1 comments/ 34919 views/ 9 favorites Reciprocal Affection By: bellefleure Surprise is what keeps things fresh; interesting; exhilarating. An unexpected gesture or selfless act of love and appreciation not only goes a long way towards earning Karma points, it ultimately makes those close to you feel more special. That was how I felt about the previous night. I was still glowing, the tingling in my abdomen regularly surfacing and swirling over my body, surging down between my legs then back up every time I thought about the way he touched me. Oh that tongue of his; long, quick and flexible, somehow knowing when and where all the right spots were to amplify my excitement. I longed for him to do it all again. From the deliberate, hours-long build up, through the endlessly increasing peaks of arousal, insistently edging me towards the crescendo; _my_ crescendo; that overwhelming sensation when my brain struggles to process everything being asked of it, all paths become one and, all of a sudden, nothing else matters, as Hetfield might sing. Adam's touches did all that, and more. I was a teenager again when I was with him, but with the considerable benefit of experience that allowed me to appreciate the vast distinction between the arousal from his loving caresses and those evoked by the inexpert fumblings of an eager prom date, all the while conjuring the same, fresh, impetuous innocence that youth brings to the equation. I wanted him to sweep me and my spirit on another journey of passionate awareness; to allow me to discover thoughts and feelings that eighteen months of togetherness and a lifetime of searching had only just begun to reveal. I had a lot of catching up to do and intended to make the most of it. My clitoris throbbed beneath its pink shelter as I recalled the way he flicked his tongue either side, then slowly, tantalisingly traced the digits 0 to 9 in sequence over and around my tender pearl. The variety in those strokes alone had me groaning his name while I twitched beneath him. He offered to carry on -- said that he was well versed in hexadecimal, should I so desire. Such a geek! How could I resist A through F on my jumping clit? Flushing at the memories, I ached to touch myself. Just a little, to tide me over until he arrived home and we could play some more. Did that make what I was about to do any less honourable; selfish even? Doing it not only for his benefit but because I would ultimately gain? Possibly. But I couldn't help myself. I reasoned it was his fault after all -- he drove me to such distraction -- and tried to focus on the task at hand. It was Friday and I'd snuck home a little early from work, bored of the umpteen meetings and circular conversations. As was becoming typical, my heart just wasn't in it because my mind was elsewhere. Fifteen hours earlier, to be precise. While my boss' presentation droned on I had drifted back to the mind-blowing orgasm that Adam had wrung from my body the night before. Truthfully, 'orgasm' did it a disservice. It was more a series of them, each more potent than the last; the culmination of an evening of blissful, ever increasing sensations that ripped through my body as I lay there hot, wet and panting helplessly beneath him. It had started with him cooking me a fine chicken and black bean stir fry, washed down with a medium bodied Shiraz, then drawing me a hot, deep bubble bath. He'd dotted tea light candles around the bathroom and switched off the light, letting the flames dance and flicker long shadows against the tiles and pastel blue walls. After inviting me into the small, humid sanctuary he had slowly undressed me, item by item, gently kissing each piece of flesh as it was uncovered, taking his sweet time to expose and touch every curve with his soft lips. It was as if he was memorising each nuance of my willowy shape, charting and cataloguing me for later recall. Had there been a subsequent test he'd have aced it for sure. Even my slightly overindulged tummy -- the part of me of which I am least fond -- received its fair share of attention. But his breathy caresses and tender kisses were only half the equation. The treat was when he would regularly look up at me from his current place of focus, eyes brimming with adoration as he worshipped my body. To be treasured -- wanted -- like that; to see the hunger in his eyes yet restraint in his actions, made my heart gallop. By the time it was the turn of my panties to slide down my shapely legs and form a figure eight on the floor I was beginning to moisten at the anticipation of him kissing my voluptuous bottom and shaved lips with the same devotion as the rest of my body. There was no denying it: I adored being licked. Always had. Once I'd learned the touches that mattered during my early years of self discovery I often visualized being licked "down there" as we used to call it at school. Ever since I'd read a story about cunnilingus in a copy of Hustler found in my dad's bedside drawer it had fascinated me to imagine what it would be like; though it wasn't until many years later that I had the pleasure of finding out for real. When someone was totally into me, twinkling eyes gazing up at me from above my velvety furrow, and I could see my taste driving them to their own sexual precipice as I neared mine, it made me feel Godly; omnipotent; exceptional; like I was an incredibly rare piece of art, admired and treated for the raw inner beauty I represented instead of simply judged by my slightly quirky, unconventional exterior. What made it all the more extraordinary with Adam was the fact he couldn't seem to ever have enough. He was utterly insatiable; said if I could sneak him under my desk at work he'd sit there all day so every time I felt the urge all I'd have to do for oral relief would be to spread my legs. Imagine that! Typing into a spreadsheet or on the phone to a customer while my own personal sex slave ravaged my little jewel and puffy lips. I'd be drenching the chair, my thighs and his face with my come in no time, as I writhed beneath his masterful caresses, stifling screams of ecstasy for fear of being caught. The combination of heat, energy and danger made it a breathtaking fantasy, and as I stood in the flickering candlelight, naked and radiant before him, I shivered at the thoughts, preparing myself for his delightful intrusion to my most revered parts. Instead he had topped the bath up with hot and simply helped me step in, the crackling suds dutifully parting then clinging to me as I lowered myself into the water. Questions over why he had skipped my centrepiece evaporated when he began to sponge me, delicately washing each corner of my body -- including the entrance to my then slippery pussy -- with the same slowness as the earlier kisses. He squeezed the sponge out over my jutting breasts and we shared smiles watching tributaries of warm water roll effortlessly in all directions on their return journey to the bath. My pale pink nipples rose in appreciation, perched atop my large areolas like tiny marshmallows in espresso cups. The sponge squeaked as each arm was treated to its own soap and rinse before gliding towards my thigh. I raised one leg out of the water so he could pay attention to my calf. He leisurely washed it and moved to my foot, then massaged my sole and instep, finishing by drawing each toe into his hot mouth, running his tongue