Burbank in July

As I stepped out of the office into the heat of the San Fernando valley July, I scanned my contacts for your number and considered my good fortune.
I had pursued you to great lengths, pushing the limits of corporate policies, walking a very narrow line between wooing and outright harassment. In fact, had we not worked in separate buildings I would probably had to have given up long ago, but somehow over weeks and even months I was able to convince you of both my genuine attraction and sincerity. You had found it hard to believe that I would single you out, working as I did in an environment where "beautiful people" wandered the halls daily. I had to overcome your reluctance, your self-image, your ethos. It was hard work, but it had finally paid off.

I freely confess to a compulsive attraction to redheads, but that wasn't the sole attraction. There are many redheads who often don't warrant a second glance from me, but you fit all of the criteria. Your hazel eyes, leaning more towards green, were kind and intelligent, and intensely welcoming. Your body Rubenesque, voluptuous and tempting, not angular and pointy as so many women stive to achieve in this time. Your laughter, so infectious that its sound would wrench an adoring grin from me even when I hadn't heard what you were reacting to. Your job brought you to my office perhaps twice a month, and those days impressed upon me so deeply that now, years later, they are very nearly the only days which I recall.

When finally you had relented and permitted me to take you out, you wasted no time defining the terms. You were not interested in a serious relationship, and without using the precise term you outlined conditions which are now so commonly known as "friends with benefits", and in the beginning, the emphasis was on the benefits. After our first "date", we returned to your apartment and made out on the couch, Cartoon Network providing a surreal backdrop to my realized fantasies, as for the first time I got to explore your curves, test your sensitivities, touch, smell and taste you as you did the same to me. Even today, years later, the memory leaves me flushed and scintillated, so clearly can I recall that early passion and how immensely satisfied it left me.

"Hey, hey, hey like being stoned."

You answered on the second ring, "Hey, what's up?"

"Not too much, just walking out. Is it ok if I come by?", I asked, already knowing the answer, but sticking to the agreement. You wanted first right of refusal, and by now, I knew it was nothing but a technicality.

"Yeah, absolutely! I just got out of the shower, I'm watching some t.v. Oh, you only have one beer here, in case you want to stop." I did, and I would. I knew that of course, and you did as well, but it was part of the prescribed banter.

"Ok, I'll do that. Do you need anything while I'm at the store?"

"Nope", again I knew the answer before I had asked, "I'm all good. I'll see you soon."

"Cool, I'll be there in about 20."


My commute was one of the most brutal in the country, from southern west Los Angeles to the valley meant Sepulveda pass, ironically named as it was passable only when nobody in their right mind had any reason to use it. In most cities, the traffic flow would have been worst inbound, as most of the suburbanites would have had to come to the city proper, but L.A. bucks all trends. The studios were out in the valley, and the wage-slaves lived in the city proper, so each morning hundreds of thousands of us would funnel onto the 101 at 15mph if we were lucky. But you lived in the valley, just a short ride up the 101 from my office, and so after we'd established our... agreement, I opted out of the evening rush hour. So while my vehicular colleagues inched home, cursing each other for their brazen acts of imitation, I happily grabbed one six-pack of beer, another of condoms, and headed to your apartment.

Parking just down the street, I pressed the button for your apartment; knowing I was coming you would just buzz the door. Climbing the stairs, grinning in anticipation of what was to come, in mere moments as I'd knock on your door. The peephole would darken, and then the familiar click of the door unlatching, stressed from the heat of the summer and the lack of air conditioning in the building. And there you would be, silhouetted in the door frame, naked but for an oversized men's dress shirt which hung, unbuttoned, from your shoulders. The breeze from your open windows would escape into the hall, rustling your hair and flapping your outfit, and on each visit, I would stare in wonder at the gift I was about to receive. The bright, bleached white of the dress shirt contrasting with alabaster skin; skin which compared to any other color would appear as white as the shirt itself. The mischievous smile that crossed your face as I gazed down at your body. The reversal of modesty always struck me as I traced your body with my eyes, for while the shirt covered much of your breasts, the beautiful, fiery red tuft of pubic hair was always on display. Once or twice, it was a kimono instead of the dress shirt, but in my mind's eye, looking back, you are always in that shirt, glancing coyly at me, relishing my reaction. In the entire course of our affair, it never became routine.

