some elite athlete training for their big moment.

And so, my mouth is on him. There is nothing rushed about this, about us. He is starting to vocalize a little, perhaps in anticipation of what is to come. I find that valley that runs just under the head of his cock and run my tongue back and forth along its groove. I flick at the head of his cock with my tongue, eliciting twitches from him and rapid intakes of breath. I slowly lower my head down over him until I can feel him butting against the back of my soft palate. I relax my throat and push down, allowing the head to slip past my epiglottis and into my throat. I hear him gasp sharply and I smile internally. I smile at what I have just done. I slowly retreat from his cock only to ride down it again, into my throat, surprised at the lack of gag reflex and thrilled at the prospect that I now have his cock all the way in, with my lips at the base of his shaft. His beautiful cock is now entirely within my mouth and I am delighted.

Could you?

Could you just say something? Could you just speak and I will listen? Could you reach out a single digit tentatively and prod me? See what happens? Could you fumble with my pants: belt, buttons, hooks, zip; pull them down (disgracefully) around my ankles, a loose form of bondage? Could you take lascivious delight in diaphanous underwear: mesh, lace, always bows; that show a hint of hair beneath, but only a hint because you know there’s never much there? (Just enough to show I’m a woman but barely enough to be considered decent). Could you tug at my underwear with greedy hands, pulling it down in bursts of desire as it rolls to a bunch with my pants? Could you, because there isn’t much of an opening, push your fingers between my pussy lips: push, force, slide, stretch; until you find my wetness? Your fingers now slick, could you slide them towards my front to fumble for that nubbin of pleasure? Could you press there, flick there sending galvanic pulses through me? Could you make me shudder and moan and beg and ache and pant for more, please more, please fuck me please don’t stop don’t stop don’t oh god yes oh god I hate you love you love you love you. Oh. Could you do that for me?

Dear Martha

Its been a while now but everything is still so fresh. I think back every hour and have flashes of what we had for such a short time.

Walking through the streets. Touching slightly every so often, everything meaning something. Nothing was supposed to happen. Nothing was going to happen.

Standing in the kitchen. Watching you make tea. Every motion you make sensuous. Brushing back your hair. I wanted to do that for you. I wanted to touch you so much. I stared at the back of your neck, exposed. An overwhelming urge to kiss you.

We sat on the couch. Both nervous and unsure. We touched and I leaned into you. Breathing and brushing my lips down the side of your cheek. We kissed gently and slowly. Tentative. No words, just an understanding. My whole body responding to you. My skin tingling. My erection aching. We fumbled like innocents. Unsure yet sure of what we were doing. Quickly we pleased one another. The intimacy of oral sex meaning more in some ways. The way we came, the way our bodies responded to each others mouths was incredible. We exchanged everything in such a short time and I loved you. Completely and utterly.

You walked me home. I looked at you and had a sudden feeling. You looked at me and told me how turned on you were at that moment. It's surreal how we were / are / will be. I just felt you.

Now I'm gone. Gone far away. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. But it's slowly driving me insane. Do you think we can even continue? Did it even really happen at all?

Dear John

In answer to your message....


Yes I miss you.  Yes I liked hanging out with you.  We are just so alike that it's scary.  Could you imagine spending any extended period of time together?  I think we would drive other people crazy.  They wouldn't be able to keep up with our frantic pace of mayhem.  I wasn't intending to do anything with you.  I had told myself no (although I was wearing matching underwear so perhaps my subconscious knew otherwise).  When I saw you I still thought no, for about 5 seconds.  Then I thought yes.  I thought yes I would like to take you home with me.  I would like to have you sitting on my couch.  We got there.  I got nervous.  You seemed relaxed.  And we kissed.  I still haven't worked out your style of kissing.  I need to let you lead more, but it's something I struggle with.  I liked you glancing down at your jeans, as if I wasn't aware myself of the growing bulge underneath the surface of the fabric.  I liked your change in breathing as things became more frantic.  We knew didn't we?  We knew time alone would lead to something.  And it did.  Your skill leaves me breathless, me like some wanton woman coming again and again in rapid succession.  And the ending.  The fucking.  It was the perfect way to end.  We ended with a new beginning.  With something new to both of us.  We opened a door we said we wouldn't, because it wasn't 'our thing'.  I'm glad that we didn't really follow our usual pattern.  You felt good inside me.  Amazingly so. 
 
This thing between you and I doesn't have an ending does it?  It's timeless.  It's something quite beautiful. An understanding between two people that goes beyond words.  It's an unconventional type of love.  But it is love. 

The Switch

Something behind his eyes changed. She was laying on his bed, naked but for a smile. She was looking up at him in that goading way she had, egging him on to, to what? To nothing as far as she was concerned. Oh to more sex, to fucking, to sweatiness and lust. But now she had seen a switch in him. His smile disappeared and his eyes seemed to flash green before her. His cock was erect, tumescent, as he turned to his attention to his wardrobe and purposefully began rifling through his belongings. Her interest was piqued. Something kept him aroused, some secret mission only he was on, in his serious skin. She remained still on the bed, curiously quiet. He turned to her with two neck ties and grabbed her left wrist, tethering it swiftly to the bed head. He immediately turned his attention to her right wrist. She giggled, in for a bit of fun and not at all bothered by the restraints. He didn’t smile. He didn’t laugh. She began to struggle a little against the restraints, tugging harder at the ties that bound her before realising he had (so cleverly) tied them so they became tighter with struggle. Still, she struggled, relishing the slight burn as they cut into her wrists. He was on her swiftly, on her and in her, stroking with purpose and power. She was intrigued by his look and her giggles soon turned to gasps and moans and oh gods. He loosened one tie and flipped her over deftly; in the same movement his hand met her bare arse cheek. She yelped in surprise at the stinging before feeling his hand connect with her again. Over and over his hand met her arse until it was burning with heat. Each stroke elicited a sharp gasp from her. With the pain she felt her desire grow, the heat between her legs now raging. As if recognizing this, his hands spread her legs and she expected to feel his fingers begin to probe her. Instead his hand met with her pussy in a stinging smack, the pain of a million nerve endings screaming and wanting and crying for more. A few smacks later and he was in her, filling her from behind, slamming into her stinging flesh. She was begging for release, one hand still tethered to the bed, he riding her harder and harder. He came in slow silent shudders, rolling off her and onto his back. She laid there bewildered, overcome with desire, shock, wondering who on earth had just done that to her. He smiled and said, “Hello.”

