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Strings Ch. 01

By: HalibutBrown



Chapter 1. Bravado 

17TH JUNE 2013. 

8:19 am. Email from Pixie.

'Jack, I too am excited I have had a really tough weekend. I am looking forward to some serious erotic fun. See you shortly.' Pix xxx

I picked up a rather glum Pixie and re-joined the traffic, it was busy. 

'Brendan left me,' she said, her voice as flat and hurt as her facial expression. Those three words changed everything, my agenda, my mood, instantly I felt so sorry for her. As I drove my old automatic Mercedes my free hand briefly held her knee in a gesture to show that I cared.

We drove the few miles to the Holiday Inn hotel, checked in and moved into a bland double room on the ground floor. We had a few hours to kill, but first I went back and forth to the car to bring in the various bags before I could pop the kettle on, make a cup of tea and relax. We talked briefly about a writing project, our pretext for the day, but her lovely smile was absent, her spirits were low and her mind elsewhere. As she wasn't in the mood or talkative it was obvious that any detailed project discussion wasn't going to happen. 

We drank the tea during a stilted conversation, so I decided we needed a more potent liquid. I unzipped one of the bags, retrieved and opened the bottle of Pinot Grigio - anything but Merlot for Pixie. I had intended we drink it later but she needed uplifting and I still hadn't relaxed. We sipped the wine as we reacquainted ourselves. I embraced her, enveloping her slender small body, inhaling from the clean and perfumed frazzle of thick red hair. She wasn't unresponsive, but subdued, unhappy.

She was pretty, in a quirky slightly asymmetrical way, which sometimes reminded me of Cameron Diaz in her girl next door look. Even downcast Pixie's face transmitted character and purpose and I kissed her soft lips with all the affection and tenderness I felt for her. I motioned her to the bed, and we lay down together.

There were topics I had to avoid and so many questions that I burned to ask but couldn't if I wasn't to spoil the evening. So during further mild and somewhat inane conversation we kissed and cuddled gently. Nothing passionate or forced, just familiar and friendly as we intertwined. Pixie's mood was still demur and pensive. No questioning I told myself. 

It didn't matter because my whole body rejoiced in how comfortable she felt in my arms again. I was a head taller than her and twice her weight, but she dovetailed and nestled against me wonderfully. 

There was plenty of light in the room and the car park was just beyond our window but in the late afternoon the lace curtains allowed our privacy.

She wore a casual check shirt, a jerkin style sleeveless jacket and jeans. I undressed her slowly, exposing her toned soft skin, caressing and kissing all the time, and as usual she was very responsive. Eventually her pert pink breasts peeked up at me, and then her panties came down and when I briefly touched the lovely smoothness between her legs I discovered she was already syrupy wet. No matter what was going through her mind, her body responded instinctively.

Her legs parted as I cupped her mons venus. I loved her small, perfectly formed elfish body and kissed her breasts and down her smooth pale tummy to the freshly shaved 'Trinny'.

As I moved down alongside her I wriggled out of my own clothes, and soon her hands brushed my body, she lightly touched the rising tumescence of 'Old Glory'.

For several minutes I softly tongued and kissed around and then between her legs. I loved her shape and had missed the taste. The desire was so strong to take her immediately and forget everything else.

I said something like, 'We have to hold back' as I moved up over her to kiss her mouth, whilst OG hovered expectantly at Trinny's welcoming entrance.

'We can do it now,' she whispered.

'I have to save myself,' I pleaded as I slipped OG's helmet easily inside her. She gasped and I moaned. I had not an orgasm for over two weeks, the velvety neglected unrubbed skin of my cock was hyper sensitive, and at the same time the iron hard interior strained.

She was hot and moist as I pushed a little deeper, and then withdrew slightly, and waited – the sensation was almost too much as I went in again, an extra inch deeper so I was half way inside. I was partly propped up on my elbows, and was too nervous to lower my pelvic bone into contact. 

She was so hot and wet and open.

I pulled out slowly, if I had done it too quickly I would have exploded in an instant. Once completely withdrawn the fresh air cooled the head of OG, he twitched at Trinny, and she seemed to wink back. I looked down, his circumsized head glistened with her juice.

Pixie literally had the hottest body I had ever known, she always seemed to be a couple of degrees warmer than me, and the temperature was rising.

After a few more seconds the urges within OG subsided a little, and I re-entered her, slowly and fully. This time I lowered my body onto hers, we kissed and held as I did the gentlest tiny rhythmic thrusts.

It wouldn't work, I had to pull out and climb off.

She seemed sanguine at the loss of sexual contact, and I understood her 'really tough weekend' had left her tired. We rested a while, just holding, occasionally she touched OG, it kept him alert.

We chatted about stuff, and surprisingly over an hour had drifted by.

'I need to get you ready,' I said.

I emptied all manner of paraphernalia from my Mary Poppins bag, set aside three or four items that were confirmed as needed, and arrayed a few lengths of different ropes and belts.

I fastened a dog collar around each of her wrists and then tied a rope around her waist. I wrapped it around a couple of times and tried to create a stable loop on each side, but it was not satisfactory. I tested a couple of the belts instead and these were either too bulky or would not connect with the trigger hooks properly.

After a while I selected a thin old belt that was coming apart along its length, it fitted her waist well and allowed me to thread a small D ring around one of the strands. A trigger hook then attached the belt to the wrist on each side of her waist.

'How does that feel?'

'It's fine' she said.

'But your arms still have too much freedom.' 

I looked through my collection of straps and found a soft strip of cloth, once the belt of a dressing gown made of thin black cotton. I tied it around her arm just above her elbow and across her back to the other elbow. It held her upper arms about a foot apart and together with her secured wrists her arms were now more or less immobilised to her sides.

'Can you move?' 

She lifted and waved her hands, the trigger hooks allowed her a couple of inches of vertical movement and the side openings of the waist belt gave her similar horizontal freedom. It was satisfactory for our purposes and not uncomfortable for her. 

'Can you lie down on the floor?'

With some help from me for balance she was able to lie down on the blue carpet. As I stood over her the urges came back, I motioned her legs apart with my feet and knelt down between them before gleefully I entered her in one long smooth thrust.

In and out for a few strokes, and then I pulled out, sidled up and over her and dipped my wet cock into her mouth. I cherished the feeling as thick Old Glory poked in and out of her adorable Pixie mouth that was a tight as Trinny, my big recently shaved balls nudging her chin.

By now another hour had gone by.

We had to get ready, so I helped her up and with my erection jutting out I untied her.

We freshened up and dressed, I packed the selected items and we left the room, walked through the hotel lobby and out to the car park.

It was only a 10 minute drive to our destination, neither of us spoke much, just to confirm the directions to the modern housing development. We parked by a long three story apartment building, right next to the relevant front door. 

'Are you ready?' I asked as we got out from the car, she nodded. 

I rang the bell and a minute later Pete opened the door and I made the introduction, 'Pete, this is Pixie.' 

'Hello,' he smiled.

'Hi Pete,' she replied in a soft alluring voice, her demeanour visibly changed, as she smiled for the first time since I had picked her up from the station. I think she expected to shake hands but Pete leaned forward, hugged and kissed her before motioning us inside. The door opened to a staircase up to his first floor apartment. As he led us he said, 

'My subbie girlfriend Sandy is still here but she will be leaving soon, just say hello before she goes,' he explained. 

His apartment was decorated in neutral colours, minimalist and to my mind excessively neat, not really a bachelor pad, and I wondered if it really was his home. We went into the kitchen and he offered us some drinks. Within five minutes Sandy came in cheerfully saying 'Hi' to everyone. She was a pretty brunette, energetic, young and voluptuous. She shook our hands with a broad smile on her face.

'So this is your first time?' she asked Pixie.

'Oh yes, what have I let myself in for?' Pixie joked and was very relaxed, I had expected her to be far more nervous. Pete said something about how he and Sandy had been 'playing' all afternoon and how much Sandy enjoyed sessions with the Bravado Boys but as agreed earlier she would not be staying.

Sandy saw my bag and asked what was inside, so I took out the paddle and the whip to show her. She was impressed, 'hard core' she said to Pixie. Pete took the paddle from me and turned Sandy around, away from him, and side on from Pixie and I. He lifted Sandy's skirt over her firm and naked rear end, she playfully bent over slightly and poked her ass out as he whacked her bare cheek with the paddle.

Sandy hopped back into an upright stance, picked up the laundry she had come to collect, said to Pixie 'You'll have a great time,' and beamed at us both. She then kissed Pete goodbye, said cheerio and almost skipped out of the kitchen, and was soon down the stairs and had left the apartment.

We finished our drinks and then Pete led us up another flight of beige carpeted stairs to the spare bedroom to get ready. 

'The others will start arriving in thirty or forty minutes, Gary might be a bit late but he has confirmed he will be here.' He explained.

The second floor had two double bedrooms and the bathroom. Pete soon left us in the tidy, spartan spare room, not unlike the hotel room we had just left. Moments later we heard his doorbell ring.

'Let's get you ready,' I suggested to Pixie, but she wanted a cigarette first, so we waited until whilst she smoked. Pixie was very calm as she did so, already mentally entering the zone that would occupy her consciousness for the next few hours. I helped her undress, she didn't need it of course, I just liked revealing and touching her. When she was totally naked, pink and lovely I fastened the wrist cuffs and the narrow flayed apart old belt on her again. I attached the cuffs to her waist with the trigger hooks, and the old dressing gown cord behind her back pinning back her elbows. As we relaxed on the bed, Pete popped back in and savoured his view of Pixie's luscious full tits. He said the boys would be ready in half an hour.

Pixie's thick ruffle of russet red hair contrasted with her fine pale features. She wore little make up, didn't need too. We heard someone else arrive downstairs as we waited. She wanted to rest before it all began so I kissed her soft lips as she lay back on the bed, her arms attached to her sides.

I went downstairs and four of the guys were in the large square living room already, someone was setting up a video camera. The door was in the corner and the room was bordered by a long side cabinet along the far wall and two three seater sofas pushed to the walls either side of the door in the corner. A large window dominated the external wall opposite. The magnolia coloured walls were devoid of art or colour, more beige carpet was mostly covered in a thin white duvet. 

Pete was a slim man, a bit shorter and a few years younger than me - in his mid forties. He was the Bravado Boys co-ordinator. The first of the other three men he introduced to me was Bill, in his thirties, a big man over 6'4" tall, thick dark eyebrows that matched his hair and strong facial features. The other two, Liam and Jez, looked a decade younger than Bill, and were both slim fresh faced and fair haired. I shook hands with each introduction.

I heard a car arrive outside Pete's building and the last man, Gary let himself in. He was another thirty something, had dark hair, was shorter and stocky, with a full and neatly trimmed beard.

Handshakes complete, I summarised to the group what Pixie wanted and didn't want from the evening and how it would start. Then I went back upstairs to fetch her.

She was asleep on the spare bed, so I stroked her shoulder and woke her,

'It's time.'

I fastened a collar and lead around her neck and led her out of the room onto the landing and down the stairs to the first floor. At the foot of the stairs I put the blindfold on her, rotated her around and walked her along the hallway and into the living room to the sound of disco music from the stereo.

'Hello gentlemen, this is Pixie,'

'Oh wow,' one of them said.

She giggled and said 'Hello.' 

'Hello Pixie,' Liam replied.

She smiled as she walked with her characteristic slight tiptoe swagger and sashayed to the centre of the room in time to the beat of the music. The five men were topless and shoeless and also smiling, eyes focused on her cute body. The music was by Duck Sauce, a repetitive 'woo woo' singing to rhythmic beats and the occasional spoken words 'Barbra Streisand.' I instructed her to go down on her knees, and then tugged her lead to move her forward a couple of feet. 

Around her two of the men rose from the sofa, Pete dropped his trousers and approached in his black boxer shorts. 

He briefly touched her breasts before he knelt down in front of Pixie, and caressed her hips and breasts and said, 'This is Pete' 

'Hello Pete,' she hadn't stopped smiling since she entered the room, and added in a soft prim voice, 'thank you for having me.'

I stepped back a little and two other guys moved close to touch her shoulders and arms. Soon four alert, aroused strangers surrounded Pixie, they stroked all over her body, apart from between her legs. The men were gentle and respectful and Pixie grinned and laughed as a few murmured compliments were made about how cute she was, and when Jez said she had 'a perfect bum,'

'Is it?' she asked coyly.

Pete stood up and stepped back as the others closed in around her. He dropped his pants; his torso and groin was as clean shaven as his face, and he pulled back the foreskin of a slender rather flaccid cock and coaxed it into arousal. Then he stepped forward again. As the woo woo vocals and the beat of the music continued he put his hand behind her head and guided it forward to his cock, she opened her mouth and took it in as the 'Barbra Streisand' chorus boomed out. 

Soon all the men, including myself were naked, and the serious sex commenced. As Pixie sucked Pete, Jez knelt behind her and kissed her buttocks,

'She has a peachy arse' 

She swivelled around and was introduced to Bills large cock, Jez continued to stroke her bottom and then further underneath her body, and soon he lay on the floor and wriggled under her to lick at her pussy. Liam was next to be introduced and Pete picked up and used the paddled with loud smacks to her backside. Pixie loved erotic pain. 

The introduction moved around again, the most powerfully built man approached, cradled her head and kissed her, 'Hello Pixie he said softly.

And then kissed her. She giggled, 'Who are you?' she asked.

'Gary'

'Hello Gary,' she drawled out the vowels and then giggled again.

'Hello, are you having nice time?' he had a soft voice.

'I am having a really nice time,' she purred.

They kissed for a while, and she asked, 'Have you got a beard?'

His body was almost the opposite of Pete's, Gary was muscular and hairy.

They lay her on the floor, two or three men, gently, taking it in turns to kiss her. Those not directly involved with her erogenous zones supported and massaged her limbs, it was all pink Caucasian flesh of intermingled limbs. Pixie sighed, and sometimes said 'Oh god.'

She licked her lips as Bill used his fingers on Trinny, Pixie she was shaking, mouthing and sucking fingers or cocks as she writhed.

'You have a gorgeous body,' one of them complimented her.

'That's very kind of you,' she replied, almost in a formal prim tone.

'Kind of you to share it with us.'

Someone touched her in such a way and she gasped, 'Oh fuck,' forgetting her primness.

'Okay! joked Pete.

They kissed and moved around her, Pete took a turn to lick Trinny, with Liam and Jez sucking her tits and Gary kissing her mouth – which she clearly loved.

Then I took over Pete to service Trinny for a while and still blindfolded, as she would be for a couple of hours, Pixie said, 'You guys are amazing.' 

After a couple of minutes as I remained enjoying my favourite pussy, Pete said, 'The question is has anybody so far been as good as licking Pixie's pussy as Jack is? They all laughed. 

Still on her back, Jez took over eating between her legs, she had a cock on her mouth and another in each hand. As the music changed the male bodies rotated positions around the centre of their attention. I eased back a little and watched as they orbited her body like a moons around a planet. They were practised and comfortable in close proximity with each other, all intent on giving Pixie continuous physical sensations. 

When Pete had his balls over her mouth, she stretched and licked further underneath his body, to his asshole. He reached forward and pulled her legs up so Gary could move forward and enter her.

Soon both men were making approving sounds. 'Oh', and 'Ah' and then from Pete, 'Jesus.'

The heavily muscled Gary began to pound with his large iron hard cock, and Pixie was slowly pushed into the couch. So when they moved her back into the centre of the room, they untied her, but she wanted to keep the blindfold on. She rolled around on all fours and now with Bill's cock in her mouth Gary resumed his vigorous pounding. Pixie moaned and sometimes yelped at his powerful thrusts, which lasted for several minutes until she accidently bit down on Bills cock.

The Bravado Boys were choreographed as they moved through their routine, three of them lifted her up off the ground, legs spread, she lay in their arms in a swoon as Liam approached her. After he fucked her they then lowered her onto Bill, owner of the biggest cock in room.

She wriggled and humped him whilst two others supported her shoulders. Positions changed and changed as frequently as the music. At times she multitasked with a cock in her pussy another in her mouth and one in each hand, but gradually the sex calmed down to a gentler pace. Pete even lowered the volume of the disco music, and the routine was predominantly one on one coupling as the men took breaks and turns to serve Pixie.

I hadn't done much for half an hour, and with their practised routine felt a bit detached from it all, but loved watching Pixie have so much attention and fun.

Gary was the strongest and gentlest of the men, and clearly Pixie's favourite, she just loved kissing him. 'It's all about me,' she joked.

Bodies changed places again and eventually I got my turn to be sucked, whilst the huge Bill cock banged her from behind, jutting her head into my stomach and throwing her off her sucking rhythm.

'Man in the hole,' she joked.

There was definitely a sexual hierarchy: Pete, then Gary and Bill and then Jez and Liam, the two youngest who had the least involvement. And then there was me, almost a spectator.


Strings Ch. 02



I had been globetrotting for fun and business for decades, home or abroad my libido urged me into adventures prior, during and after my marriage, often with my partner's active approval and participation. I had been faithful to the four great loves of my life: Laura, Geneen, Candy and Yumiko, but between each relationship I had roamed considerably. A very happy hunting ground had been the major cities of the Far East. After my divorce the centre of my sexual universe eventually settled on Tokyo, more specifically Roppongi, a kaleidoscopic neon lit multi-tiered bar and restaurant district close to the western embassies. It was frequented by myriad foreign nationalities and enthusiastic if barely fluent English speaking Japanese. Then I discovered these petite, demur females were curious to know if the fabled 'white willy' was so much more formidable than the local yellow variety. When I wasn't working, drinking, avoiding Philippina prostitutes and Philippino ladyboys or chasing adorable Japanese nymphs I also discovered the depraved erotic world of Nippon Porn, with degrading new extremes of Bondage Domination and Sado-Masochism, and their wonderful Bukkake movies. This was some years before it was exported to the wider world. I had always been incredibly stirred watching facial cumshots, whether it be a porn movie or my own climax on a willing upturned pretty female face. 

The Japanese always seemed to develop themes to an extreme and their porn industry was no different. One evening, in a sex shop with personal video booths I discovered it shared and fed my sordid fantasies. The highly formalised multi facially deposited 'Super Produce' Bukkake movies were my new best friends. Once an uber polite shop assistant helpfully handed me a wanking cube for use in my cubicle. The spongy pink block was about three inches across with a hollowed out orifice for your convenient insertion. Once the cellophane wrap was removed the spongy interior was moist. I tried it but the wanking cube wasn't for me, I preferred my own hand to tease myself on the brink of orgasm for the duration of the movie, which could feature dozens of male ejaculations over the willing or sometimes bound and gagged unwilling kawaii (cute) face of the AV (Adult Video) model. I often emerged with a sore dick and a strained wrist.

Later I stumbled into a magnificent dividend to sex in Japan when I realised there was a whole new demographic that was sexually wanting and side lined in the milling cross cultural pick up bars. The majority of western businessmen were chasing all these Japanese lovelies, but the small population of expat women fervently did not fancy the Japanese male. Professional western women formerly used to commanding male attention in their homelands were unaccustomed to life on the periphery of the meat market. My sparkling new strategy yielded conquests with various Scandinavians, Brits and Yanks.

I particularly recall my own magnificent bukkake finale moments with a white-blonde Finnish air stewardess, and a night of bondage with an English dancing girl. At 4am and non too sober, I was making my way down the hill from Roppongi crossroads to my Hotel in Akasaka, the forecast typhoon had come in from the Pacific and hit Tokyo whilst I had been partying in Motown, my favourite bar in the world. Torrential rain like you never see back home made visibility appalling, and within minutes I was drenched, a word that is partly a translation for bukkake. It was like walking in a power shower and as I progressed down the slope with poor visibility and onto the slippery pavement gradually I saw a tall slender woman up ahead. As I caught up she staggered wildly in her heels, her head was unprotected and her hair was plastered to her skull and neck, with long strands stuck across a pretty face, if she had worn makeup earlier in the evening it had long been washed away. She was utterly soaked in rain and booze. 

