Ultra Strokes

by Delilah Devlin

  “Now, that’s not part of the plan today. But this is nice, isn’t it?”

  “Nice?”

  She liked the breathless edge of his voice. Liked the subtle forward thrust of his hips. An unmistakable hint that he was growing restless.

  As was she. Moisture oozed from inside her. She tugged the back of her skirt to keep it from getting soaked and eased down to sit on her heels.

  Gabby sank her nose in the crisp, curling hairs at his groin. She dragged her tongue from the root of his cock up to the soft bulb at the end, taking her time to learn the places that made him tighten and gasp. Slicking over the cap, she flicked the narrow slit, and then dipped the tip of her tongue inside.

  “Jesus…fuck.” A hand landed on her head, patting her hair as though he hadn’t quite committed.

  Like a cat, she tipped her head against his palm, nudging him, encouraging him to rake her bound hair with his fingers. The vibrations rattling inside her intensified, stroking her deep within, and she lifted sleepy eyes to see him watching her expression. She smiled.

  When he pulled her hair, at last, she told him wordlessly how pleased she was. She opened her mouth and took him inside. She rose slightly higher to angle her head downward because his erection, which was pulling upward and hardening further, crowded into her mouth as he stroked with more depth and intensity.

  Her “customer” muttered under his breath and pulled her hair, his hips pumping with full force now into her mouth, cramming against the back of her throat.

  She tightened her lips around him and sucked hard, pulling, growling, her hands sliding up and down his reddened stalk. He’d told her he liked a little twist, so she gave him a double-fisted one, a firm, clockwise tug that had him rising on his toes and powering harder into her mouth.

  Without a boyfriend for far too long, Gabby had missed so many things. But when “Tall” had asked her what she wanted most, her response had been this act. Something about a man’s body, so different from her own—the musky smell, the silk and steel textures—were what she’d missed most.

  All the while she happily licked and sucked, the internal revving hum built and tension curled deep inside her belly.

  In the distance, she heard the tinkle of the doorbell and cursed the interruption. Coming off him, she leaned toward the curtain, and pulled it back just a couple of inches. A man walked through the store, glancing toward the suits and slacks lined along the far wall. She dropped the curtain, and tilted back her head. “Think you can be quiet?” she whispered.

  “Can you?” he asked, his voice clipped and tight. A hand cupped his balls and massaged them.

  She sprang to her feet, grasped his shaft, and pulled him farther into her little room, backing him up to the table. Then she knelt again, swallowed him whole, and bobbed quickly forward and back, doing her best to do so quietly, but sexy, slurping noises filled the tiny airless space.

  His breaths seemed overloud too—short, ragged gasps that quickened the deeper and faster she bobbed. But she’d planned this. Looked forward for too long to let a little thing like a random customer, another stranger, intrude upon her fantasy.

  Inside her mouth, her tongue swept up and down his steely length, her lips firmed to suck harder. Her hands pumped up and down his slick shaft, in opposition to her mouth, until his fingers dug into her scalp. His body shuddered, he gave a quiet, chopped gasp, and jerked against her.

  Come filled the back of her throat, and she murmured, liking the taste of him, liking the thick, gluey liquid that coated her tongue. The vibrator rocketed inside her, pulsing to her own contractions, and then a slow wave of heat swept over her, prickling her skin, catching her breath. She came quietly and slowed her motions, reluctant to end their play.

  But a footstep sliding on grit outside the curtain caught her attention.

  Gabby came off him one last time, a long tendril of moisture connecting them until his thumb wiped it from her mouth.

  He handed her the remote, which she switched off. Their gazes held for a long moment, and then she dipped her head, hiding a very satisfied smile.

  “I don’t like the pants,” he whispered.

  “They’re ugly as hell,” she agreed.

  “But I need a tux for a friend’s wedding.”

  She understood the code even though she was surprised he’d decided to ignore their preset rule. They settled on another “date” as he redressed in the trousers he’d arrived in, and she stood watching, combing her hair with her fingers.

