Three months have passed since our second and last meeting under the auspices of GoDD, and Claude and I were settled into happily dating these days. Somehow, I've managed to pluck this gem of a man from the oddity of the Garden and draw him into the "real world" and us into each other's authentic lives. Some days I worried how perfect things seemed, like it was too strange and I would not be allowed this perfection for long. With a sense of impending doom, sometimes I worried the shoe would eventually drop and something terrible would happen -- a red flag will come up, or he will disappear one day, but so far, these seemed to be only my anxiety driven misgivings.
We spent our days eating out at fantastic restaurants, exploring new venues together or showing each other around our favourites, if any were unfamiliar to the other. We were both hedonistic foodies who spared no expense on pleasures of the palate and enjoyed ourselves immensely in our joint delving into the culinary world of our city. Thai, Japanese, Ethiopian, French continental, Eastern European... there was no end to the worldwide flavour journeys we took. We hit up various museums and found we share so many interests. We soaked up one another's eagerly shared troves of knowledge and useless trivia on our respective areas of interest. He talked for hours about literature and history and I about psychology, mythology and animals. I made him do all the trails at the zoo and although he was exhausted from the walking, he kept up and lit up at my excitement to see all the critters. We laughed and enjoyed our time together to the last drop. Through it all, I could not take my eyes off Claude, whether we were out and about in the city or fucking hungrily in the privacy of our homes, and I couldn't stop marveling at the reality of having this man in my life. Calling him mine.
A month ago, I had Claude pick me up from my weekend shift at the wildlife rehab and gave him a tour. He was so interested and awed by the work we do and the two veterinary staff who were still on shift that late evening would not stop pestering me the following week about my sexy new boyfriend and where I found him. Our public story was tame, mentioning that we met at "a club," but those who knew me well cocked eyebrows as they knew the last time I went clubbing must have been decades ago. What were we supposed to say? He was a pleasure dom at a sex club I visited one time? That secret was ours and only ours to keep.
The sex... the sex was otherworldly. In my boldest imaginings I could not believe my sex drive and my orgasms at this age and stage in life. Claude shared that he was engaged before and that his partner passed away six years ago of a sudden illness that quickly turned terminal. They were together for five years. He hasn't been in a relationship since and has had a very hard time moving on. He started at the Garden two years ago and was just now thinking of phasing out, before I came along. It initially filled a need when the opportunity presented itself, he said. He explained he was a pleasure dom there. Someone who guided with a strong but sensual hand to materialize the erotic fantasies of the visiting patrons. He got off on heightening other people's pleasure under his direction, which was obvious from our encounters and I did not mind in the least. As we spent more time together and made love thoroughly and frequently, we came to realize that I was not a pure submissive and Claude also denied being a straight up dominant. He explained that his last relationship was adventurous but mostly vanilla, and this is what our sex life seemed to be settling into as well. For me it was all new and exciting and I felt so lucky to have Claude to myself to try anything with in such comfort and safety. He made me feel safe, and cared for and somehow, I hoped not foolishly, I very quickly trusted him implicitly. We explored and tried new things. We communicated a lot, during and outside of our lovemaking, and I loved that level of ideas exchange. Never have I been in a relationship that was so open and so verbal with respect to discussing our needs, fantasies and pleasure. I've always enjoyed dirty talk and Claude was a true Master of the art. He maintained that "my very pretty mouth gave as good as it got" as well...
A few weeks ago, I asked Claude if I was enough for him... if he didn't miss having a more structured BDSM dynamic. He continued to deny this and we easily negotiated and slipped out of more kinky modes at times. A sprinkling of "Sir" or "Master" from me and Claude knew to dial the domination up a notch. He always left it informal and playful. I've never been even tempted to use my safe word. What I asked for and how often seemed to be enough for him. Only once did he initiate, texting me and gauging my mood through texts, and upon learning that I was hot and ready and feeling open minded that night, he ventured: "Would it be up your alley tonight if I took charge and was Master Claude from the moment I walk in the door, Vixen?"