I asked if she was okay, and offered to help her. She was a Brit and we shared my jacket as an improvised umbrella, one of my arms holding the jacket the other around her shoulders. We crossed over a footbridge and as the jacket slipped off our heads she turned and kissed me, full on, passionately under stair rods of Pacific Ocean water.

A few meters on and I steered her into a narrow alley and in a tight embrace we kissed deeply again, and I touched her breasts. It was incredibly sexy, in darkness, under all that rain, and as she was so responsive I fleetingly considered taking her standing up then and there. But the promise of something special urged me to get her home and see what developed. 

My holding back paid off, because when we reached her apartment building she invited me in, through the lobby, paddling wet shoes up the stairs to her miniscule bedsit, which was not much bigger than a capsule hotel room.

I said something about taking our wet clothes off, and began undressing her. Her clothes were small and thin, undressing was more akin to peeling off skin. She complied like a child being readied for bed, raising her long arms for the removal of her top, and letting me turn her around to release lovely, perfectly symmetrical smallish, firm breasts. I stood her up and stroked the sides of her body, over a long narrow waist and then undid her tight wet jeans.

I pulled the jeans over narrow but shapely hips, this girl was in great shape, toned and slim. I eased her onto the bed, took off her high heels and eventually removed her jeans. 

I quickly stripped and dumped my sodden clothes on top of hers in a growing puddle on the floor, and kissed her again before I removed her panties. These were as miniscule as her room and completely out of character I pocketed the black g-string panties. 

Once naked my skin felt tinglingly fresh, it was only then that I learned her name, Dawn Bonus, and Dawn was gorgeous. She was much taller than my usual partners and didn't have any excess fat on her at all - slim, long toned limbs, narrow waist with perfect curves. Her whole body was firm to my exploring hands and when I complemented her figure, she simply said, 'I'm a dancer.' 

We romped around her bed kissing passionately and caressing - well drunken groping in reality, my head was intoxicated with the excitement and the booze. Then she sucked on OG and gently bit down on him. Suddenly alerted out of my dizzy reverie I realised that something a bit more than vanilla was on offer. 

I moaned as she mouthed OG and then asked what her fantasies were. I ran through a little list as she continued sucking and closing her teeth half way down my very firm shaft, I was not quite as drunk as her and OG was well up for it. After shaking her head rejecting fantasies of lesbianism, anal sex and urolangia I whispered bondage, and still holding OG in her teeth she nodded affirmation and writhed her body against my legs. Hey presto her ankles were tied together with dressing gown cord and her hands were behind her back tied with my belt, and then she asked to be spanked.

I had a great time with this tall flexible dancer, lots of positions, she was the only woman I was successful in tying her ankles behind her neck, and with her wrists to the headboard her lower body was upturned, spread and utterly exposed. Her body was designed for this, I thought as I licked and fucked away, the first was very easy and enjoyable whilst the latter was tricky to get my balance and position right. It was worth the physical effort, holding that position, which allowed wonderful long, deep thrusts, slowly withdrawing entirely before re-entering again. And between grunts, how she met those thrusts! With what little freedom of movement she had her pelvis pushed up every time I pushed deep. OG was at his rock hard best and slightly desensitised from his own alcoholic fug; we were in for a long session. 

It was even more fun when she was spread eagled and stretched and I whacked across her torso with my belt. After leaving a couple of small welts, I asked if she was working tomorrow, and what if I left marks on her body. 

'I'll use make up to cover them,' she explained. 

At one point I sat on her face, facing her feet and whacked her pussy. There were lots of gasps during our play but the only verbal response I got was when I asked her if she wanted to be hit with the buckle end or the belt end. I must have been more drunk than I realised to have even thought of the question. Anyway she breathlessly whispered 'Belt end' and she was saved from worse savagery as I merrily applied the belt the right way around, thank god.

After a while I dozed off next to her helpless but uncomplaining form, awakening later to release her so we could crash out properly. 

When the morning sunshine lit the bedroom, and the din of Tokyo's ubiquitous large black crows announced a new day, Dawn was still asleep next to me, so I stroked and kissed her awake, and then went down on her for a while, alongside her body as she held OG with her left hand. She had a Brazilian pubic hair style and a nicely shaped vagina - no piss flaps or surrounding fatty tissue. She tasted good too as her clitoris and vulva responded to my tonguing. 

She was very compliant as the lovemaking developed as I entered her, then moved to side on and finally from behind when she climaxed biting into the pillow. I didn't cum but was getting tired and sweaty I rolled off and we both crashed out again.

Perhaps an hour or two later I re awoke, and again kissed her and stroked her elegant motionless body. OG was in the form of his life as I motioned her legs apart and mounted her again, and for a few minutes she moved and pressed beneath me. Then I propped myself up a little and kissed her, her eyes had been open but at that moment I saw them focus. OG was sliding in and out gently but I slowed down as I looked into those suddenly focused grey eyes. Her pussy was wet but her pelvis stopped the involuntary movements that had met mine. 

'Are you Okay?' I asked.

She nodded yes, but her expression seemed more confused than aroused, so I withdrew. Momentarily the pervert in me considered finishing myself onto her, but there was something wrong, it wasn't any physical discomfort that was bothering her, it was waking up, becoming fully conscious with a complete stranger on top of her.

I accepted that I'd had my bonus at dawn, so we snoozed a while and then talked for a few minutes, she had very little recollection of what had happened - even how we had met in the midst of a typhoon. 

She did agree to see me again, and we did four days later for a meal. She spoke good Japanese and was quite a nice woman actually, when sober. There was no chance of a second night of passion with her though and I didn't push it. I also returned her G-string. Quite why I took it baffled her and me; I am not a souvenir collector and didn't want her to think I was an oddball. 

Frankly I was lucky, how would some women have construed what had happened? Would the police? I consoled myself that I did voluntarily stop when I realised she was just 'waking up' as it were, but the penetrative deed was already done by then and any such pleas to his honour on the bench would have been dourly looked upon. Mind you I was in Japan and women's rights are often poorly served, just look at their porn. 

I had enjoyed fabulous spontaneous sex with a stranger and also a brush with what might have been interpreted as non-consensual sex. It left me definitely wiser for the experience.

I did not permanently live in Asia, typically spending ten or so days a month criss-crossing between dull cities like Seoul, or oppressive mainland Chinese metropolises, easy going Manila, racy Hong Kong and the picturesque ambience of Hanoi for example. In between hectic bouts of Asian business trips I commuted in M25 queues around London and endured only a sporadic social life. My leisure time was usually just the Friday night beer and curry with some mates and the thrills and torpid experiences of the roller coaster ride that was supporting Portsmouth football club.

This was a period where my recurring back injuries gradually put paid to my running in ten kilometre and half marathon road races. So to avoid monotonous television and too much drinking I increasingly went to the gym. I would work-out on the machines followed by the sweaty reward of the spa's sauna and stream room.

But by the turn of the century the halcyon days of frequent and varied Asian based fornication hit a hiatus. Single and seriously under-sexed, something had to be done. I was in my mid forties and no longer comfortable in pick up bars - an expensive hobby in time, money and hangovers, very rarely satisfactory, and I did not relish becoming the oldest swinger in town.

Hookers were apparently acceptable for many in similar circumstances, an intuition confirmed by the perplexing variety and proliferation of prostitutes advertising on the internet. I had not specifically ever paid cash for sex, but had experienced massages in the luxury hotels of Asia which had sometimes added an extra special service. 

Most notable was in the five star ANA Hotel in Roppongi, it had been a free add-on to the genuine massage. The hints started when the old crow pressed her flat hands either side of OG, over a small white linen towel. Lying on my back or front her leg massages also reached higher up my thighs, beneath the towel edge too, 'You like tickle?' she asked as her sharp little fingernails startled my balls.

I hesitatingly mumbled a clipped confirmation, 'Hai' and pretty soon the cheeky little thing alternated brief wanks between conventional massaging. Taking her time, the build-up was slow, inexorable and exquisite. 

I came explosively, although I managed to muffle my usual vocal announcement. She maintained gentle contact along OG's softening shaft before calmly cleaning the mess up with tissue paper. Then she moved around the bed and gave me a head massage to die for. My post orgasmic swoon enhanced tenfold and I drifted off into a brief happy snooze.

I stirred awake when she lifted her hands from my temples. Before she left my room I was given a paper to sign the charge to the room, just a few Yen for the bona fide massage. Had I experienced yet another example of excessive and perfect Japanese service? Or just a randy old Obasan? 

Elsewhere in Korea or China the masseurs were decidedly unappealing, often they were blind, old and fat, and once in the Westin Chosun Hotel in Seoul one of this tubby gropers told me I had to lose weight! 

Even in the licentious Philippines where I stayed in the Peninsula, the best hotel in Manila, the massage service was very sensual but strictly above board.

I did stray in the brand new Dawoo Hotel in Hanoi, the massage progressed to a question, 'Special massage?' And for a measly few extra Dong my schlong said so long to my sperm in a hard fast pull. That didn't feel like prostitution even though it couldn't be defined as anything but. 

Something puts me off paying for it, certainly travelling on expenses and being well paid it wasn't about miserliness. It was all about the girls.

From committed long term relationships to one night stands with strangers I enjoyed giving pleasure as much as receiving it. In fact as I moseyed into middle age I got more from the giving. If my partner for the act responded genuinely to my attentiveness I loved it. 

Do whores ever enjoy sex? Is every response fake? The idea of going down on a pussy that has had hundreds of cocks turns me off totally, but it's not all about health, it's fundamentally about satisfaction, hers and mine. Simply put, I doubt I can get it up for a hooker because she doesn't care about the sex. 

I had been on a fifteen year escalator of improving income, seniority and job satisfaction, halfway through this period there had been a divorce and from that personal nadir a parallel escalator of sexual freedom had taken off, leading to new relationships and happiness. First with Candy and then Yumiko. Then both career and sex escalators stalled forever. 

The first of my challenges that heralded the hiatus years that followed was being 'furloughed' as the United Airlines Human Resources Stasi representative coldly put it. To be furloughed didn't have a cultural resonance for me though. We call it redundancy, and that had the desired impact. What a word redundant is, it's meaning seems to spread beyond losing your job to being rendered a worthless individual of no use to anyone. It was a traumatic time, a direct consequence of the terrorism of September 11th dumping me out on the street like a black bin liner of trash, with no pay off or income. All within ten days of Al Qaida's barbarism. It drastically altered every other part of my life and to this day I dramatically if erroneously claim that's when my hair went grey.

I panic plummeted into the life of many redundantees and became a consultant.

Amongst the many challenges of my new occupation and poverty, I no longer had the luxurious combination of long haul travel and generous expenses. At first I still travelled long haul, utilising a residue of United Airlines staff travel benefits for a few months. I used the privilege for several flights back to at United's global headquarters in the US lobbying for a commission only deal. The offer was to sell their best selling software system to airlines far removed from the instantly depressed US and transatlantic markets. I had won sales awards selling United's product under licence and it was the reason they had recruited me just three months before September 11th 2001. The deal was they would pay me and my colleague $1 a year salary plus commission on sales made in return for access to the staff travel, essential to sell to the Asian, African and South American airlines we had existing sales leads for.

We failed. Head count ruled and I was one of twenty thousand employees hurriedly jettisoned by United's dog eat dog, survival management style. One sixty year old former colleague had been with United his entire career, except during his airforce stint of national service. He was given an hour to clear his desk and was escorted out of the building by a security guard. His comment, 'I thought the worst day of my life was being shot down over North Vietnam, but I was wrong,' summed up Corporate America's ruthless and heartless attitude to anyone unfortunate enough to be employed by them. 

'Fuck America,' was my bitter mood.

But I did use my very last free flights on United's network for a long way round flight to Sydney. Fourteen coach class hours to San Fransciso, then four hours sat in the terminal before boarding another flight for fourteen more cramped hours in a 747. The cost of the week was minimal, the flights on United were virtually free and I cashed in my American Express card loyalty points accumulated over years of five star Asian hotel stays to have a free three star hotel overlooking Darling Harbour in Sydney. Down under I negotiated a deal with a small Aussie company to sell their aviation software product to the European airline market. 

Back in Blighty the lonely weeks of cold calling every small to medium sized airline I could find beckoned. Of the many challenges, surprisingly, I even missed the office social life and those 'water cooler' moments I had briefly shared with my former colleagues at United Airlines, and the years of gossipy banter tea breaks at British Airways. I spent longer in the gym, regaining lost fitness whilst simultaneously becoming an old git with his favourite locker in the changing room, (locker number one), for its easier access.

And with this miserable new existence there was no comforting sexual outlet. My previous life of swinging, one night stands and one trip stands, foreign romances and office romances (of which I had enjoyed two, both of which became a little awkward subsequently), and slightly dodgy massages had abruptly ended. 




Strings Ch. 03



Chapter 3. Nests 

I had two office affairs, Joanna and Jo, both during my time at British Airways. Not together, that would have been mind-blowing. 

Jo was first and lasted during a week long business trip to Beijing. We sat together on the long flight chatting about office gossip and our lives. Cockney Jo was bright, a first class honours graduate, petite, pretty with a broad sparkling smile. She was in the middle of breaking up with a long standing boyfriend, an engineer. In recent months during his own business trips abroad she had done some wandering herself and was enjoying a sustained period of ladettism.

She later confided that she had picked up nine lovers in eight weeks. She was amazed 'It was so easy.' How little she really knew men I thought.

She showed me photos of her friends, mostly girls on London night's out, and I shared photos of my kids. One with me in the swimming pool with my daughter drew my comment, 'And me looking a bit portly'

'I quite like portly,' she said.

Aye aye, I thought, maybe she understood men really well.

The working days were long as we prepared for the aviation conference that we were hosting, and that I had set up. There were six of us from the company and in the evenings we would relax in a Chinese facsimile of a British pub. Late the second evening we walked back to our rooms together and I invited her into my room for a nightcap.

Pretty soon we were stretched alongside each other on the bed. We kissed passionately and caressed each other freely, and then she responded to being held down. I put an airline blindfold over her eyes and the sub in Jo was let loose.

She loved it as I improvised with my ties and bound her wrists together. I slowly undressed her, and when lifting her skirt and parting her legs I gently kissed her panties over her mound of venus. She let out a long groan.

Jo got the full cunnilingual treatment, we had good condom sex (nine men in eight weeks ensured that), and her bright broad smile received a complimentary sprinkling of pearly white OG juice. 

Two days later she invited me to her room. But she was no longer smiling, upset as boyfriend had finally ended their relationship by email that day. Weeping she sat astride me as I sat on the edge of the bed and amidst her tears we kissed, fondled, disrobed and fucked.

We had a few more nights together and only once let our guard down in front of our rumour monger prone colleagues. We were seated at a table in the hotel pub and Jo had to squeeze past three of us to take her seat in the corner next to me, as she steadied herself to get past me she laid a hand high and firmly on my thigh.

'I saw that,' said the guy to my right. 

That'll do the rounds back at HQ I thought.

That and Joanna.

Joanna was new to the company, ginger, usually with a long pony tail, had a very pretty freckly face, and a tall hour glass figure. I had a trip coming up to Manila and the airlines there were interested in her product. 

As we discussed the possibility of the trip this confident, vivacious public schooled young woman looked me in the eye and said, 'I want to go to the Philippines with you.'

The first night in the Penninsula hotel she wanted to swim in the outdoor pool, I said I would join her but only after my run, (I was training seriously back then). I did my four mile run on the treadmill, the gym was on the ground floor, with large windows. It was a good hard sweaty session, I was focussed on the seven minutes a mile pace I wanted, and didn't realise she was watching me from the pool just outside.

After the run I showered and went to join her in the pool, she looked very attractive in her bikini, but had finished her exercise for the evening. She did compliment my running but I had missed out.

The next night was different, we went for a meal in the Makati district and then drinks in the Giraffe bar. Initially we talked about the business as she was new and enthusiastic, and then about our contrasting backgrounds. My secondary modern and polytechnic education and her Sherbourne School for Girls and Oxford. My ex was a teacher and her fiancée a professional Opera Singer.

I wondered what she was doing flirting with me when she was engaged, especially towards the end of the evening when the conversation turned to sex.

We walked arm in arm back to the Penninsula and then the nightcap routine up to my room. The kissing led to disrobing, she wore mens briefs, 'more comfortable' she said. I hoped they were the opera singer's.

I went down on the ginger minge and she came hard. During the build up this very pretty woman's face contorted into the most agonised cummy face I'd ever seen. We fucked missionary style for a while and eventually I rolled off her.

I had expected her to stay the night and we could couple up again in the morning, but perhaps Opera Singer seven hours behind us in London might call and she said she was leaving for her own room.

I asked, 'May I ask you a favour?'

She agreed.

'May I cum?'

'Of course' she said, 'tit for tat and all that, after all I am a Sherborne girl.'

She massaged, with a bit of mouthing, the head of OG until I came. Sperm shot into her mouth and she let it drool over over my genitals. 

Dirty posh totty I thought.

Back at the office Jo and Joanna had both been very friendly in my presence, Jo even a little flustered sometimes. Others noticed too. Joanna was a little more guarded, and her wedding went through only a month after our tit for tat encounter. I was pretty sure I was her last fling before she committed to her marriage vows and she didn't want to encourage another or reveal anything to anyone else, but our friendship was still noticed and our conversations became awkward. 

The discomfort of the office rumour mill had flared briefly after both flings, something I didn't want again. Work colleagues should be off limits. 

A couple of years later after my Kerry experience I added neighbours and friends to the no go list. Don't shit in your own nest was my conclusion.

So how would I solve the problem of no regular sex?

A possible solution came to me as I was driving on an unusually uncongested M25 one afternoon, (as my fledgling business slowly picked up I spent more of my time on that motorway than in the gym) I switched away from listening to my habitual Talksport radio station to the BBC4. There was a discussion programme about dating websites. Most of it was about the psychology of youngsters exploring romance and relationships with the opposite sex for the first time through the online environment rather than my real world experience of turgid school Christmas balls.

But there was also an aside about mature people searching for purely sexual relationships outside of their stable if boring home lives. The name of one site was The Affair. Perhaps that was what I was looking for?

The next day when working in my home office my mind wandered back to this new possibility. I googled and found the website, read through it's over hyped claims supported by improbably good looking models and decided to join.

It was expensive; at that time you enrolled for free and paid for tokens which you used to send and receive messages and other services. 

This well-heeled customer base displayed monikers like JenniferP, LittleTeaser, lovetoloveyou and Uptowngirl. I scrolled through women within my target age group: my age plus or minus five years. Intermittently over the next few weeks many carefully crafted messages went out. None received replies and nobody even visited my profile.

I reworked my description to sound more adventurous, (in reality it should have been in the past tense), successful (definitely past tense), and erudite, (or wordy). I still got nowhere and considered dropping the exercise as a slightly pricey, utterly fruitless disappointment, but as a final desultory gesture I sent off a few uninspired speculative messages with the last of my tokens. A few days later a message alert came through that I had received a reply, but of course I would have to buy another batch of tokens to be able to open and read it.

I dallied at the wisdom of it, but noticed that the messenger had actually visited my profile a couple of times. A couple of days later I purchased the tokens and opened the message from my unexpected admirer, Claudia.

