Uninvited Guest

Part 2, as promised. Thanks yet again go to shygirlwhore for editing; if you spot a mistake, it's doubtless my doing.

Reading part 1 would likely be instructive in understanding what's going on here. This one leans more towards reluctance than non-consent, and that largely due to the situation rather than the sex; still, I thought it would be neater to keep it in the same category as its predecessor.

* * * * *

The day was winding down as the shadows drew in, stretched out and generally enveloped the building like a silent web. He stood outside, considering the scene, confident in this quiet area of town that he wouldn't be attracting any external attention. Tugging the folds of his long trench coat closer around him and making sure the collar was turned up fully around his face, he waited a few moments more before moving, striding quietly and purposefully toward the entrance.

Inside the entrance of the building it was darker, cut off from the street lamps outside but lit gently by lights mounted low on either side of the corridor, enough illumination to traverse the hallway and climb the stairs beyond at night. His footfalls were soft as he ascended several flights, to find a single doorway on a balcony at the very top. With a rather sophisticated skeleton key that had been rather difficult and expensive for him to obtain, he let himself in as quietly as possible.

The room beyond, a large studio apartment with a high ceiling held aloft by wide-spaced bare iron girders in rustic reminiscence of the industrial loft it used to be, was lit softly with its own dusky gloom; half of that was the pearly moonlight slanting in through a skylight up above. It seemed cosy, intimate. He saw no one; unsure if that would work out to his plans or not, he stepped into the middle of the room and slowly opened his trench coat, opening his arms out wide to let it slip off entirely. When he slipped out of his expensive loafers, he was left fully naked in the falling moonlight.

The blow came from behind, sudden and precise, catching him in the small of the back and launching him toward the bare floorboards; he caught himself on the palms of his hands, heavily, only just managing to avoid sprawling full-length on his belly. With the surge of adrenaline that flooded through him, he flipped himself quickly over onto his back to catch sight of his attacker: the figure's raised foot returned to the floor after the swift kick it had delivered, before springing forward to land on his chest, pinning him. He peered up at his assailant, surveying, heart caught in his throat.

A baggy pair of sporting shorts and a loose old t-shirt spoke of someone who had begun to settle in for the evening, as did the bareness of the foot weighing heavily down upon his sternum. Even in the half-light, its skin was visibly a few shades darker than his. As yet, this mysterious individual had barely made a sound, had virtually emerged from nowhere. The lease on this property, which he had taken great pains to track down by certain covert avenues, was in the name of one Marie Collingwood; he knew, though, that her real name was Zara.

"Oh, for..." the words left her in a deflating rush, as if a sudden tension had been released. She kept her foot squarely atop his chest, however, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

A smile spread across his face, although his pulse remained racing; now it was more in anticipation than alarm.

"Hello again. You know, you're not an easy person to find."

That earned him an amused snort, and her stance relaxed further again. At least, most of it; he raised a hand to brush his fingers lightly over her ankle. That in turn earned him an increase in downward pressure, squeezing the air half out of his lungs.

"Oi!" she leaned down into her savage stomp and snatched him by the wrist; there was a click as something hard and cool snapped closed around it. In another moment, she'd snared and secured his other hand in the second steel bracelet of the cuffs she'd had waiting ever since detecting the erstwhile intruder some minutes before. Only when his wrists were restrained did she let her tread land elsewhere, standing astride his recumbent form with a foot planted on each side of his chest.

Her mind churned as she stared down at the pale, dark-haired man with eyes narrowed. Ever since their first meeting, she'd known she was exposed; retreating to this old place had been her concerted attempt to disappear back into anonymity. Apparently it hadn't worked: now she had him here, lying on his back full-length on her floor; then, she registered his nakedness. She darted a glance behind her down the length of his body. Not just naked, but eager and ready; her gaze lingered on the graceful upward curve of a glossy shaft at his crotch, moving on only with an embarrassing reluctance. She lifted her foot again, stepping away from his body and beginning to circle around him like a pensive predator.

