By the time I entered her apartment, we already knew each other. We spent enough time talking on the phone and through email that there was not a desire, a fantasy, and want or need that we hadn't shared. I had told her everything about me, from fantasy to reality that it was clear on what we both wanted. Or at least that was what I thought.
Some of what I had learned about her held true. Both of us were successful and driven. Both of us had acquired a level in our careers and lives that put us in a place where some level of success had been achieved. And both of us wanted to explore the world outside of our work. We wanted to explore, to try all those things that we couldn't with our current friends and associates. And that is what brought us together. A need to explore all of those desires without our day-to-day world being interrupted. Open bodies, open desires and open minds with the caveat of discretion.
Yes, she was strong and sharp, tall and attractive with long chestnut hair and legs that reminded me of flanks of a quarter horse. A body that was curved just enough to show that not only did she exercise, but she enjoyed wine and rich foods. And the more we chatted, I found she was a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to demand it.
And I? An executive at a large agency. With thirty people under me and a salary well into the six figures. And a group of friends who were a mix of people from the city, but whose company tended to control what I did by our collective social mores. Which was why I found myself taking an elevator up to the fifth floor in Soho. An elevator that would open up to her apartment and allow me entry to a new world of adventures that I hoped would serve both of our needs.
As the elevator doors opened I found myself facing an austere apartment, decorated in Knoll chairs of chrome and black leather, a wide day bed of the same making in black leather and dark wood, and modern art of reds, yellows, blues and whites. It was like an expensive gallery of modern art and furniture.
She smiled at me when I stepped in. "Like it?"
I looked around again and smiled. "Love it."
"I wasn't talking about the art."
Her smile narrowed to a smirk. She was dressed in a long black dress and brownish-gold vest. Loose at the top, to reveal her skin and cleavage as she turned. Tight as the dress followed the curves of her legs revealed by the long slit that trailed down the front of her right leg. "Don't loose your focus John. Don't ever forget what we're here for."
My mind snapped back to the present and to the past. Our conversations were brought back to the present in a second. I was about to speak, but was cut off. "I don't need a Ma'am or Mistress. I just need your devout attention."
"Are you sure about being here?" She asked. Her face a mask of sincerity and honest delving. "I know what we've talked about, and I know of our desires. Both of our desires. But once we start, there is no turning backβ¦" She let it trail off.
I though to myself, "Not a worry. If this doesn't work out, I just wouln't call back. One night of debauchery and from there, we'll see."
"I'm sure." Was all that came out.
"Then why don't you take off your suit. Gucci's nice. But I want what's beneath it to be honest." She smiled that smile again. "And honesty is why we're here, isn't it?"
I stepped forward and removed my jacket. A close cut pin stripe. And laid it on the back of one of the leather chairs. I then removed my shirt, slowly unbuttoning it, and laid it on top of my jacket. She moved close to me as my chest was bared. I could feel her finger-nail scratch itself along my back. I arched away from it as it trailed down my spine. "Oh don't stop. You were doing so well." My own hands trembled a bit as I reached for my buckle and started to unclasp it and open the fly below. Her hand moved to my nipple. Caressing it to stand out. Pinching it softly but firmly. I let my pants drop to my ankles but remained standing.
Her hand moved lower, down my side and beneath the elastic of my briefs. "Well?" I moved my own thumbs to the band of elastic and started to push them down.
Her lips brushed my ears as she whispered. "You'll have to bend down sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. Don't you think John?" There was something about her voice that just sent me over the edge. I was hard already, but her words pushed me past that point. I bent down to slide my underwear down, and as I did, I could feel her hand follow the curve of my hips to my ass. Her hand slide over my cheek and then inward to trace the valley between them. I could feel her middle finger lead the rest as it traveled down the deepest cleft to lightly touch my anus.
I was entranced. As if every nerve in my body was tracing her finger. It pressed slightly as I stayed frozen. My legs standing as they were, my body bent over exposing myself to her.