over them, between them, making me squirm while sucking and nibbling every digit. He didn't even seem to notice the bubble beard he gained in the process. It felt divine and I just tipped my head back, sank further into the hot water and let him do likewise to the other leg; my mind already racing at what was to come. As I recalled the events of the previous evening I had found myself becoming more turned on. The dampness forming in my crotch was infinitely more appealing than my boss gesticulating at his Powerpoint slides -- a presentation that seemed far from conclusion, and even farther from my attention. The urge to touch myself was invading my thoughts -- taking over -- but I couldn't very well do it in the meeting room with five witnesses. Could I? _Could I_? I surprised myself with the notion. It was such a dirty thought to be having and I nonchalantly surveyed the surroundings to talk myself out of it. The room lights were low to minimise glare on the projected images. Directly across the oval wood-effect table was Old Bob, more lines than War & Peace, slouched and wearing a glazed expression through his bifocals. Clustered at the stubby end of the table, Mark and Tony -- the departmental comic relief -- appeared barely more attentive, preferring to exchange knowing grins while playing Buzzword Bingo. I was the sole occupant of this side, save for Kelly -- my boss' secretary -- sitting close to Gerry at the head of the table. She was daubed in her default attire: the wrong foundation, thick make-up, false spider lashes, and wearing an ill-fitting blouse that often rode high enough to reveal the tramp stamp etched on her sacrum. Made her popular around the office; and every organisation needed a bike. She also appeared to be doodling on her notepad while Gerry talked forecasts, growth and industry trends. Everyone in their own worlds, and none with line of sight. Perhaps I could pull this off after all? It was still risky, but just possible. Was it worth it? I couldn't shake the stirrings inside. What was wrong with me? Why did I feel this way at the most inopportune moments? Did I need counselling? Did I need to exercise more self control, or was I perfectly normal? Was it acceptable to allow my thoughts and urges to govern me? What if I lost control one day? Were there limits to how far I'd go? Turning these thoughts over and over in my head, eyes focusing on everything and nothing at once, my attention was gradually drawn to my pen lying on the desk. I fleetingly wished I could slide it into my pussy; its cold, metal surface probing my insides just enough to tease. Slowly back and forth, in and out, the extra breadth of the clip wonderfully fulfilling at the end of each gentle stroke. It immediately thrilled me to consider being so brazen and my skin tingled. Perhaps just a little touch was all I needed; a tiny feel to take the pressure off until I could get home and deliver the full attention my body craved. Surely I could manage that undetected? Maybe setting such stringent boundaries was a way to keep myself in check. I weighed the options in my mind, deciding if it was worth the risk and, if so, the best way to do it. Thoughts, positions, possibilities and penalties all flashed through my head. If anything, the act of openly considering the choices made me hornier, my body relentlessly screaming yes until my mind eventually caved in surrender, offering a sketchy plan as a consolation. The course was set. Stretching somewhat theatrically, I hunkered down in my seat while still pretending to be interested in my boss' monologue. The act of sliding pushed my navy suit skirt up my legs so it was caught on the upper third of my thighs. Good enough. I dropped one hand to my lap and let the other twiddle the pen on the desk in plain sight to take any focus off. My heartbeat quickened and the blood thudded past my temples as I contemplated the lewdness of self exploration in such close quarters. It was plain wrong on so many levels, but the depravity of the act and -- perhaps moreso -- my willingness to entertain it despite the consequences, filled me with nervous energy. Surreptitiously, my out-of-sight hand crept millimetre by millimetre to the hem of my skirt, brushing my exposed thigh -- no stockings or hold-ups today for a change. The excitement in me mounted as I very slowly dragged my hand back, bunching the remaining material beneath my palm, spreading my legs under the table to aid its northward movement. I glanced down my body. Anyone paying close attention couldn't fail to spot my nipples, proud and straining against the fabric of my blouse, trying to puncture the man-made fibres in a bid to be noticed; enticing hands and fingers to squeeze and roll the ample flesh; seeking a warm mouth to close over the tips, and a tongue to swirl and lash at the sensitive nubs as my arousal grew. I imagined Adam sitting out of sight between my legs, watching my skirt edge higher, revealing progressively more of my lean thighs to his greedy stare; his focus unwavering, zeroing in on the emerging expanse of white cotton that separated my ever growing desire to be touched from his willingness to please. As my legs parted further, the thought of him longing to dive forward and lap me through the thin material countered my rising apprehension at exposing myself in this manner. I was conflicted and tense, yet unequivocally excited. My mouth was dry; the same way it had been when he first went down on me; sampling, touching, flicking, exhaling hot breaths among my light patch of fur and delicate petals that both tickled and energised my body, a tell-tale wetness forming within. His magnificent tongue and the full lips of my -- these days bare -- pussy had become firm acquaintances from the outset of our relationship and I never grew tired of the way he knew my sex the way a Jazz musician knows how to jam with his band. I inched the skirt higher. The game was nearly over when my fingers grazed my panties and I flinched, sending my pen skidding across the table. I froze and tried to avoid eye contact, as if my colleagues would be able to tell what I was doing through my guilty expression. Gerry stopped talking momentarily; Old Bob merely seemed startled -- I probably woke him -- and rolled the pen back. I smiled apologetically at nobody in particular and Gerry continued. The damp spot between my parted legs was evident to me and I hoped there would be no odour escaping into the room to give my arousal away. Kelly for sure was close enough to smell me if that was the case, and getting one over on me was the sort of thing in which she'd revel. I pushed the thoughts from my mind and waited until I was satisfied that I had gotten away with the unexpected touch. Though discretion was paramount, the desire to relieve myself was intense. I concentrated on gingerly sliding my panties aside -- wriggling slightly to assist their travel -- revealing direct access to my drooling sex. The cool air from the conditioner in the room against my exposed, shaved slit made my body shudder and I opened my mouth a fraction, drawing in a soft breath. I flicked my eyes to each member of the room; no visible signs of detection yet, thank goodness. But I needed to be careful: one wrong move and I'd be in big trouble. I couldn't recall the clause in the contract that stated masturbation in the office was a