Eleanor led me back to the leather shop where we had "met" (if you could call it that). She led me up a back door in the store that led to a stairwell. In the stairwell is where we kissed. She gently backed me against the wall, almost cat like in her stalking. Our kiss was like a match being lit in a dark hallway, and the kisses that followed it were like a raging forest fire. I don't know how long we made out in the stairwell, but I could have done it for ages.
When we finally tore away from each other she smiled that damn smile again and led me up the stairs to what seemed to be a loft. Eleanor kept the light low, so I can't say I ever got a good look around, but the loft was decorated with candles, and dark fabrics. She was sitting on what I presumed was her bed. It was plush and comfortable looking. The sheets seemed to be made out of the darkness itself. I walked toward her slowly, hoping to convey a teasing sensuality instead of the jittery wreck I was inside.
She pulled me the last couple of steps by my new belt loops and I stood there between her legs. She looked up at me, and I down at her. She seemed to pin me with her eyes, eyes that I could have stayed lost in forever. I don't know if it was love, but it sure had a whole lot of lust in it.
She had to stoop to undo the belt that was on my trousers. Her eyes never left mine as her teeth expertly removed my belt from the catch. My breathing had become shallow, and I'm sure I sounded like a winded marathon runner. I hesitantly ran my fingers through that gorgeous black hair. Once my belt hit the floor, my other clothes followed soon behind, and they were intermingled with hers on the floor of the dark loft.
I don't know what I expected from this encounter, or what kind of sex to expect. Passion, I expected, even yearned for (it had been missing from my marriage for quite some time). But the gentle way Eleanor lay me down and caressed every part of me was unexpected. I had never been touched by a woman, not even a masseuse. Her hands braided themselves in my hair as she kissed me. Her kisses trailed down my neck and her tongue lapped at my cleavage. I gasped as her long seductive fingers expertly rolled my nipple, first one and then the other, in her hands. I never knew something so sensual.
Eleanor's tongue traced every inch of my torso before I had begun to moan with anticipation, her tongue ring and lip rings only adding to the sensations that snaked down my nerve endings and sent electric shocks of pleasure and shaking to my brain. My pussy was so wet, and my ache for her never ending. She hadn't even touched me yet and I was screaming.
Eleanor sat up and straddled me. She still had a lacy black thong on that denied me the view that I dreamed about for ages afterward. A tentative shaking hand that must of belonged to me snaked up and traced one delicate tattoo after another. Up her finger, her wrist, the slender bend in her arm, finally down to her breasts and around her nipples. Every time she breathed the ink seemed alive on her body, like a living piece of art. She was breath taking. She must have sensed my wonder, because she never rushed me. She paused there, straddling my waist, and allowed me to trace the entire span of her torso from one finger tip, to her navel, to her other wrist.
She began to sink lower between my legs. My brain almost began to panic until I shut it up - it would be no different than when my husband was between my legs. Half of my brain knew it was a lie just to pacify its fears, the other half actually believed it was all the same no matter who was there. Oh how I was wrong. Her tongue bathed my pussy, the metal ring applying pressure where no pressure had ever been applied before. Eleanor's hands had snuck their way under my thighs to grasp my wrists. Her shoulders pressed upward until my legs were almost vertical. In less than ten seconds I was completely caught and restrained by her.
Her tongue traced up the right side of my labia, down the left side. She paused at the entrance to my dripping wet pussy before easing her tongue inside of me. I could not struggle, but my head thrashed from side to side as pleasure I had never known before began to build inside of me. Her tongue flicked out and became flat with that bud of metal at its center. She quickly rolled it up my pussy and the metal ball flicked my clit; I screamed. She slid her tongue back down and entered me again. This process wasn't repeated long before I was sailing into an orgasm. I think "oh fuck yes" and "please. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck" were in my vocabulary, but the memory is a little hazy.
