London

One year ago to this very day we met for the first time in the bar at the Hotel Intercontinental in London, and now we're back, in a suite on the ninth floor. The décor is quintessentially English: flocked wallpaper and oils of hunting scenes on the walls, over-stuffed wing chairs, a quilted loveseat on either side of a tall oak armoire, and a king-sized, canopied four-poster against the far wall. The velvet curtains around the bed are a deep red, sharply contrasting the soft white of the cotton duvet covering the bed. A half-dozen candles throw a soft, rosy glow around the room.

As I enter I see that you're wearing one of my work shirts – a white button-down Oxford cloth. It looks quite appealing on you; certainly better on you than it does on me. I like the look, though. There's something very sensual about a woman in a man's shirt; something about the allure of white cloth against bare skin, the accessibility of buttons going down the front, or maybe it's just that fantasy of you grabbing the first thing you could find in my closet. Whichever it is, it's a great look on you.

Erik Satie's "Gymnopedies" is playing on the CD, a light piano backdrop wafting through the air. I lead you to a wing chair and beckon you to sit, to relax, to enjoy. Standing behind you, I run my hands through your hair, fingers spread, smoothing your thick blonde tresses as I caress your scalp. I massage your temples, gently play with your earlobes, and lightly run my fingertip over your lips. My fingers memorize each line I trace so that I can play it back in my thoughts later on. Reaching your shoulders, I firmly knead and press the strong muscles around the base of your neck and shoulders. I love that you work to keep yourself in shape; the feeling of your physical strength has always been a poignant counterpoint to your more submissive nature. I slide my hand under your chin and gently lift it, bringing your face to mine. I lightly brush my lips against yours as I hold your face to mine.

We kiss – gently, at first, then with growing intensity – lips parted, tongues dancing across teeth, mouths in perfect synchronization. My right hand slides down your neck, reaches the first fastened button on the shirt, and slowly undoes the button. I kiss you more deeply, biting at your lower lip and sucking it into my mouth. My hand moves down the shirt to the next button. My fingers brush through your cleavage as they find the closure; I feel a strong stirring of arousal deep within my groin. Your skin is so soft and I can feel your breathing lifting and expanding your ribcage under the shirt. I kiss your chin, your cheek and even the tip of your nose as I undo the next button down. My lips never leave your skin as I bring them down to your neck. I unbutton the next button, and then the next. As I kiss my way along the top of your shoulder I can see your firm breasts moving up and down under the soft white oxford cloth. With the shirt open nearly all the way, I can even see your stomach and diaphragm lifting and falling further down. As I reach the penultimate button I stop, come back around in front of you, and offer my hand. I escort you up and take you to the bed.

The Eroica Trio begin to play the opening movement of Beethoven's Sixth Symphony. You lay back on the duvet, the shirt open to your navel, and I tell you once again to relax. This is all about you, I whisper. This is my turn to play and your turn to enjoy. I position a soft goose-down pillow under your head, move your arms out to the sides, and slowly brush stray strands of your hair from your face. I open the penultimate button. Your taut stomach is as smooth as the skin on your cheek. It slowly moves up and down in time to your breathing. I run my fingertips lightly up your torso – as lightly as I possibly can, just barely grazing your skin – from your navel up through your cleavage to the nape of your neck. My own breathing picks up. My eyes are locked on yours, unable to stray or leave your gaze. I slowly push one side of the shirt to the side so that it rests directly over your nipple. The result is almost coy, yet powerfully arousing. I open the other side in the same manner and then trail my finger back down to that final button still clinging to respectability. I delicately unbutton the button and draw the shirttail to the side. My gaze shifts to your scrupulously trimmed triangle of dark hair at the very delta of your mound. I want so very much to touch, but hold myself back. Patience, I tell myself, patience. Your body shifts slightly, revealing full lips between strong, supple thighs. Patience will be difficult.

