Why

Some Why and Some What

Sex, romance and lust. Are we just hormonally controlled biomechanical organisms or are we unique self-aware beings with freedom of choice? Who knows what really drives us. I am certainly not sure what drives me. I think it is the drama and the excitement. Is not that what people usually describe as romance? Actually most of all I think it may be the anticipation. The waiting for the moment but not really knowing what will happen. Fantasizing about it but not really knowing what will occur. What will she think? How will she react? What does she really want? What will happen in all those little synapses in her brain? What will happen in my own head? Will it be magic? I know I love it all; the anticipation, the planning, the hoping, the fanaticizing, the imagining and maybe most of all the waiting. No, I do not just love it. I think I truly need it.

As they walked toward one another their eyes locked. Their eyes silently shared the secret and the need. To any observer it was just an ordinary meeting of an utterly ordinary man and woman. They were probably business associates meeting for another meeting. After all that is what they were during most of the rest of their lives. Both were fairly attractive but middle aged. They were just ordinary people, far too unimaginative and too staid and just not young enough to count any more. He was dressed in the currently popular business casual. She looked a bit more formal. He was in crisp trousers and a button down shirt while she was in a mid thigh skirt and suit jacket. As a nod toward sexiness her hose were very shear and black. Her three inch heels were also a little high for business, at least for her age. She was still slim with a good figure but as I said…. To the world all they did was casually greet one another. Only they knew it was really the beginning of the dance. Each was opening more and more to their own lust. She could taste the need mixed with the fear. His stomach was in knots.

Him

I drank in the sight of her and it only made me more thirsty. She looked like she had prepared herself exactly as I asked. As she walked toward me I watch the roll of her hips caused by the height of her heels and imagined the garter straps framing the thong hidden under her conservative skirt. Her conservative public demeanor makes her anticipated surrender all the more exciting to me. It makes our secret all the more powerful. Who could possibly guess that such an obviously sensible and professional business woman would in private willingly allow herself to be transformed into such a perfect little sex toy. Her conservative suit covers the outrageous lingerie that is both a symbol of and the first step in her surrender. No one could possibly guess how willingly and perfectly she surrenders. I think it almost surprises her as much as it would them. Only the wistfulness of her smile could possibly give away that anything out of the ordinary is going on. It is our secret.

When I had stripped her to only her hose and heels and I was naked, I sat on the edge of the bed and told her to come to me. She knelt and crawled to me on her hands and knees. A jolt of lust hits my brain and my cock. I totally unprepared for her to, on her own, do something so obviously sexually submissive. She then knelt up again between my spread knees.

“Cup your breasts in your hands,” I tried to make my voice a soft whisper covering a steely demand. “Offer them to me. Make me want to touch them.”

Her hands moved up and cupped her breasts. Then using just her fingertips she lifted them as if to offer them to me. I could see their softness and weight in her hands. I do want them. Oh how I did want her. Letting her breasts slip from her hands, she began to tease her nipples. Her eyes were on my cock as I stroked myself and I watched her nipples thicken and lengthen with her touch.

“Roll your nipples between your fingers. I want to see how long and thick you can make them. Come on, pinch and pull them.”

Her eyes have never left my cock since she knelt between my legs. She seem to just intently watch as I rolled my balls in my fingers. As I watched her work her nipples I gently stroked my erect shaft.

“Squeeze them. Tug on them harder. Harder!” I hissed.

She pulled harder on her nipples. I watched them stretch from the soft globes and listened to her soft moan from the painful pleasure. I ran my fingers into her hair and pulled her face up to my own. I kissed her with a hunger on the verge of violence. I used my tongue to duel with hers and then stroke her lips and teeth. I literally tried to drink from her mouth. She let go of breasts and moved her hands to my back to pull herself closer.

I whispered sharply in her ear, “No. Hands clasped behind your back.”

She released the pressure of her embrace but did not move. I pull back and looked into her eyes, with all the authority I could muster, I evenly repeated, “I said hands together behind your back.”

She seemed frozen in space. Was she testing my will? Did she want to be forced or had she had enough of this game? I began to disentangle my fingers from her hair in order to reach for her breasts. She then jumped as if from a trance. She squared her shoulders, straightened her spine and quickly moved her hands to the small of her back. Her new position thrust out her breasts. She was so beautiful. She may have remembered how sore her nipples were after our last meeting and decided I needed no additional encouragement. She may have just finally surrendered and decided to go ahead and follow my lead. I tried to look directly into her soul as I lifted her left breast by gently tugging on the nipple. I could feel her apprehension and I tried to balance her pleasure on the edge of pain.

