London Style 2

I gape for a moment at the play of muscles under your skin and then snatch up the dress and follow. One poor teenage vacationer heading for the pool spies you and his jaw drops as you stride past, his head turning to catch every curve of you. As I pass he shoots me the most envious look, but by then you are in our room, and I just slip in before the door locks.

You're already striding into the bedroom, buttocks swaying in pendulum perfection, with a call back for me to catch up. I take the hint and shed my clothes before getting into the bedroom and finding you perched on the bed. Gorgeous. Wonderful. Mine.

On a normal day there would be lots of kissing and touching first but today you run your finger along your pussy and pull it out, glistening, and crook it at me to make the order clear. I slide into the bed face up and position my head immediately between your thighs.

The addictive essence of you fills my mind as
I tease you open with my tongue. Taking my time to taste and feel all of you. You're already shuddering- I can see the taut muscles of your legs struggling to hold yourself up through the waves of sensation.

It doesn't take long before you lower yourself onto me completely. I can feel every inch of your body from your thighs to your abdomen to your breasts to your hair touching me to the brim of your sensibld sun hat touching me somewhere. Your mouth slips over my cock and your tongue starts to swirl around it. It's so hard for me to pay attention to anything else aside from my mouth on you and yours on me so I don't even try. Let the day vanish. I have no where I'd rather be.

That moment when you feel me under you, my tongue sliding across your inner lips, when you realize that I am completely dedicated to your pleasure and that you have no idea what I will do next....

You feel me suck one of your lips into my mouth and flick my tongue along it, taking the time for finding every energized nerve ending. The hot wet tip of my tongue slides up and down that lip even when you feel the suction end, playing with you and opening you wide and wider.

You feel my hands run along your backside, along the smooth curves, finding every spot where you wanted to be held and caressed. You feel my mouth explore you, touching and tasting the space where you feel my cock rub against you when you make me take you from behind. Your clit is throbbing for attention but even when you ride me I take my time to make sure all of you is fulfilled.

You play your mouth over my hardness, licking and sucking, teasing and giving and giving. We both explode, together, drinking deep.

London Style 1

I love the look of that oh so practical sun hat over your long dark hair. Watching you walk towards me in your practical white sun dress, offset with the black belt and the very practical hat that so frames your face, the comfortable heels giving you just that extra pop of height and putting just a bit of a classy sway to your walk. The gold bracelet catches the sun and completes the ensemble. You look like a proper London lady out for an afternoon tea, slumming it here among the colonists in Washington DC for the day.

We lean in for a quick kiss, oh so chaste, oh so proper, and you bite my lower lip, which is not proper at all. My hand on your hip I can feel the absence of panties under that dress and wonder exactly what you had in mind for us today.

The noon sun in July in DC is no place for a well-bred lovely London lady to linger, so we walk casually along the street, talking together, hands intertwined or arms around one another. You keep finding a reason to bump into me, to press yourself against me, and I eventually stop and simply grab you and pull you in for a long and proper kiss, proper London lady be damned. You melt into it, supple and willing, and then pull away and start walking, letting me see you sway again as I catch up.

You duck into the shadowy cool of a hotel lobby and I figure we will be grabbing some tea at the restaurant or, since the sun is over the yardarm, a drink at the bar, but you surprise me by having walking directly to the desk and picking up your Day Use room key.

We have a suite, and you planned this all along. You lovely little minx you.

Key cards obtained you give me an over the shoulder "come hither" look and saunter to the elevator bank. The door has slid silently open by the time I get there and in a second it closes behind us, leaving us alone with the hundreds of mirrored reflections watching from the elevator walls, each watching, each  wondering what we will do next.

You move over and kiss me, teasingly, your hand playing on my ass as you do so. As the elevator doors open you slip your bag into my hand with a "hold this a moment, will you" and then you are out of the elevator, striding away. Your backside swaying, your hands in front of you.

