Rendezvous With Robyn

Copyright 1998 Del Edwards (a nom de plume)

Robyn was a bit of a hardware freak, as it turned out. That's unusual for a woman. Most people are fascinated with a cop's gun and are sort of ho-hum about the handcuffs. She had asked why I was only carrying one. I pulled the cuffs out of the waistband of my trousers at my left hip to show her the other cuff was on the inside. And her keen interest in the little executive knife that I sometimes used to touch up my nails while I was standing at the bus stop with her didn't register as anything special. She said it was 'cute' when I used the tiny scissors to trim a dangling thread on a button of her sweater. I never put all those glances together until after our single rendezvous just before she left for some African state with her husband who just graduated from an international management school in the city. She had a job at the capitol and was putting him through school.

I liked the way she looked in her clothes but I mentally undressed her several times each day, standing, sitting and walking ahead of me on the bus. Some guys would call her skinny and flat chested. I saw her as elegantly slim and small breasted.

There was probably fifteen years difference in our ages. At first I thought the casual questions were just conversation starters. Stuff about police work... the excitement, the danger, was it like the cop shows on television? Then the questions got more personal... was I happy in my marriage after sixteen years? So bold a question on her part seemed to deserve an honest answer. No, I wasn't getting the respect, the affection or the sex I wanted from my wife, I told her. Seven seconds later she began to breathe again. My answer had shocked her. We weren't just bus stop acquaintances any more. She volunteered that in her short marriage things had gone flat between she and her husband. He spent long hours studying into the night. She yearned to be touched and held and be sexually exciting to a man. Her openness took me aback. The bus arrived and took away our privacy.

She took an empty seat and I settled into an empty seat directly across the aisle from her. My mind was racing and my heart was trying to get out of my chest through my throat. I saw her smile and then glance at me. Then she looked away and the smile was gone. It happened again... the smile and then her eyes were on me. Her hand moved to her throat and she slowly stroked her neck and let her hand move slowly down her body between her breasts and come to rest in her lap. I saw her shudder slightly and then watched the blush rise up her neck and spread across her face. She made an 'oh' shape with her mouth as she exhaled. Our eyes met again.

There would be no opportunity for us to speak again privately until the next morning. The afternoon bus stop downtown was always crowded and the bus even more crowded, sometimes standing room only by the time it got to our stop. More than a few times we stood in the aisle next to each other, my gaze on her proud little unbridled breasts under her dress or blouse. Sometimes she would watch me look at her and I was afraid she knew I lusted for her

Our intimate exchange that morning kept flying into my mind all day long. Suddenly it occurred to me that since we both got off the bus at the same stop in the evening there would be an opportunity to speak to her alone again that day. The ride home that evening was the longest and slowest I had ever experienced. Robyn stepped off the bus just ahead of me, took a couple of steps and turned to face me. "I'll be leaving the country with my husband in a couple of weeks," she announced. "Think about it. Think about how we could be together just once and then never see each other again," she added.

"I've thought about it a couple hundred times since this morning," I told her.

"Good. We'll talk more in the morning," she replied.

She was already at the bus stop when I crossed the street to join her the next morning. "I like the way you look at me," she said. "You appreciate me and you've already got me down to wearing nothing but heels and hose, don't you?" she said as she rocked forward and back slightly, a curious smile touching her lips.

"Yes. You set me on fire woman," I breathed. I took a half step backwards to help me resist the urge to take her in my arms and kiss her right then and there.

"I want to exchange oral sex with you," she croaked. "Once and then we never speak to each other again."

"When?" I asked.

"Tomorrow morning. My place," she responded. "We'll take a later bus afterward and sit apart and never speak to each other again," she insisted. "Do you promise that it will be that way?"

"I promise," I said.

The next morning she appeared at the bus stop as usual. She put her hand on her abdomen with her fingers splayed wide and inquired, "You ready for this?" There was a quiver in her voice and she spoke very softly. I nodded and she turned and walked back toward her townhouse. I followed. I moved past her as she held the door. She closed it and locked the world outside. Then she turned toward me, raised her arms with her palms together and croaked, "Handcuff me." I clicked the cuffs onto her wrists. I had performed that action hundreds of times but not on a willing woman who wanted to exchange oral sex with.

"I'm your prisoner. I have to do anything you say, right?"

"That's right," I replied.

