by Ryder, H
“Daniel” I call his name, desperate for orgasm I reach for myself, he grabs my wrist.
“No.” He sounds stern, strong, I shudder, I like it. “I say when baby,” I angle my body into him to gain some pressure and friction. Waiting is almost unbearable, but I know from my experience of Daniel that when the storm comes it'll be a typhoon. He pulls out of me to the very tip of his penis, oh delightful agony, gently slowly, I’m almost unconscious with desire. My sex is trembling, I am on the brink of losing my mind, he pushes back into me slowly, sliding inside easily, the sensation of fullness, I am completely containing this man, its exquisite and frustrating. He denies me a climax time and time again. “Slide your cunt over me baby.” Those words almost send me to ‘la la land’, he grabs my buttocks and lifts me off the table. Further, deeper inside me, I am in agony, sweet, beautiful agony, this man is driving my body and mind insane, every nerve a wreck, nervously waiting for instructions to ignite.
Still waiting to set fire my body is surviving on adrenalin alone, my tendons and nerve bundles are torturously exhausted, I can barely cling onto him, luckily all my years of riding has built strong muscles in my thighs and core strength. In and out our bodies smack hard against each other, it’s a very arousing sound, trembling my blood is coursing through my body, my sex sliding along the whole length of him, to the tip then a pause and back in again, I need release, why does he do this to me, is it power? Am I being punished? What for?
Not everything is about me, I decide.
It’s hard to go there when I’m naked and being tortured, albeit in a wonderful seductive way. I can’t survive much of more this, my body will run out of fuel soon, its only my mind that gives me the energy to keep my legs around his waist ...my mind is crashing, it's intoxicated with all the stimuli my raging body is sending it. My nipples harden further, and my raw senses increase their charge.
“You like me to fuck you Tharie.”
“Yes.” barely a whisper, I don’t have any spare energy. He pumps his glistening cock into me, sending me spiralling, closer and closer, and suddenly the flood gates open and I explode, wave after wave after fucking amazing wave, my orgasm lasts forever, on and on, and I am completely exhausted. Bloody godamned hell.
Where's the bloody tea then?
“Fuck! Tharie!” His eyes close and his head is back, breathing laboured and covered in a fine film of sweat we crash into each other, hot ejaculate inside me. My eyes stay shut, I am relieved finally, and the wait was worth it, it intensifies the feeling, prolongs the length of the orgasm. But Daniel knows that doesn’t He? That’s why he does it... He drops me to the ground gently. Pulling out of me my sex is tight and trembling, Daniel smiles at me a smouldering seductive look, he is so hot, I feel a sudden release of arousal. He licks his lips and bends to me, kissing my clit, flicking and blowing and using gentle sucks to get me off again, I can’t believe my body has any more orgasm in it, it's barely enough coping with breathing in and out, but here it builds again, and again, taking me higher, faster and faster, until I crash again and again, his skilful mouth returning me to delightful ecstasy over and over, leaving me trembling again, and completely exhausted.
Looking at me he licks his lips again “you taste wonderful Tharie, I could eat you all day.” His look sends further shivers running through me, still hard, his smile a friendly one, “I have more to give you baby.” My eager aching sex takes him whole once more.
Did we pack enough tea bags? Is all my mind can wonder?
Later in chapter nine, Thursday:24thoctober2013, a great start to the day
My skin is so sensitive to every touch, ready and waiting.
“You like that baby?” He asks, eyes smouldering and burying into me, burning faster and he thrusts faster, my legs are around his waist, he walks me over to the window and pushes my hot sweaty back against the cold hard glass of the window, hard. That feels so good. All the thumping has begun a cascade of nerves alight, building and building again, my body worships his, “oh fuck Tharie!” He spurts into me once more, it's doesn’t take much to finish me off, a crash of hot flowing pleasure erupts all over me, just the sound of my name from those beautiful lips and I crash around him. “Baby, you’re mine.” His breath coming in low hisses between clenched teeth, “I want to fuck you every second of every day.”