dismissible offence, but I was sure it would be covered by some blanket legalese such as 'inappropriate conduct'. Again I paused long enough to make sure nobody was paying attention and to once more weigh up the odds of being caught: this was my last chance to back out. There were no raised eyebrows or disapproving stares. Not even faint glimmers of recognition or disgusted, averted eyes. I was in the clear. My pussy ached and every atom in my body chanted yes, yes, yes in unison. Now or never. Extending my middle finger I brought it to my horny opening, dragging it first across my moist lips then gently dipping it inside my velvety folds. I withdrew it wet, and the cooler air began to dry it quickly. Before that occurred I ran the digit up to the hood of my clitoris and flicked across it once. My eyes closed and mouth opened a little as a thousand sensors lit up simultaneously within my body. Then I remembered where I was and snapped my eyes open again, furtively checking the other occupants for suspicion. Nothing. Phew. So back went my finger, diving delicately beneath my outer lips then returning, glistening wet, before running up and over my sensitive knot of pink flesh. Again my body responded by rapidly distributing pleasure signals up and down my spine. Hormones mixed and circulated to my extremities, warming me. The need for absolute caution jarred with my growing desire to drive two fingers inside my yearning body and draw rough circles around my slavish nub until I came hard. It was asking a lot of myself to remain quiet and discreet while I repeatedly dipped a finger into my centre, slid it out past my sticky labia and brushed it over the surface of my gradually protruding clit, feeling it respond and swell beneath my touches as I tugged to control the reins of the wild horses trying to stampede through me. The feelings my actions triggered sent me whirling back to the bathroom the previous evening... Wrapping me in a big fluffy bath sheet as the water spiralled away, Adam had gently patted me dry and let me wrap my long, dark hair in another towel before leading me to the bedroom, which was also candlelit and tranquil. I surrendered to his guidance, with little idea what he might do to me. That didn't stop my imagination running amok at wild thoughts of him penetrating my soft wetness, filling me completely with his thick, contoured shaft and grinding my clit hard against us at the deepest part of each thrust in the way he knows will drive us both towards simultaneous climax. I was virtually panting with anticipation and desire at the mere thoughts alone, which was as much a testament to Adam's understanding of my needs as the manner in which we were in tune with one another. As it happened, my imagination didn't come anywhere near the intensity of his actions. He just laid me down on our bed, unwrapped me as if I was the sweetest Christmas gift he'd ever seen, then kissed his way tenderly from my jaw, around my supple breasts and quivering nipples, over my tummy and down past the two-inch wide runway of pubic hair that led to my shaved slit. He parted my creamy thighs and encouraged me to flop my legs apart while he lay in the gap, staring directly at my silky wet petals, open and inviting. The twinkle in his eyes told me what I already knew but never tired of having reaffirmed: he wanted me and it was his treat. He dived in. From there he had spent what must have been nearly fifty earth-shattering minutes with his face buried in my pussy, although I lost track of time the moment he began. To please me was what he loved more than anything in the world; and it showed. His tongue had danced, nibbled, kissed and licked every square millimetre of my sex, inside and out. My clit felt like it would burst at any moment as he resolutely and lovingly brought me to the brink of orgasm time and again with his talented tongue, then backed off to tease me before attacking again. Every so often he'd push me over the edge and my body would quake in the throes of climax, making me grip the bed sheets, arch my back, pant loudly into the room and thrust my core hard up into his welcoming face. Each time, sparks crackled through me. Connections in my brain were made and broken faster than I could comprehend. Parts of my body I didn't know had nerve endings prickled with heat and signalled their gratitude, adding to the flood of come that coated Adam's eager face and probing tongue. As my head spun and insides twined and untwined with each spasm, a kaleidoscope of colour snaked across my vision: thoughts and images merged into a Technicolor landscape too complex to discern. Shapes pirouetted to my body's ballet as the unrelenting drumming of blood coursed through it, heating me from the inside, transferring that heat into the wetness tumbling towards Adam. Ultimately my hormones released me from their grasp and I would gradually lower myself to the sheets. While the internal flames reduced to cinders and the images skipped off to the periphery of my senses, the blurry, soft reality of the room returned, along with the sensation of Adam's gentle lapping at my sensitive centre. But before the embers had a chance to extinguish completely he'd stoke my fires to elevate me higher still and ignite my senses again. Reciprocal Affection Time after time he pushed my trembling body to its limits of pleasure. When I thought I was exhausted and could take no more he'd prove me wrong by teasing my hypersensitive clit and gaping pussy in a different manner; experimenting with hot and cold breaths, licks, laps, taps, circles, fingers; an endless array of heavenly contact. Some time during play he had even introduced my trusty Silver Shadow vibrator, slipping it in and out of my pulsing, drenched channel while his tongue was taking a short rest and his eyes conveyed sheer delight at the smell and flavour of my intoxicating, horny fluid. In the end I had to practically beg him to stop for fear I'd have turned inside out. Spread beneath the table in the meeting room I flicked my clit slowly yet insistently at the memories, gently raising the heat in my body degree by degree. My legs were twitching a little as I brought myself closer. Thankfully the chairs were of a dark material or the juice dribbling down my smooth lips and pooling on the back of my skirt might have seeped through and stained. Despite my original self-assurance that I would only indulge in a little pleasure, I found myself gliding towards an inexorable climax. I really was at the mercy of my touches; an extension of being at the mercy of Adam's. The warmth of the memories and sheer wickedness of the situation -- bringing myself off undetected in a room of people I knew -- had me teetering on the cusp of orgasm faster than I could have predicted. Then calamity struck. My boss' presentation ended and he raised the lights. No! So damn close. Adrenaline surged through my body -- the fight or flight gene clamping down my erogenous zones tightly. I whipped my hand from my pussy without time to snap my panties back in place or wipe the juice from my fingers. Using my forearms I dragged myself upright in the chair, shuffling my skirt down as far as I could in the process, and tried to look composed. Suddenly I could smell my heavy arousal and panicked. Christ, would the others notice? I hoped not and sat fidgeting for the remaining few minutes