Strings, Chapter 8. Meeting Pixie

Strings, Chapter 8. Meeting Pixie

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


I was excited and buzzing with plans. What should I do with Pixie, what equipment was needed? I rummaged through my bondage gear, some of it was old and needed replacing. At night I mentally scrolled through long fantasized about scenarios and activities. But the priority was to make it exciting and memorable for her.
This series has been completed and is now a published novel.


I was excited and buzzing with plans. What should I do with Pixie, what equipment was needed? I rummaged through my bondage gear, some of it was old and needed replacing. At night I mentally scrolled through long fantasized about scenarios and activities. But the priority was to make it exciting and memorable for her.
This series has been completed and is now a published novel.


Submitted: October 14, 2015

A A A | A A A


Submitted: October 14, 2015



~~12th February 2013

I slept surprisingly well despite the prospect of finally meeting Sylvie. Her long promised photo had never materialised and I wondered what the significance of that was. Still, Morning Glory knew what day it was. I showered and shaved, selected my after shave, deodorized, flossed and scrubbed and looked into the mirror.
A balding grey haired git looked back. I smiled at myself, more a grimace, teeth were clean, but those fillings! I had crow’s feet at the corners of my piggy eyes, which I couldn’t see unless I had my glasses on, which made me look even older.  Seeing the blemishes and little patches of dry skin, I dabbed on some moisturiser. But there were a couple of fine red blood vessel lines surfacing near my nose, a drinker’s nose? What on earth was I doing trying to pick-up a thirty seven year old?
But Sylvie had said from the start that she liked older men, and I was confident that a lot of women around my age apparently did seem to find me attractive.  Ho hum. Go with the flow and see what occurs, I thought. I snatched a small breakfast, a bit late to worry about looking (be realistic, being) over weight now. I just didn’t want to feel bloated.
I knew I was at my best when I had physical energy and was mentally energised and lively. That’s the mood I wanted for nearly ten hours later, but it’s a bit like playing football where all the preparation can be perfect and you play lousily, and the day you pitch up feeling like death warmed up you have a blinder. Form is an elusive thing, it would be down to fate if I was in my ‘up for it’ mode come 5:30pm in Bridgebourne.
I packed my briefcase for the day’s three meetings. Suited and booted I loaded the car; it was a very cold wintry day so I swapped my business overcoat for my heavy, white winter wonderland coat. By 8am I was on the road and listening to the radio: sports, weather and traffic reports.
I arrived ahead of schedule, and waited in the outskirts of Compton, tempted to email Sylvie again, and then thought, ‘add no pressure, leave her be’.
Eventually guided by Zoot, my ancient female satnav, named after the Monty Python Holy Grail Nun desperate for a spanking, I drove into the city centre and collected my client, Allan from the rail station. Zoot took us to our meetings which went well after which we had a meal and our ‘wash-up’ meeting. Eventually I dropped Allan off at the station a little after 3:30pm.

Me: Hi, have finished early, so could meet sooner if you can.

Sylvie: I will struggle to get an earlier boat but will try. If you don't want to hang around we could do next week if you are in the area. [What? Postpone? Never! I needed to see what this Pixie Pervert looked like.]

It was still very cold and the sea breeze was kicking up to a freezing wind. I drove around the Old Town district of Bridgebourne and parked near The Navigation pub that overlooked the Harbour.
Time to kill.
I walked around wrapped up in my big coat. The pub was closed and it was not clear if it would be open by 5:30. I walked to the ferry terminal where I wrongly assumed Sylvie would alight from, and strolled around the extensively re-developed area of the Lighthouse Quays, all new shops, bars, restaurants and apartments. And then back to the car.
We messaged about whether anywhere else would be more suitable for us to meet, and decided Café Blue in the Quays was best. All that time to kill and I was in the wrong area.

Me:  I'm wearing a big white winter coat, and you?