I release my grip from around his neck, unfold my legs from his waist, he lets me slide to the floor again, I can hardly stand. “I have to start buying energy drinks if you do” I laugh miserably feebly. Wobbly on my legs we go to the bathroom where Daniel gives me a gentle intimate wipe down with a flannel and we dress again, grab our stuff and leave.
Our car waits for us and as I get in Daniel puts his hand up my skirt again, this time just to prove he can, any-time he wants to, whether appropriate or not, and I find it so hot. Wearing my RANDom denim jacket, Daniel looks impressed but he has just fucked me hard all morning, so I can understand.
My phone requires my attention.
PF: “Babes, how’s Japan?” Pete has family still living here I think.
TC: “Hot and wet” true story, writers would call that a double entendre.
PF: “Nice, all that expensive lingerie worth every penny?” She has a firm grasp of subtext.
TC: “I owe you a drink, a big one Tx” true story.
PF: “And the boy?” You have no idea what I’ve let him do to me.
TC: “Man Pete, man trust me” oh god yes, maybe the brothers have more than cheekbones in common?
PF: “I’m enjoying some of that myself right now, I can relate” true story.
TC: “Filthy” oh, yes please.
PF: “God yes!” I just want to bite his arse.
TC: “Where can I get handcuffs from?” In all seriousness.
PF: “You are doing well honey, I’m so proud” I’m being serious.
TC: “Thank you” I am quite pleased with myself and notice my snug look just in time.
Daniel glances at me on the phone.
PF: “Well good luck, see you at the weekend, I’ll order some handcuffs for you on-line” love her.
TC: “Love you”
Our entry to the event proves to be easier than it looks at first glance, you'd think we were trying to crash an underground illegal poker match. Bloody hell, I really do watch too much crime drama! We pull up, our Humvee idling at the side of the narrow residential cobbled alley, several oversized suited men lurking with intent. They stand sentry by the door. They have blue-tooth communication headsets, intimidating indigo blue gang tattoos that creep onto their hands and up their throats, making them look scary. At the door there's two posted as bouncers, they’re both sumo-sized, not tall, with no necks. Their chinless heads just balloon out of their shoulders, fat, potato shaped faces with tiny cold coal coloured eyes, thin grimacing lips, cruel. They don’t talk, just snort with a vague indication of approval from a subtle head tilt.
We stride confidently to the door, tall beautifully golden leaved bamboos stand either side as a welcome, blowing with gentle snapping noises as the wind picks up. We show our business card and the 'key' invitation, which is actually a key, and authenticated by the shorter, wider lurker, we are allowed to enter without so much as a sniff, the key opens the black metal door into the event.
A badminton court sized room like a school gym in appearance, I am a little nervous but I’m not certain why, there’s a strange feeling in the air, intimidating and cold. It’s quite dark in here too, and the walls are lined with stands with crowds of very serious collectors bidding for these denims. Tables and benches lay before us with jeans folded on them. Some items are clutched hard in the hands of people not willing to let go of their finds, desperate to strike a deal with the handler or auctioneer of the jean.
Money is changing hands here I can smell it, Daniel tightens the grip on my hand, fearful or simply affection, I can’t tell, and leads me to one stand in particular. A tiny old Japanese woman looking like a walking well-preserved date, le
athery dark skin, shrivelled and old, sits on a tall stool the only one in the entire event smoking. A narrow black cigarette with a slim band of metallic gold between her twisted lips. There are two men working her stand I guess are her sons, there’s a similarity in the darting nervous expression. Her fingers dark like a fine layer of brown rubber is loosely draped over a foundation of delicate bone, her nails very long and tobacco stained.
She nods almost imperceptibly at Daniel, and he returns the gesture. They know each-other. Slipping off her stool, far too high up for her, I expect one of her sons helps her up there. She crouches under the table my eyes follow her, no there’s a little set of steps for her back there. She takes out a bag pauses with it tight against her body for a moment and hands it to Daniel with care, or is it pride I can’t tell. The smell inside the room is a mixture of strong colognes: potent and combined and cotton twill fills the air. A drama unfolding at every table, the passion with which the denims are being traded is incredible. There’s a loud throng of demanding voices raised in a cacophony, it’s like static as it carries energy.