By Ritual

By ritual, he undresses her. He always undresses her. She lies on the bed, her breath short with anticipation. She looks at him knowingly. She knows what is coming next, knows the kiss, knows the gradual unveiling of her, knows the sounds that he will utter, half delight, half desire. The kiss comes, both gentle and passionate. His tongue is on hers and as if by clockwork a few seconds later, her centre starts to ache. She smiles internally at the thought that he can do this to her with a single kiss. She starts her dance, her squirming and writhing, grinding her arse against the bed and if he is close, her pelvis into his whatever, whatever she can come in contact with. He smirks. Now it is his turn to look knowingly at her. He knows her need has grown; her want is becoming unbearable for her. And so the unveiling begins, with unbuckling, unbuttoning, opening, yanking pulling tossing aside. She is now in her underwear and as he lays his hands on her flesh, a guttural moan escapes his lips as his anticipation builds. He is still fully dressed, as always, the bulge of his cock outlined against his pants, begging for attention. He bites at her nipples through gauziness of bra and she arches in response, her eyes now lustful and angry. He presses his whole hand between her legs, pushing the fabric of her panties against her wetness. Pushing it deeper, forcing the fabric into the slippery space between her lips as she bucks her hips up to meet his hand. He pulls her panties aside and slips long fingers between her, dipping into her wetness before sliding them deep inside. They let out simultaneous groans, she as he finds his mark and he as he feels her soft warmth encapsulate his fingers. One, two orgasms later and his clothes are removed quickly. He is poised over her now, his cock proud and beautiful, his arms and shoulders taking his full weight as veins bulge. She is desperate to take his cock in her mouth, to love it with tongue and lips and teeth, but she knows he will insist on fucking first. Always. Sometimes she begs him to allow her to taste him, but he always says no. And so, he places the head at her entrance and presses himself slowly inside. That first slide in slide out is pure bliss. There is something so perfect about that moment that sometimes she cries at how beautiful he feels, so hard against her softness, like all his love is pouring into her at that one point of contact. At that moment they are lost. So they fuck, and they love, and kiss, and suck and lick over and over again until they are exhausted, and there is nothing left but to lie on the bed motionless, she on her stomach, he on his back. He leans across and plants a little kiss between her shoulder blades. Runs his lips across the fine hair on her back, muttering words she cannot decipher under his breath. He plants another kiss, and another, on shoulders and back. She begins to respond, to start her wriggling and squirming, her arse arching up and legs parted. His hand snakes its way between her legs again and his fingers find their mark once more.

The Diary

The Diary

Monday

It’s quite late and I’m tired but I had to write. I had an epiphany today. I’m happy. We’re in love and it’s all good. Well, kind of. It’s a bit boring. We're settling into a routine. It happens I’m told but should life be like this? I went walking while I was pondering this and thought I’d try and change something. And something (everything) comes down to sex in a relationship really.  Without it you’re fucked – or not as the case may be. So today I thought I’d try something different. No sex for the week. But to tease for a week could be interesting. How badly would you want something if it was withheld from you? An experiment if you will.

Tonight we went to bed and kissed. I kissed her with a lazy passion. It had been a while since we’d done that, just lying on the bed. Gently rubbing her back I could feel her getting turned on. I always get hard doing that so it was difficult, but I gently pushed her away. She had a slight look of surprise on her face followed by uncertainty. I said we were tired and rolled over.

Tuesday

I kissed her again tonight. Slightly more urgently. I held her head in my hands, rubbed the back of her neck more firmly, pushing her into me. She grabbed me, I was hard, so I pushed her hand to my ass. I love the feeling of my ass being grabbed. Slow down I thought. Kissing her cheek I rolled her over, her back to me. I kissed the back of her neck, the side. I lifted her shirt and rubbed her back. I kissed slowly down from her neck to her lower back then rolled her back again. I could see her exposed. I wanted her breasts. She has gorgeous nipples. I love sucking them. I love massaging her breasts. I love the feel of her skin. She looked down at me expectantly and I moved up to kiss her again. She had desperation in her now. She wanted me. I kissed her again and grabbed her ass. She groaned slightly and whispered for me to fuck her slowly. Again, I gently pushed her away and told her tomorrow. Swearing, she asked me what was going on. I didn’t answer, rolled her over and put my arm around her. She told me she was frustrated now. Maybe this will end up destroying us. I really want to fuck her. I really want to come.

Wednesday

We got into bed quite late this evening. She must wonder why I get up and write quickly before coming back. I don’t want to tell her my plan but she suspects now. Anyway, it was late and she was tired. I leaned into her and began kissing her neck again. Down to her shoulders, gently biting them on the way. I took her top off. She told me I had better be ready to fuck her tonight. It’s not fair apparently. I kissed her chest slowly. I love doing that, I love the feel of the skin and how it changes from taught to fuller as her breasts are greeted. I spend ages kissing around her breasts. I circle the nipples purposefully. I look up and she’s looking at me expectantly. I push her head down and tell her to close her eyes. To picture only the feeling of my tongue on her skin. Nothing else exists for her. She lies back and I flick the tip of my tongue on her nipples. I hear her intake of breath. She sighs gently. I push my tongue down hard, leave it there, letting her feel the warmth. Then I move my tongue, spending time on the same nipple. I repeat the same for the other one then sit up. She looks at me again and I tell her to close her eyes – thought for tomorrow, get a blindfold. I grab her breasts, loving the feel of them. I was so hard. Touching my cock would have been dangerous. I wanted her. I massaged her breasts then moved my thumb and forefinger and squeezed the nipples, the pressure becoming harder and harder. She cries out slightly. I don’t stop. Then I work my way down her stomach. She has a fantastic stomach. I use my tongue generously. I put my hands on her hips as I move. Holding her tightly. She has pyjamas on. I pull them down to expose her pubic hair. I kiss her pubic area. I spend my time licking the area to both sides where her legs curl into her. I stop and lift my head, making my way back to her. Breathing on her skin as I go back up. I spend some time on her nipples again and then kiss her. Like the other nights I roll her over. She asks me if this is some sort of game. I just smile. I think she gets it. She tells me she wants to come. I simply say no.

