That woman could wrap her lips around anything and I'd get hard. Right now, that certain something is the button-red globe of a cherry, still on its stem. The juxtaposition of color, the natural rouge of the fruit against the glistening bubble-gum gloss of her full, hot lips drives me wild. She's watching me across the table, her blond hair up elegantly, her makeup exquisite, and the neckline of her dark green gown plunging and inviting. But I can't look away from her mouth and she knows it.
We're at a business dinner and we must all behave. And she is, in the eyes of everyone else. That's simply how you eat cherries, and there happens to be a bowl full of fresh ones available at the table. It's only when she catches me looking does she kiss the shiny, taut red skin of the little fruit slowly before letting it slip inside, the globe pulled gently from its green stem until the two part. And, inevitably, her throat works, making my black suit slacks grow a little tighter, just before she lifts two fingers to her lips to receive the little pit for disposal.
Thank God she's well practiced at teasing me, because she allows me a good fifteen minutes to cool down before we all rise from our seats to bid each other goodnight. We're all out at a conference, housed comfortably in the hotel down the street. A few of my coworkers group together and head downtown towards a bar, while this talented woman named Nancy (who happens to be my fiancé) and I walk arm in arm back to our room at the Marriott.
The whole way there we make chit chat, discussing the mood of my coworkers and bosses. Times are good and my standing in the company is such that I'm pretty sure I'll be getting a promotion soon. We're both looking forward to a bright future full of mundane prizes like our own house, two cars, and all the rest. Of course, once I slip the key card into the slot, our vanilla future gives way to our kinky present.
Nancy's back hits the inside of the door and shuts it with a thud, and I'm right there in a moment, pressing against her and kissing her hungrily. The flavor of the cherries is still on her tongue, and she allows me to touch her and taste her for a good thirty seconds before she grips my belt and twists it. That's our code - that means that it's officially Nancy Time.
And just what is Nancy Time? Oh, only the most splendid thing I can hope to experience. Immediately I move away from her and wait obediently as she pulls away from the door, and I follow along as she tugs me to the bed by my pants. With a light push she guides me to sit, and then to lie down before my hands are moved to lace their fingers behind my head. It's a will-based bondage that I don't dare break. As she's cautioned before, moving out of the positions she sets me in stops the game entirely.
I've tested the theory once., and only once. That was a rough night.
Tonight, however, I'm eager to comply, my pants already tenting again as she slowly gets ready. She undresses for me as if I'm not even there, her eyes never falling on me, and her movements just the same as if she were taking the dress off in a private room. The lack of direct titillation does something to me, like I'm some creepy voyeur. Don't ask me to try and explain how convoluted my desires are - I couldn't even begin to tell you. But what I
can
tell you is that they begin and end with Nancy, hence the engagement.
She steps into the bathroom and I can hear the water running. I groan and smile as I listen to her take a shower, and short as it is I feel like it's taking forever. I'm so fucking horny and I can't even touch my own cock! I'm not even out of my suit! The wait, however, is always worth it, and so I wait like a good boy.
And I am
so
rewarded.
Nancy emerges from the bathroom, her blond hair slicked back and flowing down the nape of her neck and back like golden ribbon candy. Her skin is like cream, smooth and perfect, and her smooth pussy is blushing, warm, and wet like a peach. Without a word she crawls up onto the bed from behind me, and as I look up I see her pass over me - her chin, her throat, her breasts, her toned stomach. And then, in the warm darkness between her thighs I'm allowed to taste her sweetness. My tongue slides delicately over her petals, tasting the first hints of her nectar. I know the dance well - no penetration, and no teasing her clit. That comes later, like the both of us will.
As I kiss and lick I can feel her hands undressing me. My belt slides out from the belt loops of my slacks, and the semi-pliant leather is worked free of the buckle. The two hooks at the top of my fly are undone, and the zipper is guided down to reveal my black underpants. And, bless Nancy, she slides her hand into the fly and finally touches me.
I can't help but arch my back and moan into her flesh. My cock is aching for her by now, and there's a brief moment that I worry I won't last if she were to kiss me like she kissed those cherries. Tonight, however, she wants to make things last, and so I am simply dry stroked for a while, gentle and slow as a reward for having behaved while she got ready.
This doesn't mean that I don't fuss a little when she moves away from me. My whimpers and soft pleas are somewhat inarticulate, given how I'm sliding my tongue along my lips at the same time to greedily collect every drop of her flavor. Nancy just smiles but otherwise ignores me as she opens one of the bureau drawers and takes out the duffel bag.
This unassuming little black canvas sausage with red canvas straps is only two feet long and maybe one foot in diameter. It's usually hooked on to the long handle of our carry one wheeled bag, so no one thinks anything of it when we check in or out. But as she opens it now my heart begins to race and my cheeks flush. I know every inch of that bag, and I know it was restocked this morning. Sometimes when she's still at work and I get a day off, I sift through the contents of it, touching them with my left hand while I jerk off with my right.
