My Stories
With Partners
By Rick
By Troy
By Tammy
About Me

Bit One:

Sandwiched between Victor and Elizabeth, grinding away to the heavy bass beat, I realized my thighs were getting wet, and that it had been entirely too long since I'd had any real sexual contact. I sighed, kissed each of them gently, and walked to the side of the dance floor. Leaning on the thick yellow pipe demarcating the small area packed with undulating bodies, I picked up my nearly empty cup of water from the floor, sucked on an ice cube and watched, careful to seem bored and detached from the goings-on. Victor was an amazing dancer; Elizabeth a bit less so, but they were my best friends, and I loved them dearly. And besides, it wasn't as if I was the best dancer myself. It was sometimes difficult being with them -- they were lovers, and I occasionally felt like an intruder. Elizabeth's wife, Karen, sometimes felt that way as well, and was leaning on me heavily to become her concubine. Trouble was, I nearly despised Karen. Part of it was jealousy that Elizabeth loved her so much, part was the fact that she looked like a small Arabic man (I like my women to look like women,) and part was her borderline obnoxious personality. Yet I had to sort of pretend to get along with her, since she was an integral part of Victor and Elizabeth's lives.

Sighing again, I looked around for prospective lovers to take home. Jay was bumping and grinding, revolving those beautiful young hips like they were made of ball bearings. Earlier in the evening he had said "Kate, whenever I'm around you, I get so horny." I looked back on the years before, when I had taken him, only fifteen then, under my wing when his parents had thrown him out. Drugs, trouble in school, and miscellaneous other problems plagued him. I worried and fussed with a mother's love, and lusted with a twenty-year old's cunt. He was so beautiful, deceptively innocent-looking. Two brief sexual encounters occasionally haunted me, and apparently he'd been thinking of them as well. But now, he had blossomed into this amazingly mature young man. Most troubles behind him, he was in love, working and planning for his future. I began to understand the proud, joyous/sad twinges of parenthood when the baby leaves the nest and does well on his own. I was happy to have had a hand in his progression.

Grudginly,I ruled Jay out as the night's toy. Chewing slowly on my plastic cup, I gazed about, smiling and my friends, noticing Nick, the lights guy, staring at me now and then. He'd been a friend of Jay's way back when, and then they'd parted ways, due to some dispute. Nick was beautiful as well, although in a different way. He was also pretentious as hell, and hadn't spoken to me in quite some time. I ignored him.

There were more women here tonight than was the usual on gay night. And many of them were attractive, even more unusual. "Being bisexual certainly has its advantages," I thought with a wry smile. A lean black man sidled up to the small space in front of me, thoroughly into the groove. He was wearing black vinyl pants, a gold lame, skin-tight shirt, a loose, black open shirt, and thick-framed black glasses. His dreads bounced up and down as he danced. He smiled at me, and I gave a small one in return. A friend joined him, and began dancing in front of me as well. Upon first glance, she really was nothing special, but since she was only inches from me, I thought I'd look her over.

She was grunged up; two demerit points. I almost dismissed her right then, but she turned to face me and smiled shyly. Her face was so smooth, so beautiful! Her lips were a pale reddish-pink, her hair (as best I could tell in the flashing lights) was strawberry blonde, long and straight, with the cutest little bangs. She wore a white short-sleeved shirt with a heart on the breast (ack,) overalls, and the requisite flannel shirt tied about her waist. She was charming, despite her obvious grunge fixation. She didn't dance flamoyantly, pretentiously, or seductively; she just moved shyly to the beat and smiled to herself, sometimes glancing at me from beneath those bangs and long eyelashes. She radiated innocence willing to be corrupted, which was like a magnet to someone like me. I wanted to take her home, gently seduce her, and then show her things that would blow her mind.

I was absorbed. "Bloody hell," I thought, "I'm hot for a grunge child." I was almost disgusted with myself, but was too entranced to notice it much. I watched her and her friend intently, wondering if the man was bi or gay or what. My GAYDAR said "flaming fag," but my naive hope said "definitely bi," and envisioned the three of us in a snarl of sheets. A song I could tolerate came over the speakers, but rather than dance, I stayed still to watch them. They were obviously not "together" in the truest sense, but acquaintances, touching base with each other a little nervously, and then going back into their own little worlds.