He stared back seraphically, cuffed hands resting easily over his belly, reading into the expression in her eyes. It seemed as if things were proceeding in the manner he had hoped. Seeing her again after all this time, that casually-contained athleticism and aggressive confidence, kept him good and hard. Now, if only she would deign to take him up on the offer presented...

As she completed a stalking circuit around him, she lifted her hands to ride her hips and took on a thoughtful demeanour. As if in experimentation, she lifted a foot again and stretched it out until her big toe pressed delicately against his chest, in just the same position she had pinned him in place from before. She trailed her toe around in a small circle before spiralling out, running it over to brush against one of his exposed nipples. It stiffened rapidly beneath her touch. As if this confirmed something to her, she withdrew the slender caramel-tanned foot and stood square once more. Then she turned, and took half a step down his body.

This time she reached out to push all of her toes, and the balls of her foot, gently down upon the pit of his stomach. The skin-to-skin contact of her sole upon his abdomen landed just above the strands of his pubic hair, then slid downward into its thicket. She seemed unafraid to let his wiry hairs run between her toes as they approached the top of his suddenly-trembling member. He watched her face as she bit her lower lip, apparently unconsciously, before stretching her big toe apart from the others and pushing the resultant fork down as far as it would go around his stout shaft. She increased the pressure through her foot as she did so, pushing down against his crotch with steady force. His breath became a little harder beneath the firm ache of increasing pressure, as he heard her own exhalation become fractionally louder.

Then the pressure lifted once more, and she stood poised delicately on one foot as she stroked the other upward toward the blunt shape of his flushed tip. Just before she reached it, teasing or torturing, she let her toe glide back down again to the base. Although her breathing did not increase appreciably, his was becoming a touch ragged by this point. He almost gulped when she removed her foot entirely again.

Only temporarily: seeing the tautened mound of his testicles clustered below the root of his penis, her next move was to place a toe carefully in the cleft between the two balls and push to separate them a little further. After lifting this one away, she let all five drop to cover his scrotum completely and curled them, squeezing until the barest scrape of her toenails registered against the base of his shaft. His cock quivered again beneath the barest ache of his balls and soft, scratching stimulation. Belatedly he noticed her attention returned squarely to his face; her expression had become unreadable. As the touch of her foot finally left his sensitive parts, she gave one last challenging flick of a toe to the glossy length of his erection. He was unable to stop a tiny gasp escaping from between his lips.

"You've got a hell of a nerve," her voice was quiet, the tone far from the belligerent indignation the words alone implied; again she seemed thoughtful, as if making up her mind.

It didn't take long: with sudden swift decisiveness she reached down and seized hold of the chain between the handcuffs, striding up alongside him and dragging it with her, pulling his arms up above his head. Then she began to lift; wanting to forego any awkward pain, he did his best to rise with her, scrabbling to get his feet underneath him as he did so. He came to stand with her behind him, tugging uncomfortably on the cuffs' chain to keep his hands at the back of his neck. Another rush of energetic anticipation spiked through him. He felt her soft breath against his earlobe as she leaned in closer.

"You know, you're trespassing. That means I can do what I like with you now..."

There was a low, purring, sensual menace in her tone that was almost unbearably arousing; he felt a tingle shiver its way down his spine. Subtly, she reached around his waist and closed strong, slim coffee-and-cream fingers around the length of his excitement. His lips were parted now and he breathed through them rapidly as she squeezed around his fleshy handle, turning and directing him, pointing him the way it indicated; an old bed framed at each end with wrought-iron bars came into the field of his view, tucked away in a corner of the apartment. With one hand around his desperate solidity and the other pushing between his shoulder blades, she propelled him none too gently ahead of her in its direction.

It was little surprise when she deposited him half- on the bed, sprawled on his belly while his legs collapsed to kneel on the hard floorboards beneath; she held his hands behind his head still, moving in close to stand with her shins against the backs of his thighs and her knees pressing into the bottoms of his bare buttocks; with her free hand she took a long, lazy period to reach out and trace her fingertips down the side of his neck and along his shoulder. She stretched her hand, her thumb pressing against the top of his shoulder blade while her fingers reached the line of his collarbone, and squeezed in the same unhurried manner; she'd come to the conclusion some time ago that his arrival was nowhere near the threat she'd feared it to be, and now she would not be rushed in her indulgence. The very end of the squeeze brought her digits curving inward at the tips, the sharp edges of her nails nibbling just barely into his skin.

