A Whisper of Trust

Dark came early in winter, and she lit a fire for ambiance in the redwood paneled room. She glanced at the crystal clock above the mantel, and then out the window to the driveway. She had planned this evening for several months, waiting for the perfect situation – timing, weather, and opportunity.

The stone house had been meticulously crafted, every detail scrutinized as she personally directed its construction. She ordered fine natural wood – cherry, oak, redwood, cedar, mahogany – using the texture and color variations in the grains to create a warm, inviting escape consisting of a sitting area, convenient kitchenette, an elaborate bathroom and a romantic sleeping loft. Greeting those who entered was a gray granite fireplace inset with large amethyst crystals – glittering purple prisms reflected off the walls as flames burned in the logs below.

An oval cashmere rug lay on the polished oak floor in front of the fire, three decorative pillows tossed beside it. A single black leather armchair was at one side, and a fabric tapestry covered lounge on the other. The drapes hung like oversized violet petals in sheer layers from two floor-to-ceiling windows on opposite walls. The door was solid mahogany with brass door accents – from inside, it displayed a delicate carving of passionate lovers tempted by the camouflage of forest to embrace a cherished moment.

She lit incense, filling the room with sandalwood and musk. Outside, the breeze caught the chimes hanging over the porch – random notes of ringing crystal, wood and metal composed sensual music in the night.

Vanilla oil scented hot bath water and her skin reddened as she slipped in the tub. Sponging over her shoulders, down her ivory breasts, pink streaks appeared as the heat marked the water's trail. She lay back and let her hair swirl around until it was drenched – reaching for a lavish shampoo, she lathered then rinsed.

She dried, powdered with fine lilac-scented talcum, and brushed out the chestnut strands - she used a blow dryer until her hair fell like long, straight silk down her back. She wrapped a black satin damask robe around her waist and used a tiny brush to color her lips a lush shade of dark red.

He arrived promptly as expected, and she met him at the door. She lifted up on tiptoes to kiss his neck, lips lingering on his skin, breathing him in.

"Trust me," she whispered, letting her fingernails trail down his chest to his crotch, grasping his groin in her palm. His cock hardened immediately, instinctively responding to her arousing touch. "Hmmm…" she purred, squeezing him, rolling his balls in her hands and then pulling him inside.

She pulled a scarf from her robe pocket, twisted it with both hands, her eyes locked into his. She didn't speak – simply covered his mouth with her lips and kissed him long and deep, their tongues entangled.

"Trust me," she whispered again, and placed the length of silk over his eyes, tying it securely behind his head. Chills sped down his spine – anticipation of the unknown was stimulating more than his imagination.

She led him to the leather armchair, pulled him to sit and kissed him hard, her tongue probing – then stopped abruptly, letting him just… feel. She never took her hands completely from his hot flesh, but walked around the chair until she stood directly behind him, caressing his strong shoulders, soft inaudible whispers against his ear – her breath like airy kisses.

He reached back, wrapping his fingers around her forearms, pulled until she leaned over the arm of the chair and grasped one breast tightly in his hand. She gasped, arching toward him – letting him take control for the moment.

"Trust me," he whispered, tugging at an erect nipple. She moaned, loudly this time, unable to contain the urge to feel his hard, thick cock – to taste him.

She slithered down between his thighs to kneel on the floor, easily unbuttoning his pants and released the zipper, gentle fingers searching until his swollen manhood trembled in her palm. She placed warm, wet lips over the velvety pink head and it slowly began to disappear into her throat.

His eyes covered – other senses heightened – the intensity of the slippery warmth that enveloped him was overwhelming. He felt her hands pressed against his hips, and he moved his palms to her head, wrapping fingers in her silky hair, pulling back and forth. He felt his bulging cock touch the ridges on the roof of her warm mouth and then the smooth back of her throat. He fucked harder, desperately. All of a sudden – pulling away from him – she stopped, kissing the wet tip playfully.

His heart was pounding, his thick shaft pulsing. He inhaled her scent, so close he could feel the heat of her flesh. She touched a swollen breast against his lips, the nipple teasing him – he lapped at it hungrily, and she leaned in closer, encouraging him to suck. She placed knees either side of his muscular thighs, and slowly began to lower herself until the head of his throbbing cock met the tight opening of her plush, wet pussy.

"Trust me," she cooed, and pressed down – slowly, deliberately – until he disappeared inside. She sat perfectly still and reveled in the pure pleasure of holding him inside her.

He realized the depth of her desire – knew her only too well. He let her tease him with deep muscular contractions, imprisoning him inside her belly, grinding her hips against him. He could tell when she began to relinquish control to him –she moaned softly, trance-like. "Fuck me, please fuck me" she began to chant, an almost inaudible, very sexy, whisper.

He lifted the blindfold from his face, and saw that her eyes were shut, her body loosely dancing over him. He grasped her arms forcefully, and with one last hoarse whisper, turned her over until she knelt on the floor, her face balanced on the chair cushion. He reached between her thighs, exploring the wetness, his fingers sliding easily between the slippery lips. "Trust me," he promised, "I will fuck you."

She felt him enter – thick, volcanic, and all at once. In one frenzied thrust after another, filling her up – and still she pressed backward against him, begging more. He exploded, unable to abstain a moment longer – the bulging warmth spilled hot cream inside, sliding in and out of her tightness. She began to shudder under his powerful arms, and dug fingernails into his hands as she struggled at the intensity flooding her. Finally, the rush of orgasm rose up and spilt over – she tensed, arched upward and screamed out in ecstasy.

Afterward, succumbed to him completely, she was comforted by his presence. But his magic was no secret. She knew it was only his provocative and possessive whisper – "Trust me" – that would always leave her breathless. Forever, never-ending.