"Abacus?"
"Yeah, I met this guy, and he promised to teach me how to use an abacus."
"And you went home with him so that he could pull out his abacus?"
"Yeah."
"Seriously, Chloe, sometimes i think you're retarded."
"It's not nice say the word 'retarded.' It's the 21st century, as you may have heard."
"Yes, it's the 21st century, which means you won't need to use an abacus."
I held the phone to Chloe's ear but spaced out for a bit while she argued with her older sister. Chloe was a college student from West Virginia, and she and her older sister were visiting New York so that the sister could check out a law school. Chloe had a cascade of red hair, the sort of frizzy, wooly, wild fire-engine red hair that would grab your attention. It had certainly grabbed mine.
"Listen, Chloe, I need to go back to the reception, but it should be ending soon. I'll meet you back at the hotel in an hour."
Chloe looked at me. I shook my head. I held the phone away from her freckled cheek and pressed mute.
"Tell her that you'll be tied up for a while but will call her when you're free."
I unmuted the phone and held it against her cheek. While Chloe explained herself, I sat back on my couch and surveyed the situation. Chloe sat next to me, topless. Given her hair, it wasn't surprising that her nipples were a pale pink and that her skin was alabaster, aside from the freckles that splattered across her nose, cheeks, and shoulders.
I held the phone for a few more moments until I heard the sister hang up. I'd held the phone for Chloe because her own hands were handcuffed behind her. She was still wearing her black jeans but was barefoot. She looked at me sincerely, trustingly. I leaned over and gently kissed the spare gold hoop that decorated her right nostril. She smiled.
We'd met online a couple weeks earlier. She had sought me out in anticipation of her trip to New York. In the course of our conversations, I'd learned what she wanted but was scared to look for in her small community. She'd sought a safe adventure with a man twice her age, a man whose name she didn't accurately know, a man who lived in a random loft in a dark part of the big city.
I unbuckled and recuffed her so that her hands were in front of her. These were cushioned bindings. I meant her no pain. But they were leather and serious and not bindings she'd be able to break.
I asked her to stand in front of me and take off the rest of her clothes while I videotaped her, using her phone. As we'd discussed, I intended to record details so that we could look at them. And, as we'd discussed, she'd then delete them.
I held up her iphone and pushed the button.
She took a breath and looked at me.
"Alan," Chloe said, stretching to her full height. At 5'2" and maybe 105 pounds, she looked glorious. "This is embarrassing."
I said nothing but just looked at her reddening face. After a few seconds, she unclicked her jeans and awkwardly pulled them down. Her plain white panties rode partially down her upper thigh, exposing a swath of trimmed bright red pubic hair.
"You're lovely," I said.
After pulling off the jeans and then the panties, she stood. I asked her to slowly turn. She did so. I clicked off the camera and approached her.
We kissed. We'd kissed earlier, but this felt more intimate and raw, though it was a little awkward with her hands cuffed between us.
We had arranged to meet at a bar next to the hotel where she and her sister were staying. I'd waited until her sister had gone for her law school visit, and Chloe had come down minutes later. As instructed, she wore casual college clothes rather than some sort of "dress up for Manhattan" outfit. We'd talked for a while. She'd been very nervous and hadn't been old enough to order a drink, so we'd taken a half-hour stroll through the village, bypassing weed-smoking NYU students and the occasional cop until we arrived at my apartment.
From our texts, I knew she was a sophomore at WVU, that her parents were teachers in a small town, that she was the youngest of three kids, and that she'd had one boyfriend.
I knew that she was curious about sexual submission.
I am not especially into dominance, but I do aim to please.
I asked her to take off my clothes.
I enjoyed watching her fumble with my buttons and buckles. It can be difficult to take off someone's clothes when you're nervous and inexperienced and handcuffed.
Naked and hard, I re-bound her hands behind her. The sounds were metal clicks. I don't tie knots.
I put a pillow down at my feet and asked her to kneel.
I pulled out her phone and pressed video.
I asked her to suck me. She kneeled onto those pillows. She leaned forward, staring at the hard cock in front of her.
"Chloe, what are you going to let me do with you?"
She looked up at me.
"Anything you want."
I turned off the phone and pressed my cock against her soft cheek.
As with the undressing, it was awkward. She didn't have access to her hands, and she was relatively inexperienced, but she licked and nibbled until finally getting leverage and allowing me access into her mouth, which allowed me to slowly fuck her face.
I didn't hold her head for a few minutes, so there was some wavering, but i finally grabbed the back of her head and sloshily did the to-and-fro. Mild gagging, but that wasn't my aim.
"I like the way you suck me, Chloe. For the rest of your life, no matter what happens, you'll be my blow job queen, my favorite, my sweet cocksucker."
She moaned into my cock.
When we'd chatted on the web site, she'd been hesitent to describe her boyfriend. She's a loyal person, which I admired. They'd met in high school and had dated since senior year. He was working on his family farm but hoped to take some college courses in the future. He seemed like a nice guy. They were engaged in a very unofficial sort of way, but she figured she'd marry him. She'd started fucking him towards the end of high school. Vanilla stuff. Blow jobs, missionary position, whatever. But his parents were very religious, and they wouldn't let him visit her in Morgantown, so their opportunities were limited.
She wasn't sure if she'd ever had an orgasm. I'd told her she'd know. She'd said she knew she'd feel guilty letting somebody else touch her but that she worried that she was missing out, that she'd get her teaching degree and get married and have babies and that she'd always wonder about lost chances.
I continued to fuck her sweet face.
I had no intention of cumming anytime soon, so I stepped away, pulled her to her feet, and asked her to wait.
A few minutes later, I walked her upstairs to my bedroom. She looked around at the candles that I'd lit as well as the straps that were attached to the corner of my wrought iron bed. I asked her to lie down on her back. She hesitated, as if mulling whether she was willing to actually go through with what we'd discussed.
She lay down, face up, and I buckled her onto the bed. Spread eagle. One leg angled slightly, as if that might protect her pussy from me. I put a blindfold on her.
I lay between her legs and got comfortable. I looked at her pink pussy lips. I knew she was wet and eager, that she wanted to be fucked, so I kissed her feet and calves and thighs, gently stroking her legs and butt and stomach.
I grazed her pussy with my fingers, very gently, and she tried to grind herself onto my hand.
I withdrew.
