by Amber Heart
She heard me approach and looked up. The moment our eyes met, I felt a shattering jolt in my heart. Behind her deep sea blue eyes was an intense fire that would make weaker men look away. I struggled to keep my gaze but walked closer.
“I didn’t expect to see anyone out here tonight,” she murmured. Her voice was soft, yet had a sultry sweetness to it.
“I usually don’t come here, but on a night like this, I just felt like it,” I responded. “What are you doing?”
“Sometimes I wash my clothes in the sea. Then she can stay with me wherever I go. What’s your name?”
“My name is Harvey. What’s yours?”
“Sofia.”
“Well Sofia, it's nice to see another face here”
“Yes, Ibiza seems a little lonely tonight.”
“It's getting cold. Would you like to get a drink at the bar to warm up our bones?”
Her face darkened for a brief flash, but quickly returned to normal.
“I'm sorry. My husband is waiting for me. Have a nice night, Harvey.”
And with that, she picked up the wooden bin and stood up, unaware that her breasts had been resting in the cold Spanish seawater. I stood there as she walked off into the settling mist.
Even in the gentle caress of my tempurpedic, I couldn't fall asleep. I was too restless. I was wide awake thinking about the mirage I met who effortlessly made my heart stop in its tracks. Who made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Who made the blood painfully rush to my erect manhood. I wondered who she was, where she. Whether her husband could satisfy her in the way I knew I could. And for the first night in forever, I felt alive. I was possessed by an uncontrollable raging desire.
To have her before my dying breath. To make her mine in the entirety of her spirit and body. To feel her hot sweaty skin against mine. In my sexual craze, I rang the bell violently.
“Yancy!” I roared
“Yes, sir?” Yancy had silently appeared by my side, with a paternalistic look of concern on his face.
“Yancy, bring me half a bar of Xanax. I’m having trouble sleeping.”
“Sir, it isn’t wise to abuse prescription drugs. Please be careful.”
He turned on my stereo and played Adele’s greatest hits with an experienced, rich baritone melody.
I drifted to sleep with Adele in my ears and Sofia on my mind.
I expected my lust to be tempered by morning, but it had grown stronger instead, the head of my throbbing morning wood nuzzling the cave of my belly button. I thought the best way to distract myself would be to throw myself into work, so I head into the office early.
“Good morning, Mr. Winsley, You have two tickets waiting at the Auditorium de Palma de Mallorca to take Mr. Benson to the concert tonight,” Donna, my chesty redhead assistant greeted me.
For our younger clientele, it was tradition to take them to the hottest clubs for a night of debauchery and sex, but our older business associates expected something a bit classier. We usually took them to Mallorca, a Balearic island a forty minute plane ride away, for a night about town. Jonathan Bigby, a silver haired CEO of a successful shipping company was a member of the latter.
The Orquesta Sinfónica de las Islas Baleares was performing that day. News had spread of a magnificent pianist they had recently had come onboard and the residents of the Balearic Islands and the rest of Spain were rushing to see the new addition.
I met Jonathan at the bar lounge. I was wearing a simple virgin wool tuxedo in Jacquard details with a Moncler scarf, but I could feel every eye surreptitiously peeking at me. Jonathan greeted me with a bright smile, holding a glass of Scotch in his hands.
“Hiya Harvey! It’s good to see you.”
“Hey Bigby. Whatcha drinking?”
“A Macallan 18. You want one?”
“No I’m good. Trying to lay off the drinking for a while.”
He gave a hearty laugh, finished the rest of his drink, and we walked into the hall together.
The symphony orchestra was performing a rewritten concerto of Brahm’s Rhapsody in B Minor Op. 79. We sat down, the lights dimmed, and the curtains rose.
That’s when I saw her. Sofia. The angel I had dreamt of since that fateful night on the beaches of Cala Llonga. She was wearing a rib tight white dress, the cloth clutching her tight ass and breasts till they were dying to burst out. A single light was directed at her, the horns and strings fading into darkness. The whole audience was entranced from the moment they laid their eyes on her, nobody making a noise in the fear that it would break the spell that she had cast on us. From the first note she played, she had us in her grasps, every single soul enraptured in her heavenly song.
