Coming Together With Curves

by Victoria Blisse

  "Oh yes," she moaned. "Yes, yes, please, more."

  "I do believe I know the perfect accessory for you, my darling," Kieran said. He inserted another bead into her rectum. She groaned, panting as she struggled to adjust to the thickness. Zoe had lost count of how many balls were inside her now, four—or perhaps five?

  "Lower your arse down, Zoe," Kieran said.

  Uncertain what he meant to do, she complied but twisted her head around so she could watch. By lowering her bottom to almost rest on her feet he could release the wand and wedge it against the sheets, still deeply imbedded.

  The bed shifted as Kieran rose and walked over to his bag.

  Peering around, she watched as a moment later he turned around with another clip in his palm. Swallowing hard, she wondered where on earth he planned to place it. Both her nipples still had weighted clamps swinging heavily from them, where else was there?

  His hand almost tender, he guided her so her arse rose again. The clip in one hand resting on her hips, he picked up the wand with the other. Short, sharp jabs stimulated her arse, the nerves inflaming almost instantly as he rubbed the large balls against the thin inner lining of her anus. When he stroked her clit once again her head fell back, her honey brown curls brushing against the skin of her back, adding extra stimulation to her pleasure. Lost in the sensation of her every nerve coming alive, in that moment she felt exquisite, the most decadently beautiful woman in the world.

  The sharp, stinging sensation of the clamp upon her clit had her shouting, her cheeks flaming as pain overwhelmed her arousal. Pressure mounted on her clit from the sharp bite of the clips. For a moment she couldn't tell if she wanted to scream or shatter into climax.

  Kieran lounged beside her, his head beside her thigh as he inhaled her musk. He stroked her clit with his fingers, spreading out to include her labia, while his other hand continued to fuck her with the anal beads.

  "Do you know how feminine and sexy you look right now?" His grin was full of wicked delight. "Caught somewhere between outrage and climax? The blush on your face and beautiful breasts is amazing."

  Leaning his head in, he flicked his tongue out, lapping at her pussy juices as if they were an elixir.

  Unable to deny him anything, she spread her legs wider as she felt her orgasm rise within her. He ate her hungrily, his teeth and tongue devilishly talented, charming their way into her good graces.

  He continued to fuck her arse, the sensation completely pleasurable. His tongue stroked her labia, his nose brushed over her pussy and even the clip burned with a blend of pain and ecstasy.

  She had adjusted to the brutal penetration of her backside. The extra stimulation of his mouth at her pussy drove her higher. Zoe shuddered, need rolling through her as she lost control of her body.

  Desire, thick and potent swamped her senses. All she knew was the blossoming lust growing within her every second. The weighted clamps on her nipples drew them down and pinched them tight. The fire in her arse overwhelmed her senses as the balls rubbed against her thin walls. Finally, the dancing of Kieran's teeth and tongue at her cunt, were eating her until she felt lightheaded with need.

  "I'm going to…oh Kieran, I think…"

  Shuddering she cried out as her climax blasted through her. The orgasm grabbed a hold of her entire being and wrung her dry. She screamed as her pussy and arse clamped down, the tight muscles in her sphincter bunching and clenching the anal beads as if grasping a lifeline. The spasms only rubbed the balls over her nerves more, stimulating her further when she already felt strung tight.

  Kieran continued to lap at her pussy, thrusting his tongue inside her as he fucked her harder, riding her mouth and licking her like a man starved. Just as she felt herself come down from the peak, he hummed against her lips. The vibrations had her breath catching, the rumbling sending small sparks of pleasure shooting from her lips to her clit and up to her pussy.

  She tried to speak, to tell him the sensations were too much, too soon after her climax and they were almost painful. No words escaped, however, and she wasn't certain he would have stopped even had she managed to say a word.

  He continued to hum, his lips moving from her pussy to her clit. She could feel the clip tighten against her nub, the pleasure turning painful for a moment. She cried out again. He flicked his fingers, opening the clip and tossing it unceremoniously to the floor. Blood flooded into the small bud, sensations bombarded her.