Was she wondering if I was still watching her? Was that why she glanced at me so often, or was it because I was only inches away, and made her uncomfortable? Did she sense my predatorial intentions? I was dying to reach out and stroke that soft, fine hair, to say something along the lines of "you're so beautiful -- do you live around here often?" Humor, my favorite defense. I looked about the bar, scanning the corners for intriguing faces. Finding none, I settled upon this lovely child as the night's target. I stared at her until she looked back up at me. I locked her eyes, and gave her a look which made my intents clear. She stared back for the briefest of seconds before looking quickly down. I smiled to myself, knowing those eyes would be looking back before long. Indeed, only a few moments had passed before she gazed back up. Everything about her exuded shyness. She turned coyly away and took a few steps towards the center of the dance floor, dragging her male friend by the hand with her. The wiggle in her hips was a fine invitation, and even more so, the bounce of her small, lovely breasts.

Placing my cup on the nearest table, I fixed my eyes upon her and slid towards her through the crowd. Drawing a bit from my gift, I slightly parted the dancing bodies as I passed, so she would see me as graceful, not jostled about, or getting an elbow up my nose. I moved into position behind her, looking her deliberately up and down as I did so. Smiling at her friend, I began on him first, so as not to frighten her. He willingly joined me, slipping his knees between mine, and gyrating around seductively, moving up and down on my body. I grasped his head with my hands and ground my pussy inches from his face. His dreads flew about as he played along with my cunnilingus scenario. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw we had captured her attention. I pulled him up and moved around behind him, pushing my hips into his ass, grinding hard, and my hands caressed his chest and pulled him into me. He bent at the waist and stuck his ass up in the air, still circling his hips. I made like a butch-dyke, thrusting my imaginary dildo in and out of him. He tossed his head and reached back with both hands, pulling me in deeper and deeper. He straightened and I began moving down his back, rubbing my breasts up and down over his ass, while reaching between his legs and stroking his cock firmly and slowly.

She was entranced. Others around us smiled appreciatively; dirty dancing was nothing new to the Nectarine crowd; it was, however, duly appreciate when performed well, and ignored when poorly done. I had nearly perfected the art over the years. My thighs were strong and firm, and I could grind with the best of them all night. And often did, really. He turned around and whipped me around as well, pushing his half-hard cock into my ass. I rotated and pushed back appreciatively. My tight leggings were like a second skin, as were his vinyl pants. That so little separated us excited me. He cupped my breasts and bit my neck, pinching my nipples as he did so. I pulled one of his hands between my legs and held it there, pushing against it. God, these boys could work it. I was so ready to come right there when the song ended, and a much less erotic beat came on. We parted, and I turned to smile at him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. He winked at me and started doing this fancy-footwork number. I laughed. He grinned and turned to the man behind him, grabbing his ass and falling into easy conversation as they both danced minimally.

I chuckled and turned to make sure she was still there. Of course she was, smiling (again shyly!) at me. I stepped only slightly towards her and danced in a casual "yeah, I'm dancing, but I'm not that into it" kind of way. She turned her back to me which, oddly enough, is the standard invitation for closer contact. I turned to "the camera" that always follows me around in my ego and smiled confidently before approaching her. I didn't touch her at first, just let her know I was behind her. The song wasn't particularly appropriate for erotic dancing, so I contemplated my next move quickly. Something non-threatening, but firm. I reached out with both hands, touching each side of her head and running my nails across her scalp and down through her hair. It was indeed soft as I had imagined. She didn't turn, but let her head fall back as I repeated the procedure. She had minimal personal shields, which I could have easily stroked down, but in a place like the Nectarine, personal wards never hurt. I felt her quiet inner strength, her quivering desire, and I was now certain that she'd never been with a woman before. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect gift tonight. I thanked the forces and moved just the tiniest bit closer to her, so the tips of my breasts brushed against her back now and then.

I placed one hand on her hip, just resting it there, following her movements. She was slightly stiffer now, more self-conscious, and more than a little nervous. This would be a delicious pursuit. I wondered if we would speak at all. Silent seductions are one of my favorite things. She was so young, though, and so nervous, I sincerely doubted that she wouldn't speak out of sheer terror soon, something to cut the developing tension. We continued moving together. Now and then, I stroked her side, just lightly, just for a moment, before returning my hand to her hip, when it rested, reminding her of my presence, of my intent, and of my desire.