I slide the palm of my hand back up your body and push the lapels of the shirt to either side. Your nipples are already hard, standing out nearly half an inch from your breasts like two erections. I move my hand over your entire breast, to the side and underneath, feeling the contrast in texture as my hand passes from your smooth skin to your hard nipple and then past. I note the subtle change in your expression as I slide over your nipple, so I retrace my path and smile at your show of pleasure. I take the very tip of my forefinger and lightly brush the tip of your nipple. I flick it gently back and forth, taking my own delight in the way it springs back. I press gently on it and hear a soft murmur escape your lips. Your pleasure is giving me pleasure as well; my cock grows hard as I continue to tease your nipple. Using two fingers, I roll your nipple around and gently pull on it, letting it snap back. I squeeze, and hearing you moan softly, squeeze harder. Your thighs press together, and I squeeze again, delighting in your response. I drag my fingers down the slope, between your breasts and up to the other nipple, where I repeat the same process. Each time I touch you and see your response I'm compelled to continue. I love your reaction, I love your pleasure, and I love arousing you.

The music changes again: "Adagio for Strings" by Samuel Barber comes on. The music is hauntingly harmonic, then discordant. My left hand continues to stimulate and arouse your nipple while my right hand starts slow, lazy circles down the center of your torso. When I reach your navel, I stop to trace concentric circles around and around, each getting larger then the previous one. My finger brushes through your short pubic hairs and I smile when I see your stomach contract slightly. I draw a very light line from the top edge of your hair up to your navel, and then re-trace it back down. This draws a low murmur from you. My left hand circles your nipple, pulls it up, and then releases it. I trace the line again, up and back, noting your same response. The next time I draw the line back down over your mound I don't stop when I reach your hair; my finger continues down between your thighs. Your lips are full, swollen, and slightly wet. I trace an exquisitely delicate line down over the top of your labia, down one side and back up the other, smiling as you spread your thighs apart a little more. I gently caress each side, touching the base, near your thigh, and then the tip. When I draw my finger directly up the center, I notice how your lips flare apart, as though asking for deeper penetration. When I reach the apex I see how your clitoris has grown erect and protrudes shyly from beneath its hood. I gently flick across the sensitive bud, increasing pressure minutely each time I go back and forth. Soft whispers escape your lips, urging me on. Patience, I remind myself. Using two fingers, I slide my fingertips back down the tops of your lips. On the way back up, I spread them wide apart, exposing your pink slit and erect clit. I reach the top again and press your lips together directly over your clit. Your response is immediate and satisfying: a moan that starts from deep within your body reaches the surface. I repeat the movement, spreading your lips wider and pressing harder at the top. On the next pass down between your thighs I spread your lips and then drag my middle finger directly down the middle.

When I reach your vaginal opening I stop to press my finger against the hole, pressing enough to fill the opening but not enough to penetrate. I release the pressure and hear a delicious sucking sound, feeling your muscles close around my finger. I press again and release with the same effect. I begin to methodically press and release, press and release, never penetrating inside but noticing how aroused it makes you. My finger is soon wet with your juices. I place my thumb down on your clit and apply pressure as I continue to press and release against your hole. My left hand never stops; I squeeze your nipple, pull it, extend it to its limit and then release it. It stays hard – harder than I can believe possible – and I ache to take it into my mouth, to suckle it, bite it, flick it with my tongue and hear your responses. My right hand moves faster against you, increasing in rhythm and pressure. My finger becomes soaked to the point of spilling over your lips and dribbling down the inside of your thigh. I hear your breathing quicken, feel your kegel muscles contract, and feel you press against my finger as I continue to rim you. You whisper for more, urge me to give you more of my finger. This, however, is merely the beginning; I am just getting started.

As the first strains of Bach's famous "Air on a G-String" begin, I slip my entire finger inside you. I can hear your breathing increase as I begin to slide my finger in and out. My own breathing quickens just watching my finger disappear and then re-appear, wet, warm, and sticky. My cock is hard and throbbing. My left hand massages your entire breast and flicks your nipple back and forth. Your thighs are beginning to tremble. I hear you urge me on, asking me to go faster and harder. My eyes are riveted to your sex. I finger fuck you harder, faster, deeper. Your lips – swollen, wet and flared wide open – drip with your juices. I want so badly to have you in every way. I want so much to replace my finger with my cock and feel your muscles grip my shaft. My finger pounds even harder, my palm slapping your lips each time I thrust in, my hand dripping each time my finger comes out. I ache to have you. I can feel your pussy closing around me.

