"So you could come again." A statement and she had enough control left not to take the bait. I got down on my knees and pulled her feet out from under her, spreading her legs and leaving her splayed face down on the carpet. From the bar fridge, I retrieved a bottle of wine. From the bathroom, I got two glasses. Twisting off the wine top I poured out two generous glasses, placing one on the carpet beside her head. She was looking right at it. "Prop up on your forearms and have a drink." She did, and was sipping wine and watching me in the mirror when I settled back on the edge of the bed and took a sip of my own. Then I slipped my bare right foot between her thighs, nudged it under, set my big toe just inside the lips of her swollen wet pussy. Her eyes were huge, fixed on mine in the mirror. "Go on," I said, raising my glass in a mock toast. "You have til I finish this wine to give yourself one..."
..."Too late." She'd been too slow getting started, reluctant apparently. Although she had gained momentum, and was now going at it with determination and her breathing was beginning to change, but,well, I was finished my wine. Setting aside my glass, I withdrew my foot, to her obvious frustration -- so I walked up her back with my clean left foot, pushing her down until her face was in the carpet and my foot on her head. Then I turned her head with my foot, pinned her, and pushed my wet foot into her mouth and said, "Clean it."
She was learning fast, went right to work. In about a minute I had my toes in her mouth, testing her gag reflex. Another minute and I had flipped her onto her back, really had my foot inside now, stretching her mouth, the strain making her face red and causing fresh perspiration to coat her flesh. "Can you hear me?" She nodded. "A choice. Suck or cum? Thumbs up for your choice." I worked my foot around some more, forced her cheeks to bulge. "Suck? Or Cum?"
I had her vote twice...and she was firm in her choice. So after a few seconds more I removed my foot, sat back on the bed and poured a glass of wine. Then I checked my watch and said, "Two minutes to cum. Go. Masturbate for me."
Once again she was reluctant, almost shy. When I announced 90 seconds she set to work for real. At 60 seconds she was in a rhythm, eyes closed. At 30, her hips were arched and her thighs stretched taut and from her breathing I thought she would make it. But when I tossed the remaining ice cold wine from glass onto her at 0 she sat up gasping, disoriented, having not made it...having not even made it to asking permission. I pulled her up by the hair and dragged her, legs wobbling, staggering, to the low coffee table near the window. Where I organized her on her knees, hands once again interlaced behind her head. She was facing the window and from the apprehension in her eyes she was afraid I was going to open the drapes. Remember she knew this room , knew there was a whole side of a highrise hotel that would be able to see what was happening if I did. I left her to ponder that possibility.
I was thinking on the fly, using what came to hand. Her panties, still damp, made a passable gag. A pillowslip, wrapped twice, an excellent blindfold. One of my shoelaces tied her thumbs together, in the interlaced position behind her head. I took the opportunity to prise loose a finger and suck it thoroughly, reveling in her sighs and trembling. My other shoelace tied her big toes together underneath her, which for the sake of balance forced her to spread her knees on the smooth surface of the table. I took the opportunity to walk my fingers around her engorged pussy lips, to dip the tip of one and find her clit, give it a slow circling stroke then another for good luck. I then realized there was too good a chance to miss, and untied her thumbs, retying them with one end of the shoelace, using the other to pull back and knot it into her hair, stretching her neck back and immobilizing her upper body. That was nice and I liked it. I was in the process of jerking the drapes open with a loud clatter, savouring her gasp. The plan was to close that same side almost immediately. Which from her position would have to sound as though the drapes were wide open. That would play on her mind, make her feel completely exposed...and since 90% of all sex was in the head it was a ploy worth exploring.