of my boss' summary. The attention I had given my body before the interruption jumbled my senses and thoughts of Adam's unselfish act still drifted around my mind. I tried to focus on the meeting but unwittingly tuned Gerry out and recalled the final detail of the previous evening: Adam had wanted nothing in return. Once I stopped him from stimulating my insides he simply spooned me, hugged and stroked me to a blissful sleep. Truly one in a million. Well I was going to make sure to repay his kindness today. And I couldn't cope with an afternoon in the office while my body was wound up to this level. With my exposed pussy tingling right there in the meeting room I hatched a plan, inwardly smiling at its simplicity. The teen in me grinned wickedly too. At the eventual conclusion of the meeting I engaged my boss: "Still OK for me to leave early today? Remember: that gynae appointment?" It was a lie, but probably wouldn't be far from the truth by the time I was through with Adam. Gerry furrowed his brow in recollection, clearly not remembering anything about our fictitious conversation, but chose to let it slide; one of the fringe benefits of having a stressed and overly trustworthy boss when it came to 'women's issues'. "Sure. You OK? You look a little... flustered." I coloured. "Been a long week and I'm a tad nervous about this appointment." He stared and anxiety wracked my body, but I tried not to let it show. I prayed his bullshit detector was broken, and that he couldn't smell my exposed pussy from this proximity. It seemed the Gods were smiling. "Have a good weekend. Don't do anything I wouldn't." It was his stock phrase: if he knew what I had planned it might well convince him to choose a new one. But I thanked him and quickly left for home to wait for Adam. The kitchen clock ticked ever forward, slowly. He was late, and I was turned on despite -- or in spite of -- my nerves. Even the occasional doubting thoughts of "what if he had a bad day" didn't sway me. Carpe diem: I wanted this. I'd make him want it too, if I had to. My pussy still clamoured for attention, but after snapping my panties back into place in the car I had somehow persevered at keeping my will power intact since arriving home. It would make the ultimate release all that more delicious. His key grated in the lock. Show time! I heard rustling in the hallway behind me. Approaching footsteps. Then silence. I could hear Adam breathing but gave it a few seconds longer to let it sink in. The look on his face was priceless as I demurely glanced over my shoulder at him, greeting him with a casual "Hi honey". He was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, goldfishing, eyes wide at the sight before him. I was cooking, stirring the bubbling saucepan. Nothing strange about that in itself -- I cooked regularly -- except that from where Adam stood he'd have seen me wearing my absolute favourite Louboutin four-inch heels, some gorgeous dark hold-ups with a wide band that hugged my slender thighs and a pink vinyl apron tied around my waist at the back. Nothing more. "Dinner won't be long," I cheerily announced and returned to stirring the pasta sauce. Strictly unnecessary in the grand scheme of things, the apron was a functional rather than cosmetic addition to my limited apparel: it saved my breasts from being splashed by the hot food on the stove. But equally it added to the allure of the housewife role play. From his rear vantage point, Adam would simply see the top of the hold-ups clinging to soft white thighs, giving way to my shapely naked bottom with the pink bow of the apron's straps draped over it from the small of my back. The only other evidence of the apron from where he stood was the neck strap. My entire back was bare, touched only by my long black hair that tumbled around half its length. It excited me to consider what Adam must be thinking; what he might try and do to me, knowing my state of undress and the fact I'd worn it solely for him. Well, maybe for me too. He'd guess I was horny and, had the cooking not been masking it, I'm quite sure the room would have smelled of my sweet, wet pussy. In fact, the aroma had probably been on Adam's face all day -- a constant reminder of the night before. Had his co-workers picked up on it? His boss? What would they think of us if they knew? My nipples rose proud of my full bosoms and pressed against the inside of the apron in response to my naughty thoughts. The apron was lined, which was a small mercy, but still felt cool in the places where it brushed my body. Adam entered the kitchen, dumping his bag by the door and stepped behind me. He snaked his arms around my waist underneath the apron and pressed his body to me, nuzzling his cleanly shaven face into my neck. I purred and could feel he was already aroused. He tried his luck, running his hands forward over my hips and down, trying to slip his fingers between my legs. I squeezed them shut. "Uh uh. Not yet. We eat first." "No fair! Not even a little taster?" "You had more than a little taster last night. It's my turn." He paused. "What if I did this?" Dropping to his knees behind me, he slid his hands around to my buttocks, parted my cheeks and ran his tongue tantalisingly from the base of my clenched pussy up over my crinkled rosebud, swirling around the entrance to my dark passage. I sighed quietly but kept my resolve. "Don't think you can get round me that way, mister." "Oh? Not even if I..." He ran his tongue again up my tight crack, spending a few seconds flitting his long, gifted organ over the nerve endings around my anus. Then he stiffened his tongue and slid it inside the entrance, probing my chute just how I like it. Repeatedly. Unhurriedly. Dirtily. I gripped the worktop and involuntarily pressed my bottom into his face, loving his nether touches; loving the fact that he was a slave to my derriere and I could dominate his world by simply being me, yet mindful that I was in turn a slave to my own needs. Needs that Adam filled. Needs that gave him purpose and excited him. Yin and yang; alpha and omega. Mutual desires fulfilled through a single act. My inner teen never knew such depravity during her innocent youth, but she was delighted to experience it now. Damn, he knew what he was doing; knew exactly what made me tick. Within thirty seconds I simply couldn't concentrate on cooking any longer and shut off the stove. "You drive a hard bargain." He plucked his tongue from my anus. "A hard something at least." I smiled. With a little improvisation my plans could still work. But I needed things on my terms. Whirling around I dragged him up from the floor so we were level. Our eyes locked for a few seconds and our lips followed suit. The kiss was deep, sensual, and crackled with passion. I tasted my muskiness and I'm sure faint traces of my pussy from the night before, and it warmed me to know he'd taken pleasure in obtaining both. The act of dressing up for him in such scant clothing, the thoughts of the previous evening that had plagued me all day, the sheer indecency of secretly masturbating at the office, and of what we were about to do had already charged me to melting point. Wetness had formed inside my pussy long ago and it was now being continually topped up -- drip-fed with my horny secretions -- by our smouldering kiss. His hands slid around my body and found my buttocks again, squeezing