Sylvie: I'm here blue shirt, curly hair, red nose. Hope you're not colour blind X

Five minutes later I entered Café Blue, and immediately I saw, standing near the bar joking with a barman, a small slender woman with a wonderful mass of almost unruly red curly hair.
‘Sylvie’ I said.
‘Hello Jack,’ she had bright lively eyes and beamed an equally bright smile at me, I was immediately attracted – even without my glasses on, my first view of Sylvie’s face  left me tingling. I had that instinctive involuntary biological reaction you have on the sudden proximity to a beautiful person. Heart beat and pulse quickens, breathing shallows and also quickens, pupils dilate, nerves fizz and the skin flushes.
 Bloody hell, she’s lovely I thought. She was trim in tight fitting clothes whilst I must have looked like the Michelin man in my huge white winter warfare Eskimo survival tent for a coat.
I was like a duck, attempting to look calm whilst hiding a furious reaction beneath the water line. All I wanted to say was ‘Wow’! but all I actually said was ‘ hello’ and asked what she would like to drink.
We took our drinks to a corner table and talked. We never actually talked about sex, and for a delightful hour we covered her job and my job and mostly it seemed my novel. She drove the conversation asking questions, chatting and smiling. At no time was it stilted or forced, nor did it ever seem to lull, we just relaxed and talked, it seemed so natural. Anyone eavesdropping would have assumed we were well acquainted friends or colleagues catching up with each other’s news, not two strangers who had swapped obscene fantasies and planned perverted bondage and domination, sadism and masochism and not forgetting the obligatory bukkake, together.
 She was really pretty but as we talked I was reluctant to put my glasses on and look at her properly; I was a stupid old git who was dreaming if the vibrant young woman would have any serious interest in sexual intimacy with me. But we talked easily, I really liked Pixie Sylvie.
When it was time to leave I paid the bill for our drinks - modest quantities of red wine as I still had to drive home. We wandered out of Café Blue towards another coffee bar where she would later meet her friend.
Somewhat awkwardly I said goodbye and how much I had enjoyed meeting her.
She looked up at me and asked. ‘Aren’t you going to kiss me?’
Surprised and pleased I leaned down and kissed her soft rosy cheek, it was still warm from the restaurant, she motioned for me to kiss the other cheek too. It was it was our first physical contact, so prim and polite but loaded with phenomenal meaning.
As I walked back to my car I realised I had been enthralled by her, so much for me hoping to be ‘on form’ though. I had felt old, big, awkward, shy even.  I wish I had dared to wear my glasses and see her properly because I still only had a fuzzy recollection of her face, I was a stupid, half-sighted fool. I wondered just how this would play out, and before starting off for home I emailed her from my car.

Me: It was lovely to meet you this evening, not only are you delightful but I am pleased to say that I am definitely not beauty blind, you are gorgeous too. Enjoy the rest of your evening, and chat again soon.

I drove home with an odd feeling that I was either on the brink of finding someone really special or that it would never get going at all because I was too old, or she would lose her nerve and render our new dalliance stillborn. And how would she feel after some reflection on our face to blurry face introduction in Café Blue?
13th February 2013

When her email arrived I half expected the old thanks but no thanks, or it was nice to meet you but the chemistry wasn’t there, or we could be friends but not in the bedroom. But I also felt confident that we had got on well. I clicked open the email with uncertainty.

Sylvie: Hi Jack It was lovely to meet you too.  I hope I wasn't too forward with my questions, I was nervous but felt we got on easily. You have a 'delightful' pixie face. Hope to hear from you soon. S X

This was fabulous news.  I felt a mixture of excitement that she was still up for an adult encounter, and relief that I hadn’t messed up our introductory meeting.  A lot of emails were exchanged and that evening we crossed a Rubicon of intent.  Her questions were positive and indicated that she was still very much interested in a sexual adventure with me.  She asked me about my preferences – ‘I never got to see your profile....bukakke a given of course....’ she stated.
I told her I loved oral sex, giving and receiving - slow and extended. I liked bondage and would like to see her in various vulnerable positions, for example wrists tied to the bed, or her ankles up behind her shoulders. Totally exposed I would shave and then use and abuse her. I liked objectification too, though it might be a tad boring in practise.  I added spanking, paddling and flogging, gags and blindfolds, anal play and eventually ending with me cumming over her very pretty, upturned pixie face, mouth open, tongue out...
We discussed if water sports were erotic: hot piss onto an open pussy and the humiliation of a golden shower: female kneeling, head bowed, man standing over her urinating on her hair, face etc. Pissing into someone's mouth is even more degrading, the secret is drinking lots of water, so the piss is clear and almost tasteless, old piss stinks and the taste can be very unpleasant (I'm told).
 I had experimented a couple of times with water sports with Shannon, (who was also into rimming).  It was erotic, but I would not want to do it all the time. One thing I discovered was that I couldn't piss if I was too aroused, I suppose the erectile tissue squeezed the pipeline closed.
Pixie said she had tried it only once but had enjoyed it which was why she ticked curious about it in preferences.  A boyfriend had ‘peed’ on her bottom when they were in the shower and then fucked her from behind. She said she had liked the sensation, and wanted to explore more of this and other sensations with me but was uncertain how far to go.
I was almost beside myself reading that proposition.

