The starkly white shower area feels warm and damp, with a mingled scent of soap and shampoo. I hang my towel on a hook, adjust one of the shower heads to a wide spray, and step under it with a sigh of contentment. First, I wash the makeshift dildo and set it on the soap shelf. Then I rinse off a scrap of Ivory soap and wash my hair with it. Ugh. I'll try to remember to bring my own soap and shampoo next time. I thoroughly rinse my hair until it squeaks, and then I soap my whole body. My nipples wake up and beg for attention. Hell, I'm so starved for tactile stimulation that my own hands are turning me on without even meaning to.
The gold handlegrip suddenly grows in importance. I think of the serrated ripples on one side of it, intended to keep your fingers from slipping. They're ideal for additional stimulation of the parts I have in mind--parts that are urging me to hurry up and get rinsed off.
At last, I lift the dildo from the soap dish, and after rinsing it one more time, hold it down just in front of my clit--close enough to sense, but not touching--a delightful tease. I run my other hand over my wet breasts, then my belly, then my thighs, then my nipples, which I twist and pull against. As my hand makes another pass over my inner thighs, I moan, and just as my fingers again pull at my breasts, I touch the tip of the dildo to my clitoris, run its length on down against my lips, and dip half of it into my vagina. I can hear myself breathing.
Click. Suddenly, I go cold and literally freeze in place. That's the door to the locker room. Before I can get my brain in gear and react, a tall figure strides into sight. It's the Goddess, in clean jeans and an orange muscle shirt. I don't know whether to be relieved it's someone I know or embarrassed because of the position I'm in. Her eyes rake over me and don't miss a thing. A slow smile grows on her handsome features.
"Don't move one inch," she says in that smoky low tone of hers, just loud enough for me to hear over the shower. She takes off her clothes and tosses them to the floor. I know I can't possibly get a single muscle to function after that command. If I move at all, it will be to faint from seeing her gloriously naked body coming toward me, breasts swinging and muscles rippling.
She joins me under the shower, keeping her head out of it for the moment. She reaches down with both hands and grasps the gold dildo in one as she slides my fingers off of it with the other. Then she slowly pulls it out, carefully protecting it from the falling water. I cream inside when she sticks it in her mouth, pushing it in then pulling it out and licking it before setting it back on the soap plate. She grabs my face between her large hands and rubs her lips back and forth against mine, painting me with my own juice. She's so beautifully big, she blocks the shower from washing it off me too quickly.
I lift my hands to her waist, then slide them up her sides, aching to touch those magnificent breasts. But she stops my hands with her own and places them back on her waist. "I said don't move," she repeats in a guttural whisper. She presses her lips against mine, and as I open wide, she slips her tongue into the moist haven, again passing my juice back to me. Then her tongue darts in and out, licks every spot in my mouth, and dances with my tongue.
She puts one arm past my hip, grabs my butt, and draws me closer to her, allowing her other arm freedom to bring a large hand to one of my breasts, nearly smothering it. She squeezes and rubs one whole breast then the other, squeezing my butt in perfect synchrony. I've never had any other partner caress my breasts in quite the same way. Somehow, I'm satisfied and aroused at the same time. When her fingers finally find an already sensitized nipple and pull against it, something inside my lower belly twists and gyrates so strongly that my hips swerve with it until she presses her leg against my thigh to keep me stationary. I squirm, trying to move so her leg goes between mine, or mine between hers, but she won't let me. Oh my God...dess.
She continues to move her hand from one breast to the other until I'm struggling not to come to a climax. I'm torn between my body's need to come and my own desire to never have this rapture end. She lets go of my breast, moves her leg, and backs slightly away from me, one arm still around my hips.