As I breached your doorstep, I would lean in for a kiss, brief and friendly, with no betrayal of the passion that was to come. Making my way to the fridge to drop off my beer, we'd exchange small talk about work, life, weather or news. I would crack open a bottle and then settle into the couch next to you, the T.V. always on Cartoon Network, and nearly always showing yet another episode of Courage the Cowardly Dog. Perhaps you planned it that way, something with little potential to distract, but that would serve as a distraction while I settled in from my day. A few minutes, a couple of laughs at poor hapless Courage, a half a beer drained, and I'd be left with zero patience for waiting any longer to touch you.

As clearly as if I were doing so right now, I can remember tracing my finger along your thigh, both of us still presumably fixated on the TV. Without fail you would open your legs as I did so, and I would work my way slowly up your inner thigh, then trace the outline of your mons before drifting up your other thigh. The noise of the cartoon horror unfolding would fade as we both concentrated on my finger, the numerous fans in your windows buzzing in our ears as though we were under nitrous oxide in a dentist's chair. Eventually I would begin tracing the outline of your lips, and as your eyes closed and your head leaned back against the couch, I would begin in earnest. Never once did I find you in need of moisture, your nethers never offered anything but encouragement. In short order I'd have two fingers working deep inside you, and my thumb circling your clit, matching my timing to your breaths, the intoxicating scent of your pussy giving rise to both my passion and my cock.

With your wetness encompassing my fingers, I could not resist a taste; and once I'd had a taste, I could not resist a feast. I'd slither off the couch and remove my shirt, and then seated on the floor in front of you, spread your thighs and pull you closer to the edge of the couch. Slowly and carefully I'd use my tongue to lap up any wetness left behind from my digital attentions, then dive in in earnest to create more. Some days, I swear that's all we did, so engrossed was I in tasting, sucking and swallowing your sweet juices that my memories went no further. But on this day, there was more in store.

Raising my head from between your legs, gazing in adoration at the slick, pink lips, the curl of hair plastered against your cunt, turned auburn from the moisture, I knelt up and unbuckled my belt, undressing quickly in anticipation of my next move. Tossing my boxers to the side, I began to position myself in front of you, condom in hand, intending to fuck you just where you lay. But on this day, you had other plans.

"Wait," you said urgently, and before I could protest, "there's something I want to try. Stand up!"

I complied, my shaft pointing to the east like a divining rod, a pearl of pre-cum pooling at the tip. I fumbled with the condom wrapper as I watched you walk around to the side of the couch, then circle back around and begin piling pillows on the seat nearest the arm. Satisfied with your work, you leaned over the arm of the couch on to the pillows, then flipped the tail of your shirt up teasingly.

"Come and get it," you purred.

I did not have to be told twice. As quickly as I could I positioned myself behind you, my ankles inside of yours I pressed out to stake myself a claim. Your upturned ass was glorious as the setting sun washed through the drapes, and I wasted no time nestling the head of my cock against your moist and quivering pussy. I slid the top of my cock back and forth along your cunt to tease you, and then plunged deep inside of you, my thighs meeting yours with a deeply satisfying slap, as though I had just smacked your ass with a paddle. I heard you release a deep breath in a slow moan, and realized that I was fortunate enough to be fulfilling a fantasy of yours. I set about doing my part to the best of my ability.

Grasping you firmly by the hips, I plunged in and out of you as quickly as I could. I watched my shaft as I withdrew until I was certain just how far I could pull back before I'd risk missing on the next thrust, and then set about pounding you with every inch I had available. The sound was like a vast erotic symphony, the percussive slap of our thighs meeting, the drone of the window fans like a continuous rumbling timpani, the sounds of cars and people on the street like faint chimes and brass, and all of it punctuated by the passionate slurp of my purple shaft plunging into your dripping cunt. The couch shifted on the floor, and we both inched our feet forward to rejoin it, we would have followed it clear to the wall rather than break off our rapidly rising concerto. I thrust into you ever harder, until my thighs actually began to sting from the mutual spanking we were both receiving, my cock so swollen and hard I may as well have been a warm pyrex dildo.

