The Playground

Mark was tired. He'd worked a little late, brought home some take-out, and promptly passed out on the couch. So when his cell phone bleated from the coffee table, it startled the hell out of him.

"Shit!" He sat up, ran a hand through his hair, and hit the talk button. "'lo. This is Jenkins."

"Hello, Jenkins." He could hear her smile through the phone, her voice like rich chocolate, smooth and decadent.

Okay, he was awake now. Some parts more awake than others. He slid to his knees.

"Yes, Ma'am. Hello. I'm here."

"Did you fall asleep, naughty boy?"

A warm flush started at his neck and crept upward. His ears were hot. How did she DO that?

"Um, yes Ma'am, I did. I apologize."

"Not to worry. I'm sure you had a long day," she said with a low chuckle. "And are you ready for a long evening?"

His eyes fluttered shut, his breath catching. "Ma'am, I am ready for whatever makes you happy."

Smooth chocolate words licked at his ear. "Good answer, sweetie. I want you to shower and dress. Loose clothing that will come off easily. No underwear or socks. The leather cock ring. Be at my door in one hour. Any questions?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Anything you want to tell me?"

"We-ell, that thudding noise you just heard was my cock hitting the coffee table."

Delighted laughter spun around him, making him a little dizzy. "Noted! Now hurry. Time's a-wastin'." The phone went dead.

Precisely an hour later, after waiting in the car for fifteen minutes because he'd been too eager and gotten there early, a soft, warm hand closed around his, making him swallow.

"Hello, Jenkins. Right on time."

"Oh, yes Ma'am." His cheeks were flushing already, damn it. He crossed his wrists behind him and waited, head bowed, expecting to be invited in, where a host of secret torments and pleasures awaited them.

Instead, she was pointing to her bag.

"We're going out sweet man." She gave him a wicked, sparkling grin, green eyes dancing in the light from a nearby streetlamp.

His cock veined up at that. There was literally no telling where she was going with this. In the months they'd been seeing each other, he'd been surprised over and over. Whenever he started to get a little too comfortable, she'd take another tack. She had a knack for inventive naughtiness that made his gut leap as much as his cock did. Jesus.

She tossed a vibe in his lap and turned it on, letting it torment him while she drove, humming along with the radio. He squirmed and twisted his hips, but knew better than to dislodge it from where it was cradled between his thighs. His moans started low as he bit his upper lip.

She pulled the car into the darkened, nearly empty parking lot of a nearby playground. Several teenagers were chasing each other through the playground equipment, and another couple cuddled on a nearby park bench. His headshake was involuntary. Oh, shit.

"Just relax and wait," she said. The vibe pulsed against him as he groaned.

Eventually the couple rose from the bench arm in arm, and moved toward their car, and the teenagers piled into their automobile and drove away. The park was deserted.

"Come with me, Jenkins. And bring that bag." She switched off the vibe, dropping it into the brown canvas bag while he scrambled out of the car and attempted to collect himself.

Inventive naughtiness. He was as hard as he ever remembered being. Ever. Hard and whimpering while she bent him over one of those metal barrels that children crawl through and paddled him, decorating him with leather kisses from the paddle and soft, moist ones from her own mouth.

Hard and moaning while she stood in the center of a circle, holding a long lead attached to his collar and a dressage whip, while he trotted around her as obediently as any pony, the shaft of the whip nicking his legs.

Harder still when she pushed him to his knees and ordered him to crawl inside the wooden 'fort,' while her hands sought him through the holes cut in the wood, a bizarre perversion of a playground for glory hole purposes.

Impossibly hard, terrified that someone would find him naked, howling to the wind, when she chained him to the steel ladder of the slide, flogging and spanking his nipples, his inner thighs, his cockshaft.

And when he was face-down in the swing, his belly resting against the thick rubber, pushing himself back and forth on the swing while she invaded him with a vibe, stroked him with her fingers, he begged, tears leaking out the corners of his eyes.

"Please, Ma'am, please. Please, I need to cum. I'm so close."

She reached around, unsnapped the cock ring, pushing the vibe deeply into him. The vibe pressed up against his gland as he screamed.

"Please, please Ma'am, I'm begging you! Fuck!"

She murmured a single word, and for a moment, he wasn't sure if she'd said it, or if he'd just willed himself to hear it in his delirious need.

"Now."

"Now, Ma'am?" His groan was ragged, agonizing.

"Yes, baby. Now."

Jet after jet of seed filled her hand as he cried out, shuddering and spasming, as she rocked him in her arms.

He tried to catch his breath, hanging limply in the swing as she stroked him with tender fingers. She helped him get his feet under him as they moved over to the slide, the metal cool against his reddened, welted asscheeks.

He was astonished at the layers upon layers of release, opening and opening and opening. He made himself soft and open to the pain, the exquisite sexual tension, the moment when he lost control and let himself beg, feeling that it was unseemly but unable to stop. And at the moment when he knew she was going to let him do what he must, the implosion rocked him to his core.

He had to kneel. Had to. He found himself on his knees before the thought even registered, wrapping his arms around generous thighs and sobbed in luxurious release while she crooned to him, stroking his hair.

"That's it, baby. Let it all go."

"Please, Ma'am, let me. If I can make you feel half this good..."

She kissed the top of his head. "You do, baby. You do."

"But I want to please you."

"You do."

"You know what I mean."

She smiled, guiding his hand to her wetness, as the scent of her ache reached him. "Yes. I know what you mean."

She turned toward the ladder of the slide, and stopped him with a single fingertip as he attempted to follow her.

"Kneel. Wait for me at the bottom. With your mouth open."

He knelt in the sand, a hand on either side of the slide, leaning forward. She climbed up to the top and slid down, and he felt a millisecond of panic with her feet rocketing toward his face. She spread her legs as she approached him, her sex landing mere inches from his lips. Inventive naughtiness once more.

"Taste me."

And his tongue found the heart of her. He closed his lips around one lip, running his tongue along the soft flesh, tangy-sweet, then the other, licking with such lingering, reverent care. He wanted to enjoy every millimeter of slick pink flesh, quivering and alive under his tongue and lips.

He'd never wanted so badly to hear a woman moan. And how he loved to put that look on her face. Before her, his expertise was a source of pride, a way to feel powerful. Now it was an offering, pure and sweet, service in the true sense of the word. Heat and light spread through his belly when he knew he was doing it just right, and her approval showed in her face, her trembling moans, her scent changing.

"Yesssss, sweet man. Ohh yes, just like that. Oh, baby, fuckkk yess!"

She came twice, crying out and clutching him to her. He felt young and eager, like a boy again, presented with his first opportunity to make a woman make those noises. But he was more than a boy. He was a man, a grown man who wanted to please so desperately, who wanted to hide between this woman's legs, this heavenly woman who stroked his hair and murmured to him, as he pleased her until his lips felt bruised and the tendon under his tongue was red and sore.

They were lying on the merry-go-round, snuggled in each other's arms, looking up at the night sky. Stroking hair and skin. No words for a long time.

Then she sat up, with the same teasing smile that began the evening. A warm, soft hand closed over his. Another spark of memory from the beginning of the evening, hours ago. She pulled him to his feet.

"Come on. I think we need some ice cream, don't you?"

His muffled snort of laughter sounded behind her, as she headed toward the car. "Well, of course! What could be more fitting after some time on the playground?"

He followed her. Of course.

Copyright 2000 Mandolin Erotica