She was my age, lived only a half an hour's drive away and was deeply unhappily married. Her message and profile were brief and there was no photo, but hey, I had someone to dilly dally with.

Three exchanges of messages later and we had swapped personal emails and photos. We also swapped mobile phone numbers and chatted a few times. She was a freelance writer for women's romantic publications, and planning a trip to Seoul in South Korea. I showed off my knowledge of the place and it was all very grown up and sensible conversation. She was slim, attractive, well heeled, worldly and creative. More importantly she wanted a new lover. She asked me for a photo of Old Glory, and this was when OG received his name. So I agreed to show her mine if she showed me hers and sent her one of OG placid and flaccid and another fully aroused. In return I got some lovely compliments and the photo of her hairy beaver.

We first met on a blustery day at All Bar One at the base of the newly opened Shard building next to London Bridge station. She arrived fifteen minutes after me, in flapping floppy hat and long coat.

She was charming, intelligent and artistic. We got on well and agreed to meet again a few weeks later, also in London. I had a meeting in the City that morning with a perspective new client, to add to two existing clients, my original airline focused Aussies and some Americans selling similar services to hotel chains. We spent the afternoon strolling around like a couple, enjoyed an Italian dinner and watched a Johnny Depp spooky comedy movie in a deserted cinema. I did touch her corduroy clad thigh but other than that all I received was a kiss on the cheek. 

She was pretty, slim, funny, quirky and a bit posh. She also hated her husband; his business had failed and she bemoaned their loss of money, made more humiliating because her circle of friends were incredibly wealthy.

It was our fourth meeting when she was ready to move onto a hotel room, which we did after a preamble in the lobby bar. Once in the room we stood at the garden window, at first I stood behind and held her waist, and she made the first sexual move when she gently squeezed OG through my trousers. I turned her around and we kissed for the first time. We moved away from the window as I undressed her and soon we lay on the bed naked and continued kissing. When I first touched her 'Mindy' with my fingers, she orgasmed really quickly and then burst into tears. It had been a long time, she explained.

We met quite a few times after that mostly in motels and a couple of times in a large grim shoddy place we called Hotel Darko. Otherwise weather permitting it was picnics in the woods or a secluded car park. Penetrative sex was rare and condom only but Claudia loved it when I went down on Mindy, climaxing within ten minutes: exquisite she called it. Unlike other women she didn't moan but made cute little 'cumsqueeks', and neither did she clamp her legs together and thrust at my face, but instead would keep herself spread wide open, squeaking away whilst I continued tonguing, and she would cum again ten minutes later. I could get her off three times in half an hour if I applied myself, which mostly meant getting my back and neck in a comfortable straight position. In return she usually gave me a ten minute handjob with liberal smears of baby oil which at the end would smoothly mix with my sperm as she massaged by balls and cock. Very nice it was, even if it was over a bit too quickly.

Once in the woods under dappled light from a hot sun we had a really pleasant experience, partly because of the setting and partly because it was one of the few times she used her mouth on me. My orgasm took her by surprise and she instinctively pulled away: clearly and disapointingly this woman didn't have a liking for sperm.

Playing al fresco was enjoyable only until the time we were 'parking' and mistaken for exhibitionists when a dogger came up to the car window to watch. Claudia particularly lost her outdoor nerves after that and it was back to Hotel Darko.

I was now keen to explore the site for a more fulfilling affair and over a few weeks I intermittently searched and eventually found and met Carol. She was a university lecturer, was starting new research for a PhD and had already published a book on her subject. I thought how strange to meet another writer, I had never met one before and then two come along all at once. 

She was also another unhappy wife and we met a few times in various Hertfordshire hotels. She was similar to Claudia: strictly condoms only, she loved to receive oral, especially rimming, and especially when sitting on my face. She would push down on me and gasp as I tongued. She had a good figure, large in an almost Amazonian way so the grinding on my face was heavy going at times. Another similarity with Claudia was that she also preferred to use her hands to bring me off. As a lover of blowjobs and facials, and racier sex in general I had not yet found the right woman. Anyway eventually she and hubby separated and she no longer wanted a fuckbuddy. She wanted romance and I was history, well in that department, we became pen friends as she continued to email me from time to time. 

The Affair, Forbidden Liaisons and Adult Encounters mostly cater for cheating spouses. They are all relatively expensive. The women that I corresponded with on the sites were genuine, lonely unloved wives, and though they were refined, intelligent and very good company they didn't really satisfy me. Was I immoral? I don't know, but I was surprisingly unperturbed at fucking other people's wives. Unlike with Kerry I had no connection with their husbands and was sanguine and guilt free, the infidelity was an issue for my new playmates, not me.

I cast my net to other sites such as: Playthefield, New Couples, Friendsindeed, and Fabulous Times. One free dating site introduced me to Annie, not as pretty as Claudia and Carol, and definitely not middle class, was chunky but up for it. She was my age, married, and wanted NSA sex, No Strings Attached. She fucked (at last!) and sucked (Yeah!) and even liked some mild bondage, but ultimately in the various motels and hotels around Cambridgeshire she liked to complete in Ye Olde Missionary position. She even kind of called my bluff when on the occasions she did let me cum in her mouth she then insisted on a follow up sperm kiss, hypocritically this not something I actually yearn for. I steeled myself to comply as the trade off for squirting into her gob in the first place. At least she didn't want me to cream pie style clean out her minge after a missionary fuck.

She later dumped her hubby to move in with an Italian living in the desolate wastes of the fens. As she no longer needed me for extra curricular activities and as she didn't particularly turn me on, we stopped seeing each other.

I explored more sites and met a variety of interesting people, most just wanted erotic chat and shied away from any liaison. I think quite a few are on an ego trip just having so many men compete for their attention. Carol admitted she loved reading through twenty or so new emails every day. Quite a few of these women seem to use health issues as an excuse not to follow through. So the aimless flirtations and disappointments means a dedicated man can waste a lot of time.

But I did find Rosanna on New Couples. It is a free and genuine dating site mostly for those seeking long term relationships, but the odd polyamorous, dominitrix and NSA are sprinkled through the legions of women with names like Floozylady, Buttercup and Constellation. It works through extensive questionnaires on various themes, and using proprietary algorithms you get percentage matches based on what you are looking for and what kind of person you are. 

Rosanna and I had a match that was exactly zero percent. I just had to find out what a zero was like. Her profile photos were nice enough, so what was the problem? 

God was the problem.

Rosanna was a guilt ridden catholic Brazilian. 

But interestingly her occupation was waxing the genitals of women and gay men. We messaged on New Couples and then emailed directly until during one late night long e-chat she asked if I liked blindfolds. I was hooked. 

We met three times before deciding to go a step further. Her sexual interests were the opposite of zero; bondage, domination and oral sex. She wasn't too bright, had limited but manageable English and immediately the sex was over she withdrew into a weird silence, ashamed of her sexual desires and deeds, but always a few days later her urges returned. So Rosanna was not a longer term prospect for me but promised to be a pretty good interim sex partner.

Fundamentally what she wanted was to wax me, she must love her job if it is essentially the same activity as her preference for sex. She also had quite a few fantasies involving bondage and domination, anal penetrations (hers and mine), forced bisexuality (hers and mine for fucks sake!). 

The waxing experience was exhilarating. She tied me spread out on the bed, I was blindfolded with a silk scarf and then she waxed me, removing all my pubic hair and 'everywhere' else, her euphemism for my ass hairs. She released my ankles to get my 'ass up' with my hips off the bed, ankles by my wrists, thighs spread, rectum winking. She really was into anuses and only ever achieved orgasm with my finger piling in and out of her bum. 'One day' she said, 'I want try anal sex', I would have done it for her, although it's not really my thing.

The waxing was a long session, especially for my back, as she methodically applied the hot red wax and then later picked off the cool hardened flakes with her finger nails and thus tearing out the hairs beneath. She worked on different areas in turn, starting around my pubes, then my inner thighs, across my scrotum stretched out with her free hand, and down my crack. In between each application she played and sucked me, and soon enough was inserting fingers and her tongue up my arse. It took some time to complete the process, it was a divine experience of alternating pain from dripping hot wax and ripping hairs with sumptuous wet oral sex and gentle hand massaging of newly smooth hairless genitals and frequent finger poking. I came with a howl as she slurped her tongue around and inside my anus, she continued licking my ass and my tingling perineum until I entered the drop zone of unconsciousness. It was the best build up and orgasm I had received from any internet date, to date. The orgasm was on a par with the old Japanese crow who gave me a body massage plus extra 'tickles' and then a post orgasmic head massage in the Tokyo hotel.

I wanted to get her into a threesome with another woman, but she seemed more interested in watching me get fucked up the arse by her gay cousin or something. That was a huge adios motherfucker, no forced bisexuality for me.

Curiously someone else I met had a similar fantasy. I met a BBW (Big Beautiful Woman) dominatrix on The Vault - a website for kinky people to find each other. Ordinarily I would not be into large women, although I could appreciate voluptuous and curvy as long as it wasn't flabby wobbly. (One of the most important of my long term relationships had been Candy, she was a little curvy and as with all my loves, the relationship was built on great sex.) 

Candy had taught me all I needed to know about giving oral sex, which to my surprise and everlasting appreciation during a lengthy lesson in a hotel in Montreal, turned out to be quite a lot. Her firm and proportioned plus sized body, turbo charged sex drive and oversized throbbing clitoris saw to that. You could actually see it twitching when aroused. It was proportionate in size to her labia and vulva, and when she got going she had a very heavy discharge of juice. 'Slicking' she called it. My American Deep South Candy loved giving and receiving oral sex more than fucking, and she loved 'queening' or face sitting most of all. 




Strings Ch. 04



Author's Note: All website and profile names are fictitious.

*****

I composed my Vault profile: 'For most of my adult life I was a dom. To the outside world I am well educated, travelled, independent self employed businessman, clean and healthy, reliable and sociable, not bad looking and generally attractive to women around my own age. On the inside, I am in need of some Vault attention. I am attracted to lively, bright women, I like slim and athletic and voluptuous too'. I indicated my sexual 'activities enjoyed' as blindfolds; bondage; domination; master/slave; oral sex and sadomasochism, and that I could switch. A photo of me taken in Milan a couple of years earlier was attached. My profile name for this site was 'Trojan'. 

The Vault is there mostly for bondage and sado-masochism but includes all sorts of other fetishes too. Amongst the profiles were monikers of clear intent such as Sluttybitch, SlaveCherie and Lickmycunt.

There is a section for fantasies to be posted and discussed which seemed to have no limits on violence and degradation at all. But some individuals purport a need to enact them. For example this classy fifty two year old buxom woman's profile had her status as: 'Any one for fun and kay *ine, real players?'

And then describes what she wants as; 'Yo, me new. Got my fantacies, not to chat but to fullfill. So lets play! I am very female, and very much a pet lover, plus I like pain too. Lol xx'

She added that her ideal person was: 'Men and their mans best friend'.

I don't think anyone chatting or even seriously pet friendly cared about her spelling mistakes, or her evident IQ, her message was clear and no doubt elicited responses. 

I had no idea what the ratio of men to women were. Many of the most attractive and genuine profiles pleaded with male suitors to be patient as they were inundated with messages. And one lady sympathetically acknowledged there were fifty men for every woman on the site, and requested we put some effort into our opening email to catch her interest. I put a lot of effort into that one and received a lame, thanks but no thanks reply over a week later. 

My profile did not generate any welcome attention, what unsolicited mail that did arrive in my inbox was from either prostitutes or scammers of various sorts. A lot of messages went through my outbox though and only occasionally I got a polite 'no thanks and good luck with your search'. Even rarer sometimes I would engage in exchanging a few messages and then she would just drop me. 

The lack of recent logging on by many of the female profiles suggested that these memberships were short lived. I imagined some bored, half inebriated trollop would enrol for free one night and never or rarely return. Another group were purely into an ego boost from all the male attention, as Carol from The Affair had admitted she enjoyed reading all the mails from males. I reckon half the female profiles had no intention of actually meeting anyone and maybe half the rest were fakes, whores and internet trolls. My logic suggested the arithmetic for finding a genuine woman was appalling. If only a quarter of up to date female profiles were honestly interested in finding a partner, that meant there were two hundred frustrated men for every one of them. That pretty much explained why my carefully crafted approach mails were emphatically unsuccessful. Of course I had self-doubts too, perhaps I was aiming too high, and I predominantly targeted profiles with photos which increased the competitive environment.

There are so many dodgy people on The Vault, the administrators are constantly deleting profiles for abuse. If I review the list of 'women' who have 'Spotlighted' me, it is rare to find a single a genuine account with the other few dozen all deleted for abuse. However I was able to meet a handful of women, some of which led to one off hook-ups. In terms of disappointment the worst experience of all my online based dates was a Vault female called Pammy.

She looked beautiful in an array of professionally produced photographs of her and a young stud. She was tall, slim, busty, blonde, pretty, and into BDSM. After two messages we emailed directly and then swapped mobile phone numbers. When I called her she spoke very slowly and deliberately, with a slight tremble to her voice. It was as if she had recovered from a stroke. 

We agreed to meet, and in the final telephone call to confirm the arrangements she mentioned she had been ill with cancer, and there was some scarring. I have sympathy with cancer victims and would never drop anyone just for disclosing such a trauma in their life, I would go ahead and meet her. 

I booked a hotel in her area of North London. The room wasn't ready and the service at the front desk and the lobby bar where I waited patiently was negligible. When Pammy arrived she tottered into the bar on enormous high heels supporting shapely calves in white fishnet tights. She had a mass of blonde hair, bright showy makeup, wore stylish glasses, with quite thick lenses though. When she took her fur coat off she had on an expensive white dress and an exceptionally good, curvy figure. She also looked at least twenty years older than her Vault photographs.

I bought her a drink as we waited for the non-service of the east European hotel staff to produce our room. She asked in her halting shaky way if I thought she was attractive, and did I want to be with her. I said yes I did, and she added that she had 'Some stretch marks too.'

Eventually the migrant workers behind the desk sorted out my reservation and we had the key. We took a bottle of white wine with us.

Actually the room was fine, and as we shared the wine we chatted about her husband, (why?) her four kids, her bad back, her breast cancer...

We sat on the bed, she took her glasses off and we kissed. Close up I could see how thick the makeup really was, and her green eyes didn't seem to focus, the poor thing seemed half blind.

Poor thing, well she undressed telling me as she slipped her dress off that the scarring was her mastectomy. Did I want her to keep her bra on or off, 'Most men don't seem to mind,' she added helpfully.

I said it was okay to take it off.

Facing me on the bed, she reached around behind her to unhook the black lace bra, and then lowered the shoulder straps and then the cups. Her right breast was large, full and not particularly saggy, it was fine for her age. Where the left breast should have been was some hideous looking scarring. I had seen the results of mastectomy before, but always after reconstructed surgery, but this was a shock. She looked forlorn, I felt so sorry for her. So her tights and panties came down.

Then a mass of stretch marked lose belly skin flopped out.

I wasn't callous enough to just walk out on someone, plus OG was reminding me that I hadn't had sex in weeks, and in any case she was still pretty enough. So I stripped, and we lay on the bed kissing, after a few minutes caressing her single shapely breast, I moved her to lie down on her back. Impressively the lone breast didn't particularly drop towards her armpit, it looked and felt a hundred present natural. I then moved my hand down her waist and hips - I didn't want to touch that tummy, and just as I touched between her legs she did a sharp intake of breath. I massaged near her clitoris very lightly as a teaser to get her aroused, and about three minutes of heavy breathing later she shuddered.

'Did you just cum?' I asked, and she had. 

She must have orgasmed a dozen times with me during the hour of sex, and she admitted she could cum thirty, forty or more times in a day easily.

We had condommed vanilla sex, no BDSM, she lay on her back the whole time, her bad back prevented her being more active.

When she got up for the bathroom she did that straight back careful walk all back sufferers know, and watching her walk I saw a little pyramid of flesh poking out near her armpit, the vestige of what had once been another magnificent breast. She didn't walk well even barefoot and tottered to and from the bathroom.

She reminded me of a television comedy show character, an east European with too much cheap plastic surgery and a botox frozen face, explaining weakly that the mysterious drops of fluid were 'Just a little seepage.'

I did feel sorry for Pammy and although my orgasm was good and facial with a thick string of cum draped across the long fake eyelashes above one of her unblinking half blind green eyes, I had not really enjoyed her. 

Then she said normally she would charge £100 but I could have this one free, but could I pay her taxi fares. It was a bit of a shock that she turned out to be a pseudo-prostitute. Thank god for the precautionary condoms, I thought. 

To be honest I would not fuck her again if she paid me £100, and any empathy I had earlier dissipated rapidly, her taxi cost me £15, the train fare into London, wine, and hotel room cost me £120, compounded when the hotel double charged for the room. It was more expensive in my time, having taken a day off work. 

A lesson learned: make sure the photos are recent.

Years later Pammy is still on The Vault with the same youthful photos, and no doubt still looking for tricks.

A couple of months passed uneventfully after my date with Pammy and as my subscription was up for renewal I was going to leave The Vault forever. But my luck was about to change. 

Almost in a final sweep through new matches before my subscription lapsed I scrolled briefly through those with no photo. One caught my eye.

CuteLittlePixie 37F new sub seeking Mentor, Hampshire.

She stated. 'Let's start a dialogue. I'm bored of stereotypes. I'm hungry and I have a vivid, intelligent mind. I'm looking for someone with wit and discretion. And a gentleman to take me further.'

I scrolled down to read her 'activities enjoyed.'

Anal Sex, Blindfolds; Bondage; Bukkake; Chains; Collar and Lead, Defilement, Dildos, Domination, Gags, Gangbangs; Hair Pulling; Handcuffs, Master/slave, Oral Sex, Paddles, Shackles, Submission, Spanking, Threesomes, Urolagnia, Vibrators, Whips.

Bukkake leapt out of the page, and bondage was there too. 

On the downside she used the word 'Gentleman', sometimes used interchangeably with the euphemism 'generous' by working girls trawling for clients. 

Pixie got the benefit of my doubts, and Bukkake trumped Gentleman.

I read her personal data, Cute Little Pixie was thirty seven, 5' 2", petite and slim and Caucasian. She was 'just curious' about the lifestyle, submissive, a novice, considered herself a liberal with an assertive demeanour and for her style of dress she entered 'none (nudist)'.

Bondage and bukkake was my Nippon Porn fantasy. I was in an upbeat mood and this Pixie profile intrigued me, so I rattled off an email.

25th January 2013

It was a busy and varied day of projects in my home office. I did three hours of sales calls for one European client, and an hour for another, reminding them yet again that they still owed me money, plus an hour's research for an former British client who was setting up a consultancy venture. In the afternoon I did three more hours researching a new project for myself and had a gym session in the evening. Then I wrote this Vault message to CuteLittlePixie Pixie.

'The Cute Little Pixie has some nasty little habits, something will have to be done. I can train you, or humiliate you, punish you or tease you. Perhaps I will be a selfish bastard and demand you service me, or perhaps I will service you, continuously over and over again. It all depends on the initial dialogue, establishing the framework that any later acts operate in. Or maybe you don't want a framework? I hadn't thought of that. If your curiosity needs flirty fantasies to begin with, edging towards exploring them physically, well I am your patient man, proceeding at your own speed until you are ready. I am good at 'getting' the fantasy, or triggering it. Oh and about age play, I lost my virginity the very month you were born, in Dovedale Deryshire under the stars. I became a geologist and travelled the world (love Japanese porn: bukkake and shibari) and she became a policewoman. What does a nudist do for a living? Tell me more. T, xx'

As with all the other recent messages sent out on The Vault I promptly forgot about it, and got on with my work. To be honest it needed it, our wonderful banking crisis induced recession was playing havoc with my income and job fulfilment.