me to him so I could feel his growing manhood against my midsection. I crossed my arms behind his neck and held him to me as our tongues duelled and pulses raced. Butterflies feathered my insides and, keeping our lips tightly locked, I let go of him. Fumbling urgently between us on sexual autopilot I yanked the buckle of his belt free before unsnapping his trousers and lowering his zip. Driving my hand against his crotch I rubbed his length, already pointing up at me, engorged and ready. Even through his boxers it felt wonderful beneath my touch: firm, thick, willing, manly. I shuddered as I imagined it ravaging my insides, thrusting deeply into my wet channel, seeking my hidden depths as I screamed for more. Later, girl. Later. But later couldn't come soon enough to my pining insides. In a way I was glad he'd forced my hand, as it were; I doubt I could have made it through dinner without clambering onto the table, crawling over to him with a wicked glint in my eye, sweeping the dishes aside and dropping into his lap, letting his hardness split and fill my rampant pussy as I rode us to thunderous orgasm while his hands kneaded my bosoms roughly beneath the apron. Hurriedly I crouched and pushed his trousers down his blond-haired legs so they pooled at his feet, allowing him to step out of them. Kneeling on the floor I was now facing his crotch, the mushroom-shaped outline of his circumcised head clear against the tight material. I reached for the waistband, tucked my fingertips inside and looked up at him coyly, knowing he wouldn't stop me, merely demonstrating my intention and allowing his imagination to run wild. His boyish smile pleased me. He'd be wondering if I was going to jack him off, allowing his thick cum to splatter onto the vinyl apron. Or maybe I'd direct his sperm over my face, letting it splash against my lips and coat my cheeks, running down over their soft surface before dripping to the apron and onto my hold-ups. Perhaps he thought I might take him into my mouth, sucking feverishly until I let him come down my throat, exaggeratedly swallowing for his visual pleasure. Or maybe I'd lie on my back and use first my heels on his raging prick and then have him remove my shoes leaving just my stockinged feet on his length, jerking him off with the same soles and toes he had worshipped the night before, until he shot his sticky seed over my silky feet and legs. I could see his eyes furtively searching mine for a clue, trying to read my expression. But I remained guarded. He would soon find out. With one fluid motion I pulled his underwear out, over and down to the floor. His cock sprang free and danced inches from my face. So thick and powerful. I grabbed the bobbing shaft, closing my fingers around his warm circumference, steadying him for my hungry gaze, just watching the head flare as I squeezed rhythmically and gently. The veins pulsed beneath my fingers, blood forging in every few seconds to keep him erect for me. I loved just to watch how it reacted to the tiniest of my movements, how it would grow momentarily steely with the odd breath blown across his sensitive bare glans, the shaft alternating between hard and rock hard. To have around six inches of Adam's manhood at my disposal and knowing he loved me making a fuss over his cock made me dizzy with lust. Yet despite part of me wanting to tease him some more -- the way he had me -- the excitement of the day won and I began the next step of my plan. Keeping my petite hand wrapped around his length, I ducked my head to his wrinkled, shaved scrotum and ran my tongue over its surface. His balls were up, tightened against his body, leaving his sac resembling two compact walnuts. The feeling of the rippled, hairless skin against my tongue made me hum with delight which in turn caused him to gasp. And when I drew one of his naked balls into my wet mouth, whirling my tongue over it, he moaned loudly. I treated the other to the same, nibbling its ridged surface with my lips and taking great satisfaction in his lust filled words of encouragement. From my kneeling, submissive position, I gazed upwards as I kissed, licked and caressed his balls, every now and then squeezing his hard shaft, feeling its firm resistance. I'd learned from when he made me lap dance for him that eye contact was everything and, since then, I'd become a Zen master at it. Just a sultry look, a flash of my green eyes, or a wide-eyed, full-on stare held for a little longer than necessary was enough to take a simple sexual act and magnify its effect tenfold. Eyes don't lie and when I'm turned on or like what I see, Adam says my pupils dilate. They must have been enlarging just then because I saw my boyfriend smile down at me and breathe out heavily, accompanied by a jolt in his manhood. I felt it widen my grip briefly as it swelled and I continued to gaze into his deep, hazel eyes. Playing power games was a new thing for us. Not into fully realised dom-sub territory, but more subtle. At that moment I was clearly playing submissive, on my knees before him, powerless should I overstep the mark and he took control. Yet at the same time I held all the authority because he was slave to my actions and fiery stares. One wrong move on his behalf and I could make him pay: give pleasure or take it away from him. I found it such a trip; the duality of roles; the simultaneous feeling of dominance and subservience as I slowly began to slide my curled hand up and down his hard shaft, feeling each ridge as the skin rippled over the firm muscle beneath, the scant wisps of pubic hair above his pole tickling my fingers on the in stroke. My pussy dribbled a little sweet nectar onto my smooth lips, and the cooler air of the room dried it; a tiny pinprick of cold on my otherwise hot sex. As my actions on his cock continued, languid yet intense, his eyes fluttered in appreciation and he sighed. I knew I had him right where I wanted. It was time. I slowly released his tool from my grip and kissed my way up his shaft, still maintaining eye contact whenever possible. The kisses were tender, causing his meat to bob and sway with each touch. At his tip I blew cool air gently over the head and eased back a little. My hands ran down his firm thighs, over his calves and then I traced my fingers across to my own body, feeling the silky smooth material of the hold-ups against my trim thighs. I was desperate to touch my pussy; to bury my hand between my legs and bring myself off for him; to watch his expression as I sawed my fingers in and out of my slippery tunnel, mouth open, panting steadily and more insistently as my orgasm rose until I came hard beneath his searing gaze. But that was for another day. Instead, my hands remained on course along my body, bypassing my hot centre, tracing the contours of my shapely hips. I brushed my fingers up my sides just beneath the apron, continuing their journey around behind me, over my sensitive bare buttocks causing a little sigh to escape my lips, and eventually coming to rest at the small of my back. With my eyes still boring deeply into Adam's soul, the final part of the act was the pièce de résistance which I had practised earlier in front of the bedroom mirror: I crossed my wrists, clasped my hands together, pushed my arms downward as far as I could and knelt there, breathing steadily. Total submission. The position of my arms