I insert a second finger, then a third. Fucking you faster and faster, your hoarse breathing getting more and more ragged, the sucking, slurping sound of your cunt getting louder and louder as you get wetter and wetter... I'm having trouble staying focused here. This is all about your pleasure, yet I'm feeling my balls tighten with each thrust. I urge you to let go. I want you to cum all over my hand. I whisper how much I want to fuck you until you orgasm, tell you how much I plan to fuck your cunt with my fingers, my mouth, my cock – whatever you want, wherever you want. I beg you to cum for me. I pump, I thrust, I pound my hand against your sex almost savagely, physically urging you to climax. My left hand tightens around your nipple and extends it to its maximum as my finger pistons in and out of you. I watch, I pump, and I see you reach the top – and then over. I thrill when you climax. I nearly climax myself as I watch you contort, twitch, squirm and jolt. You moan, low and guttural at first, then louder and more frenzied as you let it take you. I hold my fingers deep inside you as you climax again. My hand drips with your cum and your pussy glistens. You jolt again, freeze, and jolt a final time. And then you sink back on the bed, spent – for the moment.

Your climax – and reactions – has only whetted my appetite. I ask you quietly to roll over on your stomach, and then I strip off first the work shirt you wear, and then my own clothing. My cock stands at full attention as I straddle your thighs. Your back glistens with a light sheen of sweat and your chest still rises and falls in a steady rhythm. I slowly massage your shoulders, your back and your waist, letting your breath return.

Sting starts into "Fragile" as I begin to massage your ass. All of that jogging has kept it firm and tight. I move my thighs between yours, spreading you wide apart. Your sex is still swollen and deeply pink, and it gleams with a mixture of your sweat and cum. When I lightly touch your lips you breathe in sharply – you're still ultra-sensitive there, I see. However, as I place my finger against your vaginal opening you relax and murmur a satisfied moan. Quickly, your juices begin to flow again. I bring my finger to my mouth to taste your honey, savoring the slightly salty-sweet, sticky cum that nearly drips from my fingertip. As before, I press against your opening with a regular rhythm, not enough to penetrate but enough to engorge your sex further and increase your wetness. Your pussy is quickly drenched with your liquids, and I take more on my finger to slide up between your cheeks and around your anus. I notice your pleased response when I tease your back door; you press against my finger and slightly lift your hips as though to invite me in there.

I slide my finger back down to continue the pressure against your cunt and slowly begin to increase the speed. My left hand massages your left cheek, rubbing and kneading the hard muscles. As your breathing quickens I press faster and slightly harder. You start to moan in a low tone, giving in to the next climax that is building inside. As I press faster and harder, my other hand massaging your cheek in continual circles around and around the hemisphere. Just as you start to tighten your thighs against mine and your breath begins to get hoarse, I bring my left hand down on your ass with a sharp CRACK! and I plunge two fingers hard into your cunt. Your response is immediate and wonderful. You yelp, then press back against my hand. I slide my fingers out, massage your cheek a bit more, and then bring my hand down hard on your ass again as I ream your cunt again with two fingers. Your cheek has a lovely pink tone to it where I spanked you, matching the color of your pussy where my fingers are thrusting in and out. I massage your other cheek, bring my hand up and then down sharply on the other cheek, ramming my fingers to the hilt into your dripping wet cunt. I hold my fingers there for a moment, and then slowly slide them out.

A flamenco tune, played by Julian Bream, starts up on the CD. I'm so turned on that I can hardly contain myself, but I remember that this is all for you. I slip my thumb into your drenched cunt and slowly move it in and out. Then, sliding it slowly up between your ass cheeks, I press on your anus as I slip my forefinger and middle finger back into your vagina. I press my thumb harder, letting the liquid from your pussy act as a lubricant, and my thumb slips into your ass. A wonderful groan greets my actions and you move slightly back against my hand. I press my fingers harder into both your holes and you press even harder against them. When my fingers are inside you as far as they will go, I begin to slowly fuck you from both ends, concurrently sliding in and out. Visions of us fucking in every possible way, in every possible position, swim in my head. I see my cock replacing my thumb in your ass, see me fucking that tight orifice savagely and hear you crying out for more. I see us wrapped in carnal ecstasy and surrendering every taboo thought to our lovemaking. I suddenly realize how hard my fingers are banging into you, but your rapid breathing and low keening moan make me realize you're rapidly moving towards another climax. In low, raspy tones, I urge you on, tell you to cum again for me, plead with you and command you to let go and cum all over my hand. Almost on cue, your body contorts and I feel the iron grip of your kegel muscles around my fingers. Your ass tightens, you thrust your hips backward and I feel the warm gush of liquid over my palm. I continue to thrust and ream your openings, pumping even faster and harder until I feel you tighten again. Your breathing is ragged, your body tense with fantastic desire for more. I piston my fingers in and out, over and over again until you climax once more.