14th February 2013

Whilst I travelled to Northampton, Sylvie resumed our e-conversation and asked about objectification.

Me: For example human furniture, I have a couple of images that turn me on. One is the human ink well; the master is sat at his desk with his work to do, it is a very large L shaped desk and on one side the female slave is trussed up in such a way so that her holes are accessible. He has to keep his pens, pencils and mobile phone somewhere. Another variation is that he ties her to the underside of his chair – so that she can orally service him as he works.
Then there is the human pillow needed after a prolonged session when she is tied across the bed in place of a pillow - a man has got to rest his head somewhere through the night. A variation is with you tied spread-eagled on the bed, head at the foot end, so the master can sleep close to your open pussy, or flop his cock in your mouth during the night, as he so wishes.
In Japan there is a fetish about eating sushi off a naked body, 'dressed' as a dining table, and of course some people go further with human toilets as I am sure know.
Happy Valentines Day.

Then she asked about oral sex, and said she loved giving oral, it was her favourite thing, and would love to be expert at it – ‘I guess that comes with practice?’

Me: I too really enjoy giving oral sex to a beautiful pussy, and a woman who responds to it. I have some quick questions: Are your orgasms more clitoral, vaginal or anal? Apparently it’s all about where a woman's pelvic nerve is located. I think it’s also the secret of the G spot. Are you brought easily to orgasm? Are you a multiple orgasmic lady? Finally, would you prefer forced orgasms, begging me to stop, or does the idea of orgasm denial turn you on more: keeping you on the brink, begging me to let you cum? ‘

I was playing the role of experienced mentor, ascertaining the best approach for our sexual encounter to come when she surprised me with her next response.

Sylvie: Glad you asked, I think that's a first. My orgasms are mainly clitoral although I have a very sensitive g spot. The latter I don't reach climax via but get extremely aroused and wet and sort of dazed. I have never been brought to orgasm by anyone but myself.  [ that caught my attention ] Apart from in my sleep when I can orgasm during an erotic dream.  I don't fake orgasms but I enjoy penetrative sex to the degree that my partners feel satisfied that I am satisfied.  Forced orgasm? Don't know yet! There, I've been honest. I come easily but I guess to date I just haven't found the right partner, or at least one who shares my little nuances. Put you off or is that a challenge? S

Me: Dear Sylvie, I love your candidness, and the challenge, - and would relish going down on you - especially if it’s clitoral. Here's a boast to risk failure but I have been complimented on my oral skills on more than a few occasions. Are you shaved, neatly trimmed or bushy down below?

Sylvie: Neatly trimmed although I have had Hollywood waxes in the past. What do you prefer?

Me: The more accessible the better, and would be happy to shave you as a wonderful preliminary to some oral attention, especially if you are tied with your legs wide apart.

All day I was in a lively mood, bouncing along as I tried to concentrate on my job: driving to and from meetings, making calls, and trying not to daydream about bouts of bondage and bukkake with Sylvie. By the evening I was back from Northampton and at my computer in my home office when her next mail arrived.

Sylvie: I like the idea of being shaved by someone else...I always enjoy it when I do myself. Now my working day just got harder to get on with......

Energised by her sexuality and imagining her trim body naked and wanting, I spent a few minutes searching on the internet for a hotel before I decided to make the push for a date.

Me: I can do all this next Friday, if you wish. And if you have the day off work, it can begin at noon.

Sylvie: Where would that happen if it can happen....

Me: The Accor hotel

Sylvie: Now I'm even more nervous....reality looms?  Am I safe in your hands?

Me: Totally, no surprises, I promise and limits respected. I want to see you more than once, so from my perspective I want to make it a fantastic experience for you. The hotel is booked by the way. Jack xx

Sylvie: Ok. I'm glad you find me attractive. I hope you still do when I'm naked....Better leave you to your busy day. S. xx

The next few days our exchange of emails confirmed our timings for the following Friday; things were moving ahead. Every minute of each day my mind constantly switched from daily routines to images of Sylvie and the plans I needed to make for our encounter. Every night was even more of an intense struggle to not self indulge in fantasies that were rapidly promising to come true.