  Fireworks exploded behind her eyes and she peaked once again. She couldn't control herself. Her body surged as her pussy clamped hotly down, her arse spasming around the beads. Her breasts swung, the painful pricks of the weighted clips blurring as it intensified the pleasure of her climax.

  Kieran stroked the pad of his thumb over her clit, stimulating her until she could only make choked sounds, her throat raw from her cries.

  Never had she been so out of control, so completely overwhelmed and taken, so thoroughly possessed.

  Zoe couldn't do anything but submit, her world rocked. Willingly, she gave everything up to Kieran.

  She surrendered to him, body and soul.

  It wasn't until later, as her body calmed and she could hear, that Zoe realized he murmured softly to her, as if she were a small child. Heat suffused her face once again as she lifted her gaze to meet his. His eyes were so dark, the pupils so dilated with rampaging lust they appeared completely black.

  "I knew you'd love the beads," he murmured. "The clit clamp was just inspiration. I'll have to remember that one."

  Too exhausted to speak, Zoe tried to catch her breath. She sighed happily as he gently untied her restraints.

  Her husband kissed her slowly, rubbing his palm over her arse with possessive pride.

  "I still owe you that butt plug," he murmured. She chuckled.

  "Do you know how much I love you?" she murmured huskily.

  "Maybe, but do please go on."

  Instead of using words, she kissed him, showing him the deepest, darkest secrets of her heart.

  "How on earth did you know I was walking home early?" she asked, recalling her earlier curiosity. "And who did you get to take me? And whose van was that? I nearly had a heart attack when they took me—I wasn't expecting it in the least."

  "Ah love, you thought after the very detailed explanation of your fantasy I would ruin it by warning you of what I had planned?" Kieran teased her.

  Zoe grinned, but refused to relinquish her questions.

  "You gave me a scary few moments, love. Those guys in the mask, that bloody van and the kidnapping. Talk about terrifying. But once I saw you I realized that was the idea. I'm so glad we organised the safe word before today. A part of me worried when I told you to slow down that you would."

  Kieran nodded solemnly.

  "You'll never know how hot it made me to hear you plead, to watch you struggle but know if I pushed you too hard you could call a halt. Hearing those words, slow down, stop, they make the moment."

  She hugged him. This was by far the best and most memorable birthday present she had ever received. "So who did you get to kidnap me?" she repeated, genuinely curious.

  "I was the driver," he confessed. "Tom or Mark grabbed you. I said it was a bet we had going. They think we're slightly crazy, but they already knew that."

  She smiled and stroked his jaw, enjoying the roughness of his faint stubble, loving the way her fingers could glide through his silky hair.

  "That was amazing," she murmured. "Those nipple clamps are new, as is that butt plug."

  "They're presents for your birthday. It might have been overbearing of me, but somehow I didn't think you'd want to unwrap either of them later tonight at the party." Kieran laughed and Zoe had to agree with him.

  "We'll have to play with them both again soon. Thank you for my birthday wish," she said. "I love you so very much."

  "I love you too, my gorgeous girl, wanton slut and most beloved wife."

  Red Rag to a Bull

  © Victoria Blisse

 
; I've not had sex in four years. I was miserable for one of them and I've taken Zumba classes for the past three. You're probably thinking that doesn't make sense, but believe you me, it does. I will be forever thankful for the day that Sharon, my workmate, told me about her dance class.

  I laughed her down at first. I am not terribly well co-ordinated and I'm a big woman, I love my curves and I didn't want to lose them. But she explained it was just exercise, it wasn't a serious dance class and I could eat extra chocolate and cake to maintain my luscious body if I wanted to. The extra chocolate tipped the balance so I decided to try it out with her one night. It was fun. The first lesson I spent most of the time trying to not trip over my own feet or stand on anybody else's, but I enjoyed it. The upbeat music, the laughter and the sociability of it all.

  I also loved the ache, the dull pain that told me my muscles had been used, the twinges that reminded me so much of the after effects of really good sex. I got into a routine, a routine I still follow. I'd go to my Zumba class, dance around like a fool, get sweaty, laugh, sing and work my big sexy butt off then I'd go home and masturbate.