I feel enlivened and my brain is taking in every detail, its sketching the scene for future reference. Its moments like these that start the creative cascade. It’s how trends begin, always as a whisper or a brief moment where an idea can begin and flourish, it’s never a flash or a light bulb, it’s more like a seeping feeling, subtle and quiet. You must be ready always to listen, because it’s easily miss able. Often it’s not until the voices are loud and obvious that most people take note of an emerging trend, but of course for me, it’s already spent by then.
An original Levis from circa 1900 just exchanged hands for $120,000dollars. Undoubtedly heading for a glass case display in the house of a wealthy denim merchant or mill. A confection of qualities lays before us, multiple sources of jeans are handled and revered. I hold the jean Daniels has handed to me, it’s come from inside a pressure sealed foil packet with a pull tab opening. I hold it to my face and smell it. This denim with the most incredible soft hand-feel and dry touch, a culmination of the ancient genealogy in indigo dying a processes created by artisans a thousand years previously, but the provenance of this jean is much newer. It’s hard and stiff to look at, but soft and light to touch, it has the appearance of tough raw denim but stretches nearly 100%. I look surprised at Daniel, my face says it all, this is the holy grail of jeans, it is everything but as light as nothing.
KAF collected canter. “Well?” He asks me.
My face flushes hot, what I think about this must be obvious to anyone. All I can manage however, is a nod.
FX half-pass to the left.
I spew a few indiscernible utterances finally, still moved by this garment, it’s what happens when the ripple of a trend begins for me, it’s a denim thing. I can’t bring myself to hand it back. Daniel just nods at the woman, hands her a black plastic wallet filled with U$Dollars. She places the money on a digital scale, and totally without emotion repacks the layers of paper and hands the packet to one of her sons. He takes the item from me with little reverence to its inception, folds it in a static free coated paper, lays a folded sheet of handwritten paper. I take to be a note of covenance or a numbered receipt of provenance, between the folds, and slides it into a calico bag sealed with a drawstring at one end with what looks like a heavy metal seal as a slider.
I am handed the packet, and I lovingly handle it as if it were delicate, whilst Daniel answers a text message, it makes him pause and frown. Still surprised by its total lightness, once he’s done I reverently hand it back to him. Daniel places the calico bag into his canvas hold all, looking around him furtively as he does. “Let’s get out of here” he’s in a rush, his eyes flicking nervously around the room.
“I’d like to look around some more if that’s OK,” I answer.
Looking dubious and with a final sweep of the room Daniel agrees, “Please, be quick.” He’s anxious, I can sense it. I take his hand this time squeezing it with an understanding smile, “come on, let’s go.”
His relief is obvious, he lets out a lungful of air as if he’s been holding it there for too long, and pulls me hard to the door. Eyes are on us from all directions of the room, they watch us leave. I’ve got an uncomfortable feeling and I don’t like it.
Daniel, motions to the car and it pulls up quickly and the door flies open by remote control it was the car he was texting. He pushes me in head first like he’s protecting me from something, or he's just trying to see the tops of my stockings, I feel his hand graze over my cunt in a second and then he stops, teasing me is something he enjoys, a control freak!
Daniel gets in behind me, slams the door...it doesn’t close by remote, he thumps his fist on the headrest of the front seat and our driver spins away. Daniel is tense. Blimey, this isn't the Sweeney!
“What was all that about?” I ask, a nervous feeling creeping inside my gut...or was it just lack of tea?
He doesn’t want to talk about it I can tell, but I maintain my glare and make him, he doesn’t remove his attention from his phone however, hum, rude boy.
“Several parties want this jean,” and finishing typing his phone goes away. He pats the bag now sitting on the floor between his feet. “They still want it.”
“You mean they will offer you money for it?” I ask naively, “you'll sell it?”
“No Tharie,” he smiles awkwardly, “I mean they’ll take it from me without asking.” Eyes forward, thinking, Daniel, has a masked look on his face, fixed and hard.