26th January 2013

The Vault message from CuteLittlePixie:

'Hello Trojan. Thank you for sending me one of the best first contact emails to date. I do have some nasty habits or at least I have them in my mind waiting to be explored but you will have seen that in my profile. A framework... I'm glad you asked. I have had some potential mentors who want everything on their terms which I'm not sure of yet because it's all new. But also I am so turned on by the idea of being with a sexually demanding older man. Maybe we could start by telling me why you have chosen this lifestyle...

(what lifestyle? I thought) 

... or what really gets you molten at the core. I'm tired of stereotypes and you don't sound like one so far - a geologist, really? So far all the scenarios presented to me are me exposing myself in public. I don't really find that much of a challenge as I've had lots of encounters outside. My favourite al fresco to date was on a walking holiday on the Devonshire moors, my partner and I wrestled off our walking gear and did it right there only a few meters from the path while walkers rambled by as their dogs sniffed us out. This all seems innocent now particularly with what is on offer in BDSM! Sorry I'm also rambling...hope to hear back from you. P x'

I was chuffed at the reply, any reply was welcome but this was encouraging. I wanted to see how far it would go before she shut down the correspondence having lost her nerve. I had to think a little how to respond and also reply quickly to keep her engaged in case some rival dom caught her eye. Her question, 'what really gets you molten at the core?' was the key sentence, the invitation to reveal and to take a risk. So I replied to CuteLittlePixie.

'Dear Pixie, Thankyou for your quick and complimentary reply. I worked in oil exploration in Africa, Middle East, North Sea, The Med, Australia and the Arctic. Long four week trips on all male oil rigs immersed in work till time to leave. On the long-haul flights home my thoughts wandered towards my bondage loving girlfriend and the anticipation was almost uncontrollable, god knows what the air hostesses thought about the young man with the bulging jeans asleep in economy.

I like to take my time, nothing rushed, that anticipation thing, it is the greatest thrill, going into the unknown with someone new does it, but after that? Knowing what makes them tick is a massive turn on, it's the framework. Men are visual, and for myself seeing a woman exposed and helpless, (and knowing that's what I will be seeing), gets me going. I like to tease, use, manoeuvre and correct her. Oral sex - both ways, is important - and I love cumming on her, the mounting tension whilst above an upturned face...The more I know about you, the more in context our play will be, I can present a scenario based on what I know so far about your nasty little mind. If you wish I will compose a little age play game - nothing extreme, more a mindful game. I'll call it the Domineering Boss and the Vulnerable Assistant.'

I added my email address and signed off. 

Nothing controversial I hoped, and waited, but it wasn't long for her reply to arrive.

27th January 2013

Pixie: Hello Jack Well I also work in the oil and gas industry but unfortunately do not get the chance to spend time on oil rigs with lots of hungry men. Which of my nasty habits has appealed to you? I can't access your profile so don't know what your own tastes are specifically. I am not just interested in the physical act of submission although of course that counts. I'm also fascinated by the desires of dominant men to humiliate and control a woman. I wander what my limits are? How extreme you are? What pleases you...What else...hmmm...do you still work and travel? Look forward to your scenario. Pixie xx

This was a promising quick exchange, I had to keep the momentum going in case she got bored.

Me: Hi Pixie, Work and Play. 

1. Work. I moved on from oil and gas years ago, worked in aviation technology, then travel IT and am now self employed. I sell software and consultancy for different clients, mostly in the travel industry and also have a couple of other interesting new projects. I still do a lot of travelling, Berlin and Orlando last November for example. What do you do in the oil and gas industry? 

2. Play. How extreme am I? I can be a little sadistic, inflict some pain, water sports and anal sex, if that is required, But I do love the mind games, the humiliation angle and to take my time. Make you do things, tie you into positions for my pleasure. My scenario will be more focussed on that more than any extreme physical stuff.

If I can have your email address I will send you the scenario. It would be nice to see a photo too. Jack xx

That was it, I had revealed my deepest sexual desires to a faceless, anonymous woman, so far it had already been the most enthralling exchange of messages but I had some doubts too, what if she was hideously fat, or butt ugly or a man masquerading for some perverted troll like cheap thrill of their own? The Vault message from CuteLittlePixie dropped in a couple of hours later, nervously I opened it, for no reason I half expected a rejection.

Pixie: Hi again Jack. Can I be honest...

(oh fuck it is a rejection!)

... and say that The Vault website warns against providing an email address until you are sure? 

(Phew)

I don't want to be rude as you appear to be honest in your response but can you tell me what can be achieved by email differently to this way of communicating at the moment? 

In my reply to Pixie I tried to reassure her that I asked about direct emails just to make communications a little more convenient than having to log onto the Vault every time. But I was happy to get to know her at her pace and continue as we were. 

I then moved the subject back to sex, adding 'If we meet, whatever we do, I will know your limits and desires first (I hope), but it will involve a lot of oral sex, both ways, and I WILL cum on your face. That simple act is a huge turn on for me, it's your nasty habit of bukkake in your 'likes' that really caught my eye. (and will give you pink eye if it catches yours).'

*

Whilst I enjoyed these exploratory messages with Pixie I cautiously continued looking on the other websites. I was cautious because in the previous year I had experienced some scares and downright nastiness and had come to the partial conclusion that The Vault was a place frequented by trolls, whores and idiots like me.

When I say bad experiences I don't mean being stood up or disappointed as I was with Pammy. I mean the potential for a real nightmare.

Unlike Pixie, Lady Samantha had quickly moved from brief Vault messages to personal emails, she also dropped hints about a mistress having her costs covered. Condescendingly I advised:

Me: 'Dear Lady, I don't use prostitutes if that is what you mean. The best sexual relationships are based on mutual attraction and that is what I am looking for. I am not stingy at all but I don't want or have to pay for sex. I had hoped you were the same.

Rgds'

I was in bed when an email came through to my Blackberry smartphone. 

Lady: 'Are you Jack Thorne, Sales Director of Dolfinsoft...'

Fucking hell! How did she know my surname and find out about my job? This was a scary moment, my body actually shook. Jesus wept! I had to think, but not too quickly or too slowly. I didn't want to seem panicked or too considered. Ten minutes later I wrote back:




Strings Ch. 04



Me; 'Impressive investigation, and am fascinated to know how you did this. For any misunderstanding on my part I apologise - we are not on the same wavelength, clearly. Hopefully we will both find what we are looking for. Regards Jack

Lady: 'Nothing impressive - three clicks on the computer led to an extensive profile and to your cv, on which you state you are married. Perhaps that is outdated.'

Me: We were divorced in 1993. I was unaware that AllBusinessNetwork had my marital status, which is the only website that references Dolfinsoft. But I admit I had not expected my personal, Vault and business lives to be connected, so I do need to update ABN if that's where you found me. But to do so you must have known my full name How? because I don't see any accidental emails sent with it on. Like I said. I am fascinated.

Lady: Silly boy! Your name appears in full alongside your email address every time you send me an email! Yes, it is wise to be careful - there are some very odd creatures about - lucky for you I am not one of them. Your marital status was on your cv which came up on the first page of google results along with the ABN profile, hence just three clicks to know your whole history - the internet can be a scary thing!

As for me, I am a naturally dominant woman with a history of being a pampered, adored and worshipped mistress to married men - just a handful of long term relationships, all of whom remained lifelong friends after circumstances took us in different directions.

Panic over, and first thing in the morning I checked my email set up and removed my full name from the account details. I trimmed my ABN profile to the basics and researched my name on google. I discovered an old curriculum vitae showing my status as married. The document was sourced from a recruitment agency I had once used. I contacted them to advise the CV was hopelessly out of date and demand they remove it, which took them three weeks to comply with. I had learnt a lesson about the internet, but not about being condescending. A worse lesson was to come.

On Playthefield I had started exchanging messages with Jen from Coventry in the West Midlands, another unhappily married woman. We slowly progressed to direct emails and as she wanted to instant message me on Yahoo I opened a new yahoo email account taking care my surname wasn't traceable. We chatted via yahoo email and on yahoo messenger for weeks. Facially she was an ordinary looking woman, but she had a stunning body. She was very flattering to me and though coy at first she asked for more revealing photos of me, she wanted to see OG.

She received his images, first flaccid and thick, and then aroused and ready. I got some underwear poses from her, and then some open leg shots. Neither of us included our faces, but I was sure she was genuine as she posed for photographs in positions of my suggestion, as I did for her, including a cumshot. Weeks passed and she kept delaying meeting me, eventually we had a date lined up four weeks away. 

Not knowing where my extended correspondence with Jen was leading me or whether I would ever actually meet her, I continued my searches on Friendsindeed and the Vault etc, and started a conversation with SlaveCherie.

My first mistake was quickly agreeing to direct emails with her and then compounded when I suggested she was not genuine as her photos were too glamorous and reminded me of various Nigerian based scams that seemed to infect The Vault periodically.

'She' didn't email a warning shot like Lady Samantha. But a couple of days later I got a note from Yahoo that my password needed to be reset. When I tried, I couldn't access my account from my Blackberry. The next day I used my laptop to verify my Yahoo account with my back-up email and other information and re-set a new password.

In the meantime Jen had stopped communicating with me. A week later we were supposed to have that first ever meet up.

She eventually replied that her son had been hurt in a rugby match and was in hospital and could we postpone the meet. Bugger, it was the old health scare excuse again. I offered some alternative dates and got no reply. So I sent another email asking if anything was wrong, and it took another week before she responded.

Jen: 'I think your computer was hacked I been talking too SlaveCherie.'

What? Who? How? I was gobsmacked.

Whoever and whatever gender SlaveCherie was, they had exacted a revenge on my stupidity and hacked into my yahoo account. Thank god the only emails held there were those with Jen, the potential for wider damage could have been catastrophic. I dread to imagine the consequences if I this had happened before my encounter with Lady Samantha and my full name had been attached to all my emails. Still SlaveCherie had contacted Jen and claimed I had wanted to do vicious and obscene things to vulnerable women. 

I sent Jen a copy of every email I had exchanged with this fucking hacker to show the correspondence wasn't incriminating and that the Hacker was a malicious troll. Jen slowly relaxed and said she needed time to get over the situation. In the meantime photos that she had sent to me suddenly appeared on Playthefield as a new profile.

After that Jen wanted nothing more to do with the site or me. In any case she divorced her husband and no doubt that would have been the end of me with her anyway.

I had other correspondence which led to meets and nothing else, and a few that quickly produced sexual encounters that I didn't want to repeat. One evening I journeyed up to an isolated farm house in darkest rural Suffolk. (I once lived in Norfolk and Suffolk will always be a dark place). A fat farmer Giles type welcomed me in and to my surprise a young man was already seated in the living room waiting patiently. 

The three of us chatted, the farmer was not participating, he just wanted to take photos. The other guy looked about nineteen years old and had been with them before. Forty minutes of dull Suffolk conversation ticked by until the equally portly farmer's wife paraded down the stairs and swept into the lounge in a red bra, knickers and stockings set and some sort of sheer red negligee. She reminded me of Miss Piggy from the Muppet show. 

We had some wine and Giles said that young stud and I should take Piggy upstairs. Basically she lay on her back with her stubby legs spread and the impressively endowed stud and I banged away at her cunt and mouth as Giles zoomed in with his Nikon. Giles wanted facial cumshots for his collection, but the stud deposited his inside her bald fat twat. Unfortunately OG doesn't perform well in front of other men and he withered under the close up scrutiny of Farmer Giles' camera and failed to deliver the required pop shot.

On another occasion, in dark rural north east Essex I was unexpectedly welcomed in by the taciturn man of the house who wanted to watch me with his wife. When I looked surprised, short man syndrome jabbed his finger at his wife and said she was supposed to have told me what was happening, that he would see her later, and left us alone.

She didn't seem to care too much about Napoleon Bonaparte's attitude, though she did seem nervous once we were alone. She would not stop talking, sometimes about Napoleon's small dick which could only orgasm dribbles of cum, whereas she liked copious sprays. She also prattled on about previous playmates, her job, or grown up kids, whatever. I struggled to focus partly because of the dum jibber jabber and partly because of the deadening effect of the condom. She described some weedy little guy she had fucked, who had an 'enormous willy' that he could bang away with for hours 'just like a rabbit' she said. And apparently he squirted lots of cum on her face.

Oh really? I suddenly got interested. 

'Can I cum on your face?' I asked.

'Of course'

By this time she was sat, stockinged legs up and wide apart on a narrow sofa with me toiling away whilst holding onto the arm rests. I pulled out of her and twanged off the condom. She leaned against the back of the sofa and I climbed up to stand on the cushions with a leg either side of her and OG in hardened expectation positioned directly onto her ever yapping mouth. I would not describe it as a blowjob exactly as she wouldn't shut up and talked the whole time, probably about shopping for all I cared. I just tossed myself off against her rubbery mouth until ten day's worth of heavy creamy cum saturated her eyes, nose, and still moving lips and tongue. The cum bubbled and slopped about as she attempted to continue her shopping plans, but it was visually a very satisfying outcome and when hubby returned she complimented me saying she had never seen so much cum, yabba yabba etcetera. He looked peeved to have missed the show.

New Couples produced another woman that I did meet, her name was Collette and I enjoyed her company. She was a short bubbly Irish professional singer, she was very sweet and outgoing with the most enormous full and firm tits. Her thing was being spanked. After one platonic meeting in London our meets had to switch because she moved to Stratford upon Avon in the Midlands. We met in various motels in and around Stratford or Oxford. She was staying with friends whilst she hunted for a house to buy in the area, so we never met anywhere local to her and she kept our liaisons secret from her friends. I thought my New Couples search for a 'friend with benefits' matched her desire for a 'partner in crime' i.e. a fuck buddy, with a bit of D/s (dominance and submission) thrown in.

She was fun in the bedroom too, let me tie her up, spank and generally have a lot of fun giving and receiving oral. She adapted to what I liked too, it was good, but when she began suggesting we become a bit more of a bone fide couple rather than being fuck buddies, I backed away somewhat. I was not interested in an long-term, romantic relationship with her or with anyone. She was not too happy with me, and hadn't realised quite what I was about. I didn't lie to her once but a fuller truth might have been more honest, I was not comfortable with my deception and apologised sincerely. We kept in touch and she admitted to missing me, and I know she checked my profile on New Couples a few times. 

There were other one hit wonders; Maria the formidable London Underground driver wanted to be tied up and abused orally. We met three times before we did the act. There was also a sixty year old grandmother with the body of a forty year old, and a nice face too, I tied her up, spanked and fucked her in the Grand Hotel Brighton. Lynda in Plimlico was a stunning statuesque half West Indian, half Nigerian who arrived four hours late. She drank copious amounts of alcohol at my expenses, which gradually numbed my anticipation. Eventually I got a long boring shag, quite the anti-climax, in a hotel also at my expense. 

There were others: The air stewardess in Reigate didn't mind bukkake but didn't want any cum in her long blonde hair, so I suggested she wear a swimming cap. She loved that joke, but I was serious. A scrubber in Hackney who made gurgling sounds as she deep throated me, and another in Reading who after a lunchtime of fun at her place, left me with lipstick on my collar which I failed to notice until my afternoon business meeting, (I thought I had been so smart arranging a sexual tryst and a meeting in the same town on the same day).

I had a brief fling with Bernice, a black Canadian living in Dagenham. She wanted gifts of expensive perfume and I went along with this as I was travelling to the States and offered to get her something from the Duty free. But one day the she brought her 'sister' along and I also had to pay her the equivalent of the perfume, £70. All I got was sister wriggling in her underwear whilst sitting on my face whilst Grace poured baby oil over OG and then relentlessly hard wanked me off. It was all over in five minutes, and all over between us for ever. 

28th January 2013

Pixie: Hi Jack, 'Can we continue chatting through the site, I'm new and want to be safe. Reverting back to the point, the upturned face and cum in my mouth does push the right buttons. I would like to explore more with you. I am happy to send a picture when I know more about why you are here and what your expectations are. I guess - what do you want from being on this site? P xxx

No rejection, explore more with me! I liked this little Pixie, whoever she was. So after a history of misadventures and mostly unsatisfying encounters I was cautiously hopeful about The Vault's Pixie.



Strings Ch. 05



The PA's Tale

She needed the work and as a favour to her family I had taken her on as my assistant. By now she had been with me for six months, with a routine of monthly reviews and after a calamitous November the balance between her pleasing presence and professional incompetence was tipping against her. At the end of the month I warned her it might be a bleak Christmas if she didn't pick up her game, at the least if she continued to prove a poor secretary she could be given more menial duties like serving as my maid.

For the first time she spoke her mind and pleaded not to be let go, she couldn't face her family if she lost yet another job, she said. She wanted to be 'trained' by me, and would even take a pay cut to stay on. So I proposed I train her, fully, she would take on more duties and accompany me on business trips to learn the ropes. There was no need for a pay cut and I would cover her expenses, but she would be on a fast track learning regime with appraisals at the end of every day of the business trip together.

Two days before the trip I instructed her on what to wear: heels, hold up stockings, matching lacy underwear, a light summer business suit with the skirt hem just above the knees, not too tight a fit, and a nicely fitted, rather revealing, gossimer-thin silk blouse.

When she arrived she looked smart and professional. 

Her nice cleavage was just occasionally apparent but tantalisingly covered with a silk scarf. She had nice makeup on too, although she seemed a little flushed when we greeted one another. Heels are both smart with the business look and incredibly sexy. As we walked along the street I appreciated the shape of her legs and bum, which had been enhanced by the court shoes with lovely three inch stiletto heels. I confessed to myself, she looked sensational, and judging by the glances of men and women we passed as we walked, they thought so too. She was aware of the attention and visibly her confidence grew. 

But her error prone ways continued. It had been a long day, early start at the station with some confusion about my first class ticket, the series of meetings had been tiring, and she had yet again made mistakes. She had misplaced a document and forgotten to book a table for lunch. I didn't mind at all, she had assets I appreciated but her work had occasional lapses that I catalogued in my little black book.

When we reached the hotel lounge, I opened my wallet and extracted some cash, 'Whisky' I said. I sat down and reviewed the little black book. When she returned with my drink and change she sat quietly, whilst I pondered and drank.

I re-pocketed the notebook, 'You need discipline' I concluded, 'Go to my room. Wait outside the door.'

She left as I leisurely finished the whisky. 

When I got to the corridor I saw her sheepishly waiting by my room, an elderly couple passed by, bemused at her inactivity. 

I walked slowly, so that the couple had rounded the corner out of view when I reached her. She faced the door, her back to me, and I put a blindfold on her. Then I opened the door and guided her inside. I moved her to an open space in the room so she was not in contact with the walls or any furniture.

I walked around her, slowly and then grabbed and cuffed her wrists behind her back. Nothing painful or too tight, she was now feeling very vulnerable. I walked around her some more. She knew I was looking at her, and her breathing fluttered a little. 

I slipped off her jacket, and her silk scarf - trailing it away from her neck slowly as I did so. I then gazed at her, studying her legs, so shapely in her heels and stockings. Neither of us spoke whilst I did this. She had a nice firm bosom beneath her blouse, and a petite figure, emphasized by the skirt's tight waistband. I appreciated this slender, sexy woman. 

Her lips were pretty, so I leaned forward, breathing lightly on her face and then gently kissed them.

I placed my foot between her high heels and motioned for her to move her feet apart, half a yard would do and she complied. Her skirt was not a tight fit, so as I walked around I lifted the back up a little for an inspection. She wore stockings. I didn't lift too high, although she had no idea what I could see. Her body wobbled a little. The blindfold, her position and no steadying wall made it difficult for her to stand motionless.