Eventually your moans took on a greater intensity, and the racket of our unabashed fucking grew so loud I was sure we could be heard across the street, fans or no fans. I redoubled my thrusts, adjusting my speed to match your throaty professions of lust, and pushed you over the edge just in time to join you. As your cunt twitched and throbbed the intensity of your orgasm, I was overwhelmed by my own, so intense as to be nearly painful, as though my loins had given up on just spurting my seed and had decided to just give you one whole testicle. As we both climbed down from our peaks, both of our legs began to tremble uncontrollably, as I eased my fully drained cock out of you, we both began to laugh in exhaustion and disbelief as we began to catch our breath.

I fucked you on that day as though it would be my last, and to this day it stands as one of my most memorable. A short while later, darkness had fallen, and I got dressed and set out on my evening commute.

All told, the affair probably didn't last six months before I found some brilliant way to fuck it up. Despite the groundrules, fondness grew into full fledged, but tentative, affection, as we shared with each other more than should be shared in your typical FWB arrangement. Losing that one was hard, but I was in the midst of a variety of life-changing events and so it affected me only briefly. But sometimes my mind does wander, and sometimes when it does it heads back up the 101 and parks in front of a non-descript bodega, drifts silently through the security door and stands in front of your door, pondering what might have been.

I sincerely doubt you'll ever read this in the sheer enormity of the internet. But if you ever do, I had a great time that year, and I miss you.

An Unexpected Evening, Part 4

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Blatant Plug Wednesday - Bad, Bad Girl

Here's another wonderful blog I've discovered, Bad Bad Girl.  BBG has a number of totally unbiased reviews of the latest adult toys, some wonderful erotica, and a great feature called "Half Nekkid Thursdays" - not to be missed. She is currently running a contest; there's not much time left but I'm getting my entry in!  Here's the deets, get on over there and enter.  A great way for you to enjoy some anonymous exhibitionism!

Bad Bad Girl's Blog Anniversary Contest

Drawings

How to get an entry (you can do both):

1. Post the details of the contest on your blog, saying something wonderful about me along with the list/links of prizes up for grabs.  You will need this paragraph (from ‘Drawings’ to the last prize).  (you must leave me a comment here so I know you did it)

2. Email me a picture wishing me a happy blog anniversary I will post it on my anniversary.  badbadgirlx (at) gmail (dot) com  (Nudity is greatly appreciated)

See, I’m easy.  (As if you didn’t know!!)  I MAY add a third way half way thru, stay tuned for that!

Here’s the things up for grabs and the fantastic vendors who are supplying some of the best, coolest and my favorite items.

Adam&Eve- Cyberskin Dream Cock, 16oz bottle of Adam&Eve Signature Lube, DVD- Bree’s Big Campout, DVD- Hello Nurse, and DVD-World of Sexual Variations 2

TabuToys- Carmen Electra’s Stripper Pole

Babeland- Hitachi Magic Wand and 1 oz Rocketbalm

Eden Fantasys- Bandito, 1 oz Eros Light Love Lube, Cock and Ball Rings

An Unexpected Evening, Part 3

Reaching down the bed I unclasp each of your ankles, your legs closing ever so slightly in relief, your thighs tremoring as they savor their new found freedom.  Reaching above your head, I uncoil the ties around your wrists, noting that they were for show only - you could've escaped at any time.  I will correct that soon.  I give you a few moments to recover before I take command again.

"Take off that... thing.  I want to see your tits."

You comply without a word, sitting up on the bed and reaching behind you to release the various clasps, sutures and loops that holds the bodice so close to your ribcage.  As it releases you fold it in across your chest, hold it out to the side and let it fall to the floor.  In an anachronistic show of modesty, you fold your hands across your breasts, awaiting my next instructions.  They do not come.