When she straightened, she pushed forward on the handcuff chain. He found himself compelled to move with the motion, scrambling awkwardly upward; she twisted his arms by her grip on the chain, guiding him toward the head of the bed, and sent him tumbling full-length onto the mattress with a light, careless push. Again he found himself on his belly; again he wriggled around until he was lying face-up once more, although this time it was a good deal trickier. He found her leaning over him, the folds of her t-shirt hanging down close enough to brush his chest as she reached above his head. He felt the release of one of the cuffs and caught his breath, unsure of the turn she was about to take; he heard it close again, this time with a clink around one of the sturdy bars of the bed frame. He tugged hesitantly with his still-cuffed arm to find himself held firm by his binding to the unmoving bedstead.

She looked pleased with herself as she straightened up, towering over his prone body once more. At least this time the yielding mattress and sheets beneath him were more agreeable to his repose. She stared down at him for a few moments longer, imperious, as if daring him to raise any protest at his treatment. He didn't know if such would heighten the experience for her; he remained in wide-eyed silence to behold her next move.

With the exaggerated slowness of a theatrical flourish, she arched her back and stretched her arms upward. The pose brought her pert boobs straining against the fabric of her top, but that wasn't its full intended purpose: she had taken the hem of the t-shirt in both hands before raising them, drawing it up gradually to reveal her toned belly, her quietly muscular ribcage; then, the twin plump, round glories crowning her chest. He remembered her breasts well; he'd dreamed about them. Her face was hidden briefly, bringing to mind the stocking she'd worn on the 'occasion' of their first meeting, before she dragged the t-shirt clear of her head and the last few trailing strands of her raven-black hair. He noted in passing that it was in the same kind of ponytail that she'd worn on that other evening, so seemingly long before.

Topless and unabashed, she stood in her shorts proudly beside the bed. He felt an adoration within him for the sheer powerful, slender physicality of her form, and an excitement as he remembered the strenuous evolutions she was capable of putting it through in conjunction with his own. His dick struggled to find new levels of erection with which to properly express its appreciation of the vision of unassailable femininity before him. His heart skipped a beat when, with a carefree playfulness in her motions, she reached out a hand to stroke her fingers up the underside of his shaft. She followed it up with a flicking pat on the bottom of his tip, just hard enough to make him suck a breath in between closed teeth. He wanted her.

She could tell, and she took her sweet time in indulging him. When she straightened fully once more she turned clean around, showing her back to him, bringing her hands in against her sides and sliding them down with an infuriating lack of haste. When her fingers dipped inside the waistband of her shorts on each side, she stopped and glanced back over her shoulder with glinting sparks in her eyes. Then her face turned away in casual disregard, and she finally began to inch the garment down over the swells of her hips. It was quickly obvious that she was wearing no more by way of undergarments on her bottom half than she had been on the top, as her smooth and rounded buttocks were enticingly revealed. Bending cleanly at the waist, she drew them into a firm, delicious heart-shape as she leaned forward to drag her shorts all the way down to her ankles. He almost sighed in regret as she rose to straighten up. Then she came around to face him once more, banishing any lingering disappointment with the sight of her tanned, flawless naked form.

Then she reached down and took him firmly by the balls, cupping them securely in the palm of her hand, and stared him down with the eyes of a carnivore. He quailed deep inside, but his erection simply quivered harder. She circled her finger and thumb around the top of his sack and tugged once, mercilessly, to make sure she had his undivided attention.

"You're lucky it's been a while for me," her words dripped with seductive venom, conveniently omitting the fact that he'd been present for her last time as well, "or I might not have been so generous."