"If you told me to unbutton my dress I'd have to do it, huh?"

"That's right."

"Well, tell me," she rasped.

"Unbutton your dress to the waist, very slowly," I ordered. She toyed with each button and a sliver of skin began to appear as she opened the buttons. Above the waist at least, she was wearing nothing under the dress. Many times over the past months I had cataloged the observation that she was not wearing a bra. In the winter she often wore a camisole for warmth but her proud little breasts needed no support. She frequently caught me looking and responded with an amused smile.

The backs of my hands parted the open dress and found her nipples. I rolled them gently between my thumbs and forefingers. "I want you to hurt me a little. Squeeze until I cry out," she said in a quaking voice. I applied pressure slowly and was surprised how much she took before the first groan rolled out of her throat. Her head lolled back and she groaned again, her neck strained and beautifully taught. Then her head snapped forward and her chin was against her chest. "I'll be still while you cut my panties off me," she hissed through the pain.

The irony of the scene was grand. I had never kissed this very pretty, slim woman. But I had her in handcuffs and was administering pain to her until she was nearly breathless. I did the only reasonable thing , I pulled on her nipples to bring her closer to me and kissed her full on the mouth. She kissed me back and her hands were stroking my crotch.

"Pull your dress up," I ordered. She grasp the hem with her cuffed hands and brought it to her waist. I stepped back and pulled the little executive knife from my pocket and opened the blade. She was wearing sandal-style heels with ankle straps. Her legs were encased in black stockings but her upper thighs and hips were still obscured by the dress.

"Higher," I told her. She raised her cuffed hands holding the hem of her dress to her chin. The dark lacy tops of the thigh high stockings came into view. My breath rushed out of me with excitement.She smiled.

"Higher," I said again. She extended her arms over her head and her face disappeared inside the dress. The tiny black bikini panties she wore were almost too pretty to destroy. I stroked her sex through the thin cloth with my left hand as I slid the blade under the bikini string at her left hipbone. It was easy to do because her hipbone protruded slightly past her firm flat abdomen, leaving a little gap almost begging for the blade. I turned the sharp edge to the material and drew it toward me with ever increasing pressure until the string parted. She gave a little gasp from inside the dress. Then I cut the string at her right hip and watched the panties fall away.

I quickly put the knife away, dropped to my knees in front of her and tongued her outer lips. She spread her legs obligingly and I went a little higher searching for her clit with my tongue. A moan of pleasure came from inside the dress as I flicked my tongue back and forth across the firm knot of flesh.

I wanted to pleasure her for awhile before I made a serious attempt to bring her to orgasm. I lubricated the first two fingers of my right hand with saliva and slowly worked them into her sex. She grunted as I repeatedly raked her G spot with the tips of my fingers using a beckoning motion.

"Let go of the dress," I directed. I kept my fingers inside her as the hem of the dress fluttered down to cover my forearm and hand. I was on my feet now. I grabbed the chain between the cuffs with my left hand and asked, "Where's the bedroom?"

"Upstairs," she whispered. I slowly walked her backwards toward the stairs, pushing against the cuff chain and her abdomen while I kept two fingers firmly inserted in her. It was awkward for her to walk up the stairs backwards with her hands cuffed and my fingers in her. She used me for balance. Each time she moved up a step I plunged my fingers deep into her and titillated the neck of her womb. She liked being touched deep inside and groaned as she gained each step. Her eyes were smoldering with desire by the time we reached the top of the stairs. I steered her into the bedroom and backed her up against the bed. "Pull up your dress and sit," I directed. I withdrew my fingers as she slowly lowered herself onto the bed. "Now lie back and enjoy," I invited her. I stroked her Venus mound and the insides of her thighs for awhile before I pushed her legs apart and knelt between them. Her lower belly was already quivering when I ran my arms under her thighs and put my hands on her belly.

Maybe she could feel my excited breath between her legs but I announced my presence by kissing her lips and then invading her with my tongue, going as deep as my tongue would go. I felt a flutter of disappointment when I withdrew my tongue. Or maybe it was anticipation about what was coming next.

