Author's Foreword: This series has themes of romance, sex, friendship, humor, safe and consensual BDSM, and above all, intimacy and the concept of memory. Any resemblance to real people or events is coincidental. I want you, reader, to come away with more empathy, appreciation, and joy for yourself and others than you began. As I did when writing this.
***Mid Summer****
"I didn't hear you clearly that time," I said, as calm and menacing as she had asked me to be, "So we're going to need to do that one again. Don't make me start all over."
Her arms were tucked under her, wrapped around the pillow that she hugged to her bare chest as she lay across my knees on the couch. She whimpered and shifted, but she nodded. I brought my hand up and paused, knowing she couldn't see through her blindfold and could only focus on the crinkling of my button-down shirt sleeve, the heavy silence soon after.
She began to writhe from the anticipation. She wanted so badly to flinch out of the way of each new, imagined handprint. My pants were already soaked at the thigh from her.
I waited.
She clenched her toes. A tiny squeak escaped her throat. I brought my palm down with a crack.
"Nine, Sir!" she sobbed into the pillow before dissolving into shuddering sniffles.
"Good," I said soothingly, "Good! That was exactly what you were supposed to do. Here, you earned this." I ran two fingers along her drenched clit before putting them in her mouth. While she was noisily occupied, I admired her sunset-hued ass. We were already much higher than nine - she'd been such a brat on purpose earlier. When she started drooling into my palm and trying to grind her pussy against my leg, I pulled my hand away and wiped it clean in her hair. She tried to twist around, so I tightened my grip gradually on her blonde ringlets until she gasped and arched her neck.
"Such a messy eater," I commented, releasing her to collapse into the pillow again, "We'll work on that next time. Now, this is the last one, so let's make it special."
"Yes," she groaned, "Yes, please. I want to be good."
"Reach back here and hold these cherry-red little cheeks apart for me."
"Oh, no," she said, completely unable to disguise her giddy pleasure. She was already riding the edge of another orgasm.
"Oh, yes," I said, "You were so bad earlier. Time to show me you really want to be on your best behavior." She whimpered, let go of the pillow, and reached back to gently make herself just that much more vulnerable. I encouraged her fingers to spread further, exposing everything.
"Very, very good," I assured her, "and this time, stay like that after we finish so I can see you. And don't forget the count, or else we do this one again too."
"Okay," she said with nervous excitement.
"And if we do start over, I'll make very sure you actually do regret it," I warned.
"Yes, Sir," she whispered.
"Good. Now raise that cute little ass up." She complied.
"Higher," I encouraged her with a light tap, "There we go, Pet. Lovely." I pulled my palm firmly along her, eliciting a sharp intake of breath.
"Ready?" I asked, and she nodded rapidly. She bit the pillow hard. I raised my hand.
"One," I said, and watched her dripping pussy pucker sharply.
"Two," her hips shook, and she gripped to spread herself to the limit.
"Three." I brought my hand down sharply. Not as hard as earlier, of course, but not too gently, either. She bucked forward and screeched into consoling feathers. I put my hands on hers to help keep her ass spread, watched her inner labia convulse and drool.
"The count, Pet," I warned, dragging two fingers along her lips before slowly thrusting in with them.
"Ten, Sir," she wailed as she came, and I took my hands away with a twist to watch her squirm on the couch while she cursed and the air heaved in and out of her lungs.
I stood up and took one of her beautifully muscled thighs in each hand to flip her over to her back, quickly kneeling in front of her. I took a moment to appreciate the sight of her sculpted abs, champagne coupe glass breasts, the blindfold she wore, the flush across her collarbone as livid as though she'd just stepped out of a sauna.
"Time for your reward," I said as I began to make long, slow, probing drags with my tongue.
"Oh God no," she said, weakly pawing at my hair and shoulders, "Please Sir, I feel so *dirty* when you ohhh-God!"
I didn't let her finish that thought or any other for a long time, instead enjoying the deep scratches she made on my scalp and upper back. I resolved to get thoroughly drunk on her refined, sharp, subtle, neverending wine.
***Early Spring, First Night***
I tossed Erin off me and onto her back like it was nothing, nipped at her gently as I started to make my way lower.
"Um," she said, putting a hand on my shoulder for a moment. I stopped again.
"Everything alright?" I asked.
"Yeah! Yeah, just that I almost never let guys go down on me. Even Andrew. When I said no more than oral earlier, I guess I meant me, and when I said hands I guess I meant you. That's why I, you know," she said, mimicking a falling tree with her arm and making a crashing sound. Well this was unusual. I had to know.
"Can I ask why?" To my surprise, she seemed embarrassed.
"I don't know, really," she said, "I guess it just feels like the dirtiest thing I can do? I've done plenty else, believe me. And don't get me wrong, I love how it feels, at least from how I remember, but it's just... I dunno. I definitely like going down on you, though."
"Well," I said, kissing her hand, "how about we take it slow and you let me know how you feel? I'd really like to. What I already tasted of you was... lovely. And this kind of sex is important to me. But if you want me to stop, for any reason, just say the word. I want us to trust each other. Still, I think I can convince you, if you let me."
"You do have a way with words," she said, grinning at me, "even when you're horny-stupid."
"Would you say I'm a cunning linguist?" I deadpanned. She stared at me for a second and then punched my shoulder with that surprising strength of hers.