  I'd never stop to eat, drink or wash, I'd just get onto my bed and wank whilst the sweat was still beading on my skin and my muscles were on fire with exertion and I'd come. I'd come so hard it was just like having sex but without the messy bit. The other person and the emotional attachment you form to them. Perfection.

  So Zumba and sex became one and the same to me. I shimmied and shook each week and wiggled my hips and imagined I was writhing against a man. A hot, sexy man with just enough muscle and a smile to melt my heart. In fact, when I saw him there a few weeks ago I thought I was having a really vivid daydream. It wasn't until we took a break that I realised he was a real true life man.

  "Hi," I gasped between gulps of my water, "you're new."

  "Yes," he replied. "I am."

  "Enjoying it?" I asked.

  "Not sure yet." He gripped a sports bottle in his huge, tanned hand. I wanted those fingers to grip me. "I'll tell you when I'm capable of thought again."

  "Fair enough," I smiled. "It does get easier, I promise. I've been at it for three years now."

  "That's why you look so confident up the front then."

  "No, that's just because you're viewing me from behind, you can't see the funny faces I'm pulling."

  He chuckled. The velvet force of the sound rumbled in my chest, arousing my nipples and making me think of my post-Zumba session a little earlier than usual.

  "I'm Dean, nice to meet you." He held out his hand and I grasped it, hoping my palm wasn't too sweaty.

  "Grace," I replied. "Lovely to meet you too."

  His fingers enfolded mine, exerted pressure but didn't crush me. I imagined it would be the same if we had sex, a bit rough but nothing I couldn't handle and give back in equal measure. I let his hand go reluctantly as the instructor's words pulled us back into positions for the next dance.

  I was energised. I swung my hips powerfully, followed the steps with a precision that I didn't normally achieve, all because I knew his eyes were on me. We didn't get to speak again until the end because every woman in the class wanted to talk to him. That was clearly the bonus of being the only man in the room.

  I changed my shoes and picked up my bag and slipped in beside him as he left the hall.

  "So, will you be back next week, Dean?" I asked, much to the chagrin of the woman who I'd just slipped in next to, though she had a wedding ring on so she shouldn't have been flirting in the first place.

  "Oh, definitely," he nodded. "Great work out, great company and I really would like to get some of the steps right eventually."

  I put my hand on his bicep, noting its pleasant bulge, nothing fancy, just strongly sprung male muscle. I wanted to test it to its limits but in a much more private setting.

  "You'll manage that next week," I said confidently, even though my stomach was churning with lust and nerves. "See you then?"

  "Sure," he replied, "you couldn't keep me away."

  I wouldn't want to.

  There's no big cash prize for guessing who was on my mind when I jumped into bed that night. I imagined us dancing alone, no instructor and face-to-face. I could see the sweat on his brow, the flex of his muscles, the sweep of his hips. He devoured me visually too, taking in my bouncing breasts, which even in a sports bra wobbled impressively with each movement. He dropped his gaze to my ample hips and long, curved legs as I cucaracha-ed side-to-side.

  When the music stopped the fantasy continued. We hurried towards one another, crushed together in a mass of passion, lip-to-lip, crotch-to-crotch, burning with need and ripping off clothes.

  I gripped my naked breast, plucked the nipple as I imagined him doing it. I ran my finger up and down my slit, gathering and spreading moisture and caressing my clit, bringing myself closer to the brink. I hurried my mental masturbation material on. We were completely naked and my back and buttocks were chilled by the wooden floor beneath me. He pressed his hard cock between my plump wet lips and I wrapped my legs around his long, lithe body, feeling the bounce of his taut buttocks with every thrust.

  I came with a loud grunt, the visual dissipating as the orgasm bloomed and soon after withered away. I was left hungry, sweaty and wanting more. Zumba and masturbation were no longer enough, I needed a man between my thighs. I needed Dean.

  I got to know him more with each session. We'd talk in the breaks. He'd put his water bottle down next to mine and we'd swig back the precious, cool elixir we needed, then we'd chit chat. I found out he was a mature student at the local University. He'd worked as a shelf stacker for some time and decided enough was enough. He joined the Zumba class to keep up the exercise that he was lacking because of the time his studies took up.

  I also found out he enjoyed Italian food, James Bond films and was really rather ticklish. The last fact was the most fun to find out. We were bantering as usual after learning a new dance.