I'm about to go to my knees to beg, but she puts her other arm under my legs and swoops me into the air. Locking her mouth onto mine, the Goddess slowly goes to her knees, then lays me down on the tile floor. She spreads her body on top of mine, swings my arms over my head and pins them down against the tile in one large fist. My hands are screaming along with the rest of my body; they want so badly to touch her. My mouth wants to suckle her breasts, my tongue to lick her clit, to taste her. My vagina wants to be filled with something...anything.
But what's going on at this moment is nearly sensory overload. The Goddess is rubbing her whole wet body against mine, up and down and side to side. I love her weight, her size, her power. I could cry with joy at the feel of her. I might come without her ever touching me intimately. Just about the time I think I'll burst, she lets go of my hands and kneels up between my legs. My knees bend and fly out so wide a truck could drive between them. And I want it to be a Mack. My freed hands are flexing spasmodically, yearning to pull her head down there, but I won't make that move without permission.
Now that the Goddess's body isn't shielding me, the shower water is flooding my eyes, and I can barely make out that she's reaching for the gold handlebar grip. While one hand alternately plays with my nipples, she sticks the gold dildo into my steaming, moist vagina and yanks it quickly back out, pulling at an angle so the finger ripples dance against my clit. Gently but firmly, she screws the lubricated dildo's tip into my ass and lets go, allowing the floor tile to push against it.
After all this teasing, my opening is so ready, she doesn't even bother sliding one thick finger into it; she thrusts in three or four all at the same time while she pushes her thumb against my clit. Those big fingers are warm, alive, demanding--better than any dildo. I come on the first thrust. Do I ever. My body bucks and writhes and twists. She shoves her hand into me again and again while the tile floor pushes hard against the handlebar dildo, doubling my ecstasy.
She slides her body down against me and the feel of her wet skin moving against mine adds another dimension to my exultation. For the first time, her lips close on my nipple and each strong suck on it causes an answering surge inside me. Then her mouth slips down to my clit, and when she tongues and sucks on it, my writhing starts all over again, only harder this time. I can feel and hear every single drop of water that pings against me. The smell of sex mingles with the water's dampness. My senses are participating in what seems like an orgy. It's hard to believe that one person can create this pulsing passion that engulfs every part of me.
Finally, when my body has been saturated by torrents of pleasure, and time slowly returns to almost normal, we lie under the warm waterfall, spent. At least, I'm spent. Although the Goddess obviously enjoyed giving me such peaks of passion, she'd been left out of its greatest rewards. She kisses me deeply one more time, stirring feathers of delight, then rolls off of me. She gets up and takes a step away, and my heart drops. I don't want her to leave. Ever. With her back to me, she bends over. I don't know what she's doing, but the sight she's treating me to pushes any wandering impulses from my mind. I am totally refocused. I grin and kneel up. My "spent" body has some life left after all. My famished hands and mouth revive their yearning to touch and taste her.
Still bent over, the Goddess turns around. Her swinging breasts, dripping with water, wake up a few more of my body parts. I see then that she holds the gold dildo in her hand. At some point, it had fallen or been pulled out of me, though I couldn't say when or which. My burning ass tells me it's still inserted there.
She stands up straight in the shower spray and rubs the dildo clean. Then she squats down on her haunches in front of where I kneel. I'm getting hot all over again as I watch the water sluice down over her large breasts and drip from her nipples. Rivulets run from her knees down her angled, muscular thighs and stream toward the hidden pool I want to drown in. Then everything in my body snaps into alert mode and my breath
quickens. My heart pounds in my ears as the Goddess slowly spreads her knees and inserts the handlegrip almost completely into her own vagina.
As understanding dawns on me, her husky voice thrums in tune with the streaming water.
"Time for the relief pitcher to take over the game."
I lick my trembling lips and reach for the gold.
Research
by Kate Sweeney
I STOOD IN the dark corridor of the leather bar looking down at the woman kneeling at my feet. I was speechless, which rarely happens. I just needed to use the bathroom and all of a sudden this blonde kneels down and unzips me. She mumbles something about servicing me right there, to which I intelligently reply, "Huh?"