Thursday

When we got into bed she sits up and looks at me and asks me if we’re going to fuck tonight. I tell her maybe. I found one of those old blindfolds you’re given on airlines earlier this evening. I put it on her and she smiles. I kiss her lips. Run my tongue across them then stop. I grab her hand, kiss her fingers, then her arm. I was hard before I got into bed tonight. I move her hand to my chest. She feels my nipples then squeezes gently. God I wished I could have come. I move her hand down around my back to my ass. She obliges again. I let her feel me for a while then move it again. This time towards my balls. She grabs them, massages them and goes to move it up to my cock. I stop her and hear a frustrated sigh from her. Relax I say. Then I move her hand to the inside of my thighs. I struggle. I feel like I could come right there with the slightest touch on my cock. I stop them and guide her hand to her own breast. She feels it and I close her hand so the nipples are clamped. She squirms so I get her other hand to cover the other breast. The look of her playing with herself turns me on even more. I don’t think I can last any more days. Must be strong....  I then move her hands down to her pubic hair. I grab them firmly and move them between her legs so she massages the inside her thigh. She tries to creep across to her clitoris and I prevent it. I move both hands away and tell her to put them behind her head. She complies. My hand moves between her legs, fingers pointing down. I put it over her whole pussy. Covering her. My middle finger is on her clitoris. It’s pulsing beneath me and I increase the pressure. She cries out. I just leave it there. I wait a long time. She’s trying to move against my hand but still it doesn’t move. She’s very wet. I stop, telling her that’s enough for tonight. She playfully tells me I’m a bastard. My cock is still hard now, 30 minutes later....

Friday

(Written Saturday) We’ve been out for drinks tonight. We were both a little drunk so I was concerned about my regime. Maybe I’d try something different tonight. We get to the lounge and I start kissing her. Aggressively, taking her clothes off till she standing naked. I sit her down then take off my pants. Suck me I tell her and she starts pleasing me. Moving her tongue up and down the shaft. Cupping my balls while she does so. Then she takes me fully in her mouth and even though I’m numbed the frustration from the week builds up very quickly. God I wanted to come. I stop her and tell her to tease me more. She moves down and starts licking my balls. Taking them fully in her mouth. They ache. I want to come so badly so I stop her. Then I sit her down. I still have my clothes on. I push her back into the chair and lift her legs over my shoulders. She’s very, very wet. She tells me how much she wants me. I dive in. Forcing my tongue straight onto to her clitoris. She writhes, moving herself against me. It’s almost violent and I really just want to fuck her. I look up and tell her she can’t come. She’s genuinely annoyed and wants to know when the fuck she is allowed to come. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to do this when we were drunk. I’m sure it will be worth it.....?

Saturday

We were hung over this morning. Lying half asleep and not talking. It had been an odd week. The feeling of frustration in the air. No one wanting to say the first word. But not normal. At least it wasn't normal. We weren't like everybody else. Thinking she'd be annoyed I made the first move I kissed her shoulder. She turned away but I saw the slight smile as she did so. I ran my tongue around, nibbling as I went. I reached her neck and stopped, easing back and lightly brushing my lips against the nape of it. Breathing in, smelling, intoxicated with her natural scent. I stay like that for ages, breathing, kissing, slowly and gently. I moved my hand over her shoulder and around to her breasts. No stretching of time and teasing. Smooth and firm. Massaging her breasts, I enjoy the feel and the weight of them. Down to her stomach, again firmly, all the while on the back of the neck. I start using my tongue more as my hand goes past her pubic area and into the warmth of her legs. Inserting two fingers, I feel she's wet and I move them back and forward. No playing around this time, I'm in charge, moving with authority. My lips move to her neck, gently biting it. I can see her eyes closed, lips apart, breath coming quickly. My fingers move to her clitoris. Her body responds. I move firmly and quickly. I can feel she wants to come. I keep rubbing and I feel her building up, getting more animated as she does. Please... she begs. I stop. She groaned. Before she could say anything I start talking, just saying the first thing that came into my head. I want you. I start telling her how I love her body. I tell her how my cock feels like it could come with no stimulation, just at the thought of her right now. I tell her I would like to enter her. To fuck her. To be completely at one with her. And I tell her to wait.


Sunday


We rose early today so didn't get time to do anything. Her sister was having us over. It was a blur. I don't even know what was said. I couldn't take my eyes of her nor her me. She knew today would be the day. I hadn't told her but she knew. I knew I would fuck her today. The looks must have been obvious but we were oblivious to anything else. We made excuses and left early. A long drive back. We barely spoke. Hands on each other legs. Caressing one another as she drove. Like new lovers. Thoughts were going by so fast. All I could think of was her. We arrived home, quickly going inside. I grabbed her immediately in the kitchen. We kissed like we'd never kissed. Both completely lost in the sensation. Like first time lovers we tear each others clothes off. No fooling around, no foreplay. I push her onto the couch. We stop for a moment, staring at each other. I see the lust in her eyes. I feel my body aching. I enter her. We both groan. I almost feel like I could come straight away. I think she nearly does. I've never felt her this wet. Moving slowly together we keep kissing. Hands groping one another. We are completely at one. I feel nothing else but the feeling of her. My skin is electric, hypersensitive. We fuck faster. She's grinding her clitoris into my pubic area. I feel I can't stop. I've never quite felt like this before. I've never wanted anything more. My orgasm builds. And builds. My whole body feeling like it's dominated by cock. My balls are aching as my orgasm approaches. I groan. I can feel her beginning to climax. I let go, my body wracked in waves of pleasure as I come. It seems like I'm filling her competely, as two or three waves wash over me. As it begins to subside I feel her coming. She's screaming, her whole body arched. She grips me and I feel like I could come again. She's dragging everything from me. All of me is part of her. She holds me tighter and tighter. I keep slowly fucking because I don't know anything else. I don't want it to end.


It takes us a few minutes to stop. We lie there for ages. I start smiling and look at her. She opens her eyes and giggles. We laugh together. Happy.

Shower

She heard the bathroom door open as she rinsed her hair, eyes closed shut against the soap suds. The shower door slid open and a cool blast of air goose-bumped her skin. She felt hands snake around her belly from behind to embrace her in warmth. She smiled and let herself relax into the slipperiness of the body against hers. She moved to turn, but a hoarse voice whispered 'no' in her ear. The hands around her began to roam. One hand reached for soap and began to rub it across the front of her, over breasts and décolletage, stomach, down to the electric fuzz of her mound. Soap replaced, hands began their slippery journey across her landscape, up to her breasts and to nipples, kneading, pinching, rolling between soapy fingers. Her slickness under his touch started a white heat in her. She caught her breath at the sheer pleasure and began to push back against his pelvis, began that grind of urgency as her centre came to life. His hands moved around to her buttocks, squeezing and molding, running soapiness over her luscious curves. She was dancing slowly from foot to foot, wanting him to open her, pry her apart, enter her. He pushed her up against the glass of the cubicle, her nipples delighting in that momentary shock of cold glass pleasure. With a swift stroke he entered her and she gasped at the shock of his sudden hardness inside her. His mouth was on her neck, on her shoulder, his teeth biting hard as if there was sweet nectar just below the surface of her skin (she, pressed up against the shower wall; he, thrusting and biting, one hand on her shoulder, one on her hip). One hand wound its way down to find her clit and began circling it in movements that matched his thrusting. They built together, to a frenzy, to guttural moans and whispers of fuck and yes and don't stop and oh. He filled her, she gripping him in return in short frantic spasms. He pulled out and was away, leaving her weak-kneed against the shower wall, his seed already trickling down her inner thigh as the water continued to wash over her. She stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel, making her way to her boyfriend's room. Door opened, she stood there in shock as she saw her boyfriend, fast asleep in bed.