As quick as I can I grasp both your wrists and pull them back above your head, pulling you back down to the bed as I do so.  I find the ties that were so recently wound cosmetically around your wrists, separate them, and loop them around your hands and wrists.  Within moments your hands are truly tied above your head, firmly wrapped about the wrists, the knot facing away from your fingers.  If I placed a pair of scissors in your hands, I doubt you could manage an escape. 

You test the bonds playfully, and I hear your breathing quicken when you realize how tight the ties are this time.  For the first time this evening, you are aware of your commitment, the possibilities descend on you like a swarm, and your arms go limp.  Before now, you were captain-in-absentia of this little scene, now with one well placed knot you have become a passenger in steerage.

Stepping back to the bathroom, I rummage through drawers, making no effort to conceal the sounds of my search.  I yank a drawer out to its stops, then slam it closed just as quickly, until I find the tool I seek.

Dental floss.  Waxed and mint flavored, to be precise. 

I return to the bed pulling a long strand of the taut, slick thread from the container.  At the very end I fashion a slipknot, and breaking the line on the handy steel cutter built into the lid, I feed the string back through itself until I have a small lasso tied into the end.  Working quicker now, I prepare a second coil of floss in the same manner.  As I work, I watch your face flush and blanch, over and over, as your mind tries to reconcile the sounds you can pick out. 

With my garrotes in hand, I walk along the side of the bed, dragging my thigh against the sheets so that you'll hear my approach.  I reach down and grab your left breast firmly in my fingers, gathering it up into my fist, until all that remains exposed is a stiff, elongated nipple.  I slip the loop of one floss lasso over the peak, and roll it down to the base.  I smile as I pull it tight, watching you grimace ever so slightly.  Circling the bed, fingers trailing on the sheets, I repeat the performance on your other nipple, snapping it a few times to get it hard once again.

With your nipples lassoed, I slide my fingertips down across your stomach and lower, just glancing across your lips before tracing down your inner thigh, across your knee to your calf, stopping at your instep.  I clutch your foot firmly in my hand and bring it up, bending your knee in the process.  I continue until your leg is pressed into a z-shape against your chest, your knee nearly touching the nipple I most recently secured with the floss.  Before you have a chance to object, I pick up the lead of floss, and wrap it around your little toe two, three, four times.  I close it off with a quick knot, then press up on your calf to test my work.

Your leg yields for a moment, until the motion takes all slack out of the line and your nipple, nay, your whole tit is lifted in the direction of your foot.  You have perhaps an inch and a half of slack between how tightly you can clasp your knees to your chest and when your toe begins to yank on your breast.  I pull your foot upward until you squeal, testing the strength of the slipknot.  Satisfied, I come around to complete the tie on your other side; knowing what's to come you resist, refusing to bend your knee.  I reach across and tickle the foot that's already hanging in midair, and as you try to escape you pull the cord tight again, your giggle turning into a yelp.  You raise your other foot without comment, pulling even tighter to your chest, and I complete my rig. 

I stand up at the foot of the bed and admire my work a moment.  Your hands secured over your head, blindfold still in place, you are now at my mercy.  You carefully work out how much you can relax each leg before the pinching becomes unbearable, and I'm pleased to see the distance for each leg is fairly close.  With both legs up in the air, you are entirely exposed, from where I stand the crotchless panties provide no cover at all; any erogenous zone I could want is splayed open to the cool, dry air of the bedroom.

Fetching my jeans from the floor, I tug out the thick leather belt I've had for years.  I wrap it, buckle first, around my hand, and loop until only a foot or so of strap extends beyond my clenched fingers.  Without word or warning I bring the strap down across your ass, now pointing nearly straight out off the bed. 