I blushed. I could feel the blood steadily rising below, my rigid phallus gradually pitching a tent in my Tom Ford pantsuit. I slowly turned my head to Bigby’s, our eyes making contact. We both looked down and smiled sheepishly. A nearly identical, smaller tent had been pitched in Bigby’s trousers along with those of the other men in the front row.
“God damn our hard wired biology,” Jonathan uttered in a low voice.
“Bigby, do you know anything about the pianist?” I asked.
“This girl, Sofia, came to Ibiza as a young child. Her father was a military man. She started playing piano when she was six. I heard that she married a painter about five years ago, but he drowned in a fishing accident.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’m not. That means she’s on the market,” he grinned childishly and we resumed the show in silence.
After the show ended, Jonathan got into his Aventador and rolled the windows down.
“Harv, I’m surfing at Cala Llenya this Friday. I want you to come.”
He drove off in a fury. I went back in to look for Sofia, but the crowd had dispersed. She was gone.
Later that night, I had Donna do some research on Sofia. She was living in the penthouse of the Hotel Rural Can Pujolet, but the concierge adamantly said that she was unavailable.
So throughout the week, I did everything I could to keep my mind off Sofia. I lifted weights at the gym. I met with clients. I had sex with four women. But it all felt stale. Thursday night had come and I went to the closet to grab my wet suit.
But instead of the black wetsuit I usually wore, I found a black leather bondage suit in its place.
“Yancy!” I yelled as I rang the bell. He appeared like a ghost by my side.
“Yes sir?” He then looked down at the suit in my hand with an expression of terror and shame.
“I’m so sorry sir. They must have made a mix up at the dry cleaner’s. That suit is mine.”
“I see, Yancy. Are you planning on becoming a superhero?”
“Ah no. I frequent the local BDSM club on the corner of Parc de la Pau. Actually, forgive me sir if I impose on the boundaries of our relationship, but tomorrow is our quarterly Freaky Friday where we invite our friends and loved ones if you’d like to join me.”
“I would love to join you at Freaky Friday,” I spoke as I admired the suit.
Yancy and I walked to the park at 8 after a long day of surfing with Jonathan. My muscles were sore after a heavy workout, but they were burning for more.
The club was located at an unassuming rustic finca with a sign that read “Ibiza Teahouse”. As we walked in, the front desk attendant greeted us.
“Good evening, gentlemen. Do you have an appointment?”
“Yes ma’am. Dessert for two at the dungeon.”
She walked us past the dining room, through the kitchen, and down the basement stairs. As we descended, the horny shrieks and groans got louder. As did the lashing of the whips and the repetition of “Harder, daddy”.
In the dungeon, someone was waiting to greet us. She was wearing a name tag that read Abby on her naked chest.
“You’re just in luck, gentlemen. Mistress Rose is free for the night.”
As we walked to the furthest cell of the dungeon, Yancy’s phone went off. The blood drained from hi
s face as he gasped, “Oh heavens no! Please excuse me sir, but my side piece has a flat tire and needs me.”
He immediately ran towards the exit. Abby walked me to the last door and knocked.
“Come on in,” crooned a hauntingly sweet voice.
Abby opened the door, and I finally saw her face to face again. Sofia.
She was wearing a suffocatingly tight black Latex suit. Her areolas were puffy, peeping out of the cutoffs for her breasts.
“A familiar face,” she spoke with a devilish sensual confidence.
“Hello Sofia, I thought you were married.”
“My husband was taken by the sea. I came to mourn him on the anniversary of his death. Come closer, you remind me of him,” she curled her finger towards me.
As I took a closer step, she unravelled the whip in her hand and lashed me hard across my abs. I flinched back in pain and surprise. Then she got on all fours, slinked towards me, and started licking my wounds with her fleshy tongue. I was enraged. No one, not even a woman like Sofia, whipped me and got away with it.