On business

I was away on business again. Another trip of futility where I sit and listen and smile and drink and come back with nothing to tell. Not that anyone listens to the report anyway. I wish I had someone to call. No girlfriend, no kids. I'm a little lost. Women had been such a problem for me lately. Too needy, too young, wanting more, psychotic. Don't get me wrong, I love women and I love my friends. But dating hadn't been too successful lately. I'll head down to the bar for a drink. At least then I could pretend I'm not sad and sitting in my room, but in a cheesy hotel bar instead.

Another week, another conference. I didn't mind them so much, but some of the people at them bored me to tears. It's always nice to get away from work for a while, to break the daily routine of commute, work chat around the coffee machine, deadlines deadlines deadlines. I went to the bar of the hotel I was staying at, hoping for a quiet drink as I played with my iPad. I love my iPad. It's a great excuse not to speak to people too, especially those desperate conference men. They figure as soon as they're away from the wife and kids it's a sex free-for-all. As a precaution, I'd adjusted my name sticker to say, "Hello. My name is... GO AWAY." Most people don't appreciate my sense of humour.

There were a few people around. I wasn't staying the same place as the conference but it looked as though something was on here. The place was pretty full. I saw a seat up by the bar and sat down. Maybe I'll get drunk enough to actually say something to somebody. Not necessarily a women, just someone willing to engage in semi-intelligent conversation. Why is it people on these things are so normalised?
'Yes?'
'Vodka and tonic'
I looked around the bar. Small groups talking. Why do people insist on keeping on their name badges. My name is... Sigh. I'll have a couple then go I guess. The day was kind of interesting. But I still don't really think I should be here. Another waste of corporate money. They could have at least sent me to a decent city. Canberra, nothing but porn and civil servants pretending they're back at school. Feels like I'm in a time warp.

I enter the bar and order a drink, a beer. I like to start on beer and it takes me longer to finish than ordering spirits. Less time at the bar means less chance of being hit on by some conference desperate. I choose a seat at the bar and focus my attention on my iPad. I turn the sound down so those around me don't realise I am playing Angry Birds. Non-conference down time is pretty boring but I keep myself busy. I sip on my beer slowly.

Another vodka and I was feeling OK. I don't mind not talking to people. I'd been watching conversations. Seeing the near desperation in some people to be funny or interesting. Look at me, look at me. I'd noticed a woman a couple of seats down from me. Working on her iPad, focussed on something. Redhead. Looking like she was here for business but dressed down. I liked the look. The simple way she wore her hair and clothes actually spoke more for her than most of these people speaking. Casual, down to earth, interesting. Nice name tag too. She looked up, focussed on me for a minute.

I'm stuck on a level of Angry Birds. It's frustrating. I know what I have to do but can't make it happen. I open facebook for a while, change my status to something that will amuse the masses and look up. I catch the eye of a guy sitting a couple of seats away from me. A quick up and down tells me he's alone. He's a sharp dresser. I like his style. A littler edgier than anyone else in the room. We hold each others' gaze for a little longer before I glance down again.

What the hell, I should probably go talk to her. What to say, what to say. I know I'll get to the end of the night and go back to my room and lie there having not said anything. Oh well. I'll beat myself up for it for a while. The man between us leaves. She's one seat away and it's vacant. Then someone comes between us, ordering a round of drinks. I sigh inwardly. As he takes the drinks away one spills on the bar, liquid going around her iPad.

A guy is beside me now, ordering a bunch of shooters for his friends. Oh dear, the idiocy has commenced already. As he turns with the tray, one glass topples and the contents spill onto the bar, around my iPad. I grab it quickly, thankful its case prevents damage. I give the guy my best death stare as he mumbles apologetically. He already reeks of alcohol. Ugh. I use a damp cloth the bartender gives me to clean up the mess. I look up and once more hold gaze with the man a few seats away. He smiles.

She looks up at me again and I smile, sharing the frustration she had.
'Don't you hate these conferences?' Real smooth...

'I don't mind the conferences, it's the people that piss me off' Nice. I like her already.

We go back and forth for a while and I move over to the seat next to her. She's smart and funny. Nice body too. Any man that says he doesn't check out a woman's body in the first few seconds is lying. I tell her this and she laughs. Wow, it's not often I can be me.

He makes a quip about conferences. Not a bad opening line really. We talk a little more, our conversation coming easily, interjected here and there with laughter. He moves from his seat to the one beside mine. I check out his face, his upper body and a sneaky look at his groin. I try to be subtle but it's not my best attribute. I like what I see. He's not your standard conference fodder. He's refreshing, funny, honest. I find myself losing my surroundings and focussing on him.

The bar is empty and I haven't noticed. I've been lost in her for what must have been hours. We've been drinking and talking and talking and drinking and it's just so natural and happy. I like her. I like her alot and I want her. And it's not just the alcohol. She's perfect and beautiful and smart and funny and... I don't normally meet people like that. Maybe there's not many of them out there. I'm very relaxed. I've noticed the way we've been getting closer as the night has progressed. The occasional touch, the flirty laughs. It's all so natural. I'm focussed on her lips. Fuck it. I lean in and kiss her.

We talk constantly, laughing, occasionally pausing to examine each other before launching into another conversation. I don't even know what we're talking about. All I know is it's constant, and he has a penchant for talking shit as much as I do. We constantly interrupt each other, then laugh as we talk over the top of each other again, our words a kind of foreplay, back and forth. He has the most amazing eyes. They are disarmingly blue, but at certain angles I pick up a hint of green. He has a modesty about him, a certain degree of self consciousness that I find alluring. I don't meet men like this very often. I feel so comfortable with him, so in sync. My eyes keep drifting to his lips. At least it stops me from staring at his groin. He has beautiful lips, kissable lips. I want to reach out and run my fingers over them. We're sitting close now. Leaning into each other. Laughing. Talking. And then he's closer. His lips are on mine and we kiss slowly.

We make our way to the elevator. No option really.
'Your room or mine'
'Let's go to mine' she says.
We barely get time to press the button to 15 and we're on each other. Losing ourselves, kissing messily, passionately. She's good too. It's surprising how many women aren't good kissers. She rides with me, our tongues dancing, forcing one another. I bite her upper lip gently. She grabs my ass firmly. God I love that.