Twenty feet down the empty noontime hotel hallway, me trailing behind in wonder, and you've undone enough buttons to shrug your shoulders and have your sun dress glide off of you. Stepping out of it without breaking stride you continue walking to our room, asked save for a very practical sun hat, comfortable heels and jewelry. Venus in the hotel hall.

You're not a proper lady at all.

Dressing the Part

You open your eyes and look down at me. I'm naked on my knees. You're naked as well, seeing me across your own flesh as you stand over me.

Fighting for it, aftermath

You are lying against my chest, the warmth of me, my arms around you, surrounding you. You are lying in the steaming hot water of the bath, the warmth suffusing you. You are sipping the luxurious red wine, its warmth sating you. For a long quiet moment there is peace. 

Fighting for it, TKO

I redouble licking you when you start fingering your clit around my tongue.

Fighting for it, round 3

I feel your teeth on my lower lip, your corset rubbing against my naked body, your strong hand and nails grabbing my ass and your other hand clutching my cock. 

Fighting for it, round 2

You are still grinding against my hip, legs wrapped around me, moaning, under me on the chair, managing to pin me while I’m still atop you.

Fighting for it, round 1

You lied to me. You told me this was going to be a casual, just stay in, "bang around the apartment" night. Now the place looks like a crime scene.... Though we did bang around the apartment alright. 

Pink Endgame

I'm spent. Every time you stopped kissing me, or riding my mouth over and over, you slid the blindfold down. I never saw your friend. Black white young old I know nothing of her save the feel of her pussy and mouth on my cock, the taste of her pussy and mouth on my mouth and the feel of her fingers on me or her nipples in my lips.

But I hear her leaving. Both of you are unsteady from so much sex and wine. You’re leading her down the hall and I don't have a lot of time. I squirm my hands, twist my wrists and free one, than the other. Pulling them down I remove the blindfold - the room lit from the door- and scramble up to hide behind that door

You stumble in, still in your frilly pink temptation outfit and by god if I don't stiffen again at seeing you. You start to say something to me before you realize I'm not there... Then I'm on you. The tackle has my naked body touching all of yours as I rush us forward to the bed

You land face down, me over you, straddling you, pulling your hands up and binding them in the straps that held me, your face muffled before I pull it free, kiss you savagely.

Those eyes show a little panic but a lot of drunken lust. You know what's coming.

I pull that pink skirt up and examine that perfect ass before slapping it. One side then the other then back, your overused pussy shuddering. You feel hear me in your drawers and hear the squirt of lube onto something before I pull your legs open and insert one of your toys into that aching pussy, slowly.

Inch by inch it fills you. The hum fills you. The vibrator fills you. You feel the lube squirt again and you make a theatrical pulling on the restraints. But you can talk and there's no safe word. You want this.

And I mount you, spreading your cheeks, your ass in the air, lubed and open and waiting. And I fill you inch by inch. Your breasts pushed down hard against your pretty pink top on the sheets, your hips covered with your pretty pink skirt. Your ass cheeks a rosy pink from the spanking.

You have taken and used and shared and abused me for who knows how long and now you are at my mercy as you feel all of yourself filled and taken, pushing back against the vibrator and my cock, sliding in and out of your ass before I explode in you with all I have left. You are writhing, cumming again and again, lost in the lust of it.

I slide out of you, slip the toy from you and slowly strip off your outfit one piece at a time, then undo your hands and we are in each other's arms for the night, no longer able to move.

Pink Prologue

You remembered seeing the outfit originally on the rack and laughed because you knew it would drive men, drive me in particular, crazy.

You brought it home and placed a call to me, knowing it would get me there that night, and then hung your coat carefully on the rack.

Each piece of your clothing is carefully unbuttoned, with a series of small releases under your fingers as you gain more and more freedom. The cream blouse slowly opens and spreads apart as you work your fingers lower and lower, then gently tug at its edges with just the tips of your fingers to open it completely. Your skin breathes in the night air.

You slide your fingers back along those open edges, the cream colored silk revealing warm flesh underneath it that hasn't been exposed or explored in too, too long. The fiery tingle of your body the blouse spreads and your hands have full play on that revealed and hyper sensitive skin.