19th February 2013

Yet again I was excited and buzzing with plans. What should I do with Sylvie, what equipment was needed? I rummaged through my bondage gear, some of it was old and needed replacing. At night I mentally scrolled through long fantasized about scenarios and activities.  But the priority was to make it exciting and memorable for Sylvie, and for our session to flow naturally from the start to the finish, perfectly choreographed, so as not to break the spell I was hoping to create. We had agreed that crossing the threshold of the hotel room would symbolize the commencement of her submission to me. But once inside there was no room for clumsily untying her and slowly changing everything around.  I then sent her my version of the hotel booking confirmation:

Room type: Pixie Degradation Suite
Purpose of visit: No hole’s barred sex
Terms and conditions: Deposit required; facial
No backing out, No free will, Sperm included
Golden showers optional. BYO vibrators
Clitoral Orgasm: To Be Determined

Sylvie: Thanks for making the booking. Will there be breakfast? I like a high protein shot when I wake up to get me through the day

I could check in at 11am on Friday, and check out as late as 2pm on Saturday.  I had pretty much decided what I was going to do with her but needed to prepare for different eventualities and drew up a shopping list of what was needed.

21st February 2013

My bags were packed, my list of things to acquire itemised, my clothes decided and my agenda settled. It wasn’t easy to sleep with Pixie / Sylvie in my mind and filling OG with expectant passions. I had not touched him for a week whilst the testicle manufactories had worked diligently to replenish the reservoir of promised sperm, readied to flood upon the willing Pixie’s upturned face.