We're walking to the elevator. I can't believe I'm doing this but it seems to be inevitable. I want this man. He asks who's room we should go to, and I suggest mine. I push the button to the 15th floor and as soon as the doors close we are on each other. We kiss desperately, our tongues meeting. He kisses well. His tongue snakes around mine and I feel myself melt into him. He bites my lip and I moan softly, sliding my hands down to his ass and squeezing hard. His ass is perfect.

We slow down when we get to her room. She opens the mini bar and pulls out a couple of beers. We sit on the bed and chat for a bit. Both of us a bit nervous. Not the usual drunken pick up. We're both aware of each other. I know she feels like I do. I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I grab her neck gently. Move her towards me. We kiss long and deep. I'm falling into her. Fuck it.
'Lets just get undressed and hop in bed. We're too drunk to try and seduce each other slowly.'

Once we're in my room we ease off a little. I grab a couple of beers from the mini bar and hand him one. We sit on the edge of the bed, talking between mouthfuls of beer. I feel nervous. He seems a little nervous himself. Neither of us wants to make the first move but both of us want what's coming. He takes my beer from me and puts both bottles up on the bench. He returns to the bed and reaches a hand around the back of my neck, pulling me close to him. We kiss again. Another long, delicious kiss. I feel a stirring in between my legs. It's a strange combination of nerves and desire. He suggests we take off our clothes and just get into bed. I comply. I'd do anything he asked me of me right now.

I love her body. I love the way it looks and feels. I could spend hours with her but right now I just want her. I really hope I get time in the morning. There's something to be said for just getting that first fuck out of the way. Then you can relax. We're entangled. Grabbing each others ass. I push her gently back and run my hand back down between her legs. She's wet. I insert two of my fingers. She groans. I move up and rub her clitoris. I want to be in her. I roll her over firmly and lie between her legs. I can feel her on the end of my cock. I move it slowly.

'Just fuck me. We're drunk and I want you. I want you now'.

We're naked together and I drink him in. He is smooth, pale. I love his body against mine. We fit together well. He has nice arms, nice shoulders. I want to consume him, taste him, have him inside me. Our legs are tangled together and we are connected. He reaches between my legs, feeling my wetness as I draw in my breath sharply. The cool air whistles over my teeth as I inhale. His fingers are inside me and on me and my pelvis is rising to meet his hand as I press myself into him. His whole body is between my legs now, the tip of his cock teasing my lips. I beg him to fuck me. I want him terribly.

We get lost. A drunken blur of passion and fucking. Slowly at first then quickly. I want to fill her. I want to be part of her. I can't push myself into her enough, my cock sliding in and out. Nothing fancy, just fucking. I feel like I could stay like this forever. I lean back slightly and take her breasts in fully for the first time. Beautiful nipples pointing out to the side with the weight of her breasts. I grab them, firmly, fully, squeezing the nipples as I do. She groans again. Her body is so responsive. I begin fucking her harder. It doesn't matter if either one of us comes. I just want to keep fucking her. I just want to be inside her.

He's inside me, taking me in slow, langurous strokes. The emotion and joy and pleasure is overwhelming. I want him there, want to keep him there, sliding in and out. I watch the way his body moves, watch him watching me. My hips are moving in a slow rhythm, matching his. He has my breasts in his hands, squeezing my nipples, increasing my pleasure. I groan and bear down on his cock with my centre. He responds with increased intensity, his strokes harder, faster. We fuck. We fuck. I don't want it to end.

We lie awake till dawn. This perfect woman in my arms. Staring, wanting, kissing, talking, fondling and eventually falling asleep.

I trace the line of his jaw as dawn comes. I run my fingertips lazily through his stubble, listen to his heart beating as I rest my head on his chest. Sleep slowly takes me. Sleep, and dreaming.

Coffee

Here's a deliciously long tale from a guest blogger Michelle. It makes me want to linger at her coffee shop! - et moi aussi.


The scent of freshly brewed coffee floods my senses. Stepping into the cafe I quickly scan the room for my target. I am relieved to see only the usual Saturday morning crowd; couples at sundrenched window seats relaxing over coffee and cake, some smiling amid shared conversation; others happily immersed in oversized newspapers; some sit alone in the dim interior, sunglasses on, black coffee held close, recovering from the night before. Their world is not my world. For an instant I am relieved. Could I return to that life? Would I even want to?

I remove my coat and drape it over the back of the lounge. A comfortable chaise with padded arm rests paired with a low coffee table. It gave an unobstructed view of both the entrance and the service counter. Her seating of choice. The gods were being kind. I breathe in deeply and allow myself a moment to relax. Sinking back into the cushions I am tempted to close my eyes. I'm tired. The last few weeks have been exhausting. But I have people relying on me. And I was running out of time. I have to make my move today or the opportunity will be lost to me.

Bvlgari. I am aware of her presence immediately. I glance at my watch; oh nine hundred hours. She is nothing if not precise. Classic black pumps, knee length tailored grey skirt, long sleeve white blouse, her blonde hair falling to well below her shoulders. No day off for her today. I tense slightly as she flicks a glance in my direction. She does not make eye contact. Merely checking available seating I presume. My surveillance has not been covert and I suspect she would recognize me were she to look. Even if she did it would mean nothing to her. Just another regular. And in truth she would be right. Until recently the link between us was nothing more than the fleeting convergence of strangers. Our last encounter changed that.

I watch her take her place in the queue. Another in the long line seeking caffeine. I briefly wish I had been able to make the rendezvous point earlier. A venti caffe mocha would have settled my nerves. But I could not afford the delay to satisfy that desire.

She is at the counter now, placing her order. I imagine I can hear her voice. Cappuccino with a cinnamon swirl. I select a magazine from the table in front of me. An expanse of white sand and water too blue to be true. Someone's version of paradise. I flip it open and almost smile at the long length of bikini clad leg and poolside margarita. Closer. I stare unseeing at the page and allow my thoughts to settle while I wait.

The metallic clank of her service number on the wooden table draws my attention. I was in her favourite seat but I knew from past experience that she was happy to share. I watch her as she presses back into the padded corner and arranges her handbag. Brown eyes meet mine and I hold her gaze. There is nothing to be gained from being timid today. She smiles slightly. She is relaxed. That will soon change. I do not smile in return. Neither one of us breaks eye contact. I notice the sudden rise of her chest. An intake of breath. I know her heart rate now matches my own.

“I saw you last night.” Her voice is almost a whisper.

“I know. I saw you too.” I am surprised by the tone of my voice; the weight of it.

“I didn't recognize you. From here, I mean. I think maybe you've been here before...” Her words trail away. She is not usually this flustered. The room is usually hers to command. Not today.

“Grab your bag.” The authority in my voice is impossible to ignore. I drop the magazine onto the table and take my coat. I watch her out of the corner of my eye. Does her hand shake as she reaches for her bag? I imagine it does. But she follows me nonetheless.

