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Author’s Note – There are some great “quickies” out there, but this isn’t one of them. It’s more of a slow tease. So if you’re in the mood for something where everyone is fucking within the first three paragraphs, you’re going to be disappointed.
However, if you’re in the mood for some erotica (or so I hope you’ll consider it), please enjoy.
You’ve only just walked in the door when I step up behind you and strike. I slide my fingers up under your shirt and drag my nails down your chest and stomach.
I can see your mouth open to question, over your shoulder in the mirror, and as you start to speak, I dig my nails in just a little harder. “No talking.” The same phrase I hear so often.
You’re taken aback slightly; I don’t think I’ve ever shushed you, but I arch an imperious brow (yes my darling, for the moment I am your queen; prepare to be subjugated) and tip my head to the side, eyes narrowing to emphasize my point.
This isn’t the way it usually goes, but curiosity keeps you silent and I reward you with a smile as my fingers stroke the light scratches to soothe the sting.
I circle you slowly as your eyes follow my progress, obviously catching the nature of the game and remaining still. I end my pace in front of you once more, and affect a thoughtful look, tapping the tip of one long, red fingernail (I know, darling, a bit overly dramatic but.. well.. drama has credence for a reason) against my lower lip. I nod decisively and the slight frown is replaced by a generous smile. “Yes, you’ll do quite nicely.”
Again I begin the slow pace around you, but stop behind you. I linger for a long moment, unable to hold back a quick smile but I compose my features before you can see and untie one of the long scarves twisted up my arm. I lean forward, brushing against you from chest to thigh, and I can feel the quick inhalation as I stretch my arms up on either side of your head and place the cloth against your eyes, tying a quick knot in the back. Still pressed against you, I raise on tiptoe, nails digging lightly into your shoulder for “stability”. For just a moment I close my eyes and inhale you, the scent that is male, hot, uniquely you. I harshen my breath in your ear. Again the pause, and then a quick flick of my tongue against your lobe. “My turn,” I whisper, voice deliberately low so you have to strain to hear me. “Be a good boy and you’ll get a very..” An exaggerated exhalation, a hint of teeth against your earlobe. “..Nice reward.”
I have to step back then, a full step away from you, so I can hide my nervous excitement. This isn’t how it goes, I’m out of my element here and it makes everything a little sharper. I ruthlessly tighten down the urge to send every object on the side table crashing to the floor, pull you between my spread legs, and fuck right there. For a moment, control wavers as my pussy clenches hard and I can feel the slickness between my thighs. I know you’d be happy to take back control, to give me the punishment I’m certainly going to earn, but I wonder if this isn’t something I need too. I straighten my shoulders, and close my eyes. When I open them again, I know the mask is in place, this unfamiliar and exciting character – although you cant see, the mask reminds me of all wicked things I have planned.
I step in front of you, make a loop with the trailing length of the scarf, and slip it around your neck. Thusly (and stylishly, may I add) leashed, I take one of your hands in mine, leash in the other, and bring you into my boudoir. I tug once or twice (maybe a little more but who’s really counting) on the silk leash, and güvenilir bahis guide you to sit in the chair. The buttons down the front of your shirt are made quick work of (so many times I’ve wanted to just rip your clothes off and been denied, I cant help but grin), but I slow at the clasp of your belt, fumbling once or twice (I’m sorry baby, so clumsy), before discarding it abruptly over my shoulder. Again the slow fumble with your slacks but this time I take.. a bit more pity. Your poor abandoned litt-, er, well, no, that’s definitely not apt.. the zipper has to work over the bulge. I kneel to strip off shoes and pants, then lean against you so I can rub my breasts against your legs. My nipples are already hard and the drag of silk from my robe against them makes me shiver. From the hard cock outlined in your boxers, I assume you like it too.
This is earning me more punishment in the very near future, but as I push down your boxers (an inch at a time, one side, and then the other), I brush my hand over that bulge. You jerk, and I give a disapproving sigh as my hands still. “Do you want me to stop?”
You open your mouth to protest, remembering at the last moment not to speak, and shake your head. I’m so pleased that you remembered that I tug the boxers completely off and shape your cock with my hands, palming and squeezing it the way you like.