  "I just can't get that move right, you know, where you have to put your arms together in front of you and pull down."

  "That'll be your boobs getting in the way," he responded, straight faced. Then he cackled with laughter when my mouth and eyes went wide with shock.

  "You cheeky bugger," I exclaimed, shooting out my hand to grab at him but he'd moved out of the way. My fingers landed just beside his nipple, almost under his arm and when I scrabbled to slap him he giggled almost girlishly and pulled away. We laughed hysterically together then. Tina, our instructor, had to yell at us to get us back to dancing.

  I should have asked him out when I saw him at that second lesson, but I couldn't. I might not be backwards at coming forwards as my Gran likes to say but I was scared half to death he'd say no. Zumba was so much more fun with him to chat to. I didn't want to lose that. So I continued with my usual plan of action but instead of looking forward to my post-exercise wank I found it increasingly frustrating. I just wasn't satisfied, I needed more.

  I'd always worn the same tracksuit bottoms and the same red, baggy top for the exercise class but as time passed and I felt more and more frustrated I came up with a plan to get Dean to proposition me. Other members of the dance class had sexy workout-wear down pat. I was sure I could find something to show off my ample roundness and as Dean always stood directly behind me, I could let my shapely arse do the seducing.

  I bought shorts. Not teeny-tiny ones--dear God no, they'd ride up into my bum crack and me tugging the disappearing material back out would not be the way to seduce anyone. No, they were long enough to cover almost to my knee but tight enough to show off my butt when I bent down. I even invested in a slightly tighter t-shirt, one with a v-neck that I hoped Dean might look into when we had our dance interval chats.

  I was all ready for him that night. I shaved my legs, since so much of them would be on show and I washed my hair before I went so at least it would start off looking sleek and sexy, held up high on the back of my head in a ponytail to keep it off the back of my neck. I
slipped into red, seductive lace knickers and I was all ready for Operation Seduction.

  "New workout clothes?" Dean asked when he arrived. He sat next to me and put his water bottle on the windowsill next to mine.

  "Yeah, now the summer's coming I thought I'd go for something a bit lighter, you know."

  Dean nodded. He always wore shorts and a vest t-shirt, no matter the weather, although he would come in with a hooded top on and strip it off before the lesson started. It was the Diet Coke moment of the night, you could hear a pin drop when he did it.

  "And you'll give all the blokes on the bus a thrill by showing off your sexy legs, so everyone wins."

  "Yeah," I replied, "though to be honest, I might wear some pants over them next week, some of the men leering were old enough to be my granddad."

  "Ew," he made sympathetic faces to go along with the noises. "Well as long as you get them out for Zumba, it's all good."

  I didn't know if he just meant that from a me not overheating perspective or for his own voyeuristic pleasure, but I took it as a good sign. Dean whipped off his dark blue hoodie and I watched intently, getting a sneak peek at the fuzz of dark hair around his navel as his t-shirt raised up too. I wanted to feel those hairs tickling against my stomach but before my thoughts could become any more lewd the call to Zumba was announced.

  "Are you ready ladies?" Tina shouted.

  "And Dean." We all echoed together. It was a long standing joke after the first week when Tina had to apologise half way through for calling him a lady. Every Monday, every class, Dean took it with an affable smile. What a gentleman.

  I was sure he wasn't so gentlemanly in bed, though.

  It was strange dancing in my new clothes, they pulled in when I least expected them to. I was far more aware of my breasts as my t-shirt stretched with my movements and when I reached up a little band of flesh was revealed to the cool air, chilling me. I wondered if Dean had noticed and my cheeks glowed red after far fewer songs than usual.

  It was in one of the fast numbers where things started to feel weird. One of the moves involved squatting. Now squatting wasn't bad if I did it slowly, I could hitch the material at the front of my shorts to loosen things off. But the squats in a particular song were rapid and between other moves so I didn't have time to alter myself. My buttocks were cupped firmly, the crotch dug into parts I rather they didn't and by the midpoint I had sworn never to wear the bastard things again. I didn't care that Dean was getting a good eyeful of my bum, there was too much chafing for me to feel sexy.