The bloody song was one of those rave-type numbers, mindless thumping for seemingly hours on end, with no lyrics, just thump-thump-thump-thumpa-thumpa- thump-thump-thump. It was driving me nuts, but I was reluctant to leave her before I had really set the hook. I looked imploringly up at Roger, the DJ, rolling my eyes and gesturing around at the music/noise. He nodded and began rummaging through his collection. As a regular of five years and as a former employee, I had special priviledges reserved for the select few, which, might I add, I enjoyed tremendously. Roger began mixing in the intro to "Get Down Make Love" by NIN. I grinned up at him and mouthed "thank you." It was one of my perennial favorites, and guaranteed to make me incredibly horny, as if I needed to be any more so. As the old song faded out, and NIN took over, all the boys groaned and left the floor. The girl started to leave, but I took her hand and held her with me. She seemed surprised, unsure of what to do. I smiled reassuringly, and dropped her hand, beginning my industrial dancing mode. The floor was nearly deserted, populated by who I call the "Old Crowd." We all knew each other, and longed for The Good Old Days of Industrial Night at the Nec. We took what we could get now, though.

The Nectarine is like a drug, like another world. It is addictive, and it is all-consuming at first. Lives revolve around it, and lives are destroyed within it is one isn't careful. I learned my lesson years ago, when I could look around at the various levels and see perhaps eight to ten people with whom I'd had sex, twenty or so more whom I did not want to talk to, and maybe another ten with whom I'd love to have sex, but hadn't. I knew everyone's little story, and I got completely wrapped up in The Lifestyle and in all the little psychodramas. Thank the gods it closed for awhile to remodel, at which point, I quit working there. Now I only visited. Scary thing was, people who had been working there long before I had still did, and they still loved it. I shook my head, thinking about this tiny little place with all its power.

Trent Reznor was screaming, and I began lunging side to side with each word, curving around her at each end. I moved my arms in a different pattern, but to the same beat, and reached around her, beginning the seduction for her and for those around us. Everyone appreciated a good seduction. We were all equally voyeuristic and exhibitionistic here at the Nec. I emulated stroking her up and down, my hands several inches from her body, but forming each and every curve, circling her breasts. Finally, I pushed her head to one side, reached around her stomach, pulled her tightly to me, and buried my face in her neck, biting softly, licking delicately before releasing her and resuming my regular dance. The second time I pulled her to me, I didn't kiss her, I just held her and led her gently. With one hand held firmly to her tummy, I reached down with the other to stroke her thigh. I moved up and down her leg slowly, tracing up the inside with my fingertips, then pressing firmly with my whole hand on the downstroke.

She was relaxing slightly, giving in. I was leaning on her just the smallest bit with my gift, soothing her anxiety. Being a projective as well as a receptive empath has its benefits as well. I inhaled the smell of her hair, a patch of clean softness inside the room full of harsh cigarette smoke. Oh, this was divine. I hadn't been with a woman in months. "Get Down Make Love" began to end, and I signalled Roger to play something similar, to keep the mood going for me. He grimaced but obliged with the "I Sit on Acid" remix by Lords of Acid. Roger's a good guy, and membership has its priviledges.

The crowd cheered -- this was acceptable, given its lewd content. As the boys began bopping about, the girl started to as well, but I once again restrained her, slowing her down, helping her find the slower underlying rhythym. I turned her to face me, but didn't look into her eyes. Yet. I arranged myself so that we each had one leg inside the other's, pulled her tight to me so that our bodies pressed together from breasts to thighs. I placed one of her hands on my ass, and put one of mine on hers as we slowly rotated against each other. Her breath was audible in my ear, even above the loud music. I was sure part of it was the physical exertion of keeping this strenuous activity up, but also that part of it was the lust between us.

At the next chorus of "sit on your face, I wanna sit on your face," I stared directly into her eyes, but didn't do anything as tacky as mouth the words to her. She didn't look down this time. In fact, she tightened her grip on my ass. I was so pleased at this action that I almost forgot to keep dancing. I quickly recovered my composure and smiled into her eyes with mine. I began to wonder "has this chic been having me on? Is she just an accomplished shy femme?" I don't usually misread people. "Buggery bullocks, Kate, all she did was grab your ass -- she's just turned on, that's all." I was reassured by the thought and felt firmly back in control.