I understood his gentle request and his need to dominate that night and yes, it was right up my alley... It seemed that we aligned so far, just like that. I still remember the orgasms from that night, when he tied me up with soft ropes and we made love in missionary -- him looming over me as I bucked under him, enjoying and cursing the torture of not being able to reach for him or close my legs around his waist. Enjoying the submission of being held open and exposed for him. He made love to me hungrily as I laid spread and stretched on the bed. He was generous but wholly in control. For second round, he fucked me on all fours after a light flogging with a silky-stranded little flogger he brought over in the work messenger bag he used for work... I squirted again. First time since the first day we met.
The first month into seeing each other, I picked up a stomach virus and got very sick while he was sleeping over. I was mortified and worried that I passed it on to him. Claude surprised me by refusing to leave, staying with me and being the most attentive nurse I have ever had as an adult. Somehow he did not catch it from me and despite seeing me at my worst, holding my hair while I puked and cleaning me up before I finally settled into bed, he remained just as besotted with me after it all as before. I worried he would have a hard time finding me sexy after this but it did not seem to affect him in the least. As soon as he deemed I was well enough we were back to tousling together and making love like animals in heat.
*****
I haven't seen Claude since two weekends ago. I was busy with volunteering and family functions last weekend and he was very busy at work the rest of the week. We have a weekend coming up where we planned to spend most of the time together, but today being Thursday, it still feels very, very far away. I text Claude at work asking, no, pretty much begging, if he would come over tonight as I miss him like crazy. He is warm and flattered in his texts back. He writes he'll come over tonight after work but has to stay late to finish some marking. He quips that I should perhaps refrain from touching myself before we meet up. Cheeky devil. Already hot and bothered from my thoughts and the texting, I indulge in a quick masturbation and come quickly, delighting in just having contravened my lover's suggestion of restraint. Maybe this will earn me a spanking or flogging? Initially happy with the new plan to see Claude tonight, I soon realize that the ache in my core is so avid today that I simply don't think I can wait until the evening. I need him now. I need his hands on me and his cock in me. I need his warmth and his sense of humour. I miss him something fierce.
I make up my mind that I'll go to his work at the University. People should be gone by now and I think he needs a distraction from his boring marking. I shower and brush my hair. In the shower I use my glass dildo and my fingers to come to take the edge off my cresting arousal. After drying off and applying some lotion, I start rifling through my lingerie drawer and soon I am absentmindedly, lazily, rubbing my nipples and starting to finger myself again... I am already so wet thinking about seeing him and what we will do together. I can't believe it but my thoughts turn to vivid images of fucking Claude at the university. What is wrong with me? I am turning into a nymphomaniac! Edging myself close to orgasm but pulling back, to save up the tension until I see him, I throw caution to the wind and shut the lingerie drawer with a loud thud. Instead, I find my black, mid length trench coat, and put it directly on my naked body. I button the front and tie the belt in a cute little bow. I put on some high heels.
I am unsure about how he'll react to this craziness, but he has been just as horny as I was these last few days, judging by our texting, so my guess is that he will enjoy it, even if he is surprised or shocked. Perhaps my boldness will give him some ideas about giving me some sweet discipline --
that
would not be the absolute worst side effect to cope with... all these thoughts and my choice of attire has me squeezing my thighs together and my hand rubbing the flat surface of my joined fingers against my aching clit. Before I step out the door and get ready to get in the car, I come again in a small, tight release that nonetheless makes the insides of my thighs stick to each other with my juices as I walk to the car. I blast the AC on the drive to bring down my blush and arousal. It works, just a little, enough that I don't have to hump my hand while driving at least.