caused my breasts to thrust outward beneath the apron, giving the vinyl shape. I felt vulnerable yet exhilarated. The tip of his hard cock was millimetres from my lips. My warm breath played over its flared end and it nodded in appreciation. For a long moment Adam and I held each other's stares until slowly, almost imperceptibly I began to open my mouth. The taste of his cock was exquisite as first his mushroom glans and then the smooth body of his pole slid into my hot mouth. Pre-come had already formed at its end and I savoured its sweetness against my tongue as I moved my head inexorably towards the base of his prick. I'd never been capable of deep-throating without gagging so there was still a good inch or so of his tool protruding from my lips when I reached the extent of my forward motion. His eyes closed as I breathed out in satisfaction. When they opened I was still there staring up at him, lips stretched around his shaft, with a puppy-dog, demure, expression that I knew drove him crazy with lust. His breath was catching in his throat and I could sense he desperately wanted to thrust his manhood into me; fuck my mouth with wild abandon, grabbing the back of my head and forcing me to swallow his entirety. But respect of the power balance meant he stayed exactly where he was, waiting patiently for my next move, both of us aroused by our simultaneous acts of restraint. Slowly I brought my lips back, dragging them up over his shaft the way I had gone, feeling him slip from me, his glans catching ever so slightly against my teeth. My lips closed as he exited fully and I kissed the tip of his prick then pushed forward again, mouth smaller than it needed to be so his cock head was forced into me, shaped to fit. The feeling of his hot, hard tool squeezing its way past my lips brought another surge of moisture deep from within my body, oozing down my soaking channel and appearing at my slick entrance. Gripping my hands tightly behind my back I continued with slow strokes, gliding his steel into my warm mouth, stopping short of full length then bringing my head back, allowing him to fully exit before pushing forward to maintain a steady rhythm. With each forward thrust I swallowed as much of his meat as I could manage, swirling my tongue over its surface on the return journey. The steamy looks we were giving each other the whole time elevated the experience and my tummy churned with delight as every one of my senses was heightened. Desire and satisfaction registered on Adam's features, his mental arousal clear had the physical signs not been so obvious. Tilting my head sideways to alter the angle of approach, feeling his hardness press into my cheek before it was deflected to the back of my wanton mouth, I caught sight of my reflection in the oven door. Wow! I resembled some wonderfully dirty whore, kneeling there almost naked in my heels with my hands clasped tightly behind me, the swell of my chest jutting the apron towards Adam's legs as I repeatedly swallowed and released his manhood from my lips. No wonder he was so hard for me: from his viewpoint I was both stunning and obscene. Reciprocal Affection As if reading my mind, he spoke, a breathy edge to his voice. "I want you, B. You still thinking about last night?" I nodded with the limited movement I could afford given my position. He continued. "Me too. Can't get you out of my head. The way you looked when you came... the sounds you made every time. The sweet taste of your pussy soaking my face as you pressed hard up against me." His words spurred me on as I felt a further dribble of hot juice exit my body and cling to my shaved lips. I was overcome with desire to break grip and slide my hands beneath the cool apron to touch my dripping sex, scoop wetness onto my fingers and drive them inside myself. I wanted my palm on my trembling clit, circling and pressing and flicking fingers over it to springboard my urgent orgasm; to finish what I had started earlier at the office. But while the smouldering build up of the day, my freewheeling thoughts, and my dirty, submissive act of fellatio threatened to consume me and fracture my resolve, I wanted to please him more. Needed it somehow. No longer simply reciprocating his beautifully selfless act of the previous evening, I desired to feel loved through my slutty behaviour. To watch him adore me for what I could do to him. To have him teetering on the edge of desire, almost out of control, and know I caused it and could decide his fate. It was crazy -- backwards -- and didn't make any sense to anything other than the endorphin-fuelled side of my brain, but somehow I kept my hands where they were and simply drove my mouth harder and deeper onto Adam's steely shaft, trying to devour every inch the way I had planned. The articles I had read on the Internet said deep throating was all about the angle of approach. Either the articles or my technique were wrong. His glans banged savagely against the back of my mouth -- too far for me to cope -- and my gag reflex kicked in. I spluttered uncontrollably around his girth, cheeks filling with air as I yanked my head away. Thick strings of saliva looped between my lips and his cock head, lengthening, breaking then dropping to my lap under their own weight as I gasped in a lungful of oxygen. Breathing out hard, cursing quietly, nostrils flaring, I watched the spit slither down my apron, disappointed that I hadn't managed what I had set out to achieve. After a long moment I glanced up to apologise for my failure and stopped in my tracks. Adam's reaction painted an entirely different story to the one I expected: it was abundantly clear he wanted me. Badly. All of a sudden, that became the adulation my twisted mind craved. I almost brimmed over with pride at his expression, and my pussy leaked more nectar from my re-energised body. He loved me, and didn't seem to care I hadn't reached my goal of taking his entire length. The act of giving myself to him so completely was more than love enough. So I did it again. Keeping my eyes on his -- at least for the first part of the journey -- I rammed my mouth down onto his shaft, splitting my lips wide, sucking him into me, trying unsuccessfully to control the gagging, coughing and spluttering as saliva sprayed, but feeling an energy course through me at his wide-eyed adoration. I wiggled my head side to side at full depth, his glans tickling the roof of my mouth and entrance to my throat, then gasped automatically as I rapidly withdrew, lungs desperate for air after being choked by his rigid length. Through watery eyes I saw him breathe deeply, smiling warmly at my slutty performance. I wanted to show him what he meant to me; how far I was willing to go to please him. So twice more I repeated the act of attempting to deep throat his manhood, the final time not even getting close to his full length inside me before having to back off, coughing. I sensed Adam was near to coming anyway so I just sat back on my haunches, hands still firmly held behind me, my nipples pressing against the apron that glistened with my saliva. I presumed my lips were a slick, foamy mess. I could see him fighting his body for control, looking up at the ceiling, squeezing his eyes open and shut, and it pleased me. Frankly, if he was having a hard time at self control I was equally struggling, and desperately craved release of my