She was now pushing back towards me with equal intensity, but couldn't bring herself to look into my eyes directly again. She glanced up sporadically through those bangs in a most endearing way. I was firmly hooked, even if she wasn't yet. I was just dying to feel her breasts, I was already visualizing her sitting on top of me, undualing and moaning, or alternatively, bound by my wrist restraints writhing as I went down on her. My knees were getting as weak as my thighs were wet. It was getting to be time to leave; I couldn't take much more of this.

I turned my lips to her ear, sucking on the lobe gently before saying "Let's go. I'd like to take you home with me tonight." She inhaled sharply before nodding mutely. We gathered our coats from the coatcheck. I tipped for both of us and we left. Ann Arbor on a Friday night is a busy place. I contemplated asking where she parked, but didn't want to break to mood. I just led her to my car, parked in the alley across the street. As we drove to my apartment, I played the stereo loud enough to discourage conversation, all the while caressing her leg. Her fingers played tentatively in my long, curly hair.

Bit Two: At a particularly long stoplight, she reached to turn the stereo down. I let her.

"Ann. My name is Ann."
"Kate." She smiled nervously.
"I just thought we should know each other's names."
At this, she paused. "I'm not sure."

I turned the stereo back up and drove on. I swore I would need a spatula to get me off of my car seat; I felt part woman, part snail. At my apartment (which I had hastily cleaned before leaving that night, in the hopes I would be bringing someone home,) I took her appropriately grungey coat and hung it next to my leather in the closet.

"You have lovely art," she said quietly, admiring all of the prints and statuettes placed about. I smiled and said nothing. Motioning for her to take a seat on the sofa, I walked into my bedroom and closed the door softly. I looked around, made sure everything was all set, and lit the incense waiting in the censer. I walked into the bathroom, tossing out a pair of dirty underwear into the closet, wiping toothpaste out of the sink, straightening towels, and spritzing a bit of Shalimar into the air. Seemed ok.

I came back out into the living room.

"Go ahead and take a nice hot shower, and relax. I'll use the other bathroom." "Umm...sure. Ok. I guess I am pretty sweaty." I showed her to the bathroom and told her to make use of anything she found in it. I had left several varieties of scented shower gels on the countertop, as well as some stimulating body brushed and scrubbers in the shower itself. I turned to leave, and pressed in the lock as I closed the door behind me.

Before it shut completely, I said "Take all the time you want. We're in no hurry." She smiled again. I closed the door and walked to the other side of the apartment to the other bathroom. I rinsed quickly off, wanting to make a few other preparations before she finished. Satisfied that I was generally club-odor-free, I towelled off, donned a dark blue silk robe, and went into my bedroom. I listened at the bathroom door; she was still showering. I fanned the incense about my room, made sure all sex toy-type things were hidden yet easily available, smoothed the sheets, closed the shades and lay down on the bed. I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of water running off her body, visualizing tiny rivulets coursing over her breasts, in between her legs, dripping off her pubic hair (if indeed she had any.) I reached between my legs and rubbed my clit lightly, moaning softly. I was totally soaking wet again. Much more of this self-pleasuring and I'd have an orgasm before she came in the room. It was difficult to stop, but discipline won out, and I waited quietly.

I heard her turn the water off and shuddered slightly with anticipation. "Oh shit! The candles!" I thought. I jumped up and lit two on the wall above the bed, one on my altar, and one on the bookshelf on the wall opposite the bed. The overall effect was lovely; enough light to see well by, but not harsh like incandescent lamps. Exotic shadows cast by my many feathers and drapings danced about. I hoped she would enjoy the ambience; much of my pleasure would stem from hers.

The bathroom door unlocked, and she came out, wearing the soft robe I'd left for her. It was tied loosely at the waist. Her hair was dark and wet, combed back from her face. Her face glowed darkly as she took a few uncertain steps towards my king-size bed. She looked lovely.

"I thought you might like a massage," I stated quietly. "That sounds really nice." She fidgeted with her robe a little. I sat on the edge of the bed and motioned her towards me. She stood before me, and it took every ounce of will not to ravish her right then and there. Instead, I stood and removed her robe from behind, sliding it off over her shoulders slowly, watching every inch of flesh revealed.

"Lie down on your stomach, please, Ann." She did so, making herself comfortable. "Make sure there's no undue pressure on your neck." She shifted more. Satisfied that she was comfortable, I asked if she would prefer almond or clarey sage oil. She said that the sage sounded more exotic. I opened the nightstand drawer and removed the bottle, placing it on top. I then removed my robe. Her head was turned away; too bad. I looked at the contrast of her pale white skin on my dark green duvet. Beautiful.