The result is immediate, a small squeak bursts from your throat, hangs in the air for a moment and is lost beneath the rush of air as you gasp hurriedly.  On impact, your instinct was to hide your backside, and your legs attempted to straighten out.  As they did so, the line securing nipples to toes was stretched to its max, and your feet attempted to take your breasts with them.  Recovering from the blow, your chest heaves, and I can see that both slipknots have dug deeper into your tender flesh.  I raise my arm above my head for another stinging slap.

You have learned now; while each stinging blow elicits a fresh convulsion, your feet do not stray from your chest.  Even without your hands, you keep your knees pressed tightly to your breasts, exposing yourself further to the sharp, taut leather, sacrificing your most sacred offerings so that the tight string not bite any deeper.  I revel in it for a while, the strap licking back and forth, until I'm satisfied with the hue of your thighs and ass, and realize that you're not going to move your feet again no matter how I tan your hide.

I drop the belt to the floor, and crawl up on to the bed until my head hovers just over your weeping sex.  Up close now, I study the telltale lines the belt has left behind, counting how many slightly raised welts extend off the curve of your ass and into the luminous white flesh of your inner thigh, the quivering border of your outer labia.  Gently I press your lips apart, grin at the surplus of moisture that lies beyond.  Curious, I slide two fingers deep inside you, they glide knuckle deep without resistance.  As I extract them a small river of wet breaks its headwaters, trickling over your exposed pucker and down between your ass cheeks.  I stare, unable to help myself, until it's crept out of my sight.

I replace the fingers with my thumb, and run the pad up the length of your lips, right and left, pressing firmly on your clit as I pass it.  Three more times my thumb slowly probes your sex, until it comes to rest just below your canal, tugging it open to the night air.  My middle finger slides up the back of your crevice, finding natural lubrication, and stops just above your ass; my mouth, half-open, descends from above, aiming for your clitoris. 

As I make contact with my mouth and my thumb presses more urgently, I can hear you blaspheming at the head of the bed.  You strive to hold your legs still, the floss still tethered to your toes just above my head, as my tongue laps up and down, around and across your clitoris.  The scene has had an affect on you, you are clearly very close to cumming again, but I grant you no mercy.  Each time I find a particularly good spot, your legs twitch, and your moan becomes a gasp as you pull your feet in tight again.  I slide lower, tonguing the entrance of your canal, pressing in as far as I can and pulling back out, fucking you with my mouth.  As I feel you begin to shake, I lift my thumb from your asshole and let my tongue drift down instead.  As I run the tip of my tongue across your rosebud, I raise my hands and clasp your ankles to my head tightly, anticipating the reaction as you crash over the edge. 

You scream wordlessly as you crash into your second orgasm, and from the looks of things this one is far more intense.  Your feet crush against my head, pulling me down further into you, I fight a moment's panic as I fear I might drown.  Instead I press more firmly with my tongue, shaking my head vigorously, determined to make your climax as memorable as it was complicated.  I slow my onslaught to soft, languid circles as your convulsions come further and further apart, I release my hold on your ankles, leaving you to again control the tension on your nipples.  You ease the clamping force on my head and I withdraw, breathing hard myself, I sit upright and observe the predicament I've placed you in.

I grab my pocketknife out of my jeans and disconnect your toes.  Carefully I loosen the slipknots on your nipples and cast them aside.  Reluctant to take the knife between your toes, I settle for using my teeth, loosening the floss from around your pinky toes and watching the blood flow back into them.  As you stretch your feet back out down the bed, knees still bent and thighs still wide apart, I see and then hear you begin to laugh.  It starts off as a twitch, but quickly grows to hysterics.

"What's so funny?" I ask.

Your reply came between fits of laughter.  "I was genuinely afraid that you were going to hurt me!  The last thing I expected was to come twice before you'd so much as fucked me!!" 

-- To Be Continued --

You're Welcome

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An Unexpected Evening, Part 2

As my fingers worked the buttons my mind raced with the opportunities before me. Every bit of fetish, hardcore and BDSM porn I'd ever seen flashed through my mind. In my jeans, the monster was already awakening, straining against the tight bonds of denim. Yet as it swelled, so too did my gratitude, that you would put yourself out like this, take such a risk, and do so with such grace and confidence.