own. I wanted him to take me; I wanted to beg him to fuck me and cry out as his girth split me in two. But I wasn't going to ask him for it. He was going to have to take it. He was going to break first; of that I was determined. So I just sat there watching, waiting for him to calm. Looking for the signs. And just when he thought he was safe I leaned forward and gently nibbled the tip of his cock, breathing over it as it jumped to attention. I suckled the pearlescent droplet of pre-come, roamed my glossy lips over and around the head, snaked my tongue out and ran it over the surface of the head, then down and back up his bobbing shaft. I opened my mouth and slid him into me, not deeply, just half way and pulled back, fixing him with a sultry stare. "You want me, don't you?" He nodded of course. "You want my hot, bare, dripping pussy wrapped tightly around your dick don't you? To take me hard? Make me scream?" An emphatic nod yes. "Seeing me sat helpless this way makes you horny doesn't it?" Another nod, fast and sharp. "It does me too. Lift the apron. See how wet I am for you." He stooped and raised the vinyl with shaking hands, staring at my shimmering, polished lips hanging open in a wanton display of yearning. I let him ogle a moment then continued the monologue. "Enough!" He stood back up obediently, cock waving at full mast in front of my hungry stare. "The only way you'll get my dripping slit is if you take it. I'm not going to give it to you. You'll need to take this haaaard prick -" I sucked his head between my lips sedately, swirled my tongue around the end and backed away to sit on my haunches again, "and ram it inside me. You'll need to give in to your urges." I leaned forward and slid my lips over his shaft again, eyes never leaving his as I slowly and tantalisingly crept lower, keeping a tight grip around his hardness. His warm cock filled my mouth and I savoured the feeling of the way it jerked as he fought for control, before sliding him from me with a wet pop. I let him calm again, then spoke. "I don't think you have it in you to keep your cock out of my slippery little pussy. You'll crack." It was thinly disguised begging, I knew, but I was desperate and piled on the nastiness all the same, trying to make him snap. "You'll thrust this hot, fat prick into my... tight... wet... cunt. You'll shove it repeatedly inside me, making me cry out for more. Making me beg you for it harder until we both come." I saw him breathe deeply once more and witnessed his expression harden. Knowing that must have been all he could take, less than a second before he reacted, I braced myself. Jackpot. In a single powerful burst he reached down and suddenly grabbed my shoulders, hauling me upward as I scrambled awkwardly to my feet. He grasped my wrists that were still crossed behind my back and marched me roughly across the kitchen to the back wall, bending me forward slightly and shoving my cheek against it. The paint felt cool against my face and I smiled at the shift in power. It wasn't quite how I'd planned, but the end result was the same: I had driven him off his sexual rails and was going to receive my fat, driving prize where I needed it most. My pussy practically dripped for him as he hooked a chair towards us, lifted my leg and placed my Louboutin on it, spreading me for entry. With one hand still firmly keeping my wrists in place behind my back he applied pressure to my shoulders so I slid a little further down the wall, bottom protruding towards him. From that position he would have seen my tight little derriere beneath the ties of the apron, my brown entrance small and inviting; the hold-ups below just adding to the allure. He paused momentarily and I could almost hear the cogs turning. In my experience, men were divided broadly into two camps: those who preferred the soft curves of my 36Cs, and those that loved the draw of my firm, shapely rear. Adam was definitely an arse man. On any other day I might have moved further down the wall for him, to really show off my tiny opening -- maybe even beg him to take me that way -- but today was all about my fiery slit. Without any further warning I felt his prick slide quickly to the hilt into my sodden pussy. His tiny crop of pubic hair nestled against my backside as he split me perfectly and I gasped when he began to pick up the pace, sawing his fat cock deeply in and out. The fact I was restrained made the situation even more decadent. One leg on the chair, one on the floor, face shoved against the wall with each savage thrust of his wide knob; being used for his pleasure. And mine. A brief flashback of watching the couple in a similar position through the window of the Italian hotel zipped across my mind. No wonder she had enjoyed it. The twin feelings of helplessness and supremacy riotously sparred inside me and turned me on further as Adam took me forcefully from behind. My tits swung wildly inside the apron, scratching the lining, nipples lengthening at the friction. Short, sharp breaths, accompanied by impulsive groans, condensed warmly on the wall alongside my cheek; pummelled from me by Adam's relentless assault. It felt so good to finally be fucked after hours of torment. My swollen pussy devoured everything he had to offer, hungrily, voraciously, gleefully; my body a more than willing receptacle for his primal urges. Maybe I was the insatiable one in the relationship? Maybe I did need therapy to control my urges; to tame the sexual appetite that had steadily threatened to consume me over the last year? But perhaps in its own warped way, sex _was_ therapy? The openness to cross boundaries and experiment with acts that a few years ago would have shocked me, was maybe my freaky way of dealing with being unmarried in my thirties without kids on the horizon. Adam certainly had no complaints. And how could anything this good be bad? Being hammered into the wall like this was truly sensational! Messages flew around my body from each erogenous zone, colliding somewhere in my brain, flicking switches on to release the hormones that would ultimately result in a crushing orgasm. Time and again Adam's cock completely exited my distended pussy lips and forced its way back inside my body; each lunge spreading my slippery insides and delivering waves of white heat along the length of my soaked walls, culminating in violent sparks jumping across my pink clit. The highly charged network of receptors around my body injected their deliciously heightened payload into my bloodstream and my circuits began to overload. Amid a sudden rush of energy I felt as if someone had magnetised my clit and every fragment of sexual flotsam in my body turned and blasted towards my core, ultimately concentrating in an area barely the width of my little finger. Although I usually preferred direct clitoral stimulation, I could come almost as well given the right amount of encouragement elsewhere. And this sure as hell qualified. As Adam pounded his cock into my drenched pussy, the events of the previous evening and the pent up sexual pressure of the day sped through my mind and detonated my orgasm. It started deep in my pussy, gripped my clit and formed a knot in my belly that tightened then rapidly unwound, exploding electrical signals in all directions. I shivered as my skin lit up rapidly in sequence; tummy, breasts, neck, back, arms, hands, legs, and