She swung herself onto the bed, straddling his thighs with an easy single, fluid motion. As she settled into place, her weight bearing down upon the mattress, she took his prick in her free hand and held it like a joystick, stilling its trembling at last, pushing it slowly forward until the head was pointed straight at his face. The pressure of her circled digits still pulled on his testicles for a moment longer before releasing, and she brought them up to push against his sternum instead. Again he found himself pinned down beneath her weight on his chest, though now her face was leaning intimately close towards his, the warmth of her breath landing across his cheeks. Her hand still around his shaft gave a long, decadent squeeze. She shuffled forwards until she was straddling his hips, and manoeuvred his erection up toward her waiting slit. He felt more warmth, soft and wet, as she found her own entrance with his tip and began slowly to ease her way down around it. Once the whole of his head was lodged inside her, the velvet tightness he so fondly remembered still taking his breath away, she let go of his cock altogether.

This time her hand, free of its encumbrance, reached to close around his throat. He lay there on her bed, quietly fearful and ferociously excited, as she pushed down upon three different parts of his body at once until finally she rested, spread across his crotch with him fully inside her. He was beginning to feel the burn of suffocation in his lungs from the stern constriction about his windpipe, when she let go abruptly and leaned her shoulders back, hips rolling forwards in counterpoint; he could scarcely contain his ardour as the pivoting of her abdominals did wonderful things to his straining cock, buried deep in her intimate chamber. She held it there, all the firmness of her grasp now transferring to her pelvic muscles, keeping him prisoner. Then she began to move with a sinuous grace on top of him, scraping her tight wet insides up and down a short section of his length, gradually increasing the distance travelled with each coiling repetition.

This was what he'd come for: he wanted to cry out in rapture at the fulfilling of his desperate yearning fantasy, the one he'd harboured and nurtured ever since she'd departed from his house and vanished from his life so long before; he couldn't afford to let her know that she'd been his last, there had been no one since. He hoped the frustration he'd felt during all his searching for her was not obvious in the way his hips moved in joyful communion with her body above.

She leaned her head back, exposing the length of her throat in the cosy dimness; her lips were apart, but her eyelids had fluttered closed. He was reaching places inside her that she'd begun to dream fervently of filling again, in the time since she'd last left his sight. She put her hands down to support herself, the balls of her palms fitting into the hollows above his hips and pushing downward as her fingers squeezed his waist. Although she bore down on him she wanted him to push back, to meet her, and his body obliged instinctively. She felt her breath panting inside her throat and hoped he couldn't hear it.

As it happened, he currently had other things to focus on. There was an aching in his loins that clamoured to be released, eating him up with naked lust. As excited as he had been so far this evening, the rapidly-approaching explosion he felt in store was all but inevitable.

She wouldn't let it be that easy; whether consciously or not, she waited until the last possible moment before lifting herself clear of his rod in one swooping move. It was left shivering with indignation, surrounded once more by only the cool evening air. With heavy movements, her limbs half-drugged with bliss, she shifted up his body to sit her weight and the glistening wetness of her slit down on his stomach, leaving his dick to poke upwards in futility a scant centimetre or two behind the valley of her buttocks. He moaned, low and quiet but enough for her to hear; although she'd not realised until then, the soft sound was exactly what she wanted. Her teeth shone between lips split into a feral grin, and she reached forward to drag her fingernails down the length of his chest, from his shoulders to the bottom of his ribcage. She made sure to flick his earnestly stiff nipples on the way past. Her blood was up.

She turned around low against his stomach, leaving a smear of her intimate juices to mark her passage, or perhaps her territory. Faced away from him, dismissing him again, she looked down at the flushed tower of flesh that he had been so keen to offer up tonight. She reached out the tip of a finger and stroked it down one side of the swollen member, delighting in the way it quivered at her slightest touch. When her finger reached his abdomen she circled it around, down the crease of his thigh and underneath his hanging sack to caress the sensitive skin of his perineum; that brought a highly satisfying series of jerks and spasms out of his curving prick. Inflamed at the sight, she decided she'd waited long enough; time to put him out of his misery. Ponderously she brought her hips forward, raising them in such a way as to give him a good long eyeful of her firm tanned behind, making deliberately heavy going of the motions. Just because she was going to give him a release, didn't mean it would be to anything other than her schedule.