As I pulled my shirt back off my shoulders, I begrudgingly acknowledged that I needed a shower. Well, I'll keep it short. I glanced back at you again, still prone and spread-eagled on the bed, and was struck by an idea. If I had to make you wait another minute longer, I could certainly do something to spice it up. My eyes traced your body once again, at last coming to rest on the cuffs circling your ankles.

"So, these cuffs - is there some way to use--"

"Look under the bed," you replied, smiling mischievously. I quickly dropped to my knees and lifted the bedskirt. Tied around the bed leg was a length of strap, with a spring-loaded hook at the end. I pulled the strap out from under the bed and marveled at you once again. I felt a sudden sense of urgency and grasped roughly at your ankle.

I pulled your leg out until it met the hook, snapped it on, then cinched the strap up tight to pull your leg out even wider. Circling around the bed, I found the matching strap and did the same to your left leg, relishing your gasp as I tugged the strap even tighter. Your legs were spread very wide now, your feet almost as far apart as the king bed was wide. I admired my work a moment, and then set off for the closet.

Quickly I fished out our toy box, pulled open the folded cardboard flaps, and found your rabbit. I held it tightly in my hand and pushed a button, relieved when it pulsed to life that I wouldn't have to go searching for batteries this time. Returning to the bedroom, I snatched a pillow off the bed, and then climbed up and kneeled down between your wide-open thighs.

The lamp in the corner played with the contours of your mons, soft ridges were nearly white in their brightness, before shadow crept in as your soft skin folded down to your lips. Already, without my having touched you at all, the inner lips were a darker pink than the rest of you, and they seemed thicker than normal. At the very top, I could make out just the very tip of your clitoris, a smooth pink orb like a pearl, and it seemed to me as though it was calling my name.

Unable to resist, I dipped my head and exhaled across your lips, then let my tongue trace a long, slow line from the very bottom of your slit, slowly and firmly, until your clit popped out from underneath it and I felt your whole body twitch. I savored both scent and flavor, their telling me that you were enjoying this as much as I, and in fact, probably had been for some time. You seemed to tense in anticipation of the next stroke, but I had other plans.

I brought the rabbit up between my face and your sex, and held it just above your lips for a moment. Then I inserted it into you, your quick intake of air filling the room, pressing firmly but not too fast, until the ears were just below the apex of your labia. Grabbing the pillow, I pulled it up between your legs, then adjusted the angle and depth until the rabbit ears slid beneath your hood, clutching your clitoris between the two silicone probes. I pressed the pillow underneath your thighs, fluffing the middle and pressing it firmly against the toy. It probably wouldn't last, but it wouldn't need to either. A mischievous grin swept over my face.

"I need to take a shower," I said, clicking the toy onto low vibration, "but I didn't want you to be bored." I pressed the button to begin oscillating the pearl-filled cock deep inside you. "I won't be long," clicking both buttons up in intensity, "don't go anywhere!"

As I climbed off the bed and unbuttoned my pants, I watched as your hips moved almost imperceptibly up and down. "Don't move," I announced intently, "if that falls out while I'm gone there will be consequences."

I shuffled out of my jeans and freed myself from my boxers, freshly marked with a moist spot of pre-cum. I watched you as I stepped into the bathroom, and turned on the water in the shower to let it warm up. Quietly, I stepped back into the room, leaned over the bed and pressed the vibration up button one more time. As I heard you mewl, I jogged quickly back to the bathroom, overjoyed at my good fortune.

As I rushed through my shower, the soft scent of soap and steam swirling around me, I thought of what to do next. I finished showering in record time, shut off the water, and as I opened the shower door I heard you begin to gasp and moan. I hurried to the door, nearly slipping on the tile, to catch the last throes of your first orgasm of the evening. As your breathing settled, you intimated in a near whisper, "I think it fell out."