'Keep still,' was all I said.

I kissed her ear, and stroked the back of my hand along her cheek. I moved in front of her again, and placed a hand on the curve of her hips. Moved it slowly and gently up and down, I enjoyed the feminine curve from her waist to thigh.

Then I undid the top blouse button, and the next, I pulled the garment forward a little and looked down inside to her cleavage, large breasts within a sexy black bra. I let go of her blouse and cupped one of her tits.

I caressed her for a few minutes before leaving her alone again, to rustle in my holdall by the desk. 

I took the collar from my bag and fastened it around her neck, I undid the rest of her blouse, took off the wrist cuffs and eased the blouse off her shoulders and down her arms. I then re-cuffed her wrists. I moved around, and guided her to a new position, standing in front of the bed. I sat on the edge and secured two more cuffs around her ankles. 'Open your legs further,' I commanded. 

She opened them apart as before but I pushed her feet much wider apart this time. She staggered a little backwards.

'Keep still!' I pulled her towards me. Her tits were at my eye level. I put my hands on the outside of her knees and moved them upwards beneath her skirt. I felt the tops of her stockings and the bare flesh above them. I stroked around, behind her, feeling her buttocks, and ever so lightly teased a middle finger under her body, where there was a slight dampness.

I removed my hands and undid her skirt. Letting it drop to the ground, I feasted on the gorgeous sight of her body and sexy black underwear.

I turned her around, stroking her body, familiarising myself with its contours. Then I undid and removed her bra, retied her hands and slid down her panties. All she wore was high heels and stockings, a blindfold, wrist and ankle cuffs. I added a collar with a lead attached.

In front of me I saw a neatly trimmed bush, 'Next time you will come smooth.'

I pulled her around, she lost balance and I guided her fall, face down across my lap. Her naked body was now in contact with the fabric of my suit. 

I stroked the rounded ass, her thighs, and then spanked her, once, sharp but not heavy. I repeated the strokes a few times and her cheeks began to redden. Every half dozen or so I caressed her, parted her thighs a little and commenced another set of slaps.

She wriggled a little and I knew she could feel my erection through my clothes rubbing her belly.

'Get up,' she struggled to comply as she got up from across my lap, she stood before me, shaking a little in anticipation. I fastened her ankle cuffs together, and then I stood up and tugged the lead, guiding her as she tottered away from the bed. 'Stand in the corner'

I left her there for ten minutes, her red bottom on display whist I considered her next punishment. Then I called her back, she tottered back uncertainly on her heels towards the sound of my voice until she bumped into the bed. I grabbed the lead and pulled her towards the office chair, bending her over the back. 

I undid her wrist cuffs and moved her hands to the front of the chair where I secured them to the chair legs with rope, and this forced her body to bend over ninety degrees, her ass was now the highest part of her body. I released her ankle cuffs and tied her ankles with more rope to the chair's back legs. Finally interested in immobilising her further more rope was wound around her waist and knotted to the backrest and two more strands were applied to fasten her thighs to the back of the chair. 

I then undid my belt.

The first whack was a teaser and I soon increased the strength as I added welts to her red ass, but halfway to the intended twenty strokes she began to whimper. I completed the lashings to increasing whimpers and cries. When it was done I decided the noise was too much and retrieved and a red ball gag from my holdall. I forced it into her mouth, fastened it in place, and she shut up. 

I left in her in position for another twenty minutes, and watched the news on the television.

We then repeated the twenty strokes first with my paddle and then with my whip. The punishments were getting harder, her ass red and blue, her sobs increasingly audible.

During the whole process - except during my rest breaks - I reminded her of her mistakes and inadequacies.

She had been in position over the chair for ninety minutes when I eventually released her. I undid her wrists and rolled her onto the bed and quickly attached the cuffs to the four corner posts. Suddenly she was naked, spread eagled and helpless again.

'I need to take a break.' 

I left the room for the bathroom where I stripped and took a long leisurely shower.

Eventually I re-entered the bedroom. She looked beautiful, and I stroked her body and kissed her mouth. But she needed some subtle re positioning. I moved her further down the bed and the re tied her legs so there were as far apart as she could manage. Her pussy looked lovely. Her arms were now stretched too and she had no wriggle room.

I lay naked alongside her, touched her nipples, her arms, her stomach and thighs, the inside of her thighs and lightly around her moist pussy. With her legs wide apart, she was exposed and helpless, not knowing where I would touch or what I do next as my hands roamed and caressed her body. Sometimes I kissed, gently on the lips, each time probing my tongue a little further, a little longer in her mouth. I teased her nipples with soft bites and my fingers delicately moved across her tummy down and around her mound, the inside of her thighs. 

She groaned occasionally and involuntarily moved her pelvis. I moved across her body - my cock was hard and for a fleeting second it brushed over her face. She would have to wait - I was going to work on her first.

I moved down the bed and pushed a large pillow beneath her buttocks. Now her womanhood was raised, glistening, open and engorged with blood. Her nerve endings super alive for the touch she ached for. I was between her legs, very close, but not in skin contact. I blew softly on the red button straining for its own release. Ever so softly I kissed her mons venus, and around the inside of her thighs, breathing across her clit as I changed from thigh to thigh. I kissed her labia, and licked gently up and down before returning to her thighs. I repeated this a few times, and slowly began to stroke her perineum with a finger.

I took my time, despite her movements and heavier breathing, my fingertips toured around her lower areas and up to her breasts. My tongue took turns with my lips to explore her pussy. Each time I added a little more firmness to the contact with her clit, and little more depth into her vulva.

In a perfectly comfortable position for me, and a fully accessible position for her, my prolonged oral attention got stronger, my fingers augmenting the pleasures. Sometimes as her movements increased I backed away. 

Her breathing increased, she began to writhe in her spread-eagled, pussy-to-the-ceiling position. Her hole had opened and was soaking the pillow. My face was now fully engaged eating and licking, responding to every signal she gave, building the tension. As her body heaved and the moans grew louder the orgasm was near. She was a clitoral orgasm woman and I concentrated licking around the hood, and especially up from her vulva to the clit. I inserted two fingers into her at the same time and as her muscles tensed and her juices flowed I increased their thrusts and the intensity of my tongue.

She strained at her bounds, the orgasm was building, and abruptly I pulled away, all contact with my mouth and hands was removed. Her pelvis thrust upwards, her whole body squirmed as she gasped behind her ball gag. Juice flowed from her pussy, she bucked and heaved, but gradually the energy subsided. After a few minutes I leaned forward and gently blew on the red rosebud of her clitoris, and she almost yelped. I blew again and she thrust herself towards my pursed lips searching in her blindness for the source of the soft tantalising breeze. 

I kissed her lower stomach and fingertips stokes ever so lightly along the sides of her labia, Every time she subsided I returned with more contact. My tongue explored her gaping wet hole and my fingers stroked around her ass and perineum, occasionally tweaked her clitoris. I could go down on a woman for an hour, and so I played and teased her endlessly, bringing her to point of orgasm and then pulling back as shock waves ripped through her body and failed to reach a release.

At times the torment was too much and she shook her head from side to side her wrists and ankles pulled at their bounds, every muscle in her body tensed. But I had the control and try as she might to disguise the growing orgasm, I read the signs and always pulled away.

Gradually she subsided, and I withdrew from her slowly, not disrupting the sigh of her lost ebbing orgasm.

I needed a break, and made a drink, put the TV again.

After a while, she may even have fallen asleep because when my phone rang she startled awake.

I answered the call and then said to her, 'I need to punish you for sleeping on the job, and then I will have to make some calls to the States. 

I got the leather paddle and approached the bed, her nude body was splayed out, helpless before me. I pulled down the stockings exposing her luscious thighs. Then I methodically paddled her, ten strokes at a time to every part of her flesh I could see - apart from her pussy, that would wait. I even pulled her hips and rolled her body around enough to meat out yet more punishment to her buttocks. 

Thighs, hips, stomach, chest, those great tits, her upper arms, they all took ten whacks of the paddle before the job was done, and her whole skin was tingling and red,

I untied her from the bed, removed her ball gag and kissed her. Then pulled her over to the chair again.

'Sit on the floor, under the desk.' 

She crawled under the desk and turned around to face me, so I could fasten her ankles and wrists to the office chair legs. I stepped over so I could sit on the chair, and eased forward. Then I pulled her by the collar and inserted my cock into her mouth. 'Don't move' was all I said.

And she didn't for another forty five minutes as I made my calls to the US.

When the work was done I got up from the chair, dressed and left the room, returning half an hour later with a bottle of wine and a single glass. She had remained restrained in the same position throughout. I left her for forty minutes to stand in the corner of the room, legs and arms tied, whilst I enjoyed some of the wine.

Then she was returned to the bed, spread eagled again before me. I stripped and I climbed above her, and slowly inserted my thick, strong erection inside. This was just a taster - literally - of what it felt like, because after a few deep thrusts into her moist hole I withdrew. I moved up the bed, astride her face, removed her gag which had been in place for hours, and placed my glistening cock over her mouth.

'Lick me clean.'

Her little tongue darted out and flattened against the sensitive underside of my cock. I pushed my hips forward and rocked back so she could clean the full length of my shaft. Then I tilted my body a little and inserted the circumsized head into her mouth.

'Keep your tongue moving,' I ordered as I worked my cock in and out of her mouth slowly. The deep strokes filled her mouth. I could feel her tongue wriggling beneath it. 

I stopped moving, with my cock pushed to the back of her throat. Her tongue still moved, but there was little room inside her mouth. I pinched her nose, closing her nostrils. She was okay for a few seconds and then tried to gasp for air.

'Keep tonguing' I pushed in and out of her mouth, she grabbed air whenever she could. Eventually I released her nose and withdrew from her, before I pushed the tip of my cock against her nose, squashing it upwards, pressing her nostrils. 

'I may just decide to squirt up your nose if you don't perform.' I threatened.

I slapped her face with my hard-on, 'Good little girlie, now lick my balls.' She complied sloppily and I rubbed them over her face, she moved her mouth to under my balls and licked at my perineum, 

'bite softly' I said.

I swivelled around so my swollen perineum was side on to her mouth and she bit gently at it. Then I swivelled again and promptly sat on her face. She continued slurping at my balls as they rested on her mouth, her nose was pushed into my ass. Soon I was being rimmed. It was a wonderful feeling and I teased my cock with one hand and squeezed her nipples with the other as she worked below me. 

'Enough of that, time to move you.'

I jumped off, ensured her blindfold was still in place and then went to the bottom of the bed and untied her ankles. Swiftly I lifted them up and over to her wrists. Her ass was well off the bed, her legs spread. I tied ropes securing her legs just above the knee to each arm, flattening her thighs and exposing her holes fully. I liked flexible women.

I licked and sucked at her clitoris and poked my fingers into her pussy, moving around, swapping fingers for tongue, and occasionally my tongue moved down her perineum. I continued playing, each time my tongue moved down it reached further until it tickled her asshole. Soon I was penetrating her anus with alternating finger and tongue, and then I introduced the vibrator. 

I worked on her with my fingers gently kneading her clit, the vibrator buzzing in and out of her hole and my tongue in and around her ass. She was stretched in an increasingly uncomfortable position, her thighs were shaking with the strain. I continued with the triple sensations until she was about to climax, and then... I pulled away.

She was bucking and thrusting into the air desperate to cum, her legs shook violently, her limbs strained at their ropes, at one end she gasped 'please let me cum!' and at the other both her holes desperately tried to suck in some contact, they opened and closed like a drowning fish. It was very amusing as I watched her squirm.

After a few minutes her body stopped rocking, she was incredibly wet, the bed was soaked, and her holes still gaped. I wiped my fingers in her mouth and then got above her again and suddenly shocked her I thrust my cock fast and hard into her cunt. Her tilted body took the pounding, I felt her cervix against the head of my dick. Deep in and fully out the one eyed monster penetrated. I moved my hand and tucked a finger into her asshole.

Again just before she came I withdrew, but this time I kept in contact and moved quickly to her ass, spreading it open with two fingers of each hand. I spat inside and worked the juices with tongue and fingers until it was ready for the vibrator. I toyed with her just as a precursor to entering her with my fat cock.

It still took a while to open her up enough to take the full penetration. In between fucking her she cleaned my cock with her mouth before I untied her completely. Her legs were stiff and she lowered then slowly to the bed. Her eyes blinked when I removed her blindfold.

There was no respite, 'Suck me' I commanded.

She began sucking and licking - she understood now how I liked it and swirled her tongue and mouthed me from the tip of my cock to underneath my body. I told her to pay particular attention to licking and kissing under and around my balls and the crease of my thighs.




Strings Ch. 06



Since commencing correspondence with Cute Little Pixie I had maintained other connections too, these were mostly a few email conversations and one of them, a polish woman was keen to meet to see if I was 'ze man to tie up me'. We were to meet at lunchtime at a restaurant at London Waterloo station. Despite several emails confirming the arrangements she no-showed, and I had wasted about three hours of my day. Though she wanted to re schedule I deemed her unreliable and lost interest. The only other activity in January was a rare meet up with Claudia for mutual oral sex in an anonymous motel. It was verging on mandatory and boring for me, my mind was elsewhere, it was obvious Claudia would also be Pole-axed out of my life. 

Me: What did you think of the PA's Tale?

I received several blank messages from Pixie until one arrived with her real name displayed. She was Silvie Carney. She'd made the same mistake I had with Lady Samantha, sending an email with her personal details accidentally attached.

Pixie: Hello - I'm not sure you are getting messages from my mobile....did you get the last one? I enjoyed the PA's tale, the second half was better and I particularly liked the end about going out with an invisible crust on her face. I don't care if it's nasty or disgusting to enjoy that kind of story - it is sensual beyond any ridiculous advert for sexual pleasure

Me: I just got 3 blanks in a row, then your last Vault message that you were sending the email directly, which I also got. Hello Sylvie! 

Pixie: My name revealed.

Me: I thought you'd like the crust, it's based vaguely on a true occasion. Your name and nasty habits are secret with me.

Pixie: I thought it might be, or else how would you know what it felt like? I'd like to know what happened.

Me: She was Japanese

Pixie: Hence bukakke?

Me: She was a delightful outcome of my working in Japan.

So I told Pixie/Silvie a little about Mariko. How the first crustation was in England when she visited me. We had been apart two or three months, and I hadn't had a release for three weeks. After the pub the sex that night in my living room was full of passion and intensity even though it was straight forward vanilla missionary and mutual oral. She was lying on the rug when I came heavily around her mouth and across her top lip. Afterwards she immediately lolled into a deep sleep. Jet lag and a little drunk the poor thing crashed out.

I was dozy too, drink and sex culminating in a powerful orgasm will see to that, but when I stirred awake just a few minutes later I saw her olive skinned slender body stretched out, relaxed and asleep. Jet black hair and eyelashes, stunning high cheekbones and the prettiest lips I'd ever seen; she was the ultimate sleeping beauty. I picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, gently putting her to bed. The big globs of my ejaculation were still semi liquidy on her face, mostly accumulated pornographically just beneath her nostrils, which drew in air over the pearly deposits. It was erotically satisfying to see her fine facial features decorated bukkake style, so I didn't clean her up and soon fell asleep next to her.

In the morning I woke first, and saw the glob had desiccated to a thick crust, like an elongated solid bubble across her top lip. I got above her and wanked a second fresh load, also thick and creamy onto the stale old stuff. Even then she didn't properly wake up, just rubbed her nose and rolled over back to sleep.

Silvie liked the story, she said it was very cute and intimate and accepting. The way it should be. Then she asked, 'What happened to your relationship with her?

This question was trailing into territory I preferred to avoid, our correspondence had run to the early hours and I allowed the natural breaks as we nodded off to delay answering her.

The unwelcome territory was my lingering affections for Mariko, and some raw emotions about losing her.

* * *

Mariko had been the pinnacle and culmination of my revelationary explorations in Asia, from lithe saucy Orientals to horny keen expats my wheels of fortune were places like JJ Mahoney's in Seoul, The Giraffe Bar in Manila, Hong Kong's Joey Bananas, the Ritz in Hanoi and the Hard Rock Café Beijing. But Tokyo was the real deal, and its hub were the bars of Roppongi: Geronimo's, Mogambo's, Castillo's, Gas Panic and at hub central, the worlds' greatest bar; Motown.

Walking into Motown after a three week absence, the bar staff pouring my drink without my asking, expat regulars welcoming me with open arms and familiar little huddles of flirty Nipponese smiling. There would always be newcomers too, some were occasional drinkers resident in Tokyo but many were visiting businessmen. Dozens of nationalities and occupations mingled and pulled, or pushed through the long narrow bar to the latest beats of global rock, pop and rap. I loved the place and moved freely through it. The greater Tokyo metropolis of the Kwanto had over thirty million inhabitants cramped into miniscule apartments and hotel rooms. We expats and expat attracted Japanese may have lived ten miles and ten million people apart but Motown was our watering hole. 

And with those smiling Japanese girls I was aware of the 'Motown Map', a real time gossip network of who was with who, who had a one night stand, who betrayed who, who was a bastard and who was a 'nice guy'. Following any encounter with a member of a particular gossip pod my assumption was the groupthink opinion of me was uniform. So if I was inappropriate or stupid in some way with one I risked the pod's ostracism. Some guys like to work their way through girls to meet their most attractive friends, but I thought that was a high risk strategy.

Trying to be the nice guy, the interesting foreigner who is also flirty and fun was my method and though it inhibited quick wins it tended to yield more fruitful successes.

'Where you come from?

'What hotel you stay?' 

These two questions quickly established your credentials on the Motown Map. 

I was a Brit, which was good as far as being English speaking, but often a poor fourth place in the attractions stakes after Americans, Australians and Canadians. I found this a lot in Asia, typically when the questioner was trying to gauge the likely generosity of my tipping. However I worked for a global branded company, which was good, and stayed in the Capitol Tokyu Hotel, nearby and famous for accommodating western musicians - including rock stars, and this tallied high marks as it reflected a man with a good job, career and income.

I met Yumiko. 'You me go!' she had explained. She was very pretty, with an hour glass figure which was unusual for a Japanese. There was nothing doing at first and the second time I saw her she was with a much more attractive friend. I went on Motown Map alert and did not switch my attentions to the more desirable friend.

I got to know Yumiko's whole pod as I tried to develop things with her and discovered that her friend was not only prettier and sexier, she spoke better English and was much more fun. She also passed my drinks test which Yumiko had ominously failed.

I buy a girl a drink, and happily buy another, then I wait. Even if I finish my own second drink first I wait till she finished hers. If she doesn't offer to buy the third, I will but that will be all. In my books she is only after free drinks and a good time at my expense. If she offers the third drink I would happily still pick up the tab - I wasn't stingy, just making an assessment.

Yumiko never offered to buy me a drink and she never offered her hourglass body either, and oftentimes she was puzzlingly unavailable to go out. It didn't feel like a relationship and it didn't look like a relationship was forthcoming. I was in a fix because I was very attracted to her friend, Mariko, and would often run into her once or twice during my business trips to Tokyo, but Motown Map concerns prevented a callous switch of affections.

One trip I had doggedly called Yumiko several times to null response, but I was working long hours that week so it didn't matter as I hardly went out at night. Then on Thursday evening Mariko called me on her 'handy phone' and asked if I was going to Motown because, 'Friday is a national holiday so tonight is party night.'

An hour later we were sat on bar stools pushed close together in a heaving Motown, and after a while I asked why was Yumiko was so difficult.