Natalie MacMaster starts up a lively Celtic fiddle tune as I roll you over to your back. Your breasts heave up and down – your nipples still taut – and I long to place my erect cock between those lovely breasts and fuck them until ropes of sticky, stringy cum jettison up over your neck and face. My patience is waning, but I continue my mantra: this is all about you. I slowly massage your thighs, your hips and your stomach until your breathing slows down. I bend over and kiss your mouth gently, just touching my lips to yours. I kiss my way around your chin to one earlobe, suckle it gently, and then back around to the other. My tongue traces a line all around your ear, flicking and licking its way to your cheek. I kiss your cheek, your nose, your other cheek, and then your lips. I kiss my way down the nape of your neck, nibbling here and there as though to taste you. You are salty and sweet; you taste of exertion and pleasure. I kiss your collarbones and shoulders, then your upper arms down to your elbows. I gently extend your arms above your head and kiss your smooth armpits, licking and kissing my way back around to your side. Then, slowly, I kiss my way up the side of your breast, underneath and through your cleavage, and under the other breast. I flatten my tongue against your globe and lick tenderly up to your nipple, taking it into my mouth and gently sucking it. It is so very rigid in my mouth. I flick it back and forth with my tongue, delighting in the way it snaps back, and gently pull it with my teeth.

I let my tongue trail down the inside curve of your breast and across to your other nipple, where I gently suck and nibble it to full erection. I suck it – as you would suck my cock – going down completely to your full breast and sliding back up to the very tip, fellating your nipple and urging it to a climax. Your hips rise and fall under me, in unison with both the music and my mouth. I suck harder, teeth now scraping along the erect sides of your nipple. When I suddenly bite down – albeit gently – your body shivers and shudders in the beginnings of yet another climax. I pull on your nipple harder with my teeth and you spasm once again, deliciously moaning a desperate plea for more. I suck your entire nipple into my mouth and reach over to pinch the other, pressing my thumb and forefinger together until I fear they will meet in the middle; and you beg for more. I bite down again and twist your other nipple nearly completely around and your hips jerk, your stomach contorts and I realize that you need to cum. Straddling your torso now, I reach down to take both nipples in between my fingers and I twist, pinch, pull and torture your tender points until I hear you cry out – not in pain, but in the pleasure of your climax.

Beethoven's Ninth – the final movement, masterfully depicted by the Orchestre des Champs Elysees – begins to play, the sweet low strains building note upon note as they weave and merge. Your breathing is hoarse and ragged, your body still trembling from the multitude of orgasms you've had, your skin wet with perspiration and shining in the dim light. I slip my hand around your wrist and gently bring it up to the headboard where I firmly tie it fast with a silk scarf. You don't resist, partially out of exhaustion and partially, I think, out of erotic curiosity. I tie the other wrist as well, and then proceed to spread your thighs wide apart and fasten your ankles securely in a similar manner with scarves to the baseboard below. Your body now lies before me spread-eagled and exposed completely.

Kneeling next to you, I take my cock into my hand and begin to masturbate over your face. Your eyes are riveted on my strokes, watching every movement of my hand as it slides up my shaft to the very tip and then back down to my groin. Every so often I see you lick your lips as if you taste each measured stroke with your tongue and swallow each motion down. I switch hands and, with my free hand, I reach down between your thighs. Your labia are full, swollen and wet, and your clitoris is hard and distended beyond its hood. When I touch your clit you jerk slightly; you are still ultra-sensitized and I feel that only a few strokes there will bring you to another climax. However, your body accepts my touches and soon your entire crevice is slippery again with your sexual juices. I stroke a little harder, seeing your eyes get wider as my cock grows to fullness before them, and I bring the head down and caress your lips with it, across and around. When you open your mouth to receive the head I slap your clit lightly; the sudden sharpness of my hand on your sensitive knob makes you gasp, makes your mouth open wide, and I slide the head of my cock into your mouth.