There comes a moment in all of our lives when we reach a proverbial turning point. As a wise old sage once mused, "When you come to a fork in the road, take it!" Well, there was no fork in the road that night. There was one path that I saw for my foreseeable future, and it was walking hand-in-hand with Linda wherever she wanted to take me. There was no turning back. I was hooked. Completely. Whatever there had been before in my life was overshadowed by this beautiful creature sharing her bed with me on that wonderful first evening.
A sex slave? What did she mean by that? In the months and years to come, Linda would explore my innate submissiveness and bring it to limits I could never have possibly imagined.
She drew me down to her, my body melting into hers. She kissed me. Not so much as sexily, but lovingly. Her lips were as soft as the morning dew. When we broke the kiss, we snuggled for the better part of an hour, wordlessly, drinking in the excitement of the moments we had only recently shared.
I finally broke our long silence. "What have you done to me?"
Linda laughed. "What have we done to each other?"
Our questions went unanswered as her fingers lightly touched my brow, then circled my ear. My whole body shivered at her touch. She kissed the tip of my nose, then smiled. Her eyes met mine. At a time like this, words are unnecessary. Given the moment at hand it was odd that she was fully clothed, except for her panties and skirt that I had thoughtfully removed when she needed her temperature taken. Her pretty satin slip was still bunched at her waist; her chest heaved beneath her turtleneck sweater. I had a view of the length of her body, and the patch of strawberry-blond curls that adorned her lower abdomen could have melted a glacier.
"I think we are over-dressed for this occasion," I said.
"I know of a way we can solve that problem," she replied with a coy smile.
"And what might be your suggestion?"
"Well, I have a shower in the next room..."
It seemed so natural to rest my hand over the soft curls of her pussy and run my fingers lightly through them. "And a woman needs a shower after things get hot and steamy," I said, my voice thickening with lust.
She brought her hand down to mine, found my middle finger, and eased it into the puffy folds of her sex. Her clit was twice the size of mine. She moaned. Her hand stayed over mine as I moved my finger back and forth over the engorged nubbin. "If you keep that up," she husked, "we may never get to the shower."
I toyed with her cunny while she opened her legs invitingly. Inside the lips, she was moist. I kissed the side of her neck while my finger delved deeper. I was not surprised to find that the reason for the moisture surrounding her vaginal entrance was because there was a veritable lake inside it. My finger pressed into her while her hand held it locked in place. Her juices squished as I explored her womanhood.
My kisses on her neck turned into licks, while her moans goaded me on. She raised her hips to meet my exploring finger as guttural sounds emanated from inside her throat. I finger-fucked her for almost ten minutes, while I pressed my palm against her clit. She called my name out loud a dozen times, her head tossing from side to side, her hips undulating to the rhythm of my finger.