  He kissed her then gave her a wink, and let himself out.

  Gabby collapsed on a stool, her legs weak. Her mouth and jaw sore—and so pleased with herself, she didn’t move from her spot for a very, very long time.

  *

  Dear “NipnTuck,” I snuck into your shop today, wanting to watch you before I announced my presence. Imagine my surprise when another man arrived and headed straight to the green golf pants. I wondered for the moment if you’d decided to leap ahead to the next scenario we discussed, sex in front of strangers, but you spoke to him as though you thought the man was me. I almost announced my presence, but you were so adorable, so confident, I decided to see how far the gentlemen let you go.

  To my delight, he followed you inside your fitting room. I inched open the curtain to watch—my favorite fetish as you know. You didn’t disappoint, dear Nip. You were lovely, disheveled, and your expression when you came left me hard all afternoon.

  If you don’t mind, and if you think you can keep him in the dark, I’d love to watch him fuck you when he comes back on Tuesday for his next fitting.

  *

  Andrew let himself into the small fitting room and slipped his arms around Gabby’s waist. She eased her head to the side and let him take nibbles of her ear. They’d met for lunch breaks twice a week for a month. Always at her convenience. She had to time their meetings so that Marlon would be away, and he left for his gentlemen’s club where he worked out and lunched twice a week—perfect for her needs. “Tall” still liked to watch, and Andrew hadn’t caught on to the fact that he wasn’t the reason her cheeks bloomed or her cunt grew wet the minute the doorbell chimed at noon.

  Not that his feelings would have been hurt, she was sure. The reason their trysts were so addictive was that they’d both agreed on their second “date” that nothing would ever come of their meetings. They wouldn’t see each other outside the tailor shop; they wouldn’t call each other. She’d also insisted that he call her “Seamstress” and he’d been thrilled, saying it sounded so much like “Mistress” he didn’t mind a bit.

  Andrew slipped his hands over her breasts and squeezed.

  Since it wasn’t something she’d directed him to do, Gabby rapped the backs of his hands and stiffened in rejection.

  His cock, which he’d snuggled against her bottom, twitched.

  Gabby extricated herself from his embrace and turned, assuming a demure expression. However, her words were firm. “I need your trousers and your shorts.” She held out her hand.

  Eagerly, he unbelted, unbuttoned and shoved them off, remembering to toe off his shoes at the last. When he was nude from the waist down, he handed her his clothing then stood with his hands curled at his sides and his cock rising from his groin.

  She loved his cock. Loved the textures of his soft cockhead and satin-covered steel shaft. She enjoyed the velvety texture of his shaved balls. Even more, she loved that “Tall” could see how erect he was, how attracted he was—to her—because “Tall” was seated in a changing room with his eye against the fisheye lens he’d installed in the door. Standing as she and Andrew were, he could see their profiles. Over the weeks, he’d been the one to assume control over these little scenes, reasoning that since he wasn’t the one touching her soft body, he should at least have a say in what transpired.

  Today, his instructions had been explicit. She stepped out of her plain shoes, unbuttoned her skirt and pushed it down her hips. Because she’d been told to wear no panties, no hose, she was
now as nude as Andrew—from the waist down. Carefully, she unbuttoned her blouse to her midriff then parted the cloth and tucked the edges into the sides of her bra. The bra was an underwire with a shelf that supported her soft globes but left the nipples bare.

  Andrew’s breaths deepened. A shiny bead of cream seeped from the narrow slit atop his bulbous crown.

  She’d never stood fully nude, had only teased him with bits of her flesh now and then. Today, her girlie bits above and below were naked—more than she’d ever dared. A thrill quivered down her spine, but she was careful not to allow Andrew to see it. She lifted her chin. “You’ve brought a condom to sheathe your nasty cock?”

  “I have, Seamstress.”

  “Don’t make me wait.”

  He’d held it in his hand while he’d stripped, and she smiled that, because for once, he wasn’t fumbling for his clothing to retrieve it. As handsome and assured as he appeared to the rest of the world, she knew he was a giddy boy with her—eager to please.