Anyway, that was when I found the long slim plastic handle for the drapes. When I had closed the drapes I eased up on tiptoe and the little hook slipped off the drapes. Turning it so the hook was in my hand, I had a crop. A crop that made a lovely crack on the table beside her leg. And life was good. Unless you were her. She was a sweating, panting, clearly terrified mess. But no colour. No mercy asked for. So I ran the smooth plastic of the crop across the hard erect nipples before dropping the tip to the tabletop between her splayed knees...tap, tap, tap...and moving it farther under her...tap, tap, tap....and raising it, hearing her breath catch with contact, and I had slid about a foot of the smooth plastic along the length of her pussy when she came. Hard. Hard enough to buck forward and snap back with a muffled scream when the stress tore at her hair and shoulders. Of course I had more smooth plastic to pull through her hypersensitized pussy and I could also push it back through from front to back and then do it all over again. By which time there was spittle dripping from her mouth onto her belly and the tabletop and I was actually a little concerned she might pass out or something so I pressed her forehead to my stomach, cradled it gently for a time, letting her breathing still. Before I began to use my crop as a crop. Lots of those little short quick strokes...back, butt for a while, back again, inner thighs, back...and when she was rocking and moaning constantly, I leaned close and said, "crop or cum?"
She chose cum. So this time I did it properly. Three fingers, hard quick consistent almost pulsing strokes into her soaking wet pussy and soon she was cumming...and cumming...and cumming...so I offered again, "crop or cum?" and went on and on, and continued until she was thrashing and begging, best she could around her panties, for "crop." Which earned her focus on the soles of her feet and her butt and her breasts and her inner thighs, and she admitted to cumming while I was cropping her, nodding her head frantically because I knew she had but had made it clear she couldn't go back to the "cum" option unless she told the truth, in fact until she told me how many times, and it was 8 and I was a little surprised but not really because she was frothing at the mouth and her green eyes were rolled right back and fluttering and I hadn't seen her like that, well, once, but this incredible. All I had to do was slap her pussy now, open palm, and she came again...
I untied her toes and spread her legs. I slid my bare foot under her crotch and she rode it to orgasm, then she licked it clean and I took advantage of the panties being out of her mouth to put my throbbing erection there. This was not her usual controlled expert oh so delicious experience. This was her out of control, for a change. This was going for it...wet and loud and sloppy and I took her head and made her deep throat, holding it in place, until her colour indicated she truly needed to breathe...and the moment I thought it was safe I went back to holding her head and driving her on. And I was close. I was so close.
But this was not where I wanted to cum.
I pulled out, used my grip in her hair to bring her off the table and over to the bed. I draped her over the footboard and slapped her ass, open palmed. And again. And again. In fact I turned it into full blown spanking, sometimes one hand sometimes both, and kept at it while she wiggled and writhed and until her rump was a ripe red colour and she was begging me to stop, to let her catch her breath.
At which point, I fished in her purse because she said she had lube. She thought she had lube. She did have lube. I squeezed it out, let it drop from a foot or so, directly until her tight little bud of anus. "NO!" I held her with one hand, squeezed more into the area. "No, please. You know I can't. Anything. Look, I'll do anything just not..."
"Use the colour, " I replied simply, interrupting her.
She went still and silent. I squeezed in more lube, used a fingertip to be sure it was in the right place. Her whole body said no. Every bit of her. But she refused to use the colour...so I lined up behind her, parted her lovely rump with my hands, held the pose for a moment, which to her must have seemed much longer, than slid my now throbbing erection deep into her pussy. Deep deep deep and held. She choked and exhaled in sheer relief. So I slapped her already bright red rump and said, "well, get on with it. Do the work before I change my mind..."
She took that direction well. She was talented, always had been -- her stamina was impressive, especially after everything the past few hours...and this time we came together, her tightening and rippling internally to enhance the experience...
The dress code was minimal. Jacket and shoes. I doubted she would find her skirt still in the elevator. "Tomorrow, same time," I took her head in both hands and kissed her, easing back afterwards a few inches to study her eyes. "Don't forget the initials." She had once offered to carve my initials in her pubic thatch. Now I would let her.
Smiling, eyes twinkling, she initiated a kiss, turning away after and letting herself out. It would be a long 20 or so hours -- waiting to see if she would in fact return.
After all, she'd been gone over two years prior to today.