The gasp at the slight pop of the bra clasp between your breasts coming free, and your nails running so gently across you to push that last set of folds wide open. You are exposed now, flushed and anticipatory. The silk blouse and bra slide to the bed behind you, forgotten. Your fingers return to your breasts, massaging the curves and feeling the heat growing inside you. You find your high, hard, insanely sensitive nubs and start working them. Breathing more and more heavily. Moaning. Staring at the pink frilled outfit you have laid out - when your eyes can focus - and imagining me seeing you in it, lusting after you in it, controlling me with it, and the hot wet rush makes your knees grow weak.

One hand on the bedside table to support yourself you unbutton your jeans and peel them off. The skin underneath breathes freely after its confinement, the form fitting, clinging framework of the jeans that drew eyes all day - but most especially mine this morning as we broke our fast together. Now it's been 12 hours since I touched you and you need to break that fast again. And you know that I remember how you looked, that I would have some regret at not being the one to slide off those jeans.

Your lacy, cream colored panties slide off, soaking wet, and you carefully place everything you had on today airside. Before you on the bed are the white and pink frilled top that will barely contain your bountiful breasts, the white and pink frilled skirt that makes no effort to hide the curves of your ass and the white stockings with bows and garters that you can already feel me wanting before you even don them.

Contemplating timing, you reach for the phone to see if anyone wants to share what you will drive me to. How much could you do to me? And how many women would want a part of it? The phone rings….

Pink, Part One

The outfit wasn't fooling me for a second. I knew this girl wasn't innocent. 

It took exploring of course, running my hands up those silk clad legs, making sure that I get to touch all of them, to straighten the pretty little bows on her stockings before moving on and up, higher and higher.

Checking all around that short frilly skirt, the bright pink and pure white frills denoting and innocence that was belied by the hot, wet, shaved beauty underneath. Once I found that I realized that I had been trapped, but I didn't care. 

I almost said that what was under that skirt - the perfect curves where her legs met her hips and her hips moved up to her torso, the glory of her backside and the secret hollows of her inner thighs that demanded long exploration... Sorry, I wandered off there. I almost said they weren't "pure" rather than not "innocent". But they were absolutely pure - their form and function served one purpose and that was to ensnare men's eyes and minds and grant them pleasure upon pleasure

The flat abdomen, born of much work and effort, slid under my palm as I continued my exploration. Every muscle quivered to go back down and feel below the skirt more. But for professionalism's sake I needed to go on, to check that oh so high cut shirt that barely contained her delightful breasts. She giggled coquettishly as I held them in my hand, and gently revealed one breast, one perfect nipple and lowered my mouth to it. 

I had lost by then, surely, feeling it under my tongue, stiffening at my touch, and I abandoned all control with that contact. My mouth ranged freely all over her body, my hands the same, while she laughed and giggled and moaned and directed and urged me forward until all of my hands and face were slick with her cum, my cock was so hard as to be on fire and by brain felt like I'd been on an two bottle scotch bender, unable to focus on anything but getting this prefect pure innocent girl to somewhere I could bury myself in her. 

I don't know how long ago that was. My hands are tied down, the blindfold blocks the light and my cock aches from being so used and taken. I hear motion in the room and wonder what's going to happen. My cock, already well trained to follow that girl in the shepherd costume like a lost little lamb, had started to rise at the sound and I'm not surprised when I felt lips wrap around it. 

What surprised me was her voice in my ear. "Darling, I'm sharing you today. Do make sure you satisfy everyone." The blindfold came off but the face of the girl in pink dominated my vision, before her lips came down and kissed me, deep and loving. She was still kissing me as the first of her friends slid over me. 

Tidal Forces

The woman next to me on the train has on a cute short skirt and that has me thinking of seeing you in one of those.

What do the married folk do

I’m lying next to you in bed. I can hear your breathing, slow and gentle, and turn onto my side to look at you. You’re lying faced away from me and my gaze runs over you under the sheet. The sheet is thin and white – you’ve tossed off the other covers during the night – and through it I can see the long, patterned satin nightgown clinging to your curves. (I don’t remember you putting it on last night, but after what you did to me that’s not surprising.)

