"Not the Hitachi," I said. "It's the unsexiest of all sex toys."
Mel's eyebrows shot up. "It works for me."
It was the day before her birthday, and she wanted a special present. I knew she had an exhibitionist streak a mile wide, but even so I was surprised when she told me.
"I'm going to play with myself. And you're going to watch."
It sounded like a present for both of us, and I said so. As long as it wasn't with her Hitachi.
"I wasn't finished." There was an evil glint in her eye. "You're going to be tied up. Hands far away from your cock. You're going to watch, and all your attention is going to be on me."
I was hard as a rock by the time she finished speaking.
So here I was. On my back on the bed, wrists cuffed behind my head. Naked, obviously.
We'd checked into a hotel for the weekend. A fairly posh place in the country. The rooms were in two wings around a courtyard garden. Mel chose the place, I paid. It was her birthday, after all.
I watched as she came in from the bathroom. Her legs were bare, and above she had on the shirt I'd worn to dinner. It suited her better than me, showing off her plump runner's thighs and arse, and the swell of her breasts.
"Are you ready?"
It would have been impossible to deny it, with my cock pointing at my chin and twitching occasionally.
She stood at the foot of the bed and unbuttoned the shirt. I caught a flash of her belly as it fell open. She kept the material close around her, hiding the secrets underneath as she climbed onto the bed. Then she let go and leaned forward, placing her hands on opposite sides of my legs.
I lifted my head as far as I could, pressing my chin into my chest until my stubble scratched the skin. Mel's boobs hung down, cupped by burgundy lace that just about covered her nipples.
She was watching me. There was a smile on her lips, but they were moist too, and slightly open. She enjoyed it when I stared at her. Fair enough, I enjoyed it too.
The material was slightly loose just below her shoulders, and I could see where the olive flesh folded, how it trembled slightly with her breath. The tiny mole I'd discovered and kissed a hundred times was sexy all by itself.
She leaned forward a little more, her smiling eyes still on me, and rubbed the fabric of her bra softly over my legs. It was a promise of things to come. I might have whimpered.
I know for sure I gave a moan as she began to crawl up my body, touching me from time to time with her bra or the skin of her thighs. She did it ever so slowly, ever so deliberately. It seemed to take an age before her face was level with mine.
I strained to press up against her, but she moved out of reach. "No no, not yet. You're just going to watch." Her face lowered until her lips almost touched mine. "In fact," she breathed, "for now you're not even going to watch."
"Wh--" I began, but she pushed off me and reached for the eye-mask on her nightstand. It was thick and padded, and Mel used it whenever she wasn't sleeping in her own bedroom.
I struggled against my constraints, but she quickly had the mask over my head. It blocked out everything. "Shh," she whispered in my ear. I could feel her curls tickle my chest and my neck. Her perfume was still on the mask.
I felt the mattress shift and her weight move away. Soft footsteps on the carpet, moving to the window. The sound of her pulling on the cord to draw the curtains. That was a relief: so far, the light gauze of the blinds had been the only barrier to keep prying eyes out. With twilight setting in, anyone would be able to peer in and see what was happening.
More footsteps, a soft click, and light crept round the edges of the mask.
"That's better," I heard Mel say.
Sounds of her rummaging around in her bag, by her nightstand. She was humming to herself. It always made me happy to hear, because it meant she was happy too. I thought I recognised Billy Idol. "Flesh for Fantasy" of course.
The mattress shifted again as I felt her weight join mine. First one foot, then the other. She positioned herself above me again, this time standing with one foot on either side of my chest.
"Look at you," she whispered. "All mine."
"All yours," I replied, straining against my bonds again.
"And I'll be all yours soon." Her voice was like melted chocolate. "Yours to use. To touch, to stroke. I'm imagining it already. What your fingers will feel like on my skin."
I could picture her standing above me: legs slightly apart, the burgundy lace of her jockey hugging the contours of her pussy and following the line where thigh met body. Her stomach above, with just enough feminine roundness to cover the muscle beneath. The dent of her belly button. Then the lace of her bra sweeping out as it clung to her breasts, and above her face looking down at me, framed by her dark curls.
"I'm touching myself like I want you to touch me," she continued, and I pictured her hands brushing her skin. "I'm running my hands down my neck, over my chest. I can feel my boobs. They feel nice."
They always felt nice. I felt a cool wetness on my stomach as a drop of precum oozed from my cock.
"But I'm still wearing my bra." She sounded coquettish. "I can only touch the top half of my boobs. The rest is covered by this lacy material." There was a pause, and I tried to imagine what she was doing. "It feels nice too, but actually I think I prefer my skin. There, like that, just sliding my fingertips underneath."
Her weight shifted on the mattress.
"So much more skin. So soft. Hmmm." There was a breathy moan. "Those are my nipples. They're hard. Can you picture them? They're poking through my bra."
A gasp.
"I'm pinching them through the material. It feels good. It hurts, but it's a good hurt." Another gasp. "Like when you bite them."
I'd bitten them just the other day. She'd been on her back, I was on top, and I kissed my way down from her neck, across the mounds of flesh to her nipples...
"But I want to feel more." Again her weight shifted, and a moment later I heard something soft land on the bed beside me. "That's better. They like to be free. And now I can touch them properly."
In my mind I saw her with her hands cupping her boobs. They were a little more than a handful for me, and she had smaller hands. But they were firm, with barely any sag. And they'd be swelling with arousal, so the veins showed through the thin skin on the underside.
And her nipples... Small and dark, almost purple against the burned caramel of her skin. When she was horny they became puffy, pointing slightly upwards -- the left one a little more than the right.
Two breasts, just slightly different, but both perfect.
Above me Mel's breath was punctuated by small moans. "This is nice. But I prefer your hands. You'll have to stroke them later. Will you do that?"
"Yes!" My voice sounded strangled in my ears. "I promise!"
