The Man with the Jacet

Nadine stood alone at a bonfire at the beach. It was chilly. Her arms were wrapped around herself. Whoever built the fire must have decided to move on to something else, but she welcomed the solitude and the warmth of the dwindling flames.

She saw a very attractive man approaching. He dropped a warm jacket over her shoulders. She didn't know this person, but his aggressiveness was disarming, in a good way. He simply told her that she still looked cold and stood behind her, hands kneading her shoulders. It should have alarmed her on many different levels, but she found herself relaxing.

Then his arms reached around her and started caressing her breasts. She knew she should object, but it was like that part of her brain was in a trance. She went with it. It felt good. She relaxed into it as his hands moved down her body. His right hand slid under her waistband into her panties. He was gentle, slowly stroking her pussy. Along her slit. Gently. Soothing her.

Again, part of her was screaming to say something, to do something but it felt too good. His finger rubbed her clit as he kissed the back of her neck.

Suddenly he stopped. A couple was coming over to the fire. The stranger said to keep the jacket and he melted into the dark. She was alone again.

The next evening there was a knock on her door. She saw the man who had draped his jacket over her shoulders at the bonfire. Nadine turned to get the jacket to return it and he pushed his way inside. She wanted to object but that same paralysis stopped her. He had an animal attraction that made it hard for her to speak up. Maybe it's how he smelled? All she knew was that when she looked at him...she wanted him.

He slowly advanced toward her, smiling, until she was backed up against a wall. "Thank you for taking care of my things," he said, and his voice ran down her spine like warm caramel. His face was very close, his body up against hers, with his right thigh pushed between her legs. He held her gaze. His smile was warm, kind. Not predatory. A hand brushed through her hair.

"You're even prettier in the light," he said, that voice giving her a shiver. The shiver made her grind against him involuntarily, and he smiled wider. Nadine was trapped against the wall. The stranger kept pushing his firm thigh into her groin. It felt so good! He raised his hands and groped her breasts right over her clothes. Not rough. Gentle. He seemed to know exactly how she liked to be touched. She leaned into it and the pressure on her groin grew.

Next she felt his hands gripping her ass, holding her against him, any shred of hope of escaping gone. The only movement open to her was humping that thigh. He leaned down and sucked on her neck while pulling her against him. He smelled amazing. His lips explored her throat and she started to moan, she couldn't help it.

"Oohhh, I like that," said the caramel voice, and she shivered again. "You do too," he said, "but not too much. Not yet. I don't want you to cum. I mean it. You save that up for me, pretty bird. But it's not for now."

He pushed away from the wall and strolled out, not looking back. Somehow she knew that if she "cheated" and touched herself, if she came or ruined, she'd never see him again.

The following night there was a knock on her door again. She fumbled with the lock, hand trembling, eager to get the door open. He was back. The Jacket Man. Just like last time, he strolled in as soon as she opened the door. Like he owned the place. Like he owned her. He still had an animal attraction that kept her off balance. He smelled so good, too. It made her want to roll around and get the scent all over her.

Once more he advanced on her until her back was against the wall. His face was close. In that deep voice that haunted her dreams he said, "I missed you. I missed being between your legs." And his thigh pressed between hers, right up against her pussy. She felt her nipples getting hard, felt herself getting getting wet for him. "I want this," he said, "Just like this. I want you to hump me." And he pushed into her, hard, and grabbed her ass to show her how much he wanted it. He kept pushing, grinding her into his leg so hard she gasped. Her back against her own wall, she looked down and saw the bulge of his cock pressing on his trousers.

She reached down and unbuttoned his waist, then opened his zipper, freeing his cock. He was hard. "Just like that?" he grinned, and stepped back just enough to pull her shirt off and open her jeans in turn. She still couldn't get away. She didn't want to.

Her jeans dropped in a puddle at her feet. It was just her, and this stranger who shrugged out of his own clothes and dropped to his knees in front of her. He touched and kissed her belly and all around her sex. She sagged back against the wall and let him. She tangled her fingers in his hair as he brought his face to her pussy and just...breathed.

She felt his breath on her opening. He rubbed his bottom lip gently up and down on her labia. Then he started licking her pussy. His tongue teased her open and started probing the opening, exploring every little pink fold, lapping up her juices with gusto.

He started licking her clit. Sucking. Pulling it between his lips. He bit down on it, just a little, and the mixture of pleasure and pain was maddening.