22nd February 2013

I was up again before 6am scrubbing and cleansing, brushing, trimming, shaving and deodorizing, with special attention to those intimate areas, any part of the body with an orifice basically. I grabbed some tea, but no breakfast for the paunch, and loaded the car.  At 7am I was on my way.
It was over an hour to Bridgebourne and as I neared the city Zoot directed me to the out of town shopping plaza. It was another freezing cold windy day. I grabbed my black woolen hat, gloves and gray scarf and then realized I had forgotten my big white coat. I zipped on a scruffy old short black down jacket that was already in the car. I looked like an American longshoreman, or a striking coal miner on flying picket duty.
I walked across the vast windblown car parks to the DIY superstore.  Jesus it was bloody cold. Inside the store I looped up and down multiple aisles with my list of needs and my antennae out for inspiration. Trigger hooks, check, soft rope (shibari) washing line, check. Gaffer tape, clothes pegs, D rings, and the like, all checked. I bought a basket full of goodies, left the store and hurried back across the Ross Ice Shelf that was temporarily masquerading as a car park.
Zoot led, I drove to the city centre and the hotel but Zoot’s directions were out of sync with the modern road layout and I got confused in a half square mile area that had once been so familiar to me as a student over thirty years earlier.
At 11a.m. I eventually checked into the pocket sized room that just about held a double bed.  I diligently unpacked my Mary Poppins bag of BDSM tricks and subtly prepared the bed for bondage.
I was wrapped up in my casual clothes with breath steaming as I waited at Wharfeside station for Sylvie.  Somehow she clocked me first and smiled. ‘Hello.’ I barely recognized the attractive stylish woman in a light brown over-coat, sunglasses and mass of red hair who greeted me. I felt some nervousness, how did I look? Was I a disappointment to her, but my doubts were quickly dispelled and my confidence soared when she smiled easily and seemed genuinely pleased to see me, if also a little nervous herself.
We walked to the hotel with chapped lipped conversation about the choppy offshore waters and the cold wind. She was not too familiar with Bridgebourne so I led the way and crossed the road at the wrong place so that this refined, slim young woman had to clamber around the roadside safety railings. She was way too elegant to be a gangsters moll, but I certainly looked like a heavy duty bodyguard accompanying her. I hoped the way I looked had not put her off.
We went to the Boar’s Head on Mercury Street, next door to the building that had been in my youth, the happy watering hole of the student union. Inside were a couple of other customers and a slightly camp bartender. We shimmied around the corner of the bar and took our seats. She looked fabulous, her figure friendly dress was a little low cut but a silk scarf added modesty and sensuousness, with just occasional hints of cleavage and the little plump mounds of pert Pixie breasts. Nice make-up, red lips, wonderful thick dark red hair, so pretty.
I bought her a glass of red wine and me a pint.  We talked about our week in such a way, flirty but unfamiliar with each other, that the gay bar man suspected we were up to something. He started cleaning glasses nearby or going to the office behind the part of the bar where we sat, listening I am sure.  Rather than feeling self-conscious about our conversation, this only added to the excitement that we were already feeling, that we were indeed ‘up to something’.
Forty pleasant minutes elapsed.  I loved talking to this beauty but couldn’t continue drinking, OG would never forgive me.
‘Shall we go?’  I suggested.
She could have been kind and apologized, saying she had lost her nerve. Or she could have been cruel and said, ‘You are a boring, half blind, fat, balding old git I can’t stand looking at you, I’m off back to the ferry.’ But instead she just smiled and said ‘Okay.’
She had fulfilled her part of the bargain by turning up. Now it was my turn I thought as we left the pub for the hotel.
With a nervous smile she accompanied me into the tiny hotel elevator. Alone for the first time, and in a very confined space I decided to make a small move to prepare us both. Already very close to her, I moved the extra few inches and kissed Sylvie briefly, - her lips parted and kissed back as I slid my hand up her dress, part way up the outside of her thigh. She wanted to kiss more, her tongue was ready but the short ride to the third floor ended and I eased away. We walked along the corridor, I was feeling very nervous, my thighs were tingling slightly like they used to before a road race. God knows what Sylvie was feeling.
We arrived at the door to our room and I opened it to reveal the threshold we had loaded with symbolism in our flirtatious discussions. The interior was spartan, with pale colours, white duvet and sheets and no sign of my intentions apparent.
I let her in ahead of me, our coats and scarves were discarded, and as I instinctively always do in hotel rooms I put the television on. Sylvie waited quietly as I programmed a radio station and I said nonchalantly, ‘Kneel on the floor.’
‘Pardon me?’ she asked.
‘I said kneel on the floor.’
She promptly dropped to the floor and I settled on some music.
All ready, I could now follow my agenda.
I moved to stand a meter or so in front of her, she looked angelic kneeling before me, and my pulse was rising as I ordered her to come to me, which she did, on her knees until she was directly before me, her head at groin height.
‘Nuzzle me,’ I said.
Without hesitation she pushed her face into the bulge at the front of my trousers. I could hear her breaths as she rubbed against me. Her obedience and enthusiasm was enthralling. My excitement increased, I realized everything I had hoped for with Sylvie was going to come true.