I decide to answer the call of my phone as it alerts me a welcome distraction.
HC: “Sis, how’s Japan” so transparent.
TC: “Your new single is on sale here, posters all over Harajuku” see? I did remember to look.
HC: “How amazing is that?” It really is.
TC: “And there’s a photo of you in all the papers with a model on your arm too” he is such a slut.
HC: “A boys got to do what a boys got to do” apparently so.
Back to the inside of the car, Daniel is still sulking.
Damn, I forgot to bring my hip flask.
Chapter ten, Thursday:24thoctober2013, the Humvee
“Blimey Daniel!!” I answer still shocked at the dramatic way he answered my question, “surely you’re overreacting.” I clasp his hand in mine, he visibly relaxes a little, glaring at me, and plants a soft quick kiss on my knuckles. Deciding to initiate some intimacy to help with his mood, I remove my seatbelt and lean over and kiss him, he responds by putting his fingers in my unbrushed hair, the tangles hurt me, he palms the top of my head, pushing my head down... I unbuckle his belt and unzip the fly of his jeans, not taking my eyes off his, his eyelids open wide in appreciation, and with my warm hands I gently tease out his now hard cock. “I’ll help you relax Daniel” I whisper, and using his own phrase against him, “always ready for me” I wink.
“Oh baby,” he hisses through clenched teeth.
“We're in a car, this is all you're getting.” My fist is gripping the end of his cock and my thumb rubbing over its tip, he is definitely not relaxing. My lips graze his ear and I breathe hot air over his cheek “I’m going to make you cum.” I breathe. “I love you in my mouth Daniel” plus, I was beginning to feel peckish again. My tongue flat I lick the underside of his penis like a lolly and groan like a porn-star. I run my tongue slowly around his ridge like I would if my ice cream cone were melting and I am licking up the drips. I flick my tongue over the end and blow cool air over it, Daniel wriggles under my head, as if he can't control himself. I let his cock enter my mouth finally and take it in slowly, very slowly in a tease, all the way in, and gently massage his balls at the same time.
“I’m going to cum Tharie” he can hardy utter anything and his words come out as a gasp of air through clenched teeth. I close my lips around him and with firm massage techniques from my tongue slip him in and out in a steady rhythm, I fist the shaft at its base to heighten his experience, the guttural sounds he makes pro
ve Cosmo was right about that tip too. Trashy and compulsively readable, and educational magazine. He grips my hair tightly as if guiding the speed, I suck harder and mover my head faster and faster. He pushes himself further into me, I hear a gasp, feel a spasm and his hot salty ejaculate slides down my throat. I have made him forget his strange life for five minutes, and thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it. I lick the end of his cock finally, with a degree of satisfied fullness, “hmmmm. I enjoyed that.” I whisper. He does up his jeans and belt and looks at me with a great smile, “you're incredible baby” he closes his eyes, “where did you come from?” He seems so sincere, and that’s red rag to a bull to me and I can't resist, well I’m only human.
“Dagenham originally” I answer.
He rolls his eyes at me, “that’s not quite what I meant.” I roll my eyes back, subtlety not appropriate at this time, but please leave your message, and we’ll get back to you when it can be fully appreciated.
“I know that silly,” just deflecting your romantic tirade.
“Where baby,” he looks at me laughing, “where did you come from, into my life?” He bites his lip to stifle a thought, to keep some words behind his teeth. “No one has ever done anything like that to me,” he takes my hand, “in a car before,” and adds playful wink.
“Glad I could help with your mood Daniel” I reply with a fake professional tone, you know the kind of thing? Like you'd hear from a pencil-skirt wearing PA. I buckle myself up again and sit looking out of the window. Silence falls over us briefly then. Daniel leaves his seat and kneels between my legs on the floor of the car, well, it’s only fair.
Here we go again, there's lots of room in a Humvee I notice, I wonder if the designer built-in enough leg room for this purpose? Tit for tat. “I want you to look out the window,” he tells me what he wants me to do, “I want you to watch the people watching you” he waits for his instructions to sink in.