I walk into the College building and wander to the literature and history section. It's kind of fun exploring here after hours. The halls are mostly deserted by now, but a few tardy students are wandering around, maybe staying after classes to ask their professors some extra questions. The place is big and this wing is traditional, built in the style of an old castle or chateau. My heels clink on the tiled floors, reminding me of walking the romantic alleyways of Old Town somewhere in Europe, only indoors. Walking down the hall and peering into some of the auditoria and classrooms, I finally find a row of small professor's offices along the left side of the hallway. Quickly locating Claude's by the name plaque by the door, I knock.
"Yes? Office hours are technically over... but come in," comes his voice booming from behind the door. I press on the door handle and tentatively open the door, hiding behind it at first.
"Hello, come in I said,"
Before I decide to stop hiding, Claude is at the door and his head, with those sexy, mid-length, wavy brown tendrils mussed about his face peeks from the inside. Seeing me, his features light up with joy, surprise and mischief.
"Hello, I'm looking for Professor Claude... the one with the sexy French accent? Oui?"
"Ohh! What a surprise... I said I'd be at your place in a few hours. I guess... you couldn't wait?" He cocks an eyebrow and intones the question at the end in a deeper and gruffer tone.
"Something like that..." I smile.
"Will you invite me in...?"
"Of course," He backs up a few paces and motions for me to enter, opening the door wide. It is a small and awkward space. It reminds me of teachers' rooms in my old high school. It's narrow across and long as it stretches toward the window. A desk stands along the left wall amidst bookshelves, and a long work table stretches the depth of the room. There is a small leather couch by the window.
Claude moves towards me and cups my face in his large hands. He leans down and kisses me, gentle, but hungry. I pour my pent up enthusiasm into the kiss and am more forceful with my tongue than he was initially. I don't have to wait long for him to match my ardor and reciprocate.
"Mmmmm..." He makes a satisfied noise and moves down to kiss the underside of my chin and down my neck. The kissing is soon interspersed with licking, as his tongue darts out and pulls along my skin, enflaming it. His breathing speeds up.
"You taste so good..."
A large hand reaches under the collar of my trench coat and luxuriously palpates my collar bone, slowly sliding down to my breast. Claude pauses, steps back and looks at me, his eyes wide with surprise as he finds no resistance from any bra and his hand moves to cup my naked breast.
"Vixen..." He whispers dangerously and makes a soft whistling sound. His fingers begin gently pinching and massaging my already pert nipple. Fire in his eyes, Claude lifts out his hand and puts both to use unbuttoning the top of the trench coat. I blush and let my hands drop to my waist, where I slowly untie the bow of the belt and undo the buttons from the bottom up, soon meeting his hands at my waist level, the trench coat fully unbuttoned and gaping just a little. Claude halts and looks on with disbelief as I open the panels of the black coat and shimmy the garment down my shoulders, to the floor, revealing my completely nude body.
"Vixen...!" He hisses. Quiet but so intense, the word holding so much dark and delicious promise.
Gruffly, he continues:
"What... how... do you want it? Me?"
"I want you, that's right. How, I haven't given it much thought, to be honest, any way will likely be wonderful to fill that first need. I just want you. Sooner than you could get to my place..."
My hands unbutton his shirt and are roving now across his chest, playing with the curls of chest hair and admiring the taught panels of muscle.
"I've missed you so much. It's been too long. My limit is like 3 to 5 days max when it comes to being apart..."
"I know, my sweet... We will do better, I promise."
He kisses me again and lets his hands drop to my ass where he intimately massages and owns the globes of my ass cheeks. I lean into and delight in his ravenous touch. I moan, my body showing him how much I appreciate and crave his touch. The thrill of seeing how wound up and needy he is, and that I am not alone in my predicament, is threatening to burst something deep inside my heart. My hands resume their roving on his chest, moving lower.
"I propose a communication tool. I call it the HP card."
Claude moves towards his desk, pulling me with him. I'm happy my hands can continue their exploring. He flashes up two cue cards.
"HP... like Harry Potter?"