  When he’d rolled the condom down his thick shaft, she turned away, climbing onto her step stool then bending to grasp the back of a chair she’d crowded against the wall to make sure it didn’t shift.

  “Andrew?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Fuck me, boy.”

  How quickly had she come to this—so steady, so strong. Able to reduce a handsome man to an eager attendant, ready to follow her every command?

  “Tall” scripted every encounter, and when she’d fumbled at first, he’d scolded, telling her to how to punish herself. Since his first visit to the shop, he’d insisted on Skype sessions, but with his camera turned off, so that he could watch her and make sure that she followed his every command. And although she longed to see his face, to learn more about her admirer—her partner in this illicit new world she’d entered—the fact she couldn’t see him kept her on the edge and constantly horny. She knew she had to earn the privilege to meet him face-to-face, so she eagerly complied with his every request.

  On one occasion, he’d instructed her to use a dildo to fuck Andrew’s ass while she raised her skirt to let him see her play with her cunt.

  “Nip, you were weak,” he’d said during his critique of her performance that night, his dreamy, deep voice invading her bedroom to wrap around her skin like warm silk. “You allowed him to come before you’d found your pleasure.”

  “I didn’t know he’d grow so excited so fast.”

  “You were distracted, not paying attention to how he breathed and moaned, weren’t you?”

  She bit her lips and dipped her head. “Yes,” she said in a small voice.

  “You were thinking about me looking at your juicy cunt—isn’t that so?”

  “Yes.” Gabby squirmed in her chair. Her pussy was growing warm and damp.

  “You need punishment, my dear Nip. Go get a clamp.”

  And then he’d instructed her to remove her skirt and undies and place her legs over the arms of her chair. He’d told her how to play with her clit, when to swirl, when to pinch. And when it was erect, he’d had her place the jaws of her tiny clamp around the burgeoning nubbin, tightening the screw at the side until she’d hissed at the pain.

  Then he’d told her of all the things he wanted—his dreams for their relationship. This was a journey, a dark, delicious one that they would share.

  She was falling in love with him. Aching to know his touch but willing to let him lead.

  So today, she bent over the chair and fondled her breasts while Andrew slid his long thick cock inside her slick pussy and began to fuck her.

  She didn’t dare hide anything—not her expression, not her body’s reaction to Andrew’s energetic plowing. She bumped back to greet his thrusts, playing with her breasts then reaching down to toggle her clit until she was close to exploding.

  “Now, Andrew. You can come now!”

  His groin slapped against her as his fingers tightened on her hips, and she braced herself, taking every hard thrust, tilting her ass higher to achieve just the right angle while feverishly fingering her clit.

  When his breath caught and held, she pinched her nubbin and flew, tossing back her head and biting down on her lower lip to still the shout rising from her throat.

  Andrew stroked her buttocks, patted her thighs, and then slowly withdrew. “Have I pleased you, Seamstress?”

  “Thoroughly,” she said, not turning to watch as he dressed and left.

  Still bent over, she waited, hoping that this time, “Tall” would exit the dressing room and let her see him. That this time, he’d touch her directly. Always before, he’d text her in advance.

  Go to the restroom. I’ll let myself in, dear Nip.

  And afterward, he’d wait, no matter how long she lingered, until she understood that today was not the day he’d join her in the flesh.

  As the seconds passed, she let out the breath she held and slowly pushed herself up.

  The door to the dressing room squeaked.

  She shut her eyes, her heart pounding against her chest.

  A hand smoothed over her bottom giving her a firm glide. Then it left her skin. A second later, a slap landed on her right cheek.

  She jerked, but didn’t say a word, waiting…

  “Lovely, Nip,” he whispered. “You were perfect.”

  Fingers traced the crease between her cheeks then slid lower. Two entered her wet vagina. “I’m tempted. You were very good today. So firm with him. He was so happy; I wish that you could have seen his face as he looked at you. I do believe he adores you.”