Okay, wait. Let's back up and start from the beginning.
What am I doing at a leather bar? Me--a fifty-two year old with a body that certainly has seen better days. I'm not that out of shape, but gravity is taking its toll. Swimming regularly and a visit to the gym when the mood strikes; really works wonders. You'd be surprised how much swimming does for a body. It's better really then... Sorry, I'm getting off the topic. Where was I? Ah, the leather bar.
Is that what they call them? I didn't know. I was doing research for a book I was writing. A murder mystery set in the dark world of BSMD, BDSM or was it BMDS? I had no clue. It's amazing that I've lived this long, have had many satisfying sexual relationships, with a myriad of different women, and realize how little I know. It truly is mind-boggling.
My last relationship, which was a wild six-month affair, showed me just how far the toy industry had come. And not the Disney type. This was also eye opening. I've spent too much time sitting at my computer, and not near enough time, well, you know.
Anyway, I found out about this bar from a friend of a friend, who shall remain nameless (the university would frown deeply).
I went so far as to buy a pair a black leather pants, and I don't mind telling you they're a bitch to get on--even when you're in top shape, which I've mentioned, I am not. The black leather vest, no shirt underneath mind you, was fine, a little constricting but fine. Oh, I borrowed a pair of boots. You're getting the mental image, right? Okay.
My nameless source gave me all the information I needed. I was desperately trying to blend, as it were. I sat at the bar and drank a beer; not the lightweight sissy kind (which I actually prefer) but the big pint of some dark sludge. So, there I was in leather, sweating profusely, drinking some black goop and looking tough. I tried to smoke and almost coughed up a lung.
Now, I'm not passing judgment, truly. It's just another world, that's all; God love 'em. As I walked in, I was stunned to see women all over in various stages of public indecency. One woman, almost completely naked with a leather collar around her neck, and a leash attached to it, knelt in front of a very surly looking woman who had a cigarette dangling out of her mouth and pulling on the leash. The poor woman practically crawled over to her. I almost screamed as I staggered slightly and reached out for something to hold onto. I was not expecting that at all. My nameless source neglected to tell me this. As we speak, she is probably having a glass of wine and a good laugh at my expense.
I drink my beer and order another. After an hour of scoping out the bar, I realized just how much beer I drank, and nature called.
Now we can go back to the beginning of this odd story...
"Huh?"
The blonde looked up and gave me curious look and repeated her lewd offer. Trust me, please. I am by no means a prude. However, I've been too careful and am too old to be worried about having problems with my fun parts. Okay, call me a prude.
"Um," I respond again and nervously look around. I'm getting weird looks as very masculine ladies walk by. Some laugh and some seem annoyed with me. So, I was a little nervous. I quickly pulled the young woman up and walked down to the end of the corridor with her.
"Look, I appreciate your offer, but..."
She scratched her head in disbelief. "I can't fucking believe this. Are you telling me you don't want me to lick...?"
"Ai! Geez!" I winced. Although the thought of it wasn't all that unappealing and my groin twitched with anticipation.
With that, a very tall, very muscular woman came down the corridor dressed in so much leather with buckles and ties I stupidly wondered how in the hell she got into that outfit. I swallowed convulsively.
"Bitch," she growled angrily.
Was she talking to me? I looked around. The blonde cowered and backed up behind me. Great, she's her bitch or slave or whatever. Christ, what was I doing? I could be at home right now having a glass of wine or a sissy beer and enjoying the Cubs game.
The tall scary woman looked directly at me; I nearly soiled myself. She was clearly ten feet tall. Okay, literary license, she was about six feet. Her black hair slicked back, matched with those sunglasses that had the silver reflectors, gave her a very menacing posture.
"You're fucking with my slave," she growled and took a step forward.
I took a step back. "Oh, no, really. I was just heading to the bathroom."
"With my slut."