I push your legs further apart to insinuate myself between, raising so I can rub your cock against my silk covered tummy, and give your nipples the sharp edges of my teeth in several rapid bites and scrapes. I draw back to consider my work, then drag my nails down the middle of your torso, and low over your abdomen. I love the sight of your marks on my body, and I find the sight of mine on you makes me just as hot.
I flick my finger against the crest of your cock (not too hard, but you start a little.. kind of like I do when your teeth graze my clit) and am rewarded by a pearly drop of cum joining the one coaxed out by the feel of my silk-covered stomach. I lean forward my hair brushing across your thighs, and rub the pearly drop back into the head of your cock. I don’t often get to toy with you. I have to admire your control; I half thought you’d have your hands in my hair and be fucking my mouth by this point. Maybe that’s why you tie me up so often, I’d be.. well, have been.. grinding against your mouth now.
I grope for one of the items I laid out by the chair earlier and take your cock in hand. You growl “Mouth. Now.” and I scowl back, but I’m far too much of my own fun to stop and scold you. However. Mental note made.
The bolero style cock-ring slides down fairly easily, expanded as it is all the way. I can feel you start to clench as I tighten it. I pause, purse my lips and consider, then tighten it again. A flick of a glance up to your face to judge, and I tighten it once more. You face is flushed and I can tell it’s only sheer force of will keeping your hands clenched in firsts down at your sides. I shift up, still on my knees, and unwrap the scarf from around your neck (the nails are accidental, baby, I swear) and untie the knot, careful not to catch any of your hair. Then I sink back back down and you lean forward and start to reach for me, but I’m more flexible and continue to roll backwards until bent nearly in half, the tops of my feet, shins, and forearms all on the ground. My roll back confuses you and you pause in the middle of your grab. It’s very hard to be imperious from practically a prone position, but I try my best. “I. Am not. Done. Yet.” No longer scowling but eyes narrowed warningly, I roll lithely back up to my knees (and türkçe bahis don’t think I miss that considering look as you watch my flexibility). As regally as I can be on my knees, I flip my hair over my shoulder before flicking my fingers at you in a ‘shoo’ gesture. “Sit back. Don’t say a word,” I pause and again glare. “And don’t argue.”
Then I lean forward and take your cock into my mouth.
I cant take your full length, not without warming up, so I concentrate mainly on the head, the ridge underneath the thick crest, the thick veins lining the sides. One free hand strokes what I’m unable to take, squeezing tight, rhythmically. The other snakes between your legs and lightly wraps around your balls, stroking and teasing with the very lightest touch of my nails. I tilt my head so I can see you uninterrupted. You look a little dazed but are quickly coming into focus. You reach forward and brush my hair a little further to the side so your view is unhindered, and after a moment I decide I never gave you a no-touch rule, so you may continue (see? And they say I’m not generous). You slide your hand over my hair, petting gently, then tangling your fingers in it, gradually tightening your grip to better direct my movements. I moan around your cock and get a smirk in return for all you’ve had to put up with (poor, poor baby).
So, apparently I need to regain the upper hand.
With a last, terribly delicate scrape of nails, my hand leaves your balls and now I’ve got a two-handed grip on you, squeezing and stroking in contrast. I turn my head to the side, and bite slowly, but hard enough to leave a mark, on the inside of your thigh, a few inches below and to the left of your cock. Your hands twist hard in my hair and I whimper as tears sting my eyes, quickly laving the bite with soft strokes of my tongue. Your hands loosen and I take the opportunity to untangle my hair from your fingers. As I move to stand, a bit of wickedness overwhelms me, and I very very lightly nip the top of your shaft, mouth gone before you can even squeak, fingers giving a goodbye brush.
Back on my feet, my robe giving me slightest of advantages over you, I hurriedly put the mask back into place.
You’re almost at the edge of your control, rising with that gleam in your eyes, and I know I have brief seconds before I get thrown backward onto the bed and, well, fucked.
