“Different sexual preference?” I said, confused. “Nick, are you gay?”
“Fuck, no! What I meant was that I don’t like that regular “missionary position” kind of lovemaking…I prefer something more…experimental.” He said, his eyes not meeting my eyes. Then he looked at me and his eyes foretell of an intense desire that was both flattering me and… well, making me the horniest girl in existence. “That doesn’t mean that you’re not pretty. You’re gorgeous. In fact, you are so hot I have to keep myself in check every time we touch, so I don’t frighten you with the things that I wanted to do…with you.”
Enough conversation and let’s just fuck each other right now, I wanted to say, but held my tongue. Instead, I tried to tell him what I wanted in a more civilized way. “Why don’t we try it first? If I don’t like it, then we’ll figure out a way to make it work. I really like you Nick, and I don’t want this to come between us as much as you don’t. Besides, I do like to do some experimenting sometimes…” As I said it, I did some caressing of my own on his thighs.
I saw his eyes lit up. He smiled, leaned over and kissed me. This kiss was different; it was full of passion and desire. I responded to his kiss, letting him feel my own hunger for more. We were both breathless when the kiss ended. “Let’s finish our meal and then let’s head upstairs.” He whispered to my ear.
After dinner, Nick headed upstairs and left me anticipating what was going to happen next. When he appeared again, he was holding a box with gold wrappings.
“I saw this over the internet once and instantly thought of you. Will you put it on for me?”
I nodded. We went upstairs and headed to his room. The master’s bedroom was large; it had a circular bed in the middle, a black ottoman on the side of the wall and a couple more furnishings that looked more expensive than my whole wardrobe.
“The restroom’s right over here,” He said, leading me to the bedroom’s john. “I shall wait for you here while you change.” He kissed me again before I went inside.
I opened the box and found a thin fabric inside. As I examined it, I realized that the black, lacy fabric was a piece of lingerie of some sort. It was short, like a one piece swimsuit, although it was way too revealing to be one. It had a V neckline, with the tip of the V touching the wearer’s belly button. The whole thing was made of a fabric so thin, I swear it could easily be torn apart like a stocking. I carefully put it on and stared at the full size mirror. The lingerie brought out the lushness of my breasts and emphasized my narrow waist. Actually, the neckline was so wide that my tits were the only things covered by the lingerie.
I stepped outside the restroom and found him sitting in the bed. He changed too, his previous cargo parts were now replaced with black drawstrings, and he was naked from waist up. Beside him was another box with the same gold wrappings, though it’s a little bigger than what he gave me. Nick took me in, and I was more than pleased to see the lust and admiration in his eyes.
“So… are those for me too?” I said slyly as I walked towards him, giving him what I hoped was a seductive smile.
“No, these are for me.” He opened the box and held out leather handcuffs and a nine-tailed flogger. Nick then told me to stand in front of a pole that I haven’t noticed before, and I obeyed, waiting in anticipation as he tied me to it, facing him. I knew now what he wanted. I expected to be whipped by the flogger any moment soon, but what I didn’t expect are the words that he whispered to my ear as he caressed my back.
“A little bird told me that you’re going to leave me tonight, should I not make love to you.”
What? Why those little pieces of—how dare they tell on me?
My inner rant was interrupted by a light pull of my hair. Nick held me closer to him, (as close as we could ever get while I’m tied to the pole) and was holding a handful of my hair, slightly tugging it back. I can feel his dick pressing to my stocking-clad body, and it was already hard.
“Nick…”
“Is that true?” He said, and his mouth kissed my neck, licking it, nipping a little. I let out a moan of pleasure as his free hand caressed my breasts.
“You said you want me to love you? To fuck you?” I felt his hand leave my hair, and was suddenly caught off guard as I felt the flogger hit my butt. Instead of feeling affronted, I felt hornier.
“Nick, I…” I said. I couldn’t find the right words to say. I wanted to explain, but I at the same time, I didn’t want him to stop.