He stood then. Picked her up like a doll, like his toy, and kept her pinned against the wall, then rubbed the top of his shaft against her pussy. Back and forth, up and down, holding her easily and teasing her with his cock.

He said, "Well? What are you waiting for?" and glanced down. She reached down to guide his cock into her. It slid in easily and he pushed into her and just held himself there, filling her. Then he started pumping, pounding into her with a rhythm like a heartbeat, fucking her against the wall.

Her thighs started to quiver, muscles trembling. He reached up, gripped her face, and forced her to look him in the eye. "No," he said. "Not yet. Don't."

He finished in her. She felt him cum. She wanted to join him in ecstasy but he gripped her nipple in a cruel pinch and a twist that shocked her and pulled her back from the edge. "I said no." She wondered why. He clearly wanted her. A thought crossed her mind, "I've been a good girl. Why?" Her need to release was strong.

Then he pulled out of her, set her on her floor, and she collapsed into a puddle of need. She wanted to masturbate but she kept hearing that "No" in her mind.

She heard a noise. While she was wrapped up in her need, he had gathered his things and was leaving. Leaving her there, needy, aching, his cum running out of her, wondering if she'd ever see him again. This time he took his jacket.

The next day she was having lunch, sitting at an outside table on the first nice day in a while. Still trying to figure out what happened the previous night. Getting horny whenever she remembered his breath on her neck, the way he picked her up like a doll and used her. The way it felt when his cock slid into her. She looked up and saw him coming to her table, that sexy smile on his face. He looked her in the eye and she felt her whole body blush, but she couldn't look away. He swung a chair around and straddled it backwards, his legs spread apart. She risked a quick glance and saw that he was sporting that bulge in his pants.

"Look who it is. You'd think I was stalking you," he said with a smirk. He looked at her plate. "Good. You're almost finished." He called over a server and gestured for her check. He paid with cash while she finished, then stood and held out his hand to her.

She was prepared to be indignant. To ask him who the hell he thought he was, after just walking away last night. But when she touched his hand, that all went away. A flush of pure lust ran through her and she let him lead her away.

As she walked his arm went around her. She couldn't help but notice how neatly she fit next to him, like two pieces of a puzzle. He took her into a nearby park and headed to a small pavilion. She started to say that she needed to get back to work soon, but it was like he was in her head. As she drew breath to speak, he just said, "Shhhh." Inexplicably she obeyed.

The park pavilion had a drinking fountain and rest rooms. One door was marked "family." With a quick glance around, he pulled her inside and locked the door.

It's a small space. He backed her up against the wall next to the sink. He was close. She could smell him, his sexy musk making her lightheaded. "Open your top," he ordered. She did. "Good," he said, "front clasp on your bra. Good girl. I like that." He popped open her bra and freed her breasts, taking them in his hands, pressing her into the wall.

She felt her nipples getting hard under his palms. It felt so good. It was hard for her even to think. She felt herself getting wet for him. A small part of her hated it, hated him, but most of her reveled in it.

Then he was jamming his damned thigh between her legs again, grinding into her pussy, electricity radiating out from the pressure, making her gasp. She started humping him. She couldn't help herself.

He let her abandon herself to it, then took her face in his hands. "You have to earn it," he said and gently but irresistibly forced her to her knees. He freed his cock and put it expectantly in her face. She froze.

He placed his hands on either side of her head, fingers tangled in her hair and pushed his cock against her lips. She gave in almost immediately, opening, taking him, and he controlled her rhythm and fucked her face like she was just some sex toy.

Just as she felt herself getting lost in the rhythm, he pulled away and lifted her to her feet. He unbuttoned her slacks and reached into her panties. "Wet for me already? You slut!" he said, smiling. His hand moved on her, working on her pussy and clit with almost fiendish fervor. She got so close to cumming and he hadn't even fucked her yet. She started to moan.

He reached up and pinched a nipple, shockingly hard. "No," he said, "How many times do you need to be told? No. You don't cum yet."

Abruptly he pulled his hands away from her. She fell back to her knees, ready to sob with frustration. She groaned out her question, "Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

He squatted down, took her face in his hand to force her to look at him. Her tears ran down onto his wrist. "Because. Your pleasure belongs to me now, Nadine. You cum when I say. Not before. Next time, you ask me. I might say yes. You never know." He stood up, zipped his fly. "And don't you cheat me. Don't go touching yourself. Don't you cum behind my back. I'll know. Don't. You. Dare." And he turned and exited, leaving her in a disheveled heap on the floor, her pussy dripping, her need desperate. But she already know she wouldn't cheat, wouldn't touch herself. She couldn't. She was his now.