Calming my voice I said, ‘Open my trousers.’
She pulled away slightly and unbuckled my belt with shaky hands, undid the buttons and unzipped my trousers revealing my briefs housing my hardening cock.
‘Nuzzle me.’ I repeated.
She buried her face into the gap of my opened trousers, her cheeks rubbing against the thin underwear fabric, she mouthed against the tight bulge. OG was visibly stirring. She pushed her nose into the cloth where my balls swelled, and inhaled. She rubbed her face into the squashed and growing tumescence of my cock.
‘Get me out.’
Unquestioningly she pulled the front waistband of my briefs out and down and Old Glory sprung out; he was thick, blood-engorged heavy and suddenly fully erect. She put her hands on my hips and pulled my pants and trousers down to my knees as she obediently nuzzled.
She kissed, inhaled and divinely rubbed her face all over my cock, my balls and underneath me, and as I reveled in her tantalizing touches OG pulsed to his maximum ramrod best. Enjoying every second I parted my legs a little more and the trousers fell to my ankles so she could gain more access. She kissed under my balls and got her face close to my ass, licking and inhaling.
Her attentiveness could have been exploited for longer to bring me off then and there but I stopped her.  We had an agenda and I only wanted Sylvie to know what my manhood looked and felt like, ‘That’s enough, put me away.’
She sat back and tugged up my underpants and trousers, wrestled a rampant OG and my big balls back into the dark and fastened my trousers. Next I told her to go back to her starting position and to stand up.  It was time to commence properly with her ordeal. 
I got two blindfolds from my bag and walked around behind her.  I put the thinner airline cloth version on her first, with the elasticated bands going over her head. Then I added the black leather blindfold with a proper buckle and tightened it. As I did this I asked softly if she could see anything and if it was comfortable.
‘I am going to put some handcuffs on now,’ I let her feel them, ‘they are soft fabric, joined together with Velcro,’ she felt the Velcro. ‘So at any time you can pull them apart, Okay?’ All the time I spoke calmly and softly.
She nodded and said in a small voice ‘Okay.’
I put the hand cuffs on behind her back.
I stepped back, she looked simultaneously beautiful and vulnerable, even with her eyes hidden she still looked very pretty and I could see her body visibly shaking. It was an awesome image of trust and lust.  I leaned forward and kissed her, and she eagerly kissed back, our tongues touched for the first delicious time. As we kissed I let my hands roam around her body, feeling the shape of her waist and hips, and lightly caressing her breasts.
I moved behind her, kissing her neck, gently touching her over her clothes. Her shakes were getting stronger, she seemed to be trembling all over and even gulping for air, and I thought she might keel over any second, or even spontaneously cum, but Sylvie had said no man had ever brought her to an orgasm.
Anticipation was quaking through her body.
‘Are you okay?’ I whispered.
I sat on the bed behind her and once again moved my hands over her slender curves, now venturing a little way up inside her dress. Up and down her thighs from the front and behind, getting ever higher before I removed my hands and explored her waist and breasts again, teasing her.  I rotated her around ninety degrees and continued. Only this time my hand moved higher, to the top of her thighs to the knickers that clad the curvature of her tight little bum. Under her dress my hands wandered and explored until I slowly slid a hand further underneath her ass straight into something moist and furry.
‘Oh my word,’ were my exact thoughts at the realization that she was wearing crotchless knickers and that her pussy was soaking wet. I teased and caressed her dripping cunt briefly, not really entering her with my fingers, but she was so open and hot and wet it would have been so easy to insert them.
Sylvie was beginning to wobble, so I eased off from her pussy and talking softly all the time about what I was doing, I slowly undressed her. Removing her boots, briefly releasing her wrists to drop the dress to the floor and then her half cup bra and those stunning crotchless knickers. This gorgeous poppit was blushed pink with arousal as I caressed and kissed her.
Sat on the bed again I pulled her closer to me by her wrists and then put her over my knee. I was still fully clothed, the fabric of my trousers pushed against her soft bare skin. The best ass I had seen in a decade was now perched over my knee, all lily white, taught firm buttocks.
I spanked her, not too hard, especially at first. I targeted each cheek and the back of her thighs gradually increasing the intensity and frequency of the slaps until she had a fine red glow across her backside.
I moved her off my knee and made her stand up again and removed her handcuffs. From my bag I took four dog collars with D rings and fastened these to her ankles and wrists. Then I moved her onto the bed, to lie on her back. My pre-positioned straps were tied to each leg of the bed. The straps also had D rings and with the trigger hooks I connected the four dog collars to the four straps, and pulled them tight. This pulled Sylvie into the desired spread eagle position.
I made sure she was still totally blindfolded and was comfortable with a pillow under her head, and then a little uncomfortable with another pillow under her hips to lift and expose her pussy.
I gazed down at her helpless, flawless body, She was slim but with nicely toned limbs, small hard nipples at the peak of her perfect symmetrical tits which rose and fell with each breath. A small patch of soft golden furze covered her pussy, her labia visible through the fur.  She had a wonderful body and she lay in silent anticipation.