The air is cold outside. I stop in the doorway to wait for her. The warmth at my back and the heady scent of her Bvlgari perfume announces her.

“Where are we going?” she asks. I reach my arm around her in reply and press her gently forward.

“You don't want to do this in public,” I assure her. “Or, do you?” I ask after a beat. This time when I look at her I can't help but smile at the images that come to mind. She knows what I am thinking. Her step falters but her eyes never leave mine.

A hundred metres down the street. It seems a lifetime. My hand is against her lower back and her shoulder brushes against mine as we walk. We veer into the curve of the foyer. Double glass doors slide back automatically at our approach and I sense her hesitate.

“This is where I'm staying.” It sounds almost like a question.

“I know,” I reply.

She moves purposely now towards the elevator, the curving reception desk ignored. She knows. Our hands move together to press the up button. Neither one of us pulls away. The silver doors open and close around us. She hits the button to the fourth floor and then she is on me. Pressing me back against the wall. The weight of her leaving me no room to maneouvre. It had not been my plan and my instinct is to fight back. I bring my hands to her shoulders and all thought leaves me. She leans her full weight into my hips. One arm breaks my grip and the other presses against my ribs.

“Uh-uh,” is all she says. A slight shake of her head. Her face is so close to mine I can feel her breath on my lips. I don’t know if the thudding against my chest is her heartbeat or my own.

Neither of us move, both testing the strength of the other. Muscles taut. The elevator jolts to a stop and moments later the door opens. With a final shove into me she steps back suddenly. We walk the length of the corridor to her room. Neither of us speak. The silence lends a sense of control. She fumbles, not looking, in her bag for her room key. Her stance is one of wariness. I step back. One step. And give her space to let us in. She inserts the key card and the door light flashes green. Turning to press the door open with her back she watches me walk towards her. She holds the door open for us both. I appreciate the gesture.

Two steps forward and the narrow entry opens onto a dining table and kitchen. I drop my coat to the floor. Her bag follows. My steps slow and I move away from the wall. Her pace quickens and she moves to cut me off. We step around each other, circling, moving slowly towards the loungeroom. The curtains are open to blue sky and an unobstructed view of the river.

That momentary distraction is all it takes. I feel the change in air pressure before I feel her foot at the back of my leg. Her hands are hard against my shoulders as she sweeps my legs from under me. Reflexes from years of training take over and I have my arms inside her grip pressing against her throat before we hit the floor. The impact leaves me breathless. Her weight on top of me does little to help. Her hair falls around my face. I use my hips and chest to flip us over. The movement sudden and smooth. But she is expecting it. She smiles. Her eyes sparkle. My smile in return is almost feral.

I feel her hands on the outside of my hips. Her grip firm. Thumbs pressing into the curve of my stomach forcing me away. I match her strength with my own. With one forearm pressing against her upper chest my other hand curls around her neck. I allow my full weight to fall onto her. Breasts flatten against each other. Our faces millimetres apart. We breathe the same air.

Her legs tangle with mine; neither struggle nor surrender. I lower my face towards her, our cheeks brushing, my mouth against her ear. I fight the instinct to close my eyes. For an instant we are still. Then she is pure movement. My hip falls suddenly forward as her hands let go. She forces her arms between us, hands crossing, twisting at the last moment until she has my forearm in her grasp tilting me sideways, my arm spinning at the shoulder until I have no option but to roll on my belly. A stab of pain forces a groan from me. I arc my back to relieve the pressure on strained muscles. A laugh escapes me. Guttural. Joyful.

She straddles my body with her knees pressed tight into the soft flesh between ribs and hip. The pain in my shoulder fades to a dull throb. She lowers herself towards me keeping her weight low. I feel the tickle of her hair trailing across the bare skin of my neck. She pulls at my collar. Her fingers spread wide as her hand wraps around me, brushing against the sensitive skin below my ear and following the line of my carotid artery. But instead of grasping my throat her hand veers away. Following the line of my collar bone she forces her hand inside my shirt and finds my breast. Her fingers lay splayed against my skin. Possessing. Her thumb pinches my nipple. Heat flares. I arch into her and her hips press down against the curve of my arse. Her grip on my forearm loosens. It's what I am waiting for.

I wrench my arm free, curling forward, trapping her right arm with my left. My breast is still in her hand. Reaching back towards her with my right hand I can just reach the back of her head. I pull her towards me, her face buries into the curve of my neck. We exhale together. Breathless. I can feel her smile against my skin. We battle for dominance. She is unable to break my grip. I am unable to flip her weight from my back.

We laugh, almost a giggle, rejoicing in this rare matching of strength and of need. Her lips brush the edge of my jaw. Feather-light. Teasing. Turning my face towards her I allow her the victory. Her mouth inches closer to mine. Blood pounds in my veins. My belly clenches in anticipation. Instead of softness I feel teeth nip at my lower lip. I lick my lip and taste blood. Her fingers tighten against my skin and are suddenly gone. We roll together. Had it been a conscious decision? I hold her hands splayed at her sides. Eyes locked. Fingers tangled. Our chests rise and fall. Lungs gasping. Hearts pounding. Sweat gathers at the base of her throat. I run the flat of my tongue across her skin and taste desire.

Our legs tangle as we fight to press into each other. The taut fabric of her skirt a barrier between us. The swirling heat in my belly pulses and my clit throbs in time to the pounding in my chest. Her blouse has ridden up in our struggles. I am drawn to the expanse of flesh. I let go of her arms and immediately press my face to her stomach. I run my hands quickly along the length of her torso. My tongue follows, tracing a line across her belly button, up the centre of her stomach. Her breath shudders in her chest. I feel wetness pool at the sight of her. Four hands tear at the thin fabric of her shirt. It never stood a chance. Threads tear as buttons give way to desire. Pale grey satin and lace cup her breasts. My fingers trace the line of her bra, my thumb brushing the exposed curve of her breast.

I lean in towards her. Close enough to kiss her. Her mouth opens to me and then ducks away. Our cheeks brushed gently. Once. Twice. Moving close enough for lips to touch but not to taste. We smile at the same time, enjoying the game. Her hands clench the back of my neck. One hand moves to tangle in my hair, the other trails lower seeking the edge of my shirt. Seeking skin. Her fingers play at the gap of my clothing. Fingernails run along the length of my spine, then trace their way back, lower, her hand slowly rising to cup my arse.

The fire in my belly blossoms. The kiss, when it finally comes, is pure heat. Her tongue circles mine as the kiss deepens, sucking, biting. My hands are on her breasts. Her bra is undone. I fight to untangle her from her blouse. Her hands are on my arse, squeezing, drawing me in against her thigh. Her skirt is now bunched around her hips. I can feel the heat of her centre pressed against the thin linen of my pants. She is wetness and warmth against my leg.