"I'm going to start at your neck and work my way down to your feet." She nodded silently. Pouring a small amount of oil in my hands, I smoothed it up my arms to the elbow, and made sure my hands had a generous coating. I then warmed a small bit more in my hands, and said "I'm going to begin now."

Her hair was already off her neck; a good thing -- I'd forgotten to check before I oiled my hands. I began very softly, spreading the warm oil from the base of her skull down over her trapezius muscles. She was relaxed on the surface, but had tension in the deeper muscles. I gently worked her neck and shoulders for a long time; she carried her stress in this area. As the knots came loose, I moved down her spine and outwards, always visualizing the tension moved by my hands out of her body as I felt the flow of energy out of me and into her.

I moved to the base of her spine, just before the swell of her buttocks began. There was little tension here, but I gave the area special attention, as she reacted strongly to my touch. I stroked downwards to the outside of her hips, pressing firmly. Her flesh was so resilient and so soft. It was as much a pleasure for me to be touching her as it was for her to be touched. I used a heavy amount of oil on her ass; it trickled into the cleft and she shuddered. I smiled. I squeezed her gluteal muscles to get to the tension from dancing moving downwards. I pushed and squeezed and pulled. I could see her anus tighten in pleasure when I pulled her cheeks apart. I could see that she was at least partially shaven. Shaven women are such a turn-on for me; I can see everything, and there's no hair to get in my mouth, either.

Her thighs were especially tight; the dancing had taken a lot out her. I projected a strong amount of healing energy into this area, loosening the grip of the lactic acid. Her calves were equally tense. She had strong, well-formed legs. She was very fit without being muscley. Finally, I reached her feet. I used enough oil to squish around between her toes and make luscious noises. She moaned appreciatively as I eased all the accumulated body tension out through her toes. I used particularly hard pressure on the soles of her feet, using various pressure points corresponding to areas on her body. As I finished up, I used soft, smoothing strokes all over her body.

"That was incredible. You have the most amazing hands," she said lazily, turning over with as little effort as possible. "I haven't felt this relaxed since, like....God I don't know." She really was young. Perfectly fine by me. As she lay on her back, I couldn't help but admire her breasts with their pink, firm little nipples. I looked down, and she had a small patch of darker blonde pubic hair.

"Kiss me," she said softly. I was more than happy to oblige, but held up a finger for her to wait. I poured oil down my front, and smoothed it over my breasts and belly; oiled flesh against oiled flesh was one of my favorites. I slid up her belly and over her breasts with my own, and straddled her with my legs as I leaned in to kiss her. She had full, yielding lips, which I kissed gently. I used my non-supporting hand to caress her side. Her skin was enchantingly supple. I licked the corners of her mouth, and she opened it to me. I teased her, darting my tongue in and out quickly, not giving her the full, hard kiss she wanted. She lifted her head to me, but I backed away. Finally, she grabbed the back of my head and forced my tongue into her. She sucked on it, played with it, nibbled at it with her teeth. It had finally begun. I began rubbing my breastsup and down against hers while still kissing her passionately. Small moans emanated from both of us. I took each of her wrists in my hands and pinned them above her head; I have a bit of a bondage fetish, and this was a way to test her reaction. She didn't go totally passive, and she didn't struggle against me, she just used her body to communicate her passion.

I released her and began kissing her neck, nibbling, sucking, biting, licking it all over, from front to back, top to bottom. The back was particularly sensitive. Each time I grazed it with my teeth she inhaled sharply and pushed her hips up towards me. I couldn't stay away from her breasts any longer. I had to touch them, to taste them. I worked down her chest, cupping each breast from the side, pushing them slightly together, as she murmered the sorts of things people do when helpless with desire. I took her left nipple in my mouth sucking hard and long. I nipped at it, laved it with my tongue, squeezing with my hands. Her breasts were perfect C cups, perky but not overly-so, naturally firm, with perfect nipples. I could spent days worshipping them.