“Are you going to be my good little slut?”

She nodded her head and I released her nipple. I watched the soft and round globe gently fall under its own weight. I moved my mouth to her ear and tongued it. Alternately I licked and blew warm air into the canal. My mind flashed to memories of long petting sessions in High School. Rolling your head in my hands I lick and gently bit her neck. I went back to tonguing her ears and then buried my face in her hair. I love the way she smelled. She smelled so sweet and warm and soft and just so utterly female. I want to devour her. Her neck was totally relaxed and her head moved effortlessly in my hands. She was mine, for my pleasure and for her own. After another long kiss I again look into her eyes to try to see into her heart of hearts, into her soul.

“Ask to suck my cock.”

Averting her eyes she whispered, “May I suck your cock?”

“No, that’s not it. You know what I want.”

She looked back up and aggressively returned my stare, “Please, let me suck your cock,” she said in strong clear voice. She opened her mouth, stuck out her tongue, slowly and deliberately licking her lips. Then immediately after such a deliberately independent and aggressive gesture she dropped her eyes, her expression softened from confrontation to complete submission and she said, “Please sir let me take your cock in my mouth and suck you and taste your cum.” It was as if she needed to prove that her actions were entirely voluntary and only a game. Then in little girl like whisper she continued, “Please, sir, please let me suck you.”

At that moment time disappeared for me. We were the age in our hearts rather than the chronological age of our bodies. I pulled her face to mine and kissed her long and hard. Then with my hands in her hair I lowered her head to my groin. Her tongue on the head of my cock was exquisite.

Her

It is only our second time together. It was very nice the first time and so I played along with his request. I had to go out and buy a garter belt and the stockings. I of course had not worn such a costume in years. It was not exactly comfortable and I kept finding myself occasionally aware of my partially bare thighs through out the day. I must admit though, it was actually a very sexy reminder of our planned meeting.

As soon as we entered our room our arms were around one another and we were kissing. I enjoyed the way he immediately took control and began to strip me. Initially it was uncomfortable and embarrassing to have him undress me while he stayed fully dressed. No one had ever done that before. The way he looked at me with such unbridled lust and his constant reassuring compliments mixed with my embarrassment. The result was an odd combination of conflicting emotions but somehow it heightened my desire, my need.

That really is him. Contradictions seem to be the basis of our lovemaking. With him it is always such a bunch of contrasts. Nothing is ever clear cut and simple. Our meetings always create in me a witches brew of conflicting emotions. His touch alternates between aggressiveness that borders on violence and such perfect calm and loving gentleness. Sometimes he scares me but then he always does something to reassure me and I end up just wanting more. He call me filth names but in such a soft and sweet voice. Embarrassment and reassurance, discomfort and pleasure, fear and desire, control and surrender. Through it all I just keep coming, over and over, harder and harder. And no man has ever talked to me so much during sex. He seems to constantly be giving directions: “Open yourself wider, take it deeper, bend this way, turn that way, move, don’t move.” And compliments, “you are so beautiful, your skin is so soft, you are so tight, you are so hot and so wet. “ Then he makes me answer him, “Yes, No, Please no, You can do anything you want, I’ll do anything you want, Yes sir, Yes ,Yes, always over and over, Yes.” It is a witch’s brew. It is other worldly. It scares me, sometimes it makes me feel foolish, sometimes it embarrasses me, but it always ends up making me want more.

He said he stripped me. Actually we kind of stripped me. I definitely did not just undress for him. It was no striptease. At least not one I have ever heard of. There was no music, no sexy dancing. If there had been some thing like that I think it would have been easier. I would have been able to categorize it as a striptease, a game. This was darker. It was like I was being photographer by his mind’s eye. As he circled me and told me to undo the buttons of my blouse, I began to feel like some kind of prey being stalked. Then he pulled down my blouse so it was off my shoulders but still halfway down my arms and I felt like I was being put in some kind of bondage. He just kept pacing around me, never taking your eyes off me. He stared with such open lust. I could almost hear the click, click, click of the camera shutter in his head.