“Nick what?” He said, and with his two hands, he ripped off the neck of the lingerie in two, fully exposing my breast. He cupped one in his right hand, while his other pulled me to him again. “You wanted me to fuck you, right?” When I didn’t respond, he pinched one of my tits, hard. I yelped in surprise. “Answer me, Sandra.” He whispered in my ear, his voice a husky and demanding.
“Y-yes…” was all I could say, and he lowered his mouth to kiss my swollen nipple. The sensation of pain and pleasure as he sucked it almost sent over the edge. Nick left me for a moment, leaving me in protest, but came back carrying the one of the ottomans. He placed it beside the pole and helped me lie on it. I felt so exposed to him, and the thought that I couldn’t do anything surprisingly thrilled me. I could feel my pussy getting wet.
He kissed my body slowly, his tongue slowly licking both of my breasts, heading down. When his mouth reached my navel, he stopped and got the flogger from the floor.
“Are you really going to leave me, Sandra?” he said, kneeling at the edge of the ottoman, and parting my legs. I could see that he was pleased to find that I have a cleanly-shaved pussy, and he caressed the top of it with his finger barely touching my clit. I felt that my mind was going to explode with the sensation that he was giving me.
“Tell me, if I pleasure you…will you still leave?” As he said it, Nick slid his finger lower and played with my clit. That sent another jolt of electricity in my body, making me moan for more.
“No, that’s not the answer that I’m looking for.” His finger stopped, and it was gone. In its place was a sudden slap of the flogger in my pussy. I felt pleasure as pieces of the nine tails hit my clit. I gasped. It was amazing. I didn’t even feel the sting.
“That’s your punishment for not answering correctly. Oh? Did you like that?” Nick said and slapped my vagina once again. “Answer me...”
“Y-yes…” I said, wishing that he’d do it again.
He alternated between slaps and playing with my clit, then I felt one of his fingers going inside my pussy. He started finger fucking me, saying over and over again how much he wanted to do all these to me. I felt myself reach my peak, and as I came his mouth went to my mound and licked every gush that came out of it. I thought he’d stop when I’m done, but his tongue kept on exploring my labia, taunting it expertly while his fingers continued its pumping frenzy.
“Tell me Sandra, what else do you want?” I heard him say.
“I want to…suck your cock…” I said, my voice raspy. Nick helped me out of the ottoman, and reached for the cuff keys. He untied me from the pole, and just as I was about to totally remove the handcuffs he said, “No, you’re going to suck my dick wearing that.”
He removed his drawstring pants and I was pleasantly surprised to see that he was very much endowed. I held it in both hands, and I began to lick its tip. Nick groaned with pleasure as I worked lower, doing my best to suck him whole, but with no success. He’s so big, damn it! I could feel his penis harden some more as he told me not to stop. I licked the sides of his member, playing with his testicles as I licked and sucked his shaft like a child would her favourite ice cream. He thrust his dick inside my mouth, and I accepted it eagerly.
After a few more thrusts, Nick removed his dick in my mouth and asked if he could take me from behind. I nodded, desperately needing his cock inside me. He turned me over, helped me support myself by holding onto the ottoman, and with no more preamble, thrusted his big cock inside my hole. I let out a load moan of pleasure.
“Is that how
you want to be fucked, huh?” Nick said, as he pumped his dick inside my cunt. “Tell me how much you like it…” he said again, and slapped my ass with his hand.
“Yes, please… More Nick… Fuck me harder…” I moaned and he drove his shaft inside my pussy. I begged him to go faster; my body was aching for its second release. I could feel his breath quicken, and as his movements began to be more rapid, I knew that he was near orgasm as well. I moved with him, taking him full. A couple more thrusts and as he removed his dick from my cunt, I turned to face him. Kneeling in front of him I said “Give it to me…”
With a final groan, his cum shot out of his shaft and into my welcoming mouth. I tasted him, licking my lips over the steamy hot treat.
Nick helped me up and kissed the side of my neck. Then he got the cuff keys and released my hands from its bondage. As we lay in each other’s arms on the circular bed, I said. “See, that wasn’t so bad.”