'Because she is seeing other guys,' was the abrupt answer.

So it wasn't a relationship.

Yumiko failed the drinks test and Motown Map and 'Yu mi went'. Thereafter when I was in town I frequently found myself chatting to Mariko, and as the months rolled around into winter we were often the last two of our group still in the bar. It would still be crowded and we were physically close together. It was intoxicating until suddenly, around 2am, she would tap both open palms on my chest, give me a heart stoppingly beautiful smile and say, 'I go home now, see ya, ja ne,' wave and be gone.

This happened several times and on each business trip to Japan I would ask her if she would like to come back to my hotel, and each time she declined, each time with a beautiful smile.

As my feelings for Mariko evolved from merely amorous to a real attraction I stopped chasing other women, not just in Tokyo but everywhere. The cyclic change in my lifestyle was underway, after a period of unrestrained casual sex I was falling under the spell of monogamy again. 

Except once.

I had arrived in Tokyo for a week's work straddling the weekend, had seen Mariko and walked her to the Roppongi Crossroads taxi rank where she cheerfully chimed 'bye bye,' and hopped into a cab.

The next night in Motown I met two Finnish air stewardess, and they invited me back to their hotel in another downtown area called Shinagawa. You can imagine what went through my mind as I sat in the taxi between these two bombshells with white blond hair. They looked how Hollywood's central casting department thought a Finn Air stewardess would look.

In Hannah's room we drank white wine and talked and eventually her voluptuous friend who was reminiscent of Dianna Dors before she got fat, said it was time for her to 'Leave us to it.'

Some sort of signal must have passed between them that my radar completely missed. 

No blond sandwich then, so I settled down with the more slender and short haired Hannah. We kissed and caressed on her bed, I undressed her and then she purred approval when I took my shirt off. That had never happened before, nice little ego boost - my workouts had paid a dividend at last. But as things developed OG would not co-operate with the condom so it was lots of oral sex. She loved it, I loved it and I flooded her pale Nordic face with a spray of heavy thick sperm. She (and I) loved that too.

Hannah was single, had an affair with a married man back in Helsinki, who had left his wife to be with her. But after a few months he left Hannah to return to the wife. This had been a recent event and left her feeling very rejected. 

The Finnair crew were only in town a couple more days and I didn't see her the next night in Roppongi. The following night I ran into Mariko and her friend Eriko early on. They were going to 'salsa salada,' I didn't know if that was food or dance. Whatever she was trying to pronounce she promised to teach me to dance.

Reluctantly I went with them. I am a natural granddad at the wedding dancer, what's more the place was too well lit, and thus my awkwardness was visible to the surrounding highly dextrous and nimble Nipponese.

Uncomfortable and bored I asked if she wanted to stay, and for how long. She stretched her toned bare arms above her head and pirouetted before me flashing another big Mariko smile, and said she would stay till midnight and then go home.

I said I wanted an early night and was heading for my hotel. So I left and as I passed Roppongi Cross decided to pop into Motown for a last drink. It was packed with multi ethnic partiers. Half way down the long bar, sat on bar stools the heads of two white blondes shone like twin lighthouses.

Voluptuous Dianna Dors and Hannah welcomed me to join them and pretty soon Dianna moved off to one side somewhere. Hannah and I flirted and drank for an hour and when I mentioned the facial I had given her she said 'I like it'.

Oh my word, I was going to have some fun.

Half an hour later I nonchalantly looked around and saw Mariko entering the bar. Panicked I said to Hannah, 'I've just seen some one, got to go,' and I left her dumbfounded with both our drinks,

I surprised Mariko, and keeping her at far end of the still incredibly crowded bar I explained I had seen an old friend and had popped in for a quick drink.

'Okay', she tilted her head and smiled and added, 'I just want the bathroom first.'

Whist she was in the ever lengthy queue for ladies I had time to return to Hannah and stupidly, selfishly and heartlessly said, 'I had to speak to someone I have wanted to see for a while, I am single now and she's very pretty.'

Hannah looked incredulous at my explanation.

And I left her again.

Ten minutes later, and with Mariko still not back from the ladies, Hannah departed Motown in a flood of tears, consoled by Dianna Dors. Dianna looked hard into my eyes as they passed, and I have never received a more withering look from a woman in all my life.

I felt small, cheap and utterly ashamed.

Five minutes later Mariko returned, I bought her a last drink until she said 'I go home now,' and she too left.

Eventually I exited Motown and walked down the hill from Roppongi Cross the kilometre or so to my hotel in Akasaka. As I reflected on myself, all I could think of was, 'You Cunt.' 

That was me, an absolute cunt.

It was 1 a.m. when I reached my room, I decided to call Hannah, looked up the hotel telephone number and successfully recalled her room number. They put me through and I apologised unreservedly. No excuses, nothing else, just really sorry how I had treated her.

She said it was okay and would I like to come over to her hotel!

'I want to have sex with you again,' she explained.

I didn't expect that.

I taxied over, and struggled a bit but found her room and by 2am we were in bed together.

The next morning we said goodbye, as Finnair were flying out that evening. I was glad I didn't run into Dianna Dors again, but amazingly Hannah apologised to me, saying her emotions were still raw after being rejected by her married man. Me dropping her like a stone to see Mariko had re ignited her tears. I couldn't believe how gracious she was. 

I still felt a cunt though. 

I was not actually going out with Mariko, that wasn't for a couple more months but I had crossed a line, not just in pickup bar etiquette. I had crossed an emotional line of my own, I felt I was being unfaithful to her. Of course I had not even kissed Mariko yet so in a physical sense I had not betrayed her, but I had betrayed my feelings for her. Hannah was the only time I was unfaithful spiritually or otherwise to Mariko, and she had no idea what had happened, I suppose I got away with it, but it confirmed something important. I was falling in love with her.

It took a year from my very first encounter with Mariko to our first kiss. It was August 1997 and I had two more trips to Tokyo and spent every free and barmy Tokyo evening with her, until one night at 2am I walked her with our arms linked to the taxi rank at Roppongi Cross. At the broad pavement at the corner we unlinked our arms as she stepped towards the first taxi, and I asked once again, 'Would you like to come back to my hotel?

Mariko paused, her pretty eyes looked at me and she astonishingly said in her casual singsong voice, 'Okay' and linked her arm in mine again.

I walked down Roppongi Hill with her by my side, reaching the Capitol Tokyu Hotel in fifteen minutes of increasing sobriety.

Once in my room we shared some Asahi beer from the mini bar and then made love. She was shy, she was demure and incredibly sensual, and I was at my most gentle and tender. Her coy lips, high cheek bones and those dark full almost manga style eyes with long black eyelashes, I had never kissed anyone so beautiful, and when her jet black hair fell over her toned olive skinned shoulders I thought she looked heavenly. I loved her limbs, her firm trim bum, her waistline and the small but perfectly formed tits; which all combined into a slender body tanned from the Japanese sun.

During our lovemaking I went down on her. The shiny dark hair on her head that had beguiled me so much, also shrouded her 'pussy chan.' I parted her pubes and then the labia revealing the red hot inner lips. Mariko got the full cunnilingual treatment and she came in shuddering near silence, just a couple of uncontrollable gasps escaped.

At the start she hid her mouth and nose behind a hand -- a very Japanese gesture, the women are very reluctant to reveal their smiles. But as the tension built through her body she began to bite on her knuckle. 

When the explosion came she contained it with straining not to make any noise and hiding her face behind both hands.

As the ripples of her orgasm subsided I rolled on top of her, easing her clamped legs apart again and entered her body, slowly into that cauldron between her legs. We fucked slow and fast, hard and soft, missionary and side on until OG was ready.

No condom, so I withdrew just before OG pumped streams of juice as far up her body as I could reach, which was her delightful tits.

Of course we couldn't do the sleazy western thing and fall asleep with wet patches and jism smears, she got us both up and showered. Then we slept.

I awoke to bright sunlight through the curtains and the squawk of large black Tokyo crows circling around the trees in the hotel garden. I stroked and kissed her awake and we talked about jobs, she was a bank clerk; and family, she was a widow with a teenage son; and about the people we knew in the multinational social whirl of Roppongi night life; the 'Motown Map' of shifting relationships and one night stands. Then she said.

'May I ask you a favour?'

I thought, here we go, could she have a free ticket on British Airways to visit London.

'Yes, of course.' I replied.

'Will you eat my pussy again please?'

Mariko always knew how to surprise me, and I took to my task with relish. It took ten minutes or so and this time she bucked and writhed and moaned a bit more but it was all very modest. 

Our budding sexual relationship turned this woman who was nearly forty years old into a 'Teenager again' she said. She had known several boyfriends and a husband but had never had an orgasm from someone else's attentions until me.

I saw her again over five days in September, and was not due to return to Japan until November and then she told me she was to have an operation in October, to remove a benign tumour.

Back in England I pondered what was happening to me, and called her a few times. With typical Japanese reticence she didn't give me any details except the dates when she would be in hospital.

When she went in, I realised what she meant to me and rang her friend Eriko to find out the name of the hospital and with some investigation on the internet got the telephone number. When I called the receptionist spoke a little English and put me through to the right part of the hospital but the wrong ward. That call was answered in Japanese only and I struggled to be understood, but eventually a doctor came on line who spoke English. He put me through to the right ward, but Mariko was asleep and I couldn't speak to her, so I left a message. Apparently that left a big positive impression on her. 

We were a couple, and friends scattered around greater Tokyo and all over the world, regular business travellers to Japan and apparently all the members of Motown Map heard about it before I saw her again in November.




Strings Ch. 07



1st February 2013 

Me: Hi Sylvie, did your day go well? I had your words and images on my mind all night.

Sylvie: Yes a busy day today again and a late one with friends last night. I am not available really for our exchanges Friday to Sunday as this is when my usual life happens. I hope you don't mind. I look forward to continuing our new adventure on Monday.

I worried if she would still be interested after a weekend with her partner. I would have a long wait trying to keep images of her mouth out of my mind. But on Monday morning nothing came through so in the afternoon I emailed her, trying to portray interest rather than anxiety.

I got no reply.

Fuck.

The next day I was visiting a trade show at Earls Court in London when her message arrived.

Sylvie: Hi Jack so sorry for not replying yesterday, a very busy one and exhausted by the end of it! What do you do to relax or have fun when you aren't travelling the world?

Yay! A reply, she's still on board.

Me: Lovely to hear from you, what do I do in my spare time? Apart from imagining tying you up, I go to the gym, (no bodybuilder), I used to run half marathons and 10'Ks - more a jogger these days. I watch sport, particularly football. I like a good curry, I read, I write, (one day I will be on Amazon). I am doing a MOOC - a mass open online course and just started an astronomy course. And you? 

That evening she replied: 

Sylvie: Sounds like you are quite busy when you relax. What's the book about? I also write creatively, and my other loves are: music, cooking - particularly ethnic food, I swim, I work-out sometimes and am a wannabe avid walker.

I described the basics of my book, and asked if she would like to read the synopsis, and added that it was pleasing that we had a few shared interests. This was great I thought, she is into books, BDSM and bukkake! She is slim but not skinny and possibly pretty. Is there anything not to like about this woman? 

We talked about my book and that I have a copyeditor working to improve the flow because a publisher commented that it was a promising storyline but needed polishing, (and reducing). I said I was happy to send it through in its current state, and unlike the little fantasies I liked to write, my novel had no sex in it. I added that a handful of people had read it and had been encouraging to me. I didn't mention that one of those was Jim, the friend whose wife I guiltily liaised with.

Sylvie; Please only send when you are ready I look forward to it, but why would you send your novel to someone you don't know? 

Me: It's already copyrighted and I crave feedback but if it makes more sense to you, perhaps we should meet over a coffee and talk it over?

An offer to meet nicely introduced I thought.

Sylvie: Okay that is sensible talk. We could meet but we are both busy. Are you down Bridgebourne way in next few weeks?

Bridgebourne; so it is possibly one of the two Facebook Sylvie's I found. I tried to compare the spunky open mouth photos she had sent with the young student, and she seemed very unlikely. The islander showed so little of her face that I couldn't really compare the mouths.

Me: I like Bridgebourne, I lived there for six years, and still have a business connection in the city. As it happens I will be nearby in Compton on the 12th, and will probably be free by 4pm. It would be ideal for me depending on when you finish work. By the way, I am sure you are not obsessed with sex, it's just been the whole reason for us getting in touch in the first place, but I did compose a fantasy for you. It's about a girl being punished at the convent of the Immaculate Ejaculate. 

Sylvie: You are right, I am in no way obsessed with sex. I just like to acknowledge it's a powerful and exciting way of feeling really alive. But I confess I am looking forward to the convent story too - very appropriate as I was once a very naughty convent school girl myself.....it never really leaves one.

Me: I will see what can be done, I have worked the little scenario, and assumed you are not bisexual by the way.

Sylvie: No I am not. . [ pity]

Me: Do you live in Bridgebourne? You don't need tell me your address, just any areas you would like to avoid when we meet. Is the 12th possible?

Pixie: Actually I live on the islands so Bridgebourne is fine. I could certainly meet for a coffee next Tuesday afternoon x

So she had to be the Facebook islander, the close up mouth pictures could belong to anyone, ugly or pretty, but the wrapped up face of the islander hinted at prettiness. 

I had a webinar to run and replied nearly two hours later. 

Me: I have just finished the webinar with some Germans. (was I trying to show off by saying I was doing international business?) I have two meetings with professional sports clubs in Compton on the 12th, (I was definitely showing off now,) and a wash-up meeting with my colleague afterwards. Where would you prefer to meet? 

We discussed pubs and settled on 5.30 at The Navigation by the harbour or if it were too early we would find a decent coffee shop somewhere around the Lighthouse. She would have to leave by 7:30 when she was meeting a friend – her safety net.

The timing was fine, and I would be away by 7pm so she had time between her engagements without risk of compromise. 'Discretion is key' she had said.

I tried again for a full portrait photo, and hoped she was at least average looking, with everything we had in common, I would be happy with that, but what if she was just not attractive at all, and she was really keen on me? However she looked I would find out soon enough as she agreed to send her photo beforehand (Yes!)

Stirred at the prospect of meeting Sylvie and in a high state of arousal, I banged out the suggested story for my convent-educated, sperm and bondage loving, prospective Vault sex buddy Pixie/Sylvie. And banged out was the right word, both the words and eventually my own jism flowed. It then took a couple of hours to work the original words to better prose. Then I re-read it and re-jigged again. I figured I knew her fantasies but it was with a mixture of nervousness (was it too much?) and anticipation (she might love it) that I sent it.

The Convent of the Immaculate Ejaculate

The nun was furious, 'Angela Butcombe,' she shrieked.

A startled young man hurriedly pulled up his trousers, struggled to stuff his erection out of sight and then ran away along the brick wall behind the bicycle sheds.

Angela was left kneeling on the grass when the nun grabbed her wrist and yanked her to her feet. She dragged her from behind the sheds, across the car park and into the old convent building. Soon they were facing the Abbess in her spartan little office.

'I caught this little pixie, she was engaged in devils play.'

The Abbess arose from her chair and walked slowly up to Angela. 

'Your school blouse is wet, and there is something on your chin....' She reeled back in shock with the realisation of what it was. 'You are head girl, eighteen years old and off to University soon, and you do this! What a way to end your time at the convent. What do you think you were doing?'

Angela spoke for the first time. 'I was curious.'

'She had his part in her mouth,' the nun volunteered.

'You have the seed of men on your chin and your uniform is filthy with it. How could you do such a thing?'

All Angela could say was 'I liked it, the smell.... the taste....' 

'Hold your tongue girl.' The Abbess was appalled at Angela's admission. She told her to return to her dorm and clean herself up, her punishments would have to be decided.

Later that day the Abbess called a meeting with the senior staff. 

'The devil is in Miss Butcombe. We can punish her but she has fallen for the seed of men, which should only be produced for purposes of procreation. Having developed the taste, no man will be safe from her cravings. How can we cure her?'

Several suggestions were offered ranging from denial of privileges and menial chores, to various physical punishments. An idea for a re-education programme was considered leading one nun to suggest, 'She needs aversion therapy.'

The Abbess liked the idea, 'She should learn to be disgusted by her nasty little habit. I will ask the men who work on the estate to help in this unpleasant task.'

The next afternoon Angela was summoned before the Abbess, who stood grimly in her office with the school Caretaker. A mean looking man with a jutting square jaw, he was so weather beaten his age was difficult for Angela to guess at.

'You will be prepared for the therapy. The Caretaker here has reluctantly agreed to sacrifice his time and that of the other men of the estate to try to cure you. It is an unpleasant task, quite painful for them I am told, but these good men have been very generous in offering to help. You will be unable to resist the therapy, and your senses, that so let you down, will be treated. The Caretaker will prepare you now.' She approved of the man's stern expression, missing the momentary glint in his eye as he led Angela to his own office.

The Caretaker's office doubled as a storeroom and once the door was closed behind them he said, 'We cannot ruin school clothes, take them off.' 

It was deeply unnerving for her as she slowly undressed in front of the large man leering at her as she revealed her taught, athletic body, her small pale breasts and round, firm buttocks.

She shivered as he walked around behind her and picked something up from the shelves. When he came back into view he said, 'Got to secure you for the therapy, cross your arms behind your back.'' 

He folded a long piece of rope in half, his breath was unpleasantly close to her face as he draped the rope around her neck and threaded the loose ends through the loop. He separated the ends and wound them around the back of her body. He turned her around by her shoulders and tied each wrist close to the opposite elbow. He then pulled the strands back to her front, shoving her around again, so she faced him. 

For several minutes he spun her around as he coiled and tied the rope around her upper body. Double strands tightened above and below her small firm breasts. Soon her tits were squeezed into ellipses, her nipples pushed out and hardened.

'For dog's,' he explained as he fitted a ringed collar around her neck. 

He got something made of clear plastic from the shelf. He flexed it in his hand and smirked. 'Dentist equipment, keeps your dirty mouth open.' He said. With one hand he forced her mouth open and with the other fitted the outer grips of the device to her red cherub-like lips. Her mouth was forced wide apart, not only that but her lips were splayed open revealing her perfect teeth and gums. 

Then he picked up some string with a double metal hook at one end. He pushed the hooks into her nostrils and lifted the string up, between her eyes and over her head and fastened it to a D ring on the back of her dog collar. The result was the tip of nose was squashed upwards, her nostrils flared and exposed. She winced and wriggled trying to establish some comfort within her bonds but was slapped firmly on her ass by the Caretaker. Despite her nervousness at her predicament she felt a puzzling stirring of excitement between her legs.

He pinched one of her breasts and said, 'Time for your aversion therapy'. He attached a lead to the front of her collar and, tugging the lead harshly, he led her briskly from his office.

As they walked down the hall her skin reacted to a cool breeze with goose bumps, and drool escaped from her gaping mouth to gather on the ropes that squeezed her breasts. Despite her discomfort a red flush bloomed across her chest – was it shame or arousal she wondered. He opened another door into a large room empty except for some cleaning equipment at the far end. The room had a cold tiled floor beneath her feet and a single glaring fluorescent light tube above her head. 

A dozen men were inside. She recognised a few of them, the gardener, the night-watchman, a couple of estate workers. One or two were younger men, but thank goodness she didn't know them, and there were others older than the Caretaker.

'Kneel,' he commanded.

'And lift your head up!' he barked as he jerked her face upwards with one of his large calloused hands. 

Acutely aware of their eyes and her nude vulnerability she blinked in the cold, harsh fluorescent light and gulped for air through the mouth device. The men circled around her and she saw the tell-tale bulges in their trousers. She closed her eyes, readying herself mentally to endure the ordeal.