I take in the gentle slope of your legs up to your hip rising under the sheet, then down to see the perfect intoxicating and, quite frankly addictive curves of your ass and I feel something stir within me. (How I could have the energy, again after what you, we, did last night is beyond me, but you give me that energy; you make me want so much.) I continue to look up you, along your trim waist, across your back where I can just see the curve of your breast at this angle, and then to your head, shadowed in your lovely dark hair. ‘

I shift again, onto my elbow, to take a look at your face, framed by that hair that I have run my fingers through hundreds of times. Everything else vanishes. Yes, your body is beautiful – looking at you one would never suspect that you’re a woman closer to 50 than you are to 30 – but that face, clear of any worry in slumber, with a slight smile on it (good dreams? Contentment, perhaps? Or satisfaction over what you accomplished last evening) still takes my breath away. You are so beautiful.

The only thing that would make you more so would be if your eyes were open and I could see your intelligence and wit dancing inside them. Greedy as I am I run my hand along your leg, over your hip and down to cup your curves for a moment, then back up your waist and just across the edge of your left breast. You stir, and smile, and your eyes open. There’s no confusion in them, as you know who you are, where we are and what’s about to happen. (Though perhaps you wonder what I intend to do this morning….)

I lean down and kiss your cheek, then move my mouth to your ear. “Good morning,” I whisper.

“Good morning.”

The lovemaking that follows is slow, gentle, well-practiced from all of our time together, and all we can stand after last night’s borderline debauchery. Looking around the room is still a mess from it – covers tossed about, clothes strewn places, the strap of your garter belt hanging from the window latch. We both look around a laugh a little about what we did, but then the familiar rhythm hits, the natural carving of the groove of me into you, and we smile the smiles of pleasure and knowing todays partner knows all of you.

Kitchen Heat

It’s the weekend, summer and I’m in the kitchen, prepping dinner – cutting up the vegetables that will be roasting alongside the chicken – when I feel you come in behind me. Your arms wrap around me as you press yourself up against my back and I can feel the warmth of your body and the strength of your embrace. It’s strong but cautious as no one likes a romantic moment marred by a sliced artery.
I love feeling you there, and having you rest your head on my shoulder. The clean fresh scent of your hair, the pressure of your breasts on my back.

Three, Two, One

Having driven me mad, both of you, you lever off of

Trois Trois

There is the theory that the delay is better.

Trois Part Deux

The three bodies intertwined, you me and her.

Teased a Trois

I spent last night alone in a king sized bed, one with easily space enough for one or two other people, and wondered why I was so foolish as to be lying here so alone and so hard. As much fun as the other night was (and it was fun) we did not even scratch the surface of what I wanted to do with you, to you, in you. If only the hours had sped by so that it was tonight and you were again in my arms.

Until we can imagine no more

You think you are totally in control

Teaching Against Caution

Your hand runs down between my legs

Intertwined

You drop down

Overly Cautious, Perhaps

I roll of the bed and stand on unsteady feet.

Fair play

You hear me crying out as you

leaving the ache in you

I slowly push all the way in, stay there immobile for a moment and the exit you, leaving the ache.

Moaned instructions

Following your moaned instructions I begin,

I cannot stop thinking about you

I implied that I would wait for your wishes but I cannot stop thinking about you.

The thought of you holding my head to direct my mouth, kissing your lips softly and then deeper, running my teeth along your lower lip and then gently nibbling the line of your jaw up to your ear, then down your neck. Feeling your pulse with my lips as you glide me down to your collarbone and then along the delicious curve of your breast.

First Dream

Dreams:

It started with me combing your hair.  You were seated, looking at both of us in a mirror. Your eyes met mine as the comb went up and down, teeth gliding between your platinum locks and sliding down with a silky whisper. And then again.

You were dressed in evening wear with a choker on, placing a small precious stone right at your throat. The dress was black, off the shoulder, displaying a civilized hint of cleavage. I had on a white shirt and tie and could see my jacket and pants laid out on the bed in the mirror behind me.