Her head making way from my washboard lower abs to my refined pecs, I grabbed her by the hair and started choking her soft, vulnerable throat with my vice-like left hand grip. Tears started welling up in her enchanting eyes and her skillful pianist hands started massaging my slowly rising penis.
“Choke me harder,” she managed to whisper between the gasps for air.
In that instant, all my rage turned into an angry lust. I had to have her. I threw her hard against the smooth stone wall, my tongue dancing with hers.
“Usually I’m the one in charge, but tonight I am yours, master”
I grew harder than I thought was humanly possible. She grabbed two tight nipple clamps and had me latch it onto her nipples.
“I want my nipples to be swollen for you,” she moaned.
I took a glance on the dresser next to us. Something caught my eye. I picked up a pink rabbit tailed butt plug and she nodded. I jammed the plug deep inside her, the hole initially resisting the penetrance, but eventually succumbing entirely. She gasped involuntarily, her usually unreadable face betraying an emotion bordering unbearing pain and pleasure.
“I’ve been a bad bunny, Harvey. Punish me.” Her mascara was running down her pale rosy cheeks. I lifted her up with my strong hands and chained her to the wall. She hung there like a swaying doll, her wet, thick, dark red lips dripping juices onto her now unzipped, exposed cleavage.
I clutched her in my arms, she wrapped her legs firmly around me, and I buried my face into her busom, my nose aroused by the scent of warm coconut and my tongue revisited by the seas of Ibiza.
An animalistic urge took over me. I was shocked by what I had done to the woman I cared about. I was in complete control over the siren I had dreamt about for many torturous moons. A deep part of me wanted to hold her tight, feel her warmth, and never let her go. I was afraid of hurting her delicate heavenly vessel. But rising overwhelmingly above the guilt, was a torturously ecstatic agony. Seeing Sofia in chains was slowly unleashing the sexual beast within me that had been locked up for so long. And he was clawing to come out. So I completely surrendered, the unfamiliar wave of ecstasy crashing over me.
I unchained her from the wall, threw her on the cold floor, and pointed at the slave collar. She crawled to it, her pussy dripping juices onto the stone. I grabbed the collar and jerked it to my bed. She gagged onto my dick. As I felt my dick moistened by the back of her throat, I got harder.
I grabbed the back of her head. We were one in motion, my hands ramming her to my penis and her hands fondling my balls. I couldn’t wait any longer. I wanted to taste her.
I rested my head on the bed. Holding her legs, I turned her upside down. We were yin and yang. We were six and nine.
She tasted like the Ibiza ocean, dripping wet like the grottos of Can Marca. Her lips were massaging the sensitive crown of my penis, repeating this motion over and over till I couldn’t handle it. I was ready to give in to the unimaginable pleasure, but at the same time, I couldn’t bear to stop this train. It was time.
I tugged on her pussy lips with my teeth, my head motioning for her to get up. She sat up, her heavy breasts resting on my head. I nodded and she crawled on top of me.
As I felt her warmth envelop my penis, I gasped involuntarily. I was a virgin again, perhaps I had always been a virgin, for she was taking me to sexual planes I never knew existed. It was strange, yet at that moment I knew. I would get hard for no other woman on this earth.
She felt exhilarating and familiar at the same time. As she bobbed up and down on my cock, she started panting, her dark red nails digging wells of blood the same shade in my back.
“Harder Harvey, harder,” she cried as I thrust deeper inside her.
This was not love. The moment we shared was leagues beyond that, the animalistic connection that two beings make when they are so completely in sync with each other. Our sweat melted into one, our tongues did the same. I started nibbling softly on her clit and she gushed immediately.
The night burned ablaze in a frenzy. We had forgotten about the others, we had forgotten about time, we had forgotten about ourselves, we were lost in each other. I knew that I was virile, but this was absurd. As soon as I came, I immediately reset, dying to satisfy her one more time.