Having viewed her from all angles the men eventually assumed positions and with her eyes still closed she noted that she was suddenly surrounded by heavy breathing. Someone by her side unzipped his trousers, the sound of which made her tingle in anticipation. She didn't look but knew what he was doing as she got a faint whiff of his genitals and heard a slight moan as he began to stroke his cock. Then someone else on the opposite side did the same, he let his trousers fall to his ankles and the belt buckle clunked on the hard floor, and from then on all of the men exposed themselves. She heard the movement of watches rattling on wrists, and of hands rubbing on flesh, very firm flesh.

Then a man directly in front of her stepped closer, something warm poked her nose. She opened her eyes to see a long hard cock which was fully erect and pressing against her top lip. She looked up and recognised the Gardener. He adjusted himself and forced it into her salivating mouth. His right hand beat furiously along his shaft, nudging her face, and he pushed himself in and out of her. She kept her back straight and maintained her position and within seconds he gave a single grunt and wet heat exploded inside her mouth. 

She felt it hit the back of her throat and tried to pull away but his left hand clasped the back of her head, at the same time pulling the nose hooks tighter. She gasped and gurgled from the effort and slight pain of the hooks. He thrust his cock deep into her mouth, still firing sperm. His pelvic bone pressed against the plastic mouthpiece until he relaxed. His cock softened and he slowly withdrew, stepped back and looked at her.

Sperm pooled in her mouth and dripped over the plastic and her lower lip to mix with her saliva around her breasts.

'Jesus Christ...' it had been too much for one of the young men who leapt forward and shot several long white streaks of sperm diagonally across her face. Inhibitions abandoned, several of the men came in quick succession, depositing globs of spunk into and around her mouth, spraying showers of watery sperm in drops across her cheeks and forehead. Some of it attached to her eyelashes and two or three came on her hair. 

Then there was a pause. 

There were tastes in her prised apart mouth, aromas that filled her nose and a wet slime coated and dripped from the pale skin of her face. Strangely the challenge of the ordeal imperceptibly switched from her having to endure the humiliation, to the men who had not been able to cum so quickly. 

She opened her large, blue eyes framed with the live cum of the other men and through strings of semen saw four of them before her, all furiously masturbating. She looked up at them, almost taunting those remaining to prove themselves. 

And she became aware of her own moistening pussy.

Eventually one of them closed his own eyes and beat his cock rapidly, for several minutes, each glimpse she had, it looked increasingly red and sore. Then his legs began to tremble, his breathing became gasps and his stomach seemed to expand. The man stepped up to her, he slowed his rhythm and breathing and opened his eyes. He looked down at her and pushed the eye of his cock into her nostril, nudging the nose hooks and squashing her nose further upwards. As she looked up to him with her beautiful eyes his own eyes glazed over.

'Ahhh' he gasped heavily and spunk surged from him, forcefully up her nose. He rubbed his cock's purple head roughly all around her face as he spasmed. His knees nearly buckled before he staggered backwards. 

Angela maintained eye contact with him the whole time, and thick globs of sperm dripped from inside her nasal passage to the back of her throat and onto her tongue. With her mouth so open she couldn't do anything other than roll the sperm with her tongue. 

'I need more than my own hand to finish,' said one of the last three, an old man. 'I want to fuck her.' He said.

The Caretaker, who was slowly toying with his own huge phallus said, 'It's supposed to be aversion therapy to put her off the taste and smell of the stuff. The Abbess wouldn't approve of intercourse.' 

'Then she needs to work on me.' The old man pulled up a chair and sat down, his long thin manhood weakly erect. The Caretaker pulled the dog lead and made the girl crawl across the floor. Then he stood behind her and removed the mouth opener, shaking the sperm free over her hair and then forced her head down. Instinctively she began to suck the old man's cock, all the time with the Caretakers powerful hands working her head up and down.

It took a long time and was hard work for Angela. When the old man finally came, she deep throated him with the forceful help of the Caretakers hand holding her in position. At the same time more hot white goo flooded her ear as a young farm hand stepped forward and finished himself on her. Then he then reached down and stuck his fingers into her pussy, and was shocked 'She's totally soaked!' he said.

'Is she now, then we might need several of these therapy sessions to cure the poor little thing,' chuckled the Caretaker.

The last two men left, the youngest and oldest of those who had defiled her.

The Caretaker was still behind Angela when he slipped two fingers into her pussy. 'My, you are wet,' he said. 'You're no virgin, you like it, don't you?'

Angela moved her head slightly.

'Answer me, do you like it?' he demanded.

'Yes,' she mumbled.

'Yes what?'

'Yes, Sir!' she gasped as his fingers probed deeper.

'Do you want some more?' 

'Yes Sir!' 

The Caretaker withdrew his fingers and lifted Angela to her feet, and still tightly bound she struggled to get upright. Sperm dribbled from her chin, nose and hair and a mix of white and colourless fluids pooled on the polished tiled floor so that her bare feet slipped in the slime.

The caretaker steadied her and said, 'You made a mess, clean it up!' 

He roughly pushed her back to the floor, shoved her head down and rubbed her soiled face on the slippery surface. He held the back of her head in place or pushed her around the floor using her hair as a mop, and forced her to suck and lick up the drops of semen. When he hauled her to her feet again she was breathing heavily with the effort, sweat on her brow ran around her eyes. Individual strands of her beautiful red hair stuck in the dried cum on her cheeks like miniature lightning bolts across her taught young skin, it channelled beads of sweat to her jawline and the corners of her mouth.

The Caretaker stuffed his own still un-drained genitals inside his trousers, led her by the dog lead out of the room, tugging on her collar as they walked down the corridors to his accommodation. When they arrived he shoved her inside and then pushed her through to his living room where he once again forced her down on her knees. 'Ass up' he ordered.

Her shoulders were pressed onto the rough carpet and her arms still pinned behind her back. She wriggled and twisted to get her backside raised.

'Higher,' he ordered, and slapped her left ass cheek hard. Angela yelped, but was too slow to respond, and so he slapped her right cheek.

''Ow!' she yelped, but she moved quickly, arching her back to get her backside as high as she could.




Strings Ch. 08: Meeting Pixie



12th February 2013

I slept surprisingly well despite the prospect of finally meeting Sylvie. Her long promised photo had never materialised and I wondered what the significance of that was. Still, Morning Glory knew what day it was. I showered and shaved, selected my after shave, deodorized, flossed and scrubbed and looked into the mirror.

A balding grey haired git looked back. I smiled at myself, more a grimace, teeth were clean, but those fillings! I had crow's feet at the corners of my piggy eyes, which I couldn't see unless I had my glasses on, which made me look even older. Seeing the blemishes and little patches of dry skin, I dabbed on some moisturiser. But there were a couple of fine red blood vessel lines surfacing near my nose, a drinker's nose? What on earth was I doing trying to pick-up a thirty seven year old?

But Sylvie had said from the start that she liked older men, and I was confident that a lot of women around my age apparently did seem to find me attractive. Ho hum. Go with the flow and see what occurs, I thought. I snatched a small breakfast, a bit late to worry about looking (be realistic, being) over weight now. I just didn't want to feel bloated. 

I knew I was at my best when I had physical energy and was mentally energised and lively. That's the mood I wanted for nearly ten hours later, but it's a bit like playing football where all the preparation can be perfect and you play lousily, and the day you pitch up feeling like death warmed up you have a blinder. Form is an elusive thing, it would be down to fate if I was in my 'up for it' mode come 5:30pm in Bridgebourne. 

I packed my briefcase for the day's three meetings. Suited and booted I loaded the car; it was a very cold wintry day so I swapped my business overcoat for my heavy, white winter wonderland coat. By 8am I was on the road and listening to the radio: sports, weather and traffic reports.

I arrived ahead of schedule, and waited in the outskirts of Compton, tempted to email Sylvie again, and then thought, 'add no pressure, leave her be'.

Eventually guided by Zoot, my ancient female satnav, named after the Monty Python Holy Grail Nun desperate for a spanking, I drove into the city centre and collected my client, Allan from the rail station. Zoot took us to our meetings which went well after which we had a meal and our 'wash-up' meeting. Eventually I dropped Allan off at the station a little after 3:30pm.

Me: Hi, have finished early, so could meet sooner if you can.

Sylvie: I will struggle to get an earlier boat but will try. If you don't want to hang around we could do next week if you are in the area. [What? Postpone? Never! I needed to see what this Pixie Pervert looked like.] 

It was still very cold and the sea breeze was kicking up to a freezing wind. I drove around the Old Town district of Bridgebourne and parked near The Navigation pub that overlooked the Harbour.

Time to kill.

I walked around wrapped up in my big coat. The pub was closed and it was not clear if it would be open by 5:30. I walked to the ferry terminal where I wrongly assumed Sylvie would alight from, and strolled around the extensively re-developed area of the Lighthouse Quays, all new shops, bars, restaurants and apartments. And then back to the car.

We messaged about whether anywhere else would be more suitable for us to meet, and decided Café Blue in the Quays was best. All that time to kill and I was in the wrong area.

Me: I'm wearing a big white winter coat, and you?

Sylvie: I'm here blue shirt, curly hair, red nose. Hope you're not colour blind X

Five minutes later I entered Café Blue, and immediately I saw, standing near the bar joking with a barman, a small slender woman with a wonderful mass of almost unruly red curly hair. 

'Sylvie' I said.

'Hello Jack,' she had bright lively eyes and beamed an equally bright smile at me, I was immediately attracted - even without my glasses on, my first view of Sylvie's face left me tingling. I had that instinctive involuntary biological reaction you have on the sudden proximity to a beautiful person. Heart beat and pulse quickens, breathing shallows and also quickens, pupils dilate, nerves fizz and the skin flushes. 

Bloody hell, she's lovely I thought. She was trim in tight fitting clothes whilst I must have looked like the Michelin man in my huge white winter warfare Eskimo survival tent for a coat.

I was like a duck, attempting to look calm whilst hiding a furious reaction beneath the water line. All I wanted to say was 'Wow'! but all I actually said was ' hello' and asked what she would like to drink. 

We took our drinks to a corner table and talked. We never actually talked about sex, and for a delightful hour we covered her job and my job and mostly it seemed my novel. She drove the conversation asking questions, chatting and smiling. At no time was it stilted or forced, nor did it ever seem to lull, we just relaxed and talked, it seemed so natural. Anyone eavesdropping would have assumed we were well acquainted friends or colleagues catching up with each other's news, not two strangers who had swapped obscene fantasies and planned perverted bondage and domination, sadism and masochism and not forgetting the obligatory bukkake, together.

She was really pretty but as we talked I was reluctant to put my glasses on and look at her properly; I was a stupid old git who was dreaming if the vibrant young woman would have any serious interest in sexual intimacy with me. But we talked easily, I really liked Pixie Sylvie.

When it was time to leave I paid the bill for our drinks - modest quantities of red wine as I still had to drive home. We wandered out of Café Blue towards another coffee bar where she would later meet her friend. 

Somewhat awkwardly I said goodbye and how much I had enjoyed meeting her.

She looked up at me and asked. 'Aren't you going to kiss me?'

Surprised and pleased I leaned down and kissed her soft rosy cheek, it was still warm from the restaurant, she motioned for me to kiss the other cheek too. It was it was our first physical contact, so prim and polite but loaded with phenomenal meaning.

As I walked back to my car I realised I had been enthralled by her, so much for me hoping to be 'on form' though. I had felt old, big, awkward, shy even. I wish I had dared to wear my glasses and see her properly because I still only had a fuzzy recollection of her face, I was a stupid, half-sighted fool. I wondered just how this would play out, and before starting off for home I emailed her from my car.

Me: It was lovely to meet you this evening, not only are you delightful but I am pleased to say that I am definitely not beauty blind, you are gorgeous too. Enjoy the rest of your evening, and chat again soon.

I drove home with an odd feeling that I was either on the brink of finding someone really special or that it would never get going at all because I was too old, or she would lose her nerve and render our new dalliance stillborn. And how would she feel after some reflection on our face to blurry face introduction in Café Blue?

13th February 2013

When her email arrived I half expected the old thanks but no thanks, or it was nice to meet you but the chemistry wasn't there, or we could be friends but not in the bedroom. But I also felt confident that we had got on well. I clicked open the email with uncertainty.

Sylvie: Hi Jack It was lovely to meet you too. I hope I wasn't too forward with my questions, I was nervous but felt we got on easily. You have a 'delightful' pixie face. Hope to hear from you soon. S X

This was fabulous news. I felt a mixture of excitement that she was still up for an adult encounter, and relief that I hadn't messed up our introductory meeting. A lot of emails were exchanged and that evening we crossed a Rubicon of intent. Her questions were positive and indicated that she was still very much interested in a sexual adventure with me. She asked me about my preferences - 'I never got to see your profile...bukakke a given of course...' she stated.

I told her I loved oral sex, giving and receiving - slow and extended. I liked bondage and would like to see her in various vulnerable positions, for example wrists tied to the bed, or her ankles up behind her shoulders. Totally exposed I would shave and then use and abuse her. I liked objectification too, though it might be a tad boring in practise. I added spanking, paddling and flogging, gags and blindfolds, anal play and eventually ending with me cumming over her very pretty, upturned pixie face, mouth open, tongue out...

We discussed if water sports were erotic: hot piss onto an open pussy and the humiliation of a golden shower: female kneeling, head bowed, man standing over her urinating on her hair, face etc. Pissing into someone's mouth is even more degrading, the secret is drinking lots of water, so the piss is clear and almost tasteless, old piss stinks and the taste can be very unpleasant (I'm told). 

I had experimented a couple of times with water sports with Shannon, (who was also into rimming). It was erotic, but I would not want to do it all the time. One thing I discovered was that I couldn't piss if I was too aroused, I suppose the erectile tissue squeezed the pipeline closed. 

Pixie said she had tried it only once but had enjoyed it which was why she ticked curious about it in preferences. A boyfriend had 'peed' on her bottom when they were in the shower and then fucked her from behind. She said she had liked the sensation, and wanted to explore more of this and other sensations with me but was uncertain how far to go.

I was almost beside myself reading that proposition.

14th February 2013

Whilst I travelled to Northampton, Sylvie resumed our e-conversation and asked about objectification.

Me: For example human furniture, I have a couple of images that turn me on. One is the human ink well; the master is sat at his desk with his work to do, it is a very large L shaped desk and on one side the female slave is trussed up in such a way so that her holes are accessible. He has to keep his pens, pencils and mobile phone somewhere. Another variation is that he ties her to the underside of his chair - so that she can orally service him as he works.

Then there is the human pillow needed after a prolonged session when she is tied across the bed in place of a pillow - a man has got to rest his head somewhere through the night. A variation is with you tied spread-eagled on the bed, head at the foot end, so the master can sleep close to your open pussy, or flop his cock in your mouth during the night, as he so wishes. 

In Japan there is a fetish about eating sushi off a naked body, 'dressed' as a dining table, and of course some people go further with human toilets as I am sure know. 

Happy Valentines Day.

Then she asked about oral sex, and said she loved giving oral, it was her favourite thing, and would love to be expert at it - 'I guess that comes with practice?' 

Me: I too really enjoy giving oral sex to a beautiful pussy, and a woman who responds to it. I have some quick questions: Are your orgasms more clitoral, vaginal or anal? Apparently it's all about where a woman's pelvic nerve is located. I think it's also the secret of the G spot. Are you brought easily to orgasm? Are you a multiple orgasmic lady? Finally, would you prefer forced orgasms, begging me to stop, or does the idea of orgasm denial turn you on more: keeping you on the brink, begging me to let you cum? '

I was playing the role of experienced mentor, ascertaining the best approach for our sexual encounter to come when she surprised me with her next response.

Sylvie: Glad you asked, I think that's a first. My orgasms are mainly clitoral although I have a very sensitive g spot. The latter I don't reach climax via but get extremely aroused and wet and sort of dazed. I have never been brought to orgasm by anyone but myself. [ that caught my attention ] Apart from in my sleep when I can orgasm during an erotic dream. I don't fake orgasms but I enjoy penetrative sex to the degree that my partners feel satisfied that I am satisfied. Forced orgasm? Don't know yet! There, I've been honest. I come easily but I guess to date I just haven't found the right partner, or at least one who shares my little nuances. Put you off or is that a challenge? S

Me: Dear Sylvie, I love your candidness, and the challenge, - and would relish going down on you - especially if it's clitoral. Here's a boast to risk failure but I have been complimented on my oral skills on more than a few occasions. Are you shaved, neatly trimmed or bushy down below? 

Sylvie: Neatly trimmed although I have had Hollywood waxes in the past. What do you prefer?

Me: The more accessible the better, and would be happy to shave you as a wonderful preliminary to some oral attention, especially if you are tied with your legs wide apart.

All day I was in a lively mood, bouncing along as I tried to concentrate on my job: driving to and from meetings, making calls, and trying not to daydream about bouts of bondage and bukkake with Sylvie. By the evening I was back from Northampton and at my computer in my home office when her next mail arrived.

Sylvie: I like the idea of being shaved by someone else...I always enjoy it when I do myself. Now my working day just got harder to get on with...

Energised by her sexuality and imagining her trim body naked and wanting, I spent a few minutes searching on the internet for a hotel before I decided to make the push for a date. 

Me: I can do all this next Friday, if you wish. And if you have the day off work, it can begin at noon.

Sylvie: Where would that happen if it can happen...

Me: The Accor hotel

Sylvie: Now I'm even more nervous...reality looms? Am I safe in your hands?

Me: Totally, no surprises, I promise and limits respected. I want to see you more than once, so from my perspective I want to make it a fantastic experience for you. The hotel is booked by the way. Jack xx

Sylvie: Ok. I'm glad you find me attractive. I hope you still do when I'm naked...Better leave you to your busy day. S. xx

The next few days our exchange of emails confirmed our timings for the following Friday; things were moving ahead. Every minute of each day my mind constantly switched from daily routines to images of Sylvie and the plans I needed to make for our encounter. Every night was even more of an intense struggle to not self indulge in fantasies that were rapidly promising to come true.

19th February 2013

Yet again I was excited and buzzing with plans. What should I do with Sylvie, what equipment was needed? I rummaged through my bondage gear, some of it was old and needed replacing. At night I mentally scrolled through long fantasized about scenarios and activities. But the priority was to make it exciting and memorable for Sylvie, and for our session to flow naturally from the start to the finish, perfectly choreographed, so as not to break the spell I was hoping to create. We had agreed that crossing the threshold of the hotel room would symbolize the commencement of her submission to me. But once inside there was no room for clumsily untying her and slowly changing everything around. I then sent her my version of the hotel booking confirmation:

Room type: Pixie Degradation Suite

Purpose of visit: No hole's barred sex 

Terms and conditions: Deposit required; facial

No backing out, No free will, Sperm included 

Golden showers optional. BYO vibrators

Clitoral Orgasm: To Be Determined

Sylvie: Thanks for making the booking. Will there be breakfast? I like a high protein shot when I wake up to get me through the day 

I could check in at 11am on Friday, and check out as late as 2pm on Saturday. I had pretty much decided what I was going to do with her but needed to prepare for different eventualities and drew up a shopping list of what was needed. 

21st February 2013

My bags were packed, my list of things to acquire itemised, my clothes decided and my agenda settled. It wasn't easy to sleep with Pixie / Sylvie in my mind and filling OG with expectant passions. I had not touched him for a week whilst the testicle manufactories had worked diligently to replenish the reservoir of promised sperm, readied to flood upon the willing Pixie's upturned face. 