She was moaning louder now, and breathing faster. She pulled me up and slid down simultaneously, positioning herself under my breasts and began sucking on them furiously as her nails dug into my back. I arched into her, murmuring appreciatively. My hair swished across my back, giving me goosebumps and making me shudder. From beneath me she asked "Is this right? Does it feel good?" I told her it felt wonderful. I moved back down, so we were face to face and kissed her deeply again. I then began kissing down her body, paying close attention to those marvelous breasts, then venturing further, sampling her belly button, her waist, her sides. I didn't stampede to her pussy the way most men do; I paused to caress, to admire, to suckle. When I lowered myself to her pubic mound, I could smell her delicate aroma. I blew softly on her hairs, and she gasped "oh please....oh please...." but I was going to make her wait, to make her crazed for it. I pushed her legs apart so I could fit in between them, and lowered my face to just inches above her pussy lips. She was so slick and wet and fragrant, I wanted to dive in, but restrained myself. I blew on her again, and she raised her hips, desperately trying to obtain any pressure on her beautiful, plump little clit.

I raised myself up.

"Not yet; not yet...I want to tie you up....may I?"
"Yes, yes, God if you'll make me come just do anything!" She was writhing.

I reached down between the bed and the nightstand and came up with one of my prized possessions, thick leather wrist restraints, lined with even thicker lamb's wool, with big, chrome buckles. I had it linked to its mate on the other side of the bed with a length of heavy chain. As I gently tightened the buckle, she started looking anxious.

"Shh, shh, shh," I soothed. "I won't hurt you. If you want me to stop, say so and I will. I won't do anything you don't want, and we can stop at any time you want. If you want me to stop, say 'panic.' "

She nodded and said "Ok, go ahead."

I kissed her gently but passionately and crawled across her to get the other restraint, bringing my cunt within inches of her wet lips. When she was properly tied down, I smiled wickedly and said "Now that you're buckled up, let's take you for a ride." I reached up and grabbed a peacock feather from one of the drapings around the bed. I ran it lightly up and down her body. She shivered. I stroked her with it between her legs, and knew how tantalizing this was for her -- it was enough to feel, but not enough to get any true satisfaction from. The chain links were clinking together as she struggled to get the tip of the feather to touch her clit harder. I wasn't about to let her. Putting the feather aside, I lay down on top of her, covering her entire body with mine, and pulsing my pubic bone against her pussy. She groaned.

"Please make me come. Please, God, please make me come. I want to come so bad."

I was loving this. It's not a power trip for me; it's knowing how good she's going to feel when she finally does come. All the teasing, all the tantalizing pays off in the end. I stroked her brow, soothing her, calming her, bringing her down a few levels to where she was less crazed for an orgasm. I went to the foot of the bed, cradling her right foot in my hands and blowing on the sole. I took her little toe in my mouth and sucked on it gently, repeating the process for each toe on each foot. Her feet were sensitive, but not ticklish, so I could get away with flickering my tongue over the soles of her feet.

I took one foot in each hand and pushed her legs apart, keeping them straight as I did so. I could now look directly up into her pussy. I could see the wetness, the fullness, the redness of it in all its perfect beauty.

I found the ankle restraints and gently wrapped it around her right ankle -- gently wrapping, but firmly buckling it. I completed the other ankle, and stood, looking down at this gorgeous woman, spread out and tied to my bed. It was the best gift someone could give to me.

"You're so beautiful, Ann." She moaned. "Do you want me to suck your pussy?"
"Please...." as she arched her back and spread her legs even further. I licked and kissed my way up her thighs, making sure to lavish attention on her the backs of her knees, a little-known errogenous zone for many people. I scraped my nails up the insides of her thighs, hearing her breath hiss in and come out with an "aaaaaahhhhh."

Finally, I was at her gateway. I framed her little pussy with my hands, pulling the lips gently apart, and again blowing on her clit, this time harder. She gasped.

"You smell so good, Ann. I can't wait to taste you, to suck on your clit, to put my fingers inside you, to lick your asshole. I want to make you come so hard..." My words were exciting me as well as her. The chain rattled against the wall as she moved. I traced her labia with the tip of my tongue, loving the absence of hair, loving the smoothness of her inner folds, loving the smell of her. After much teasing in this manner, I positioned my tongue just below her clit, and thrust it lightly up against the bottom of it. Finally obtaining some pressure on her clit nearly sent her over the edge, but I slowed so a steady pulse. I was dying to fully taste her, so I flickered my tongue down to her vagina and buried it there. Her juices began running down my chin and I explored her inner depths with my tongue. She pushed her hips up against me, and I could feel how much she wanted to grab my head and pull it to her with her little hands.