I used both my index fingers to press on her pubic bone and move her pubis toward her navel. My lips became my eyes, searching for and finding her clit that was exposed because of the upward pressure of my fingers. I flicked my tongue over her pleasure bud until I heard her moan. Then I moved downward slightly and sucked her left vulva into my mouth, holding it gently between lip-covered teeth while I tongued it. Next I treated the right vaginal lip in the same way. And finally back to her evasive clit. I captured it with a sucking kiss and tantalized the tip with my tongue. Her hips bucked and she moaned.

restarted my tour of the golden triangle of pleasure by tongue fucking her until the muscles in the base of my tongue protested and refused to obey the instructions of my consciousness. While my tongue rested I nibbled and sucked her lips. When I pulled back for a few seconds I could sense her yearning and the tension in her hips and thighs.

The concert was going well. Robyn was both the audience and my instrument. I was the soloist. I had just played the overture, the familiar beginning that is instantly recognizable and serve the second function of announcing that the main body of the work is eminent.

I kissed her hooded clitoris and nudged it several times with my tongue, urging it to awaken. It did. In the distance I could hear her squealing in pleasure. I increased the tempo while maintaining the very light touch that a fine instrument such as her body deserved. I had found the rhythm that allows artist and instrument to become one, to meld into a singleness that is elegant and progressive... moving toward the inevitable crescendo of ecstasy, the drowning climax followed by absolute silence and satisfaction.

Her cries were closer together now. And more nearly breathless. I maintained the rhythm and let her climb the ladder. More and more the spaces between the cries became smaller and smaller. Then there was one long sweet scream as the tension and desire in her body rolled over into pure pleasure... the vibrant certainty that she was connected to every other thing in the cosmos.

In the aftermath she was classic woman. She wanted to be held, to touch, and to be tenderly told that she was beautiful and alluring. I took the cuffs off her and watched her examine the red marks they left on her wrists.

"Get naked please," she said as she moved to the closet. She slipped into a navy blue satin robe and knotted the sash around her waist. Then she sat on the edge of the bed watching me undress. I stood naked before her with the beginnings of an erection already aching for her attention and touch. She beckoned for me to move to her. She untied the sash of her robe and pulled it out of the loops that held it in place. "This will help you last longer and have more pleasure," she said as she looped the cord around my testicles and tied an overhand knot. There was pressure but no pain as she completed another loop and tied a double overhand. "Standing, sitting or lying down?" she asked.

"All three," I croaked. I cleared my throat. It had been so long since I had spoken that my vocal cords were clogged with spit and probably some of her juices.

"I like a man who says what he wants," she said nodding her head. Her head continued to nod as she leaned forward and took my half-erect penis in her mouth.

Somewhere back in time in the last day or so I had wondered if Robyn, being young, would have developed much of a technique in oral sex. She was so accomplished that in less than a minute I was nearing orgasm. I was immersed in the sexual paradox of wanting the pleasure to last at that level and at the same time wanting the ecstasy of orgasm and release. I took a half step back, disengaging from the pleasure. She quickly took the head of my very hard dick between her thumb and forefinger and squeezed hard. "I don't want you to come yet either," she said as if she had been in my mind listening to my thoughts. She sucked me up to the brink of orgasm and then squeezed me back from the edge several times.

Then we changed places. She slipped out of the robe. She was still wearing the stockings and heels. She knelt and began to pleasure me with her mouth again. It was as if we had come to an understanding without speaking the words. When I began to moan, she withdrew her mouth and squeezed me hard to push me back from orgasm. I visually feasted on her firm, lean body naked except for stockings and heels. Several more times she took me high up on the pleasure plateau and then pushed me back from the edge. "Slide up on the bed and spread your legs," she instructed. She knelt between my legs and unknotted the cord around my scrotum. "I'm going to take you now," she announced.

She began slowly. The ache in my groin grew as she increased the pace of her lips moving up and down my throbbing shaft. I tried to relax away from the tension but she pulled me higher and higher until an electric pleasure surged through my whole body and the spasms of orgasm let me shoot my cum down her throat.

We rode the bus together for maybe a week. I had great difficulty keeping my promise not to speak to her... particularly while we were standing at the bus stop alone. I wanted all of her I could get before she left. She had difficulty with it too. I could see it in her eyes and the way her mouth would begin to move and then the hard swallow. She was literally eating the words that she wanted to say to me. Then one morning she wasn't at the bus stop.

I never saw Robyn again. That was seven years ago and when she floats into my mind now, I still wish I knew where she was because I still want her.

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