Nick chuckled. He tightened his embrace, and then he whispered, “Wait ‘til you see what I’m planning to do with you next time.”
We both laughed.
Love Across the Miles
by Priscilla West
Martha waited in the Heathrow arrivals terminal with butterflies in her stomach. She checked her reflection again on the back of her phone. Her makeup was subtle, highlighting her pale skin and red hair without being too much. Her lips were red, mostly from her chewing on them in anxiety, not quite knowing what to expect when her lover, Paul, came out from his flight from Miami.
It had been a month since she'd last seen him. A month of anxieties and wondering if she'd still be able to keep the connection with the only man she'd ever loved. It was hard enough doing a long distance relationship with someone who lived in South London while she kept a flat far north in the city. Trying to be with Paul while he still lived in the States was next to impossible. But her feelings for him had ruled her common sense and she kept touch; they kept touch. And now he was coming to visit for a week.
She pressed her lips together, chewed them. Another flood of passengers came through the wide exit and she watched them, her eyes alighting on every single face, then finally, she saw him. Her heart pitched in her chest.
"Paul!" She waved.
She watched as his eyes tracked across the wide airport, searching for her. She called his same again. Martha knew the exact moment he saw her. His eyes stopped their hunt. His normally austere face transformed with a smile, his dark eyes sparkling, warm lines appearing at the corners of his mouth. That tall and incredibly fit body of his moved easily through the crowd. Wearing boots, tight jeans, a t-shirt with a picture of Nelson Mandela on it, he looked more like a rock star on holiday than a physical therapist. He carried a cloth duffle bag over his shoulder.
"Martha." He breathed her name like it was air.
She hugged him close to her, feeling her heart thump wildly in her chest. "Paul."
"Damn. I can't believe I finally have you in my arms again." He kissed her, a swift swoop of his mouth, that he probably meant to be quick but she held onto him, gripped the back of his neck and kissed him deeply. Their tongues moving together, their breaths coming hard.
"Get a room!" a man called out with laughter in his voice.
Paul pulled away, his eyes even darker with desire. "We will."
She cleared her throat. "Let's go get your bags," she said.
"I don't have any checked luggage." He held up the plain duffel hanging from his shoulder. "This is it." He was ready to go.
Martha smiled. "Okay."
They walked through the airport, their hands clasped together, the heat a subtle but palpable thing between them.
"You look the same," Paul said, looking down at her. "For some reason I got it in my head that you weren't as wonderful as I remembered, that I made up what an amazing woman you are." He squeezed her hand. "But you're the same."
She didn’t know what to say; to her, he’d always been magnificent. In her mind and in reality.
They made it quickly through the airport and to the car park where Martha claimed her red Mini Cooper. She and Paul got in and the little car made swift work of the roads from Heathrow. Soon, there were on the M4, heading for her Stroud Green flat. Nighttime lay heavy outside the car, streetlights burning through the darkness on the highway, the headlights and taillights of other cars.
For the first few kilometers, they sat in silence in the confines of the small car. Martha felt every breath she took, heard ever exhalation and inhalation from Paul. Her nerves jangled. Butterflies rioted in her stomach. What if things had changed between them? What if he no longer loved her? In desperation, she pushed the power button on the car, flooding the Mini with music from the CD player. Beautiful by M'shell Ndegeocello. A song they'd made love to over a dozen times. It was on a mix of songs that Paul had sent her. Love songs.
He took a soft breath next to her, shifting in the leather seats to look fully at her. "You’ve been listening to it."
"Every night." She flicked her gaze briefly from the road to look at him.
The song played in the car, singing of shared pleasures and passion while memories from their months together in America overwhelmed Martha. She remembered meeting him at the art show at the university; she remembered how beautiful she thought he was.
At the art show, all those months ago, she felt like the white walls were beginning to close in on her a little. As the only Englishwoman on the Fort Myers, Florida archeological dig and even the only one affiliated with the university archeology department at that time, she had felt overwhelmed and isolated. Most people only wanted to talk with her to hear her accent, not really listen to what she had to say. After they heard enough of her charming North London accent, they wandered off, leaving her lonelier than ever.