She jumped when I squirted baby oil onto her tummy and I then massaged her body and limbs for a while. Then I opened her legs up a little further and trimmed her fine pubic hair before applying shaving gel. I think she zoned out for a while as I slowly shaved her whispy pubes, and then suddenly as if wakening from a dream she said, ‘I have no fillings.’
She sounded really pleased with herself, like a good little convent girl. Then she laughed ‘What was that all about?’ I laughed too, a brief break in the sexual tension.
I cleaned her up with warm water and a towel, her lovely shaven pussy was spread open before me, with glistening hints of arousal along the slit’s opening. I loved what I saw. Her mound was a lovely cuppable dome, her labia hot and pink and as I had completed the depilation, she had opened up involuntarily to reveal her moistened and hot inner lips and the peaking little rosebud of her clitoris.
I climbed off the bed and stripped, and then positioned myself with my head between her legs and kissed her labia, and there was a sharp intake of breath from her. I tongued and kissed as softly and gently as I could, licking up and down the outside of her pussy, gradually opening her up making little contacts with her clitoris. Delving up and down the inside of her lips I decided she needed less restriction and quickly clicked open the trigger hooks to release her ankles. Returning to her pussy I found the spots she responded to most, her sighs and little gasps were my directions and when I found those special places I maintained the rhythm and touch. Her wetness increased and she lifted her knees up to spread herself open. I began to lightly tongue her vulva on my strokes up to her clitoris, all the time feeling her react, listening to her. It took ten or fifteen minutes before the first sighs and another ten before she groaned.
I poked my tongue inside her hole and then withdrew, and flattened it against her as I moved up to her clit. I would lick and moisten that pink pearl and sometimes draw my tongue downwards from above the hood of the clit, and then down to her hole. I carried on widening and deepening my activities, below her vulva, around her ass and to the insides of her labia.
Eventually a little twitch of a muscle in her leg indicated she was tensing, and I carried on slurping. Sylvie was silent, spread out and blindfolded in a world of her own. Every few minutes she twitched again and then began the involuntary slow hip movements, little thrusts upwards. Another groan and then a gasp.
The tension continued to build with increased flow of pussy juice, groans and sighs alternated from her mouth and she twitched and thrust her hips. Soon her abdomen was tensed and her thighs began to shake, she grew more audible. Then her limbs and her entire body tensed as she arched her back and stretched her neck. Every muscle tightened and stretched at the same time. Peeking up from her mons venus I watched her reaction as I lightly danced small tongue to clitoris rhythms.
Her body movements and breathing increased, she arched her back to its maximum and then for a second there was complete stillness and silence before the dam broke in an explosive orgasm. She gasped hard and every muscle stretched as if her pelvis wanted to buck against the ceiling. Then Sylvie’s muscles relaxed, her limbs sank back into the duvet, her head remained thrown back with a smile on her face. Her breathing deepened as I slowly lifted my face from her pussy. Her first ever orgasm brought on by a lover was over, she was away in a dreamland.
BDSM is supposed to be quite harsh on the helpless submissive. I had licked Sylvie’s Pussy for over forty minutes to achieve her orgasmic milestone. So I let her swoon continue. She visibly sank into the duvet, I knew exactly how good that felt.  I recalled how I had dropped off after my surprisingly good and entirely unexpected orgasm from the aged Tokyo Hotel masseur.
I released her wrists and removed her blindfold, and half awake she blinked in the room’s bright light after ninety minutes in the dark. She had a half smile in her half sleep as I climbed over her and kissed her soft giving lips. Her legs were still apart as I slowly introduced Old Glory into her hot syrupy pussy. After such a long session of eating pussy, quite often OG was not at maximum potential, but grew into the job. With Sylvie, despite his girth, OG slipped in to her tight hole effortlessly and was soon fully hard. Man it felt good.
Propped up slightly on my elbows I eased in and out of her, holding her body and kissing her mouth. I got in deeper, my stokes were longer. Then I moved forward a little, her hips lifted up as did her legs to let me in deeper, and we made delicious love.
The sex was marvelous and dictated by me.  She sucked OG a bit toothily (her mouth was a bit too small for my thick cock) and I switched frequently between her pussy and mouth. When I was ready to cum I told her to lie on her back as I sat over her chest and masturbated as she licked the tip and underside of OG’s helmet. As I had avoided any sexual activity during the preceding week, and had been in a state of high arousal for a few hours, I knew my orgasm would be a strong one, and it would be a mixture of physical and mental pleasure. The release of the tension deep inside my cock and balls, and the sensitivity of the skin would be matched by my brain’s pleasure centre triggered by what I was seeing and feeling. The orgasm itself starts a second before the sperm starts pumping out, and on this occasion my half closed eyes saw the first heavy globs of cum spurt over Sylvie’s cheeks and forehead, and then two or three more dollops plopped in and around her mouth. Seeing the stuff land on her willing face as orgasmic aftershocks shuddered through my body was heaven. Her tongue played against the now hyper sensitive OG as the tingling gradually subsided, and I collapsed beside her. 