feet. My toes tingled inside my shoes, I closed my eyes and my mouth formed an 'O' shape alongside the wall as I panted hard into the release. Juice from somewhere deep within me flooded my canal, lubricating Adam's powerful thrusts further. The tingling of my limbs then quickly gave way to the sensation of my pussy walls rhythmically clamping around his prick as he propelled uncontrollably up into me. We weren't completely in sync so sometimes his in-stroke caught my contraction and I yelped as he spread my tunnel wide against its natural impulse. It was good pain, though. If anything, the brief stinging strokes reaffirmed how much of a horny vamp I'd become since dating Adam. On a purely base level, it felt terrific to be used in this degrading manner; force fucked for his entertainment while restrained. I knew it was moments like these that defined a person; when every shred of control -- even dignity -- was stripped away and there was nothing left but to accept the impulses and urges towards which I had steered us, allowing my body to guide me to places my conscious mind wouldn't usually permit. It reminded me of raucous nights in adjoining hotel rooms: listening for the moments when anonymity had removed the need for prudence and all barriers were down, witnessing the release of the primitive human animal. As had sprung forth now. Our antics were the complete antithesis of the gentle, loving symphony the night before where my mind and sopping pussy had been treated to hours of delightful, erotic, oral stimulation. This was more a staccato brawl in the mosh pit of a sweaty bar where my dripping cunt was ravaged and abused for a sole purpose: raw pleasure. Both ends of the scale were exquisite; both had their place in my world, and I loved the diversity of feelings each evoked in my mind and quivering body. Still keeping my hands held behind my back, Adam ploughed mercilessly into my aching slit as explosions continued to spew burning magma against the underside of my skin. He pulled my arms aside a little and I felt his thumb pressing firmly at the entrance to my anus. I let him in, and the nerve endings just inside my tiny rosebud joined the army of sensations that threatened to engulf my body. He probed deeper and made positive guttural sounds, the dirtiness of the ingress to my back passage fuelling his own excitement; I could tell he was close by the erratic rhythm his strokes had taken and the way he leaned forward, his hot, laboured breathing in my ear as he called me filthy names through clenched teeth. From my wide open mouth I moaned loudly into the room at his words, punctuating the groans with deep sighs of escalating pleasure at every irregular, deep thrust. My noises drove Adam over the edge. He rammed his cock into my spasming tunnel one more time and roared as his sperm jetted inside me, splashing heat against the entrance to my womb. Suddenly my bottom was vacant and he let go of my hands, quickly yanking my leg from the chair to spin me round and guide me to the floor. His cock fell free and spurted a powerful lace of come onto the laminate before my chaotic head figured what he was up to. I knelt before him unquestioningly, fumbling behind me to grip the heels of my shoes, thrusting my chest up at him. He grabbed his glistening shaft and I tried not to flinch at the beautiful sight of him pumping the remainder of his orgasm onto my cheeks, chin and apron. It was magnificent to watch the eye of his knob spewing the last remaining jets of come against my face and the pink vinyl. His hot, white ribbons arced towards their destination and clung in limbo for a few seconds before mostly dripping and slithering south to pool on the floor between my parted thighs. Come from his initial blasts drizzled from my gaping slit and joined it, leaving sticky white globs of spunk dotted over the floor between my knees. Looking up at him with sperm splotching my features, I saw him break out into a grin of deep satisfaction. He had his hand around his shaft, which was still periodically leaking drops of pearly come. I could smell myself on his tool and it thrilled me; my top note reminiscent of jasmine -- sweet, richly floral and exotic -- while the longer base note had a creamy, earthier quality. I let the scent envelop my senses, shutting my eyes, boosting the warm glow inside me. When I opened them I gazed up at Adam, releasing my heels to bring my hands in front of me. With a finger I slowly and deliberately directed his goo from my cheeks and chin into my mouth, then stuck out my tongue and traced the contours of his wide, now very red, glans, scooping errant droplets of his seed into my mouth and swallowing. He was salty and bittersweet which complemented my creaminess perfectly. As I wrapped my lips over his gradually softening member to draw his length into my warm mouth I basked in our mixture. I loved my come as much as Adam's yet found the combination far greater than the sum of its parts. Circling his prick lazily with my tongue, I let him soften completely in my mouth as the fires inside me began to abate. Despite the pace of our quickie, my pussy lips felt swollen and invigorated, hanging wide open; I suspected a battleship could glide into my port without touching the sides. The surface of my skin abruptly became sensitive to touch and I had to twist to rearrange my posture, moving the scratchy surface of the apron away from the most affected parts. My nipples throbbed, my heart rate was still high and I was unexpectedly famished, but I felt centred; like cosmic balance had been restored. Was I selfish and manipulative to use Adam for my own sexual fulfilment? Possibly. Was I really thanking him for his treat last night or was I just a dirty temptress with raging internal needs? Perhaps more the latter. But his eyes told me it didn't really make any difference: we'd both enjoyed my shameless behaviour and that was that. With each passing moment the knots in my stomach progressively unwound and when Adam's cock eventually slipped wetly from my mouth the physical glow had all but faded, replaced with a glorious sense of happiness and achievement. There was nothing greater than the contentment of post-orgasmic bliss to warm the soul. As Adam bent to kiss me and our lips touched it dawned on me that the moments we shared and the acts we performed were part of something larger; a universal energy that flowed through and bound us. Passion, lust, excitement, stimulation, fulfilment of subconscious desires, and the ultimate release of hormones that came with climax were all connected, yet mere window dressing for the real expressions of love for each other that burst from within at the simplest of actions; chasing each other in the supermarket; walking through the park hand-in-hand; comforting each other when things went sideways. That sweet, lingering kiss validated something I had grown to know innately over the past year or so; that for all our perceived faults and intermittent displays of flaky humanity amid the normal ups and downs of two people learning to share the same space with one another, every moment I spent with him -- sexual or not -- confirmed that I had made the perfect choice of partner. I smiled from inside his kiss and pulled my head back. "OK. Now we eat." "Good, I'm starving. Then what?" I grinned impishly and stood. "Then you can choose dessert."