I can feel her moan into my mouth. Our lips never break contact as we move against each other. Grasping my head she pulls me in deeper, sucking my tongue into her mouth. I abandon her breast and reach under her skirt. I cup her, and her reaction is instantaneous; her head drops back, her hips arch into me seeking release. Her moan sends sparks straight to my clit. My pussy clenches. I am beyond thought. I know only skin, and heat, and wetness, and need.

Finally my fingers find her. Satin warmth. Her wetness creates more of my own and suddenly her mouth is not enough. I need to taste her. I need my tongue inside of her. Moving quickly down the length of her body I trail open mouth kisses over her breasts and along the soft skin of her stomach. I press her skirt up further and then drag her panties down over her thighs. She lifts her legs and opens herself to me. I briefly consider removing her shoes as I run my hands back up the length of her calves before forgetting the thought entirely as I reach her thighs.

Her hands curl again in my hair as she pulls me to her. I push against the white skin of her inner thigh, moving her leg further away. My first taste of her is almost enough to make me orgasm. Instead I feel my clit throb against the seam of my pants. I press myself into her leg as I run my tongue along the length of her. I circle her clit once before pressing against her with the flat of my tongue and kissing her deeply. I move away and she growls at the loss of contact. Running the tip of my tongue along the length of her I breathe in her scent. Her hands clench at my hair. Her hips buck into me. I run my hands over the smooth skin of her buttocks, grabbing her from underneath as I dip my tongue lower. Pulling her into me I press into her pussy. I circle her vagina and her breath catches. Plunging into her I squeeze her arse as she tightens her hold on the back of my head. Her wetness is intoxicating.

I move once more to her clit. I have one leg pinned underneath me, desperate to feel her against my own aching centre. She lifts her other leg onto my shoulder resting her thigh against my ear. I can feel the point of her high heeled shoe digging into my back. I press my tongue flat against her, then flick, sucking her back into my mouth. Her breathing is ragged.

I satisfy myself with one more open mouth kiss, tasting her, before I focus my attention on her clit, pressing hard against the tiny bundle of nerves. Each movement of her hips is answered by my own. I rock against her. Hips and tongues in sync. I feel her thighs clench first. Her hands go still where they are tangled in my hair. One sudden exhalation of air and she is coming against my face, her hips jerking into me. I feel heat explode as my own orgasm takes me. We move together, shuddering, breath ragged, prolonging the ecstasy.

Moving away from her slightly I circle her clit lightly with my tongue, she trembles once more before going limp beneath me. Her hands run the length of my shoulders, along my arms and she pulls me up to join her. For the first time we are gentle. Caressing. Our kisses are slow and languorous as we take the time to enjoy the softness of the other. I run my fingers along the side of her face and brush her hair back behind her ear. She is beautiful when she smiles.

Reluctantly I stand and pull her to her feet, helping her to tug her skirt down over her hips. It is almost impossible to drag myself away from the curve of her breasts but time is short. I glance at my watch. I am late. I have to report in. They will be expecting my call.

“You should get dressed. Your coffee will be getting cold.” She smiles at that. I straighten my clothes and take a step away from her.

“I'm here until next Friday.” She says, not making eye contact.

“I know.” I see a flicker of a smile before I turn away. I grab my coat on the way out and am reaching for my mobile before the door clicks shut behind me.

The phone rings twice before he answers. I hear shouting in the background.

“Hi, love.” I say. “How was the game?”

“Hi, Mum! It was okay. We didn't win.”

“It doesn't matter about winning,” I reply, “Did you have fun?”

“Yep! And Ben's Mum is taking us to McDonalds afterwards.”

“Is she now?”

I smile. Time for a coffee after all.

Work Chat 2

Falloutb5: I’m back

Falloutb5: You there……?

DBT: Thank god for that. I’m trying to concentrate but I can’t do it.

DBT: I’m wired

Falloutb5: Hmmmmm, have you been good?

DBT: Yes.

Falloutb5: Have you thought about me.

DBT: Yes

Falloutb5: That’s no good…..

DBT: Sorry.

Falloutb5: I’m going to have to torture you a bit.

DBT: Haven’t you done that already?!

Falloutb5: Maybe….

Falloutb5: Work going OK now?

DBT: I’m bored! You’re supposed to be entertaining me!

DBT: And I’m horny as hell!!

Falloutb5: I hated my meeting….. Had a nice fantasy though….

DBT: What? Some hot girl in there? Or guy!

Falloutb5: Something like that. I think I actually drifted off I was so bored and tired. May have even woke up with an erection!

DBT: Tell me about it.

Falloutb5: Some other time perhaps. The girl in the meeting was kind of nice though. Such is life.

DBT: Please?

Falloutb5: Well she could have been you I guess….

DBT: What was she like?

Falloutb5: Doesn’t matter. I pictured her on the meeting room table. Bent over. Maybe it could be you right now.

Falloutb5: Bending over, turning to face me. At my mercy.

DBT: Am I naked?

Falloutb5: No. You have nothing on from the waist down. I can see you. I spread you wide. Look at you.

Falloutb5: I get to my knees. You can feel my breath on your lower back, my hands on your ass.

DBT: You’re going to let me come this time right?

Falloutb5: Maybe

Falloutb5: I kiss your lower back. Gently caressing it with my lips and tongue. I move my way down….

DBT: Go on.

DBT: Are you there?

DBT: Everything OK.

Falloutb5: Just teasing…..

DBT: Prick!

Falloutb5: My tongue is now at the top of your ass. Moving it’s way between you. Slowly down.

DBT: Not again…..

Falloutb5: What?

DBT: I’m way too wired for this. Everyone will know.

Falloutb5: Know what?

DBT: That I’m flushed and excited.

Falloutb5: I can stop if you like.

DBT: Fuck no!

Falloutb5: Maybe I should.

Falloutb5: My tongue is moving down between your ass. I feel you sweating and warm. I can smell you, nearly taste you.

Falloutb5: I’m near your asshole. I spread you wide. I look at you then move my tongue over you gently. I hold it there. You can feel the warmth of me, you can feel the wetness.

DBT: God, yes

Falloutb5: I push my tongue into your ass more firmly. Moving it firmly around. I’m lost between you. My eyes closed and concentrating.

DBT: Keep going…

Falloutb5: I can’t get enough you. My tongue moving, thrusting. Licking you.

Falloutb5: I lean back then insert a finger into you slowly. I see your back arch.