The comb went up and down, vanishing partially into your hair and teasing out any lingering imperfections. With each stroke unseen your pulse flutter under the choker, hear your breath catch. Your chest starts to rise up and down as you're breathing harder. You start to twitch slightly in your seat as the strokes get longer and slower, starting at your scalp and running the whole length of your hair, which slips free of the teeth at the end and falls gently back across the bare skin of your shoulder.

You whisper 'more'

I put my ear close to your mouth and hear you whisper "more."

Listen Closely

I lay beside you. My hand rests between your hips, not touching where you want to be touched but just a simple weight. You're throbbing. Aching. I place my mouth to your ear and begin. My breath tickling your ear, my voice inside your mind.

I tell you, in detail, of the day we were abroad, broke at the end of the trip. Visiting the parks was free. People watching was free. Sex was free. I helped you that morning into your loose skirt, each step swinging to outline your derriere. Into the low cut blouse, perfect for summer heat. And we walked the parks to see people. And be seen by them.

You turned every man’s head. They twisted to follow you, and your stride went from comfortable to confident to brazen until your glorious display made one biker nearly fall off the trail. I touched you here, there, stealing kiss.

From Taste to Touch

I roll you onto your stomach. You hear and feel me move but in the darkness. Then then my hands, coated in warm oil, start massaging your right foot, working in deep strokes to release any tension.

Then your calf, the strong pressure undoing the strap marks on your leg. Long, slow, deep strokes, finding every knot of tension. Then up further to your thigh, taught and strong from your exercise regimen, being worked over with my fingers pressing deep into the muscles, each stroke going a little higher until my fingers just touch the glorious curve of your backside, within a hairs breath of the heat that's been growing in you since the first course.

We open with inspiration from Deathless

Under the blindfold you hear the brûlée snap under the spoon. The clink of the metal on the glass, and again the subtle pressure of the spoon on your lips. The custard is rich and thick, with the shard of sugar a perfect textural counterpoint. Your tongue slides the flavor around over and over before you swallow.

The wineglass touches your lips and you sip, a viscus Canadian ice wine, sweet and flavorful, deep red, full of after notes.

The evening has gone this way. You saw the repast as you sat in the chair, catalogued what you could while I wound the straps round and round your calves, binding each to a leg of the chair. Then your forearms, again the straps almost tight enough to block circulation, certainly tight enough to hold you immobile. Then the straps around your chest, pulling you to perfect posture against the old oak, feeling the carvings on the hardwood chair back pressed into your spine. Then the blindfold.

Then the food. One slow mouthful at a time of caviar. The buttery brine of the eggs, salty and delicate popping against your tongue. Then a sip of the wine, Blanc de Noir, to match the taste. Three spoonfuls, then four. Then no more.

A light sorbet to cleanse the palate. Just a spoonful.

Then the kale, creamed and just a touch bitter, rich beyond belief, with shards of bacon in it. A light white wine between each sip.

With each sorbet you feel your mind racing, your heart pounding about what might come next. What had you seen?

The roasted marrow on toast, with a deep blood red, extremely dry.

The cool lemon clears your tongue but not your mind. You can feel the pulse, but it seems bound as you are the blood has only one place to go.

The unagi, grilled and perfectly smooth, with a saki.

The lemon. You moan with pleasure at it now. Even that delicate touch feels like it's everywhere you would wish to be touched.

The duck confit, rich beyond rich, with the effervescence of champagne to brighten it up.

It's indescribable. The want for what is next.

Every decadence in the world, four spoonfuls of each, just enough to taste, until you are replete, sated and spent, with the fourth spoonful of brûlée in you.

You feel your hands tingle back to life as the straps are unwound, then your feet, which you don't trust to hold you.

I lift you, still blindfolded, and place you in your bed, the Egyptian cotton sheets caressing you. When the blindfold come off the room is pitch dark.

I whisper in your ear "would you like to move from taste to touch?"