Candlelit

This is the night he becomes addicted to it. It is going to infiltrate his daily life. It will influence the way he drinks his coffee, the way he cleans himself, the way he eats his meals. He will no longer be able to experience pleasure without adding the little extra from tonight.

She lures him to her place with the promise of a surprise. When he arrives, she greets him in a sheer night gown. It is satin and radiates the softness of her body. It grips the contours of her frame hugging each curve closely, smoothly, embracing her the way he does. She begins, leading him to the bedroom. He can make out the shape of her ass as it dances beneath the swaying fabric and he's elated with its perfection.

When he enters the bedroom, he see what must be, dozens and dozens of lit candles. Seeing the fire illuminate her luscious body ignites in him a primal longing he hasn't felt for some time. As she takes him to the bed, little flickers of the fire dance, cheering the two lovers on.

She tells him to sit. She will take care of the rest. She pulls his shirt up and over his broad shoulders, softly kissing his neck and chest. She withdraws his belt, gripping the leather firm and yanking it from the center of his crotch. He eases back and revels in the satisfaction that she is his.

She takes off his shoes. She takes off his socks. Then, still on her knees, she lets her arms crawl up his legs and reach for his zipper. She draws it down slowly between her thumb and forefinger as the rest of her hand cradles his package through the pants. She undoes the button on top, freeing his swollen dick. It leaps up, raising his boxers, and putting a grin on her face. She lowers her head down, draping her hair against his bulge. He savors the feel of her hair brushing against his cock.

With one strong pull she has his pants off. She instructs him to lay flat on the bed. He does as told and is strewn across the sheets, just his boxers trying in vain to contain his enflamed manhood. She walks across the room and opens the top drawer of her dresser. He admires how the shadows seem to be having a lively cocktail party on the walls behind her, as she removes something from the drawer.

She comes back to the bed with two red scarves. She lifts them at the ends and drags them against his heavy chest. They are as soft and delicate as the slip she was wearing. They feel smooth and tenderly feminine. "What are those..." She stops him mid-sentence, pressing her finger against his lips. He tries to kiss it but she withdraws too fast.

She takes his right hand and drags it up the side of her body, with his palm facing away from her frame. From her thighs to her hips, past her breasts, over her collar bone, across her neck, and through her hair, only the back of his hand is allowed to feel her. With his arm stretched up over his head, she places it firmly against the wooden headboard. Using her other hand, she grabs one of the scarves, and with the expertise of an eagle scout, knots his wrist to the frame. And then his other arm, the same motions, against the other side of her supple body.

She kisses both of his hands, sliding her nightgown covered, erect nipples over his lips moving from left to right. Then she kisses his wrists, sliding her breasts across his chest from right to left. Then his forearms. Then his biceps. Then each shoulder. Each kiss, gentle and warm, just like the candlelight of the room. She kisses his torso, chest, abdomen, and hips, tasting every corner of each side, swaying her breasts over his twitching member each time she crosses his body.

She moves to thighs and calves, bathing him in her kisses. His cock aches to be caressed, but his hands are imprisoned. She is the only salvation in sight. After she kisses his entire body, she leans up over him. She slides the fingers of both hands down into the elastic waist band of his boxers and grips tight. With a carnal stare, she asks, "Are you ready?"

He answers with an affirmative flick of his hard cock toward her. She pulls down his boxers, and his manhood violently springs free. She begins kissing his thighs and inner hips as her hair circles against his dick. She kisses the left parts of his sack, she kisses the right. She can feel them tight, ready to burst. Each time she presses her skin and hair against his hard-on it feels softer than his silk shackles.

Then she stops. She gets up and goes back to the dresser, but she doesn't open the drawer. She looks over her shoulder at him, again with her coy smile, as he lay naked and helpless, chained to her bed. She turns around holding one of the larger candles. It glows around her, giving her an angelic halo of beauty.

She comes to him. "With each drop you take, I give." Then she puts her arm high above his body, with the candle outstretched. "Understood?" He nods, drunken with lust.

She tilts her wrist slightly, and the liquid slides, finally with one drop breaking free of the candle. It rolls quickly across the side and drops to his chest. The initial pain shocks him out of his dizzy, dreamlike comfort. It brings all the pain to the surface of his skin, coming from within. The shiver of pain and excitement ripple out from the point of contact just as an orgasm sends sensation pulsating through the entire body.

With his chest heaving from the pain, he feels her lean down over his crotch. The tip of her tongue pokes into the base of his cock, just above his aching balls. Next, she moves the rest of her tongue, so it is completely stretched along his shaft. He is so sensitive he can feel the bumps of her tongue and the waves of heat that ebb and flow with her breath. At first she just leaves her tongue there, breathing slowly. Then she gradually walks it up his stiffness, circling around the head of his cock. The head is purple, muscles contracting, beating like a heart.

They lock eyes, and she lifts the candle again. A few drops this time, assaulting his body. It makes him feel alive, invigorated, like a rousing speech given to soldiers just before they take to the battle field. Then, again, she runs her tongue around him, this time twisting around his cock like a stripper sliding down a pole.

More wax, more of her sweet mouth's caress. Each time, bringing him closer to the point of no return. He begins to get turned on by the hot burn of the candle as much as he is by her tender licks. His chest is covered in wax, like a plate of armor, his skin red and almost blistering.

She senses he is on the verge, precum oozing from the tip, when she cradles it in her mouth. "Are you ready, baby? Are you ready to cum in my mouth?" He can barely stutter the word, "Please."

She takes his entire member in her mouth, he feels it sliding deep down her throat. She lifts her head, and begins stroking his hard dick vigorously, the candle in her other hand. Her tongue feverishly works the bulb of his cock. Her mouth salivates over him, wet and sloppy. She mumbles, mouth full of cock, "Cum for me, baby. Cum in my mouth."

She feels his balls tense up. She feels the surge of ejaculate racing through his shaft. Timed perfectly, she turns the candle completely upside down. Wax splatters, erupting volcanically over him, as his cock erupts the same. He fills her mouth, as pain and pleasure possess his entire body. He writhes against the satin cuffs, overwhelmed by sensation. He feels he had tasted life for the first time.

Now he craves that feeling. He is addicted. That pleasure and that pain, together, united. He drinks his coffee so hot he burns his tongue. He takes his shower, while the cold handle remains dormant. He douses his food in sriracha and chilies. Everything is now done, searching for a taste of what he felt that night.