“Stop!” Every once of forcefulness I can gather goes into my statement. “I am not done with you,” I repeat. “You had your fun, now it’s my turn.” Before I can help it, my last statement is accompanied by a sulky pout. It’s frozen for a moment, our tableau, and then you give in with a sigh and ‘continue’ wave.
Hurriedly, before your good nature fails, I tug you by the hand to my vanity desk (Ive dropped my in-control facade by now, I’m too excited) and urge you to lean over and against it, bracing your hands on the edge. While anal play is nothing new to us, this is this first time I’ve used the harness and dildo and I’m shaking with excitement as I tug and pull the gown over my head, then bend down and grab the case from under the bed. When I turn back to you, I notice your knuckles are white with effort and I realize that… in my… excitement… I accidentally… gave you quite the view. Accidentally of course, did I mention accidentally?
My hands are shaking so much it takes me longer than Id expected to make the few final arrangements from when I took it out of the box when I got it this afternoon, and this ratchets the tension higher. Final arrangements, I slip the tiny vibrator in the pouch, grab the lube, and step behind you.
The güvenilir bahis siteleri position is no happy accident. I spent hours today with chairs and mirrors, rearranging things here and trying different positions there. It’s all paying off now though, because when I stand behind you I have a perfect view of your face and your hand idly stroking your cock, squeezing hard as you get to the crest, then slowly, slowly, back down. I’ll also be able to see my cock.. Hmmmm. My cock… sliding into your ass as I finally get to take you.
Quickly, preparations. We’re neither new to this, and you take the lubed dildo to start with only a hoarse groan. I work you open carefully before letting it go deeper. I wish you could see your face in the mirror; your eyes are closed, your breath hisses from between parted lips, and a vein in your temple keeps time with the beating of heart. Now I see what you see when you’re behind me.
You drag your eyes open, lust burning incandescent, and nod jerkily. I lick my lips and catch your eyes with mine, praying you won’t close them again but not wanting to break any more of this spell with talking. I throw the dildo to the floor, and then catch my breath as finally.. finally.. I get to take you, to part you, thrust into you, fill you as you so often fill me. I want so badly to look down, to watch, but I cant break that connection hold our eyes locked in the mirror.
It’s the slow heavy thrusts that I love, the whimper, the moan, where I want to beg you to move faster, for more, and I try to echo your ghost, your strokes. I remember something I read, and I’m finally able to break eye contact. I look down to watch the thick black flesh parting you, the pause when I bottom out, then the exquisite rasp as I withdraw. I’m going slowly, so fucking slowly, exploring my own power and feeling this from the other way, so I don’t notice at first when you start pushing back, pushing out, rolling your hips up and squeezing your muscles like I’m sure you’ve seen me do a thousand times before. My thrusts get faster, and I try to remember the thing, the thing I have to remember, the thing you do that make me scream, in the midst of all the smell of sweat, sex, and you, and oh fucking god, the vibrator is going to help but it’s the visual of you lifting and begging on every withdrawal that’s going to get me and…
I bend my knees and as I bottom out I press the dildo up and back, and a second after I see cum spurting all over your hand and my vanity, and hear you groan my name, I go over too.
He looks up from the pages shaking in his hand, looks to his wife. She’s wearing the terry robe that she always wears when she gets out of the bathtub, before she puts on her nightgown. She’s sitting demurely on the couch, legs crossed at the ankles, hands crossed in her lap. She’s smiling the same smile that she’s worn for the last 15 years of the marriage, but.. maybe there is a bit of a sly twist at one end. He looks down at the printed papers in his hands.
“You.. wrote this?”
She continues to regard him silently, watchfully. He knows the answer, she handed him the papers and sat down to watch him read them.
He swallows, mouth suddenly Sahara dry, throat so clenched water wouldn’t get down anyway. He shakes his head, confused, trying to clear his vision, and then suddenly he’s looking back up at her.
“Would you.. ever.. I mean.. did you..” He clears his throat, tries again. “You wrote this for me?”
A slight nod from her direction.
He looks down again, staring for answers in the printed pages, then says to hell with it and makes that leap. “Can we go upstairs?”
Finally, a full smile from her. She stands, and as she does, he can clearly see the black and purple harness straps wrapped around her hips.
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