22nd February 2013

I was up again before 6am scrubbing and cleansing, brushing, trimming, shaving and deodorizing, with special attention to those intimate areas, any part of the body with an orifice basically. I grabbed some tea, but no breakfast for the paunch, and loaded the car. At 7am I was on my way.

It was over an hour to Bridgebourne and as I neared the city Zoot directed me to the out of town shopping plaza. It was another freezing cold windy day. I grabbed my black woolen hat, gloves and gray scarf and then realized I had forgotten my big white coat. I zipped on a scruffy old short black down jacket that was already in the car. I looked like an American longshoreman, or a striking coal miner on flying picket duty.

I walked across the vast windblown car parks to the DIY superstore. Jesus it was bloody cold. Inside the store I looped up and down multiple aisles with my list of needs and my antennae out for inspiration. Trigger hooks, check, soft rope (shibari) washing line, check. Gaffer tape, clothes pegs, D rings, and the like, all checked. I bought a basket full of goodies, left the store and hurried back across the Ross Ice Shelf that was temporarily masquerading as a car park.

Zoot led, I drove to the city centre and the hotel but Zoot's directions were out of sync with the modern road layout and I got confused in a half square mile area that had once been so familiar to me as a student over thirty years earlier. 

At 11a.m. I eventually checked into the pocket sized room that just about held a double bed. I diligently unpacked my Mary Poppins bag of BDSM tricks and subtly prepared the bed for bondage. 

*

I was wrapped up in my casual clothes with breath steaming as I waited at Wharfeside station for Sylvie. Somehow she clocked me first and smiled. 'Hello.' I barely recognized the attractive stylish woman in a light brown over-coat, sunglasses and mass of red hair who greeted me. I felt some nervousness, how did I look? Was I a disappointment to her, but my doubts were quickly dispelled and my confidence soared when she smiled easily and seemed genuinely pleased to see me, if also a little nervous herself. 

We walked to the hotel with chapped lipped conversation about the choppy offshore waters and the cold wind. She was not too familiar with Bridgebourne so I led the way and crossed the road at the wrong place so that this refined, slim young woman had to clamber around the roadside safety railings. She was way too elegant to be a gangsters moll, but I certainly looked like a heavy duty bodyguard accompanying her. I hoped the way I looked had not put her off.

We went to the Boar's Head on Mercury Street, next door to the building that had been in my youth, the happy watering hole of the student union. Inside were a couple of other customers and a slightly camp bartender. We shimmied around the corner of the bar and took our seats. She looked fabulous, her figure friendly dress was a little low cut but a silk scarf added modesty and sensuousness, with just occasional hints of cleavage and the little plump mounds of pert Pixie breasts. Nice make-up, red lips, wonderful thick dark red hair, so pretty.

I bought her a glass of red wine and me a pint. We talked about our week in such a way, flirty but unfamiliar with each other, that the gay bar man suspected we were up to something. He started cleaning glasses nearby or going to the office behind the part of the bar where we sat, listening I am sure. Rather than feeling self-conscious about our conversation, this only added to the excitement that we were already feeling, that we were indeed 'up to something'.




Strings Ch. 08: Meeting Pixie



Forty pleasant minutes elapsed. I loved talking to this beauty but couldn't continue drinking, OG would never forgive me. 

'Shall we go?' I suggested.

She could have been kind and apologized, saying she had lost her nerve. Or she could have been cruel and said, 'You are a boring, half blind, fat, balding old git I can't stand looking at you, I'm off back to the ferry.' But instead she just smiled and said 'Okay.'

She had fulfilled her part of the bargain by turning up. Now it was my turn I thought as we left the pub for the hotel.

With a nervous smile she accompanied me into the tiny hotel elevator. Alone for the first time, and in a very confined space I decided to make a small move to prepare us both. Already very close to her, I moved the extra few inches and kissed Sylvie briefly, - her lips parted and kissed back as I slid my hand up her dress, part way up the outside of her thigh. She wanted to kiss more, her tongue was ready but the short ride to the third floor ended and I eased away. We walked along the corridor, I was feeling very nervous, my thighs were tingling slightly like they used to before a road race. God knows what Sylvie was feeling.

We arrived at the door to our room and I opened it to reveal the threshold we had loaded with symbolism in our flirtatious discussions. The interior was spartan, with pale colours, white duvet and sheets and no sign of my intentions apparent. 

I let her in ahead of me, our coats and scarves were discarded, and as I instinctively always do in hotel rooms I put the television on. Sylvie waited quietly as I programmed a radio station and I said nonchalantly, 'Kneel on the floor.'

'Pardon me?' she asked.

'I said kneel on the floor.'

She promptly dropped to the floor and I settled on some music.

All ready, I could now follow my agenda.

I moved to stand a meter or so in front of her, she looked angelic kneeling before me, and my pulse was rising as I ordered her to come to me, which she did, on her knees until she was directly before me, her head at groin height.

'Nuzzle me,' I said.

Without hesitation she pushed her face into the bulge at the front of my trousers. I could hear her breaths as she rubbed against me. Her obedience and enthusiasm was enthralling. My excitement increased, I realized everything I had hoped for with Sylvie was going to come true.

Calming my voice I said, 'Open my trousers.' 

She pulled away slightly and unbuckled my belt with shaky hands, undid the buttons and unzipped my trousers revealing my briefs housing my hardening cock.

'Nuzzle me.' I repeated.

She buried her face into the gap of my opened trousers, her cheeks rubbing against the thin underwear fabric, she mouthed against the tight bulge. OG was visibly stirring. She pushed her nose into the cloth where my balls swelled, and inhaled. She rubbed her face into the squashed and growing tumescence of my cock.

'Get me out.'

Unquestioningly she pulled the front waistband of my briefs out and down and Old Glory sprung out; he was thick, blood-engorged heavy and suddenly fully erect. She put her hands on my hips and pulled my pants and trousers down to my knees as she obediently nuzzled.

She kissed, inhaled and divinely rubbed her face all over my cock, my balls and underneath me, and as I reveled in her tantalizing touches OG pulsed to his maximum ramrod best. Enjoying every second I parted my legs a little more and the trousers fell to my ankles so she could gain more access. She kissed under my balls and got her face close to my ass, licking and inhaling.

Her attentiveness could have been exploited for longer to bring me off then and there but I stopped her. We had an agenda and I only wanted Sylvie to know what my manhood looked and felt like, 'That's enough, put me away.'

She sat back and tugged up my underpants and trousers, wrestled a rampant OG and my big balls back into the dark and fastened my trousers. Next I told her to go back to her starting position and to stand up. It was time to commence properly with her ordeal. 

I got two blindfolds from my bag and walked around behind her. I put the thinner airline cloth version on her first, with the elasticated bands going over her head. Then I added the black leather blindfold with a proper buckle and tightened it. As I did this I asked softly if she could see anything and if it was comfortable.

'I am going to put some handcuffs on now,' I let her feel them, 'they are soft fabric, joined together with Velcro,' she felt the Velcro. 'So at any time you can pull them apart, Okay?' All the time I spoke calmly and softly.

She nodded and said in a small voice 'Okay.'

I put the hand cuffs on behind her back.

I stepped back, she looked simultaneously beautiful and vulnerable, even with her eyes hidden she still looked very pretty and I could see her body visibly shaking. It was an awesome image of trust and lust. I leaned forward and kissed her, and she eagerly kissed back, our tongues touched for the first delicious time. As we kissed I let my hands roam around her body, feeling the shape of her waist and hips, and lightly caressing her breasts. 

I moved behind her, kissing her neck, gently touching her over her clothes. Her shakes were getting stronger, she seemed to be trembling all over and even gulping for air, and I thought she might keel over any second, or even spontaneously cum, but Sylvie had said no man had ever brought her to an orgasm. 

Anticipation was quaking through her body.

'Are you okay?' I whispered.

'Yes.'

I sat on the bed behind her and once again moved my hands over her slender curves, now venturing a little way up inside her dress. Up and down her thighs from the front and behind, getting ever higher before I removed my hands and explored her waist and breasts again, teasing her. I rotated her around ninety degrees and continued. Only this time my hand moved higher, to the top of her thighs to the knickers that clad the curvature of her tight little bum. Under her dress my hands wandered and explored until I slowly slid a hand further underneath her ass straight into something moist and furry.

'Oh my word,' were my exact thoughts at the realization that she was wearing crotchless knickers and that her pussy was soaking wet. I teased and caressed her dripping cunt briefly, not really entering her with my fingers, but she was so open and hot and wet it would have been so easy to insert them.

Sylvie was beginning to wobble, so I eased off from her pussy and talking softly all the time about what I was doing, I slowly undressed her. Removing her boots, briefly releasing her wrists to drop the dress to the floor and then her half cup bra and those stunning crotchless knickers. This gorgeous poppit was blushed pink with arousal as I caressed and kissed her.

Sat on the bed again I pulled her closer to me by her wrists and then put her over my knee. I was still fully clothed, the fabric of my trousers pushed against her soft bare skin. The best ass I had seen in a decade was now perched over my knee, all lily white, taught firm buttocks.

I spanked her, not too hard, especially at first. I targeted each cheek and the back of her thighs gradually increasing the intensity and frequency of the slaps until she had a fine red glow across her backside.

I moved her off my knee and made her stand up again and removed her handcuffs. From my bag I took four dog collars with D rings and fastened these to her ankles and wrists. Then I moved her onto the bed, to lie on her back. My pre-positioned straps were tied to each leg of the bed. The straps also had D rings and with the trigger hooks I connected the four dog collars to the four straps, and pulled them tight. This pulled Sylvie into the desired spread eagle position.

I made sure she was still totally blindfolded and was comfortable with a pillow under her head, and then a little uncomfortable with another pillow under her hips to lift and expose her pussy.

I gazed down at her helpless, flawless body, She was slim but with nicely toned limbs, small hard nipples at the peak of her perfect symmetrical tits which rose and fell with each breath. A small patch of soft golden furze covered her pussy, her labia visible through the fur. She had a wonderful body and she lay in silent anticipation.

She jumped when I squirted baby oil onto her tummy and I then massaged her body and limbs for a while. Then I opened her legs up a little further and trimmed her fine pubic hair before applying shaving gel. I think she zoned out for a while as I slowly shaved her whispy pubes, and then suddenly as if wakening from a dream she said, 'I have no fillings.'

She sounded really pleased with herself, like a good little convent girl. Then she laughed 'What was that all about?' I laughed too, a brief break in the sexual tension.

I cleaned her up with warm water and a towel, her lovely shaven pussy was spread open before me, with glistening hints of arousal along the slit's opening. I loved what I saw. Her mound was a lovely cuppable dome, her labia hot and pink and as I had completed the depilation, she had opened up involuntarily to reveal her moistened and hot inner lips and the peaking little rosebud of her clitoris.

I climbed off the bed and stripped, and then positioned myself with my head between her legs and kissed her labia, and there was a sharp intake of breath from her. I tongued and kissed as softly and gently as I could, licking up and down the outside of her pussy, gradually opening her up making little contacts with her clitoris. Delving up and down the inside of her lips I decided she needed less restriction and quickly clicked open the trigger hooks to release her ankles. Returning to her pussy I found the spots she responded to most, her sighs and little gasps were my directions and when I found those special places I maintained the rhythm and touch. Her wetness increased and she lifted her knees up to spread herself open. I began to lightly tongue her vulva on my strokes up to her clitoris, all the time feeling her react, listening to her. It took ten or fifteen minutes before the first sighs and another ten before she groaned. 

I poked my tongue inside her hole and then withdrew, and flattened it against her as I moved up to her clit. I would lick and moisten that pink pearl and sometimes draw my tongue downwards from above the hood of the clit, and then down to her hole. I carried on widening and deepening my activities, below her vulva, around her ass and to the insides of her labia.

Eventually a little twitch of a muscle in her leg indicated she was tensing, and I carried on slurping. Sylvie was silent, spread out and blindfolded in a world of her own. Every few minutes she twitched again and then began the involuntary slow hip movements, little thrusts upwards. Another groan and then a gasp.

The tension continued to build with increased flow of pussy juice, groans and sighs alternated from her mouth and she twitched and thrust her hips. Soon her abdomen was tensed and her thighs began to shake, she grew more audible. Then her limbs and her entire body tensed as she arched her back and stretched her neck. Every muscle tightened and stretched at the same time. Peeking up from her mons venus I watched her reaction as I lightly danced small tongue to clitoris rhythms.

Her body movements and breathing increased, she arched her back to its maximum and then for a second there was complete stillness and silence before the dam broke in an explosive orgasm. She gasped hard and every muscle stretched as if her pelvis wanted to buck against the ceiling. Then Sylvie's muscles relaxed, her limbs sank back into the duvet, her head remained thrown back with a smile on her face. Her breathing deepened as I slowly lifted my face from her pussy. Her first ever orgasm brought on by a lover was over, she was away in a dreamland.

BDSM is supposed to be quite harsh on the helpless submissive. I had licked Sylvie's Pussy for over forty minutes to achieve her orgasmic milestone. So I let her swoon continue. She visibly sank into the duvet, I knew exactly how good that felt. I recalled how I had dropped off after my surprisingly good and entirely unexpected orgasm from the aged Tokyo Hotel masseur.

I released her wrists and removed her blindfold, and half awake she blinked in the room's bright light after ninety minutes in the dark. She had a half smile in her half sleep as I climbed over her and kissed her soft giving lips. Her legs were still apart as I slowly introduced Old Glory into her hot syrupy pussy. After such a long session of eating pussy, quite often OG was not at maximum potential, but grew into the job. With Sylvie, despite his girth, OG slipped in to her tight hole effortlessly and was soon fully hard. Man it felt good.

Propped up slightly on my elbows I eased in and out of her, holding her body and kissing her mouth. I got in deeper, my stokes were longer. Then I moved forward a little, her hips lifted up as did her legs to let me in deeper, and we made delicious love.

The sex was marvelous and dictated by me. She sucked OG a bit toothily (her mouth was a bit too small for my thick cock) and I switched frequently between her pussy and mouth. When I was ready to cum I told her to lie on her back as I sat over her chest and masturbated as she licked the tip and underside of OG's helmet. As I had avoided any sexual activity during the preceding week, and had been in a state of high arousal for a few hours, I knew my orgasm would be a strong one, and it would be a mixture of physical and mental pleasure. The release of the tension deep inside my cock and balls, and the sensitivity of the skin would be matched by my brain's pleasure centre triggered by what I was seeing and feeling. The orgasm itself starts a second before the sperm starts pumping out, and on this occasion my half closed eyes saw the first heavy globs of cum spurt over Sylvie's cheeks and forehead, and then two or three more dollops plopped in and around her mouth. Seeing the stuff land on her willing face as orgasmic aftershocks shuddered through my body was heaven. Her tongue played against the now hyper sensitive OG as the tingling gradually subsided, and I collapsed beside her. 

I didn't want to fall asleep and forced myself up to get her a warm cloth from the bathroom, to wipe her face. When I returned she had sat up and was looking at her reflected spunky image in the mirror opposite the bed. She seemed both pleased and curious; perhaps it was the first time she had ever received a facial. There was a lot of cum, which was usual for me, especially when I had been refraining for the previous few days trying to contain all the excitement and anticipation our emails and imaginations had provoked. 

We cleaned up, dressed and walked into town to find a place to have a drink. We ambled slowly past a short strip of bars and clubs where dozens of shaven headed, tattooed thugs mingled with drunken girls with big hair, heavy makeup and fat bodies squeezed into mini-skirts, tottering about on high heels. More shaven headed thugs, club doormen in this case, chewed gum and watched soberly from the club entrances. In our post-orgasmic daze we were unfazed by the rowdiness of a Friday night in Bridgebourne and I was proud to have this elegant, sexy woman by my side in such contrast to the other women around us.

We found a cosy pub in Old Town, away from the drunken bustle, and sharing a bottle of red wine we talked about our lives and a myriad of other things, not focusing only on sex. Once again the conversation was easy and good humoured enforcing my thoughts that we were not just fuck buddies but potentially going to be friends if she agreed to see me again. 

A little tipsy and feeling content, we jumped in a taxi to the best Indian restaurant in Bridgebourne (or so our barman advised us), Over an excellent dinner and more red wine we talked about jobs and family before we moved to find somewhere for a late night-cap. We were enjoying each others' company so much we weren't ready to go back to the hotel and found a bar called The Meteor. It had a great atmosphere, busy with a young and happy crowd of people, with great music and lots of dancing. We talked and drank freely. I was delighted with Sylvie's company; not only had we just had fantastic sex but we were getting on like a house on fire, and she was being very affectionate towards me in public as if were indeed a couple. That was probably all the red wine I surmised happily, also feeling a little inebriated. At last orders we left the bar and strolled back to the hotel. 

On returning to the hotel room I resumed the dominant role, undressed her, pushed her onto the bed and grabbed greedily at her body, aroused once again despite all the booze. But suddenly Sylvie sprang on top of me and said boldly, 'No you don't, it's my turn!' and slapped my face hard.

I wasn't having that and forced her off me, rolled her onto her back and forcefully took her. Unlike the sex in the afternoon when she had been compliant and I had been gentle, this time she thrust hard at me, and I repeatedly thrust deep into her. It was intense, vigorous physical sex, sweaty and heaving. I loved just taking her in a way that contrasted utterly with the planned, gentler sex a few hours earlier.

I eventually fell into a deep, happy sleep. 

A couple of hours later I awoke and it was still dark. Sylvie was curled up next to me and I moved close and spooned against her delectable hot body. OG was ramrod hard again and then I thought, 'Dominants don't do spoons!' So I dragged her body around waking her. And in the half-light she looked confused. I pushed her down the bed, shoved her head onto OG and dutifully she sucked him. Then I forced her to slobber at my balls for a while and then further down to lick and mouth my undercarriage all the way to my ass. I rolled over into a doggy position and thrust her head between my ass cheeks for some deep analingus.

She was rewarded with more hard fucking until we fell asleep again.

When dawn arrived we were entwined. I lay on my back with Sylvie on her side cuddling me. With one arm tucked around her neck, my hand rested on her trim waist. I stroked her and savored the feel of her, her firm buttocks and the rise of her hips. 

She shimmied down the bed and started to kiss and suck my very thick dick again, keen for more. I was delighted at her eagerness despite her inexpert technique due to her small mouth, and she even deep throated OG, triggering gag reflexes.

Then it was her turn. Motioning her onto her back, I moved to one of my customary cunnilingus positions; alongside her, head between her legs my ass up near her head so she could feel my cock and balls with her hand as I attended to her ever ready wet pussy. 

It took longer than the day before, and it was harder on my back with me being in a slightly twisted position, but I got her there and she came with a yell. After she had relaxed we fucked again, and again I finished using my own hand, this time wanking into her mouth. Soon after I needed to urinate and went to the bathroom. Sylvie said. 'I want to watch,' and then, 'Can I shake it afterwards?' 

Of course I let her. 'Dirty little thing' I thought to myself.

Half an hour later we were preparing to leave and part ways after nearly 20 hours of fucking, sucking, drinking and talking.

We showered, packed and checked out of the hotel, but she stayed with me in the lobby for a coffee, and we talked about my book project and I showed her some of my work in progress on my laptop. She was engaged and interested.

When we had finished I loaded my briefcase, overnight bag and the Mary Poppins bag of tricks into the car and drove Sylvie to the Wharfeside station and the ferry terminal. We said goodbye very formally as she was nervous of being recognized by other passengers, but we had kissed an affectionate goodbye in the hotel lobby already.




Strings Ch. 08: Meeting Pixie



Once the ferry had pulled away I walked back to the car and drove home, drained of semen and energy, a bit hung-over and dreamily happy.