Fun in Mayfair
Author's Note
This is a work of fiction, but part of it is based on an actual event. Which bit and whether that event happened to me or someone else, I'm not saying...
*****
She smiled back at me from the full length mirror. Long blonde hair, tied back to prevent it falling across her face. Light blue-green eyes beneath a thin line of fair eyebrows. Slender nose and full lips, enhanced with a crimson gloss. Lips set in that knowing, expectant smile.
My eyes travel down to her breasts. Small, but perfectly formed. Large, dark nipples contrasting with the creamy whiteness of her skin. She runs her hands over her breasts, fingertips brushing across those sensitive buds which react immediately, blossoming out of the skin. I feel a corresponding tingling as she does it.
Her hands move down over the flatness of her belly, wiping sideways to caress her hips and bottom, that nice, firm, rounded bottom that is out of sight from here. As I look at the soft, fair patch of down neatly trimmed above her clean-shaven pussy one of her hands reaches down to run her fingers through it. I see her breasts rise and fall as she breathes deeply in anticipation. Her finger-tips linger at the top of her slit, pausing, tempting, teasing.
She smiles back at me and lightly runs a single finger along the length of her slit before tossing her head and turning away.
I am proud of my body. Long hours in the gym, care and attention to my diet and forty or fifty miles run every week have paid off. You don't get to look as good as this without putting in the effort!
Now, I have to decide what to wear. It needs to be simple and sophisticated. That 'Little Black Dress' may be a cliché, but it became one for a reason. The right dress can be alluring and enticing, exciting without revealing. The
possibility
of revelation can be more exciting that the actuality. Sophisticated women know this instinctually.
I turn to the rail in my dressing room and run my fingers through the selection hanging there. I pause at one and smile. This is right. This is the one. Figure-hugging silk in a plain black, dark as midnight. A single strap over the left shoulder and passing under the right arm. The rest of the back left bare, the line of the dress plunging in a deep vee below the waist line as the dress wraps around my hips and falls to the floor, flaring out slightly below knee level. On the right hand side the dress is slit all the way from the floor to a point level with my pussy. Tantalising, without revealing.
There is only one thing to wear under a dress like this. Perfume. Just perfume.
Marilyn may have preferred Chanel No. 5, but today I choose Christian Dior - J'adore L'Or. The sensual, almost phallic, bottle glows golden in my hands. I pull the stopper, releasing the mouth-watering vanilla and jasmine aroma into the room. I let a drop fall onto a small linen pad and wipe it around my throat, over my breasts and across my belly. Harry will appreciate that when he undresses me later tonight.
I step into the dress and pull it up over my hips, settling the shoulder strap in place and adjusting the sides. A pair of strap-up sandals and a sheer black shawl completed my wardrobe. There. Lots of blemish-free skin, but not a hint of anything improper. Harry will love it.
Harry. Am I his conquest, or was he mine? We met at the theatre just three weeks ago. I had gone with a girlfriend and had literally bumped into him in the bar during the intermission. He had apologised profusely, even though it wasn't his fault, and insisted on replacing the drink I had spilled. Jodi, my friend, had disappeared somewhere so we sat together discussing the play, which wasn't brilliant, and getting to know each other. When the bell rang for the end of the interval we stayed in the bar until it was too late to go back to our seats without disturbing people. Instead, we went to a wine bar for the rest of the evening.
By the time Harry had taken me home in a cab I was ready to let him come inside and stay the night - something I had never before done on a first date. Harry declined, very gently, and just kissed me goodnight. The kiss itself was almost as enjoyable as sex — exciting, arousing and memorable. It just didn't last long enough.
Harry called me the next morning and we arranged to meet again that evening. We met most evenings after that but it was almost a week before Harry came into my bed.
The sex was fantastic. Harry was a considerate, gentle, careful lover. I rarely had fewer than two or three orgasms with Harry as he invariably took his time to make sure I was fully satisfied before he finished himself. He was adventurous too, introducing me to the thrill of a little light bondage. That was something I had never tried before, never thought of trying but, feeling safe and secure with Harry, I had found that having gently restricted movement whilst he concentrated on pleasuring me was incredibly exciting and enjoyable.
The first time he'd done this he'd gently, but firmly, tied my hands behind my back with a dressing gown cord. He'd then started to kiss me all over, nibbling and sucking on my breasts and nipples, nuzzling at my belly button, licking and sucking at my pussy and nibbling at my clit. Being teased and pleasured like this without being able to respond and touch him had driven me crazy! Time and again he'd brought me to the brink of orgasm and then backed off, leaving me begging for more. Eventually, after about thirty or forty minutes of this teasing he'd tied my feet together at the ankles and, bending me face down over the edge of the bed, had entered into me from behind. He'd had such control over me, setting the pace and the penetration himself. I'd been completely at his mercy and forced into a totally passive role.
My orgasm, when he'd finally allowed me to have one, had been shattering. I had been led to the point of release then let down so many times that when I felt the tension building one more time I was nearly crying in frustration and need. His gentle voice had talked sexily into my ear as he thrust into me; the pressure of his cock inside me, filling me, stretching me; his hands massaging my back, my buttocks, reaching round to tease my nipples; these sensations had brought me again to the point where I was expecting him to slow things down once more. Instead, he had steadily increased his pace, thrusting into me hard and deep.
The dams inside me, which had been pent up for so long, had finally burst. I'd cried out, I'd wailed, I'd shouted. My words had been incoherent as the pleasure had taken over. I may even have passed out, I'm not sure. When I had become aware of myself and my surroundings again, Harry's cock had been still inside me, pulsing gently, waiting until I was ready again.
He'd started to thrust into me again, a slow steady rhythm, but it had been too much, I had been too sensitive. I had tried to pull away but was still restrained. I had had to beg him to stop, which he did. He'd pulled me up into a sitting position but, instead of releasing me as I'd expected, knelt in front of me on the bed and pushed his cock into my face until I'd started to suck him off. Again, the restraints had had their effect. With my legs tied together and my arms behind my back I'd still been held in a submissive role, even though I'd been sucking him off. The inability to use my hands had been strange, but exciting. When he'd finally pulled back and sprayed his cum over my throat and breasts, I'd had no choice but to sit there and let it drip off my nipples and run down my belly.
I felt a tingling in my belly as I reminisced over that very memorable occasion. A dampness in my groin made me realise that I had better change the direction of my thoughts. A tight, black silk dress and no underwear was not the place to start getting aroused and wet! I glanced at the clock, wondering where Harry was, but found that he was not yet late. It was still two minutes off the agreed time. I was just beginning to wonder what to do next when the doorbell rang. Harry was here! With an excited fluttering in my stomach, just like a schoolgirl on her first date, I rushed to let him in.
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