Softly I padded to the bed and looked down at the rabbit. It had indeed slid out, but at least 2" of the shaft were still pressed inside of you. Your face was bent into a sexy pout, and I was overcome by a wave of affection.

"It slipped out. But not all the way," I said sternly. "You're safe. For now."

I reached down and removed the pillow and the rabbit from the bed, my cock straining as I noticed the moist trail of passion that had slipped from your crevice and begun to darken the bedsheets below. Emboldened by your blindfold and safe from judgment, I licked the shaft of the rabbit, lapping up the sweet and tangy evidence of your pleasure.

Setting it aside, I prepared myself for phase two.

-- To Be Continued --

An Unexpected Evening, Part 1

"Hi honey, how's you're day going?", she seems fairly chipper.

"I've had better.  It looks like we're going to be stuck here pretty late.  How about you?".

"Pretty busy here too, not sure if I'll be home before 8.  Wanted to let you know, we should probably just grab our own dinners on the way home."  .

Perfect, she's going to be home even later, now I seem like a whiner.  "Sounds good, I'll grab a burger.  See you tonight, don't work too hard."

"I won't if you won't!"

The day wore on as expected.  I finally got out around 7:15, fetched a burger and headed for home.  I didn't see your car, and figured you might not be back before 8:30.  With a beer under the crook of my arm, I grabbed ketchup and a couple of paper towels and headed to the couch.  When MythBusters was over, I started to wonder where you were. 

I called your cell phone and it went straight to voice mail.  I quickly repelled the sudden onslaught of terrible thoughts that crowded my mind by reminding myself that I should really get you a new battery for that phone.  I decided I'd go wash up and then, if I really felt it necessary, start calling every police station between here and the county line.

As I opened the door to the bedroom, I noticed the nightstand lamp was still on, and groaned at the expense.  Then I groaned at how I've become my father.  At first I looked right past you as I turned to the bathroom.  On the second, I froze mid-step.  My brain having activated the emergency alert system, every synapse in my body braced for the distorted voice soon to follow with life-saving instructions.  But this time they were remarkably clear and concise.

"Turn to your left.  Immediately."

Voyeur by Adam Rhoades

I did so with some concern.  While there was no panic in the instruction, I saw no reason for anyone to be in our apartment yet.  As my head swiveled, my body following slowly, I came to gaze upon you.

Wearing the lingerie set I'd bought for you just two weeks before, you were lying on your back on the bed.  A rope leading up from the middle of the headboard wrapped around your wrists.  Across your eyes, a silk scarf was fashioned into a blindfold. On your neck, a velour choker with a D-loop in the middle.  And on your ankles, cuffs to match the choker.

Before I could gather my wits, I heard you purr, "if that's not you, I'm in a whole lot of trouble".

I laughed, hard, my surprise at seeing you on the bed swept away in a river of laughted and tears.  I thought of how long I spent on the couch eating my dinner and watching T.V., and all the day's stress drained out, pouring from my back, legs, and feet as I doubled over and struggled not to collapse.  When finally I had caught hold of my breath and sobriety, I heard your voice again.

"It sounded like your day kind of sucked.  I thought you might like a present."  As you spoke, you slowly rubbed your legs together, stretching your toes outward, and then slowly parted your thighs.  As I stood transfixed, your legs opened before me, and I could see the smooth, shimmering delight that you had been keeping warm for me for over an hour.  The matching crotchless panties quickly became my favorite undergarment in your collection.

"I'm yours," you continued, "for whatever you want, until you are finished."  I began to laugh quietly, as flashes appeared in my head of all the things you'd ever declined before, "no, don't say anything," you continued.  "Don't tell me.  That's what the blindfold's for.  Don't question it, I won't do this often.  Just, go."

I began to unbutton my shirt.

---To Be Continued---

Libidinous Intent

I awake, as usual, to the stirrings of the alarm cock. More than half an hour will pass before the buzzer on the nightstand switches on, bleating obliviously to finish a job that's already been done. I roll on to my back, releasing the pressure that has built between thighs and mattress, and heave a stifled sigh as I adjust my shorts, pressing back against that which has pushed me to consciousness.