I moved back up to her clit, and began to suck on just the little tip of it. She thrust her hips up to meet each pulsing suction, moaning, trying to grind herself into me, and failing each time. I wasn't going to let her come yet; I wanted this to last, and then to do it all over again.

"Mmmm...I can feel how much you want to come...I want to make you come...but not yet." I looked up at her to see her looking down at me, and I smiled wickedly. She let out an exasperated sigh and flopped her head back onto the pillow.

I reached into the nightstand's drawer -- it was my Drawer O'Tricks. Various vibrators, dildoes, lotions, oils, powders, feathers, handcuffs, miscellaneous other items...and the delicate, shiny, chrome objects I was after...the nipple clamps. Intricate and well-made, these little beauties often made me come by themselves. The chain linking them clinked lightly as I brought them into her view. She squirmed a bit, again unsure.

"Alright then, I'll wear these." I teased my left nipple, almost letting the rubber-tipped clamp all the way down, taking it off, putting it on rapidly...the reddish-brown pigments darkened and I moaned softly. She was watching with wide eyes, her hands straining towards me, but unable to reach. I attached both clamps to my nipples, and gazed down at my quarry. She was looking more and more like she wanted them to be put on her as well. I licked my lips and and turned around, suspending my pussy above her face, and positioning my mouth so it was less than an inch away from hers. I could feel her neck lifting, trying to push her face into the wetness presented. I wiggled my ass, dipped my hips so that the soft, shaven skin brushed against her mouth. Her tongue darted out to taste me, but I lifted myself away before she could get more than a tiny bit.

I reached back into the nightstand drawer and came out with a duplicate pair of clamps. I turned and saw her pupils dialate with excitement. I blew on her nipples, licked them, pinched them with my fingers lightly, bringing the blood in to sensitize them. I placed one very lightly on her left nipple, not clamping it down tightly at all. "Tighter," she said. I put more pressure on and she let out a sharp moan. "Yesssss..." I put the other one on her with equal pressure.

The ankle restraints allowed her a limited range of motion, and she was bending alternate knees, lifting each leg up and down. I took hold of each knee and forced it to the mattress before shoving them apart. She thrust her hips up and I finally buried my face in between the luscious folds. Her slightly salty taste had a hint of bitterness, just the faintest tinge of sweat. As I sucked on her clit she let out a loud "aaaah!" of relief. I flickered my tongue over her, into her, down her thighs and back up again. All the while, I taunted her with my own pussy, lowering it and raising it again before she could do much but catch my clit between her lips.

I slipped my hands under her ass and around to her pussy again. Dipping a finger into her, I gently began probing her asshole, which tightened delightfully. With each tentative insertion, she gasped and her hips jerked. Finally, I drove my index finger all the way into her, at the same time sucking as hard as I could on her clit, rubbing my tongue over it through the suction. She shuddered, she cried out and she came...and by the gods she came hard. She was one of those rare women who ejaculated when she came -- juices squirted out of her and onto my face, surprising me, then turning me on all the more. As her little shivers and moans subsided, I turned around to face her and shoved my cunt into her mouth, tugging on my own nipple clamps as she eagerly nibbled and sucked on my clit. I rocked my hips back and forth, feeling the friction of her teeth on me, feeling her tongue catch my hood piercing and pull on it firmly, feeling....feeling...

As I came closer and closer to orgasm, I reached over and released one of her hands, and pulled it up to my breast, squeezing and pinching, rocking and pushing, panting and gasping. She almost had me there, so close, so close. I grabbed the back of her head with both hands and pressed her hard against me, moving her head in opposition to my hips until I felt that beautiful moment when I know I'm going to come and there's nothing I can do to stop it. That beautiful release, the sounds coming from my mouth that I have no control over, the sweet fire coursing through my body, centering on my clit but pouring over my entire body...

I began to come gently down from the peak, still gasping, still pressing her face to me. She was softly stroking my clit with her tongue, letting me come back down. I practically collapsed next to her, first releasing her other hand so we could hold each other. When I regained a clearer state of mind, I released her ankles and we wrapped around each other, smiling slightly to ourselves, kissing now and then.

After perhaps half an hour, she sat up and stretched. She looked for a moment at me, and then at the restraints, and then back at me.

She smiled evilly.

"Your turn," she said.

A wild fluttering in my belly began.

And I submitted myself to her care.

Copyright, 1995 - 2004 by Cindy. Not to be used without express permission.