"No!" I insisted, although I didn't like the way she was addressing the trembling blonde, who now was holding onto my arm. I tried to wriggle away from her and in doing so I gave the tall woman a weak smile. "Really, here's your slave back."
This was my baptism, into the lovely world of Mistress and Slave.
"I'm not your slave," the blonde said and the tall woman yanked her by the hair, causing the blonde to shriek in pain.
"Hey," I started to protest and instinctively reached out. Very wrong, very stupid thing to do.
I tried to figure out how I got on the floor, so quickly, with my lip bleeding and my left eye closed. The dark woman loomed over me, and kicked me in the stomach. Christ that hurt; I fought the urge to yak all over my nice new leather outfit.
"You want her? She's not even a good slut," the tall dark woman barked and tossed the blonde as if she were a matchstick. She landed on top of me. "If you can train her, keep her or throw the slut away."
So, there I lay in a heap of sweaty leather, bleeding, with a sexy blonde slave strewn across my lap. Hmmm...
Several women passed by and all of them sneered at both of us. "Um, Ms. Slave, can you get off me now?" I groaned as the pain shot through my abdomen.
She scampered to her feet and helped me to mine. "I'm so sorry," she said and winced as she looked at my face. She gently put a hand to my closed eye.
"It's still there, isn't it?" I asked hopefully, as I looked around the floor.
She chuckled, "Yes, c'mon into the bathroom."
"No, I think I'll leave, thank you. It was a pleasure meeting you, really," I said sarcastically.
The blonde hung her head and nodded. "I-I am sorry," she repeated quietly.
I watched her for a moment as I put my sleeve to my cut lip and I realized I had no sleeve. For some reason, she didn't look like she belonged here. She looked lost. I know what you're thinking. I'm an old softy. Well, I am not. I'm tough...
"I really don't want to leave you here. Do you have a car?" I asked with a groan. My side was killing me. My head was spinning and I desperately needed to get out of this stinking leather.
She shook her head. "I'm fine. You leave before they get pissed."
"Who?" I asked trying not to show my alarm.
"Honey, you don't belong here and they get a little pissy when people come in and gawk."
"I was not gawking," I retorted. What am I doing? I'm arguing with a slave.
All of a sudden, I started laughing. This was just too ridiculous for words. The blonde gave me a scary glance and looked around. She grabbed me by the arm and I followed as I laughed heartily.
She led me out the back way, by that time I had stopped my hysteria. The cool evening helped the itch I felt along the inside of my legs. How do people wear these things?
"Okay, look, you're scaring me. I think you hit your head when Nadia hit you."
"Wh
ich time?" I asked as I flexed my jaw. "Your Mistress is an octopus. I think she got two punches in before I hit the ground."
"Three and she's not my Mistress."
Once, the cool air hit me, my head started spinning. I blinked and winced. My left eye was still swollen shut.
"Look, you can't drive. Let me take you home then I'll take a cab," she said.
I honestly couldn't argue with her. I was having a hard time seeing.
"This is your car?" she asked as she looked at the silver Lexus.
I looked around with one eye. "Where? Oh, yeah got it with my royalty check," I said and handed her the keys. "Well, quite a few checks, actually."
She opened my door and as I eased in, I hit my head and grunted. The blonde winced as I shook my head sadly. "God, can I just go home?"
"YOU LIVE IN a swanky place," she said as we took the old open elevator to my fourth floor loft. I leaned against the wall and nodded. I just wanted to get the hell out of these pants.
I swung the big heavy door open and walked across to my front door. "Well, you should be alright..." she offered.
"Come in. You can't just leave. Hell, I command you," I said
She narrowed her eyes at me. "Are you making fun of me?"
I laughed and shook my head. "No, just the situation. Please come in."
She looked around my loft with appreciation. I guess I never really thought about it. It was an old renovated warehouse on the edge of Wrigleyville in Chicago, turned into loft apartments. Complete with fireplace and a great view of the city, it was a nice find.
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