(Thanks for the feedback from "Needing Natalie." Please check out my notes. LOL to all.)
There may only be one thing worse than the traffic in L.A. – my reaction to it. I absolutely hate it! For five days each week, like so many other “worker bees,” I slog through it twice, to and from my job, at a pace slower than that of drying paint. It is an inevitability of my day, as certain as the sunrise and as loathed as late-night telemarketing calls. Today was no different, with the usual cacophony of honking horns and blaring stereos providing the soundtrack to this ritual of the damned.
The anxious tension had me in a foul mood as I waded up the stairwell two flights to my third-floor apartment. Slipping the key in the lock, I opened the door to my private domain – the tiny crib that is this man’s castle – and tossed my valise onto the sofa while making a beeline for the frig. Popping the cap off a cold beer, I thirstily chugged almost half of the contents before setting the now half-empty bottle on the counter and heading for the bathroom.
Ridding my body of my shirt, tie and Dockers, I changed into some baggy shorts and a tank top. Some stretching revived my wearing back and limbs and, as I downed the remaining contents of the beer, I dropped into one of the over-stuffed chairs in my living room and let out a breathy sigh. As I began to rid my mind of the events of the day, thoughts of Natalie popped in like unexpected but very welcome guests. “God damn,” I thought. “Geez I’d like to be bangin’ her right now.” Accompanying these erotic thoughts was the arrival of my dick, which announced its presence by way of a large bulge in my shorts. “I wish she was sucking me off right now….shit.”
With the tension of the day adding some kind of fuel to the growing flame of my desire, I adjourned to my bedroom for a hasty beat-off session. I opened the bottom left drawer of my bureau and rummaged through the pornographic magazines it contained, pulling out a couple of BDSM publications that really turned me on. I let my shorts fall off of me and flung myself onto my queen-size bed. Cock in one hand, magazine in the other, I entered my masturbatory dreamscape, with my head filled with images of leather-clad, leggy dominas doing all kinds of wonderfully unspeakable things to their willing supplicants.
I ogled the pictures and worked over my cock furiously. Images of my gorgeous Natalie attired in spike heels and strap-on dildos popped in my mind like flash bulbs. I looked at the images in the magazine, closed my eyes and envisioned Natalie, stroked my manhood and found myself lost in my erotic fantasyland. Then it hit like a jackhammer. The event horizon. That moment that tears at the fabric of the cosmos - confoundingly brief but endless – and unites us with all that has ever been. A guttural cry, low and needy, escaped my mouth at exactly the instant when my seed erupted through my cock. The moment flashed and burned out, like a match, and my entire body went limp and oozed into the softness of my bed.
“Yeah, wow…whew, that was hot. Nat, baby, I sure wish you were here,” I uttered softly, closing my eyes and enjoying the fading afterglow of my climax.
Natalie and I had only been dating a few months. We met through some mutual friends and hit it off right away. Her pretty face was fetching, indeed, bit it was her fabulous legs that captured my attention. She played tennis a lot and it showed in the toned, lean and long limbs that I, at first, could only imagine wrapped around my back. Soon we were a regular thing, even it words like “couple” and “relationship” never entered our dialogue. We’d only had sex a few times – as though we both were still not willing to commit too much – but I knew that sooner or later, as long as I didn’t blow it, that we’d be fucking on a regular basis. In the meantime, her incredible beauty provided kindling for the fire of my ever-burning libido.
“Natalie, shit, baby, the things I’d do to you if you were here right now,” I sighed plaintively. Oh, yeah, the things I would do to you.”
“Or maybe the things I would do you.”
I was startled at the voice that intruded on my reverie. It was Nat’s voice and it was coming from the door to my room. “What the fuck?” I stammered. “Baby, is that you? How’d you get…?”
“I opened the front door, silly. You didn’t lock it. I was going to surprise you with an unexpected visit, you know? Well, Chris, it would appear that I have surprised you, for sure. A girl can learn a lot watching a man jerk off.”
We stared for a soft, tense moment, me trying to find words to assuage my embarrassment. “Natalie, I was just, you know, horny. Hell, if I knew you’d be here I’d have waited for you, but…”
“Chris, please, I’m not looking for explanations. Geez, I should be the one to apologize, or maybe I should be saying thank you, since you seem to be so aroused by thoughts of me. I heard all of your nasty talk a moment ago, and I’m quite flattered,” Natalie said, in a coy, slightly teasing tone. “However,” she snarled,” I am concerned about your beat-off magazines.”
“Oh, c’mon, Natalie. I’m just a red-blooded guy. So I whack off to some porn. Hey, I guy’s gotta have some kind of visual stimulation, you know? Like…”
“’Bondage Babes,’ My Mistress,’ ‘Serving Her,’” Natalie interrupted. “Hun, we’re not talking about ‘Girls of the Big 10 or ‘Miss October’ here. This is some kinky shit, Chris. Now, I’m not one to judge other people. Like, whatever gets you off gets you off. But if we’re going to have some kind of relationship (there was that word) we need to discuss some things.”
I quickly countered with a bunch of retorts and defensive gibberish, trying desperately to downplay the whole affair, but she would have none of it.
“So, Christopher, this is the stuff that gets your dick hard, huh? Latex and leather, whips, chains, high heels, dominant mistresses, men being used and abused? I don’t know,” Natalie said, shaking her pretty head. “I’ve got to think about this.”
As she headed for the door, I tried to go after her, but, given that I was stark naked, I was limited in my ability to effect my goal. “Nat, wait, you don’t understand. Please, it’s just…honey, you don’t…Natalie, please, you don’t understand.”