She stood in the corner of the gallery reception, an event her department was obligated to attend in support of one of their colleagues whose talents lay in both archaeology and sculpture. She stood staring at the bust of what the note on the stand referred to as “Neanderthal Man at Breakfast.” It just looked like a lump of unformed clay to Martha.
"Do you think it would make more sense if we crossed our eyes and tried not to look at it?"
She looked up from the sculpture to meet a remarkable pair of dark eyes. They had flecks of gold in them and were brimming with humor.
"It's not that bad, actually," she said, feeling the need to defend her colleague's work.
"It's awful. Don't be polite about it. My brother makes these things as joke. He knows how awful they are." The man smiled and shrugged. He was tall, so tall she had to tilt her head up to look at him. He had an ascetic's face that was all planes and angles except for a surprisingly sensual mouth. The kind of face that belonged on a Pompeian coin. He held out his hand, introduced himself as Paul Barrett, and immediately asked her out to dinner.
At dinner, she found out his mother was English, that he was ambidextrous, and loved bangers and mash. Dinner had led to breakfast which had led to three months of incredible sex, which led to her confession of love. And, surprisingly, his. But she had not been able to stay in America any longer than her papers allowed, and he had his life and career in Florida.
Martha came back to the present as the song on the CD player tapered off, flowed into the next. "I’ve missed you," she said.
"Good." He leaned back in his seat simply watching her, his light-flecked gaze like a warm sun her face. "I've thought about you every day since you've been gone," he said. "Especially your red hair."
She blushed, knowing exactly what he meant.
"Can you show me?"
The flame of her blush consumed her face. Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel as she stared out at the light traffic stretching before her on the M4. She peeked from the corner of her eyes at him, saw the aggressive press of his cock against his jeans. Marsha took a hand from the steering wheel and pulled up her skirt, pulled it all the way up to her waist. She wasn’t wearing any panties. Her
flame red bush was a bright flash against the length of pale green skirt under her.
"So beautiful," he said.
She felt herself get wet. That was all it took. A few words from him and she was gone. Her worries had been in vain. Things were still the same between them. Her foot pressed harder on the gas. The little car whipped into the right lane, quickly passing a line of slow-moving vehicles. She wanted to get home. She wanted to touch him.
Beside her, he laughed softly. "No need to rush, love. We have all the time in the world." Then he touched her.
Fingers combing through the lush hair on her mound, delicately stroking her clit. She made a low noise but kept driving. His fingers dipped inside her dripping center and they both moaned.
"You're so wet," he murmured in wonder. "I want..." But he didn't say what he wanted. Only took out his hard cock and stroked it. Martha took quick peeks at him while watching the road, saw the movement of his hands around his thickly veined sex, slow and methodical. With his other hand he circled her clit with two fingers, inciting the movement of her hips against the seat, the soft gasps from her mouth.
"Paul, please..." She didn't know what she was begging him for. Her fingers tightened even more on the steering wheel.
The feel of his hands on her body was slowly setting her aflame. A tight heat burst from between her legs. She licked her lips. Paul moved his hands faster on his cock, stroking and pulling on his sex while he fucked her deeply with his long fingers, rubbed her clit with his thumb. Their moans fill the car.
"You feel so good..." he murmured, breathless, moving his fingers deeper, harder. Stroking himself faster and faster. Pre-cum leaked from the head of his cock. Martha bit her lips. Hungry for a taste. Hunger for the orgasm she felt slamming toward her. She felt like her body was on the very verge of explosion, nipples tight in her dress, her sex clutching at Paul's fingers. Her foot stomped down on the gas. She almost slammed into the car in front of them. The car bucked, jerked them toward the windshield. "No, please! Stop, I can’t…." She panted. Gripping the wheel, blinking at the night traffic.
Sensual Erotica (Vol. 1): 26 Erotic Stories Page 16