I turn to look at you; we are never more different than at this moment, each day. The sheets are up to my shoulder, but my legs and much of my torso have slipped out the side of the stifling cloth, to breathe in the night air. You are curled up tight, the covers pulled clear to your ear. I am wide awake, having answered the suffocated calls of my groin; you are fast asleep, breathing deep, completely unaware of my stirring beside you.

Bending a knee, I tent the bedsheets above me, creating breathing room for my aching staff. The sheets climb my side, leaving a void between mattress and modesty, and I know that I've slipped through the conveniently placed flap in my shorts. Once again, I wonder if I could be seen through the window; once again the thought thrills rather than disturbs me.

Organizing my thoughts for the day, I realize it's far too early for that and set them ascatter once again. My hand drifts below again, testing my fortitude - I am rock hard and unyielding. Squeezing tight, I can feel the blood strain for passage... this one isn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Once again I look in your direction. You are curled up on your side, facing away, and I realize that I went to bed before you last night, and have no idea what you may or may not be wearing. Like an accomplished thief, I slowly lift the curtain between us, peering beneath the covers for a hint of what you might have on. A rush of cool air fills the new void, amplifying my eagerness as you come into view.

There is nothing. No nightgown, no underwear, no oversized t-shirt. I see only the gentle curve of your back, your waist, your hips. I study the curving, parallel lines of the mattress, your ass, and your hips. It only takes a moment, already I'm aware of pre-cum pooling at my tip, so ready I am for you.

As smoothly as I can, I slide closer to you in this enormous bed. I match my bend to yours, and shimmy until I am pressed against you. Only when your back is pressed to my chest do I bring my legs up to meet yours, my eyes roll for a moment as I feel myself press tight to your closed lips, a light stubble teasing and tantalizing me.

"Mmmmm, hi...", you say, wiggling back against me, before resting your head back on the pillow and falling quickly back to slumber. I don't want to disturb you. I don't want to, but I need to.

I lift my right leg slightly to slide my hand down between us. Grasping myself, I begin to slowly slide along your cleft, pressing ever so gently against you. I continue this motion, almost a slow-motion dry hump, imperceptibly increasing the pressure against you, for minutes. I know that inside, you are ready for me, but first I must work my way past your defenses. Slowly I begin pulling up and down, tugging at your lips, until I feel the warm, familiar wetness like a shroud over the tip of my cock.

I slide back once more to find my bearings, then thrust. We bind for just a moment, a pinch that brings far more pleasure than pain, and then I am inside you. In the early morning silence I can hear your lips part and a sigh escape your throat, while I am unaware if you are awake or asleep, I know I am not unwanted.

I rock slowly for as long as I can, shallow strokes become deeper and more intense as we both warm to the act in progress. Soon, there is no friction at all, and the loudest sound in the room comes from your sex as I thrust in and out like a piston. I close my eyes and concentrate on my angle, varying as much as I can in a cramped, spooning position such as this.

Soon I feel the familiar swell of my thighs, my groin, and I feel a brief wave of panic as I realize that once this is over, I need to get up. For a moment I pause my strokes, and briefly consider holding off for another build up, but I let it go. I drape my arm over you, my palm pressed tight against your abdomen, and thrust hard, fast and deep. I feel your gasp against my chest even as I hear it penetrate the moist rhythm that has dominated the room. I pull back again, almost all the way, until I feel cool air just below my head, then plow forth again, and over the edge.

Over and over I push as far as I can into you, my muscles acting in concert as the endorphins begin to flow. My cock twitches so deep and hard inside of you that I can feel it against my palm. After what feels like hours, I am spent; I rest my head against the pillow and sit contentedly until I slowly recede from you, a small dribble across your left cheek as a confirmation of my pre-dawn gift.

Your breathing resumes its slow, constant pace, and I realize that had you been awake at all, you are not now. Carefully I roll away from you, and out of bed, to clean myself up and change my shorts.

I slip out to go make coffee, careful not to make a sound.