I didn’t want to fall asleep and forced myself up to get her a warm cloth from the bathroom, to wipe her face. When I returned she had sat up and was looking at her reflected spunky image in the mirror opposite the bed. She seemed both pleased and curious; perhaps it was the first time she had ever received a facial. There was a lot of cum, which was usual for me, especially when I had been refraining for the previous few days trying to contain all the excitement and anticipation our emails and imaginations had provoked.
We cleaned up, dressed and walked into town to find a place to have a drink.  We ambled slowly past a short strip of bars and clubs where dozens of shaven headed, tattooed thugs mingled with drunken girls with big hair, heavy makeup and fat bodies squeezed into mini-skirts, tottering about on high heels. More shaven headed thugs, club doormen in this case, chewed gum and watched soberly from the club entrances.  In our post-orgasmic daze we were unfazed by the rowdiness of a Friday night in Bridgebourne and I was proud to have this elegant, sexy woman by my side in such contrast to the other women around us.
We found a cosy pub in Old Town, away from the drunken bustle, and sharing a bottle of red wine we talked about our lives and a myriad of other things, not focusing only on sex.  Once again the conversation was easy and good humoured enforcing my thoughts that we were not just fuck buddies but potentially going to be friends if she agreed to see me again.
A little tipsy and feeling content, we jumped in a taxi to the best Indian restaurant in Bridgebourne (or so our barman advised us),  Over an excellent dinner and more red wine we talked about jobs and family before we moved to find somewhere for a late night-cap.  We were enjoying each others’ company so much we weren’t ready to go back to the hotel and found a bar called The Meteor.  It had a great atmosphere, busy with a young and happy crowd of people, with great music and lots of dancing. We talked and drank freely.  I was delighted with Sylvie’s company; not only had we just had fantastic sex but we were getting on like a house on fire, and she was being very affectionate towards me in public as if were indeed a couple.  That was probably all the red wine I surmised happily, also feeling a little inebriated.  At last orders we left the bar and strolled back to the hotel.
On returning to the hotel room I resumed the dominant role, undressed her, pushed her onto the bed and grabbed greedily at her body, aroused once again despite all the booze. But suddenly Sylvie sprang on top of me and said boldly, ‘No you don’t, it’s my turn!’ and slapped my face hard.
I wasn’t having that and forced her off me, rolled her onto her back and forcefully took her. Unlike the sex in the afternoon when she had been compliant and I had been gentle, this time she thrust hard at me, and I repeatedly thrust deep into her.  It was intense, vigorous physical sex, sweaty and heaving. I loved just taking her in a way that contrasted utterly with the planned, gentler sex a few hours earlier.
I eventually fell into a deep, happy sleep.
A couple of hours later I awoke and it was still dark. Sylvie was curled up next to me and I moved close and spooned against her delectable hot body. OG was ramrod hard again and then I thought, ‘Dominants don’t do spoons!’ So I dragged her body around waking her. And in the half-light she looked confused. I pushed her down the bed, shoved her head onto OG and dutifully she sucked him. Then I forced her to slobber at my balls for a while and then further down to lick and mouth my undercarriage all the way to my ass. I rolled over into a doggy position and thrust her head between my ass cheeks for some deep analingus.
She was rewarded with more hard fucking until we fell asleep again.
When dawn arrived we were entwined. I lay on my back with Sylvie on her side cuddling me. With one arm tucked around her neck, my hand rested on her trim waist. I stroked her and savored the feel of her, her firm buttocks and the rise of her hips.
She shimmied down the bed and started to kiss and suck my very thick dick again, keen for more.  I was delighted at her eagerness despite her inexpert technique due to her small mouth, and she even deep throated OG, triggering gag reflexes.
Then it was her turn. Motioning her onto her back, I moved to one of my customary cunnilingus positions; alongside her, head between her legs my ass up near her head so she could feel my cock and balls with her hand as I attended to her ever ready wet pussy.
It took longer than the day before, and it was harder on my back with me being in a slightly twisted position, but I got her there and she came with a yell. After she had relaxed we fucked again, and again I finished using my own hand, this time wanking into her mouth.  Soon after I needed to urinate and went to the bathroom.  Sylvie said. ‘I want to watch,’ and then, ‘Can I shake it afterwards?’
Of course I let her.  ‘Dirty little thing’ I thought to myself.

Half an hour later we were preparing to leave and part ways after nearly 20 hours of fucking, sucking, drinking and talking.
We showered, packed and checked out of the hotel, but she stayed with me in the lobby for a coffee, and we talked about my book project and I showed her some of my work in progress on my laptop.  She was engaged and interested.
When we had finished I loaded my briefcase, overnight bag and the Mary Poppins bag of tricks into the car and drove Sylvie to the Wharfeside station and the ferry terminal. We said goodbye very formally as she was nervous of being recognized by other passengers, but we had kissed an affectionate goodbye in the hotel lobby already.
Once the ferry had pulled away I walked back to the car and drove home, drained of semen and energy, a bit hung-over and dreamily happy. 


© Copyright 2019 Halibut Brown. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

More Great Reading

Popular Tags