She didn't hear from him that evening. She paced and looked out the peephole for a sign he might be coming, but there was nothing. She was too pent up to sleep. In the kitchen, she noticed that the counter was at just the right height for her to push her groin against. It felt good. And she was not technically cheating, right? She was not touching herself, not even using her hands.

After that, she went a little crazy, looking around for things to hump against. The corner of a dining table. The arm of the sofa. Any pressure to ease the aching empty need she felt. Finally she fell into an uneasy sleep, plagued by filthy dreams.

She woke up the next day dripping, horny, feeling desperate. She started to hump a pillow but had to stop herself because within seconds she could feel an orgasm building. Somehow she stopped herself. It was hard. In the shower even the warm water threatened to drive her crazy as it flowed over her nipples and her pussy. She remembered how his hands felt, how his tongue felt. She even thought about how his cock tasted, how she'd suck him off right now if he'd grant her some relief.

Work was agony. At lunch she went to the same little place, even sat at the same table. But there was no sign of him. She got through the day somehow, and went home. She could barely focus on dinner. Her pulsing clit and dripping pussy had all her attention. She kept pushing her crotch into anything and everything just to feel something. Her skin was hyperaware of every stitch of clothing, every breath of air.

Then there was a knock, just a couple of sharp taps. She flew to the door and threw it open and he pushed in like he always had, like he owned the place. Like he owned her.

Relief rushed through her like cold water as again he backed her to a corner. He stepped back, looking her over. "You've been a good girl for me, I see," he purred. He reached out and took her by the back of her neck. His kiss sent a wave of feeling through her that curled her toes.

He pulled her top off over her head, then took off his own t-shirt. She couldn't help herself, her hands reached out to trace his muscles and even his nipples. His grin never wavered. He unclasped her bra and threw it aside. When his hands closed over her breasts she nearly screamed from how sensitive they'd become. He caressed and massaged her until she had no thought, only feeling, her breasts seemingly connected directly to her pussy.

He stopped and she wanted to whine, "Nooo!" but he opened her jeans, then his, and then she was naked, the both of them naked. He took her hand. "The wall is nice, Nadine, but we should try your bed this time. Take me there."

Of course. He'd never seen the bedroom. She led him by the hand. At the door, he pulled her back. He turned her and effortlessly picked her up like a bride, or a child, and carried her through the door to the bed. As soon as he laid her down his hands were all over her. Her breasts. Her belly. He kissed her lips, her throat, then started sucking her nipples and stroking her pussy.

She was vibrating with need, with hunger, as he slowly stroked and fondled her pussy. Whenever she tried to turn towards him, he pushed her back with a shake of his head. "You must tell me when you're close," he said.

He put his leg between her thighs, the meaty, firm part of it pressing on her pussy, making her gasp. "Mmmm," he teased, "I never saw a girl who liked to hump as much as you do, Nadine." The feeling of pressure radiated outward through her entire body. She was close now, and she told him so. "No," he said. "In that case, no. You can't, not yet. I should leave. You're not ready for what I want to give you." He pulled his leg away.

The panic hit her like a living thing, tearing at her. She begged him to stay. She promised to fight it. She swore she wouldn't cum. Honest!!

He put his hand on her sex. "Good girl," he said. He played with her body, teasing, rubbing, penetrating her with his fingers, tapping her clit. She was ready to scream. She gasped and asked if she could please cum.

"No," he said, casually, like she had asked for a second dessert. She moaned with mounting frustration. His hands on her never stopped.

After an age she asked again. She knew she was wet, lying in a spreading puddle of her own juice as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. Again, she heard, "Nope. Not yet."

The begging started. "Please, why, I need it, you don't understand, I can't," on and on, until she was crying and not making sense, but he just kept shaking his head. She arched her hips up into his hand, desperate for more sensation. He laid his palm flat on her pussy and pushed her down into the bed. She felt his warm breath as his lips barely brushed her ear and he whispered, "Poor Nadine. Okay. Now. You can cum now. Go ahead. Cum for me. You're such a good girl for me, Nadine. You may cum for me now."

And she did. Crying out thank-you's as her body released all the pent-up tension from the last few days. It's almost a seizure, not an orgasm.

Finally, she earned it. She had been such a good girl. All she had to do was give herself to him, utterly, completely. Afterwards, as he caressed her and praised her while she drifted off into a fizzing, floating slumber, her last thought was that she no longer belonged to herself. Only to him.

She smiled.