  The rustle of fabric sounded behind her, and she tensed.

  “Why is it that you submit to my whims?” he asked, his hand petting her pussy. “Aren’t you ever afraid that I’m toying with you? That I’m a devious bastard who might mean you harm?”

  She shook her head. “The things you said to me when we started our…” She shrugged because she didn’t know what to call this strange relationship.

  “Our affair?” he whispered, fingers entering her again and swirling in the gathering moisture.

  “Yes, our affair,” she said, drawing a deep breath and pressing backward, trying to take his fingers deeper. What was it he’d asked?

  He pinched her buttock hard. “Stay still. Now, tell me. Why do you allow this…with me?”

  She bit her lip, trying to distract herself from her fierce reaction to his touch. Although she’d just come, she was ready again. “Because you know me,” she said, moaning. “Because everything you’ve asked me to do was something I didn’t know I needed until you said it.”

  “You trust me, dear Nip?”

  “I do.”

  His fingers withdrew, and he raised her, gripping her shoulders then slowly turning her.

  As her lowered gaze noted his suit jacket, she blinked. A lightweight wool, navy, the cut a little old-fashioned. Her breath held as she slowly took in the tie, a bright red and grey abstract she’d selected for him when he’d spilled coffee on his silver and blue one that morning.

  When she met his gaze, his smile was slightly crooked, his eyes watchful.

  “Marlon?” she whispered.

  “Yes, sweet Gabby, it’s me.”

  “But…” She wasn’t certain what she felt—disappointment, shame, relief…

  Maybe she felt all of those emotions.

  He pressed a finger to her lips to forestall any further words. “I’ll lock the front door and turn the sign.”

  When he left, she sat hard in the wood chair and stared at her hands clasped in her lap. Her boss had been her secret admirer? Her “TallDarkBanker.” What the hell? Dark-haired was the only true descriptor.

  The curtain swished, and he entered the room again. “You’ll want to know how I found your chat room.” At her nod, he grinned. “You used my computer during one of your lunch breaks. You left the screen minimized, but the moment I opened it…” He shrugged. “I couldn’t resist. Online, you were so sweet, so eager. I’ve spent years watching you,
trying to figure out how to get you to say yes to seeing me outside this shop.”

  He’d asked her to drinks. To a movie. To watch the raising of the Christmas tree in the town square. And she’d thought he was doing it out of pity because she was so plain and unwanted by every man she’d ever known.

  “Was it fun?” she asked, her voice catching. “To watch me day after day, winding me up and turning me on so that I was desperate to do anything you wanted?”

  His expression darkened, and he squatted next to her chair.

  This close, she noted the blue of his eyes—his best feature—and usually so kind and direct. Today, his gaze was guarded. She followed the length of his slightly hooked nose, the angular jaw. He was only an inch or two taller than she was, and although she’d wondered about his lack of lady friends, had even considered he might be gay, she had been curious about what he looked like nude. He took care of himself, and his thick salt and pepper hair was attractive, but… Good lord, Marlon was the man who’d lured her into this adventure. Sweet, nondescript Marlon. All she could do was stare. How had she been so blind?

  His gaze narrowed, and he straightened his shoulders. “Nip, are you ready for your reward?”

  His voice was different when he was “Tall.” Harder, with an arrogance she’d never seen in him.

  “I’ve worked hard,” she said, though whether she was talking about her ten years of alteration services or the weeks she’d met and played with Andrew, she wasn’t sure.

  “I promised we’d move to the next stage of our relationship when you’d learned enough to please me.”

  She couldn’t help herself. “And have I learned enough?”

  The tension in his face eased. He gave a solemn nod. “Nip, raise your skirt.”

  As though floating in a dream, she reached down and slid her skirt up her thighs then lifted her bottom to pull it higher.

  Marlon tucked a finger into her folds and touched her clit, pressing on it. “Scoot to the edge of the seat, my dear.”

  She did, parting her thighs so that she didn’t bump her knees against his chest.

  “Lean back and grip the seat.”