We had been drinking expensive and delicious cocktails around the East End for a couple of hours, interspersed with nibbles from the bag of pills I had tucked into my jacket pocket, and at a certain point it became about when we were going to fuck rather than whether. She's an ex from ten years ago, dark, Jewish, pretty and funny, and we have the measure of each other having been through some outlandish events together (my stalker attacking her, nude, in the middle of a shower, on New Years' Day for one thing).
So we left Lounge Lover and kissed in the quiet alley outside. Stopping to buy condoms and champagne, we went to mine, and lay on the couch and felt that quiet E buzz building, the one that makes you want to touch and be touched, and lie back and just feel alive.
So I spent a lot of time on her, and heard her voice become startlingly guttural as she came (the first time anyway, the second was more interior, warmer somehow). We didn't fuck, we just wanted to play. She'd said earlier that she didn't want anything kinky tonight, just intimacy and pleasure, and that was fine by me. But when she started to run her fingers along my cock, and tease me with short tingling runs around my balls and down between my thighs, I could tell by the look in her eye that she was having a fantasy.
When I asked her what she was thinking, she said "You fancy my girlfriend, don't you?" Of course, not knowing any of her girlfriends, I knew this wasn't to be taken literally - so I asked which one. "The one with a fringe, long, dark, cut straight across her forehead - quite prissy, hoity-toity, you know the one?" "Oh, her - what's her name? I do think she's pretty..." "Melissa. I thought you did. Can I bring you to meet her? Along with some of my other girlfriends?" "You know you can. What do you want to do?"
Her voice and eyes became very dreamy here. She kept gently pumping her fingers up and down my length, enjoying the unfamiliar hardness and the warmth pulsing there.
"I want to play Truth or Dare with her till she's in her underwear. Very, very expensive, nice underwear. The other girls will help me win - they want to see her taken down a peg too. Then I want you standing over her, showing her this."
I thought about it. "I could do that."
"But you can't touch her. Not unless I tell you to." "That's understood."
"She'd be struggling and laughing a bit, but nervously - then she realises she's not getting away from this. You're going to come on her face for me. When I tell you to." "Nice", I said. "I like that idea." "But you aren't allowed to look at her while you do it - I want you to keep looking at me. You'll have to, anyway, to see when I signal to you that you're allowed to come." "Tricky, but yeah, I can do it."
She stopped to kiss the end of my cock and I let my head fall backwards and moan a little, and to picture the scene. I had my own inner idea of this Melissa, as girls with Louise Brooks bobs have been a fixture of my fantasies for many years now, and the idea of her looking up at me, eyes wide with a mixture of shame and lust, was very potent.
"She wants to touch you now. She's looking at you and asking, begging, to have you in her, somewhere - anywhere. 'Please', she says, 'can I feel him in me?' But I tell her no." "I'm just for your pleasure," I breathe. "Yes. I tell her to talk to me, not you. You have no say in this. You're just my cock." This took my breath away. How did she realise that the idea of being used as a sex toy by two women makes my skin tighten and tingle, makes my cock ache with need to come? It's not the first time a woman guessed my innermost thoughts without being told. I love the way they do that.
"And when I finally tell you to come, what will it be like?" "Well", I say, "I keep my eyes fixed on you all the time, of course. All your friends are watching in amazement, thinking, how did she get him so well trained? He does everything she tells him to. And they look at my cock, and they all want it, and they know it's all for you, unless you tell me to do otherwise. And they're so jealous and so turned on." "Mmmm. And Melissa?" "She's going crazy, touching herself, licking her lips, staring at my cock just inches from her lips, desperate to taste it. But knowing she can't unless you let her." "Yes. And do you want to come?" "So badly. God. I am dying to come." "And do you want to touch her?" "Of course. But I know..." "You know that if you did, this would all end -" she snaps her fingers "- like that."
I finally came for her, many hours later. We didn't fuck, despite the condoms - we just touched and licked and stroked each other, until my balls felt so full and heavy that it hurt to hold back, and she told me to jerk off for her, all over her. And of course after all that, I came in a flood, almost a painful one, because it went on for so long. She lay back and basked in the tiny sprinkles of hot warmth over her skin, and when I finally collapsed and held her, I felt the wetness as far up as her neck and as far down as her thighs. Holding back for so long had made me a one-man bukkake session. She laughed. "I so would have loved to have seen you do that over Melissa's silly little stuck-up face."
I wish I knew which of her friends she had in mind for this experience. In fact, I wish it was her plan to make it happen. I like that role - mindless sex toy for the smart woman-about-town. I like it quite a lot.
Labels: bukkake, fantasy, hairstyles, Louise Brooks, women