As I laid my head on the bed, I looked up. Her breasts blocked my view. The Ibiza skies were finally looking alive.
I think I’m going to spend the rest of my life with this woman.
Santa’s Hot Naughty List
A Christmas Special
By Amber Heart
Santa’s Hot Naughty List
Is that the time already? Time flies when you’re getting lost in Christmas movies. I decided to watch Love Actually for the hundredth time, god knows why. It’s just comforting this time of year, you know what I mean?
I begrudgingly stood up from the comfy nest I made on the sofa and made my way into the bathroom. I had a nice warm bath, shaved my legs, put on my comfiest pajamas, and then slid into bed. I went out yesterday and bought some brand new sheets. Today is the first day they’ve been used. Complete and utter bliss. Is there a better feeling?
This has always been my Christmas Eve ritual. I make myself too giddy thinking about how exciting Christmas Day will be. I try my best to get as comfy as possible and fall asleep as fast as I can. It doesn’t take long before my eyes become heavy. Tomorrow is going to be amazing…
* * *
A loud thud shakes the house and I jolt awake. What the fuck was that? I listen closely to see if I can hear anything. Maybe I just had a bad dream and scared myself. After a few seconds of silence, I started to hear something getting louder and louder. Is that fucking bell noises? Someone is taking the piss or I’m still dreaming.
The jingle of bells continued to get louder and louder and I began to hear light thuds above me… The only problem is my bedroom is on the top floor. Is someone fucking around on my roof? I swear to god if the neighbors are pulling some ridiculous prank on me I will be pissed. Do they not know how hard it is to sleep on Christmas Eve?
The bells and thuds came to a stop and I convinced myself I was imagining it.
Just as I was about to drift back off to sleep, I heard another huge bang. This time it came from downstairs though. I must be dreaming. Santa Clause is not in my house, I’m probably getting robbed. I get out of bed and grab my dressing gown and proceed to wrap it around myself as I walk down the stairs. I shout out, trying to spook whoever is ransacking my house.
“Hello, who’s there?”
I was met with silence. I’m not going to lie, this is getting a little bit spooky. What if there’s a fucking stranger in my house and I’m just walking down to greet them?
I flick on the lights and walk into the living room. There he is. In the flesh. Some fucking idiot dressed as Santa Clause and he’s… Putting a present under my tree?
The sudden flash of light startles the Santa Clause impostor an
d he freezes on the spot.
“Who the fuck are you and what the hell are you doing in my house?”
He didn’t look fazed by my aggressive tone.
“Ahh, Jessica. I was hoping you were up!”
What the fuck! How does he know my fucking name?
“Look Mister, I don’t know who you are, but I don’t want any trouble. Just leave now and I won’t call the cops.”
He put both his hands on his rather plump stomach and let out a hearty laugh… This guy was really committed to his Santa Clause role. That laugh almost sounded legit!
“Jessica, are you really going to call the cops on Santa Clause?”
I looked him up and down trying to make sense of this bizarre situation. He really didn’t seem threatening. I’m pretty confident I could out run this guy if it came down to that.
“Whatever this game is, I don’t want to play. Get the fuck out of my house!”
Santa Clau— I mean the fucking weirdo in a Santa outfit stroked his white, glorious beard.
“This isn’t a game, Jessica. I’m the real Santa! Did you not hear my jingle bells when I landed on your roof?”
This is a fucking dream! Wake up! I slapped myself in the face multiple times, but nothing happened. I was still stood in my living room staring at a guy dressed up as Santa.
“Was that thud you? Why were you dicking about on my roof? How the hell did you even get up there? You’re not exactly the fittest fellow.”
The man in red let out another hearty chuckle.
“Christmas magic, my dear! Look, I’ll prove it to you.”
He clicked his fingers and a perfectly wrapped present appeared out of thin air. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Either he’s an incredible magician or he’s the real Santa Clause. How do you even process this? I stopped believing when I was a child! How can Santa Clause just appear in my living room?