My trance was broken by a loud slap and a sharp pain. I jumped but her hand on my neck kept me from coming up. "John," she laughed. "This is about your pleasure. But don't every forget whose pleasure comes first." Her hand relaxed on my neck. "Always first." Another loud slap and sharp stab of pain shot from my cheeks. It hurt. Not just like a playful slap. But really hurt. I could almost feel the skin rise in redness. Again, that whisper as she released my neck, "Trust me John. We have endless evenings and afternoons to explore every detail of our desires. No need to rush. Every time we play, we'll learn more about each other. And every detail we learn, will bring us closer to that ultimate ectasy we spoke of. Lose yourself in the pleasures, live for them. But don't ever forget who controls this."
I simply nodded. It was all I could do. Her finger returned to my anus and once again pushed. I bent further over and begin to undo my shoes and remove them. I could feel her hand dip down to my balls and hold them as if testing their firmness. I tried to ignore her finger as it moved back up, tracing a line past my anus and up my spine. And then she walked away. Walking over to the leather day bed to watch me remove the rest of my clothing.
With my shoes placed beneath the chair and my pants and underwear folded neatly on top, I turned to her.
"Very nice John. Very nice indeed." She smiled as she lay back. I could see her breasts more prominently now. As if she had undone some of the buttons on her vest. She carefully lifted up the front flap of her dress and dragged it slowly across her lap, exposing her pubis. Keeping her legs folded meant not exposing everything, and my eyes lingered. I caught myself. "Oh don't ever worry about looking John. Looking is a part of this. But so is anticipation. Giving a peek, without showing everything. That's the difference between sex and erotica. Isn't that what you said?"
"It is." And it was I thought. My desire was heightened. My anticipation was beyond itself. "Touch yourself John. For me." I needed no more prompting. "And tell me about your desires."
My hand moved to my cock and began a slow stroking of its length. I could feel the hard softness as my fingers ran over its firmness. The skin moving slightly as my hand pushed and pulled it in an easy rhythm. "It's about losing yourself to your desires. About pushing yourself and being pushed to the point where all you care about is heightening it. About giving up everything to the pleasure." I could feel myself getting more and more aroused by my own words; by her eyes watching me; by her own hand slowly caressing the skin of her inner thighs.
She re-crossed her legs.
"What would that make you, John?" She smiled knowingly. We had talked of this for pages and hours.
"A complete slut. Willing to do anything for just one more moment of pleasure, for just one moment of greater intensity."
One of my hands moved up to my nipples on its own. Pinching it as I continued to stroke.
"Come here John." I moved to her. My fingers still touching myself. She placed her hand on my hip, puling me into her. My cock at the level of her mouth. She didn't look up, she didn't even acknowledge me. It wasn't me she was after. Her mouth opened and seemed to engulf me. It never touch me as it went down the length of my penis. Stopping mid-way her lips finally enclosed around my member and her tongue pressed against the tip. She pressed her lips firmly against me as her tongue started running slow circles over the head. Her hand on my rear held me there, kneading each cheek as she tasted me. And slowly, ever so slowly, she pulled her head back.
I could see the red circle left on my cock. A sold ring of red half-way down its length. Her hand moved around to my front. Her fingers dancing over the firmness. Grabbing onto it and starting their slow stroking.
"I'm pleasantly surprised John." At last she looked up to me. "You have a very nice penis. Or do you prefer the word cock?"
I shrugged. My mind unable to respond. She was teasing me and we both knew it. "Penis seems a little naΓ―ve. I've already enjoyed the word cock. It's somehow more romantic, more naughty. Don't you think?"
"Almost renaissance," I answered.
"Mmmmmm, well put. John. Well put." Once again her face moved inward. Only this time her lips remained closed as she pushed them onto my cock. I could watch as her lips seemed to open up to its length. Once again engulfing it. The warm, wetness of her mouth massaging into every inch of me. And once again her eyes closed as she enjoyed her actions.