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Strings Chapter 8: Meeting Pixie

10/14/2015

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’.


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.


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.

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Very well done, thank you.

10/31/2015