Falloutb5: I slip my other hand between you legs. It’s sitting firmly over your pussy, massaging the whole area. I feel how excited you are. I insert 2 fingers into your pussy. Sliding them gently back and forwards. Moving with the one in your ass.

Falloutb5: I curl my fingers in your pussy, feeling your gspot.

DBT: I need to come. I need to come. I need to come…

Falloutb5: Shit!

DBT: What?

Falloutb5: I have to go. Will explain later.

DBT: WTF

< Falloutb5 appears offline and may not respond>

DBT: You fucking asshole!

The Physiology of a Female Orgasm

Foreword

I like to orgasm. I come easily, within minutes. It’s kind of annoying. I know a longer delay will give me a stronger orgasm but my body doesn’t want to wait. My body wants gratification. What my body likes best is fingers and tongue. I even came once with only fingers up my ass. If I am on my own it likes a vibrator; the small bullet shaped kind which is specifically for clitoral stimulation. I masturbate quite a lot – more than any other woman I know anyway. I orgasm at least once a day, sometimes three or four times. I am always chasing the next orgasm. As soon as I have finished I want another, and another. I am not satisfied. I don’t have to be turned on to masturbate. In fact I am rarely turned on when I do. There is no foreplay as such. I start straight on my clit. I masturbate because I am bored, because it’s fun, because I love the sensation of being close to orgasm, of feeling the orgasm take me and for one moment I’m in that space, in my own world. There is no greater pleasure for me.

Someone once told me I am insatiable. I think with the right partner(s) I could be satisfied. I have a need to be fucked and sucked and come on and teased until I am spent. There has to be someone out there who is capable of matching my passion and drive for pleasure. I am perpetually ready for sex. On my five minute walk from the bus stop to work I look at breasts on women, asses on men, arms on men and pretty faces on women. I imagine what I would do to them. Sometimes I even utter words out loud when I see something I really like. I like to seek eye contact with such people and hold their gaze just a little longer than normal.

When I’m on my own, in my room, I mess around with multiple vibrators. Sometimes I have a large one inside me and a smaller one on my clit. Sometimes I fuck myself with the larger vibrator, just to hear the sound of my juices as I drive it in and out of me. Lately I have been using two small clit vibrators, either side of my clit. It’s a weird sensation. Because I masturbate so much, and because I am a keen observer, I have mentally noted what my body does as I progress towards an orgasm. I’m not sure whether what happens to me is the same as for all women. I don’t curl my toes like one of my friends does. I’ll describe what happens.

An orgasm

As I begin to masturbate, I like to have my left leg bent and my right leg straight. I start by circling around my clit. I can’t have direct contact yet as the sensation is too intense. As I circle around, sometimes I hit a nerve and my left leg twitches. It reminds me of a dog’s leg pumping when you scratch its belly. After I am bored with circling, I press the vibrator to the right hand side of my clit and squeeze it, using my left hand to assist. It’s almost like a milking technique. This gets me to a plateau fairly quickly. It’s at this stage that I want to be filled. I normally want cock inside me, or at least fingers. Apparently this is a normal physiological stage of the female orgasm. I sometimes feel wetness from my pussy trickle down between the cheeks of my ass. My muscles in my butt begin to contract and I tilt my pelvis forward. My stomach muscles also contract and release. Sometimes I rock my hips a little, as if willing myself to come. I can now use more direct contact and more pressure on my clit. My breathing changes and my heart rate increases. I am no longer aware of what my hands or the vibrator are doing. I am seeking the exact right spot to get me over the edge. I adopt a rhythmic technique, kind of like fucking, except only my clit is involved. My orgasm builds and falls away. My feet and legs start to burn. It’s not a muscular burning, but a sensation I feel on my skin. My pussy is now twitching and contracting inwards. The orgasm hits me, starting at my clit and radiating outwards to my pussy and butt. My pussy contracts rhythmically, strong at first, then slowly decreasing in intensity as I fall down the other side of the orgasm. Sometimes I feel like crying, sometimes laughing, sometimes I don’t feel anything other than a vague satisfaction. Afterwards I always want more. Always chasing that next orgasmic high…

The Meeting (Reprise)

Another meeting with a client. Some days just drag on and I wasn’t looking forward to this meeting. My mind tends to drift to more interesting things, just to keep myself amused. I was there with three colleagues who as usual, would take over the talking, leaving me to feel like I wasn’t part of their world at all. I had dressed sensibly for the day. Smart business attire. I liked to be taken seriously, even if my colleagues couldn’t seem to manage it most of the time.

I sat opposite our clients, two men, after doing the usual handshakes and small talk. One was doing most of the talking. The other seemed a little distant, like he as in some sort of daydream. I wanted to be there with him, to join him in his daydream, but I knew I couldn’t afford to let my mind wander. I needed to stay sharp for this meeting. Still, a little daydreaming couldn’t do any harm could it? Mr Daydream was gazing into the distance, and I took the opportunity to examine his face and upper body. I liked what I saw; the curve of his shoulders, the hint of his biceps beneath his business shirt. I imagined running my fingers over them, and felt that familiar tingle building between my thighs. I had my legs crossed and a skirt on. I gently began to squeeze my legs together, trying to build up a slow pleasurable rhythm. I started drifting off, the pleasure beginning to take over, the meeting noise now a low hum in the background.

I felt a hand grab my hair from behind and yank it back hard. I looked up, unable to look anywhere else, and saw him standing there, Mr Daydream, a look of pure lust in his eyes. He leaned down towards me, his breath rasping in my ear. He told me to pull my skirt up to my hips and spread my legs. My heart was pounding wildly as I did what he asked. He released my hair and made his way around to the front of me, dropping to his knees. He ran his fingers underneath my panties, lightly brushing my pussy, making me shudder at each stroke. With one swift movement he drove two fingers inside me and I arched in response. His head went down. He was on me, on my clit, flicking and sucking as his fingers drove into me. I pushed against him, willing my orgasm to arrive. He sensed it coming closer and immediately stopped. He had my hair again, a firm handful, as he bent me over the boardroom table and slid his cock into me. He drove into me harder and faster as I began to beg for release. I reached for my clit and began to rub furiously. I could hear he was nearing orgasm, and that spurred me on. I wanted to come with him, to let him ride my waves as he rode his own. I felt him release inside me as my own juice mixed with his. He slowed down his thrusting and released my hair, trailing his fingers gently down my back. We remained joined together motionless, until our breathing slowed and he began to slide out of me.

I opened my eyes to turn and look at him but instead saw my colleagues looking at me quizzically. I was still in the meeting. He was still there. So was his colleague. I had my clothes on and so did he. We wrapped up the meeting with handshakes and small talk. We turned and walked out. As I exited the room I felt a gentle tug on my hair. I turned to look at him, and he smiled and shrugged.