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It sounded like I was touching a secret part of her soul.
Christine’s wicked gasps were incredibly arousing. Every whisper, every growling husk in the back of her throat spoke of pure sensual pleasure that went beyond the physical and seemed to elevate the eroticism of the moment.
Her hand around her ankle ran up along the taut length of her thigh and then disappeared for a moment. I heard the sound of her sucking her fingers and then felt her touch between her legs. She was pleasuring herself, bending her knees just a little to reach her clit. I wished that I could have seen her face – more than anything else I wanted that. I wanted to see the dreamy pleasure in her eyes mirroring the sounds in her throat.
I took my hands from her thighs, thrust just a few more times and then withdrew myself from her pussy.
Christine looked back over her shoulder. She saw my glistening cock and her smile became deliciously debauched. She reached out for me, took my length in her hand, sinking down onto her knees at the same time and opening her mouth wide.
I was beginning to sway. The edges of my vision burst into swirling light.
I stared down and watched Christine’s mouth engulf me, her lips and her hand working in practiced unison along my shaft until the flesh there seemed to burn and prickle with unrestrained urge. Christine hooded her eyes, alternating her gaze between the sight of my cock disappearing between her pouting lips, and the rapt expression on my face. I felt my eyes sear her with burning desire as her mouth made exquisite love to my cock until at last I could hold back not a moment longer.
I erupted deep in her mouth and she gulped and slurped hungrily until I had nothing more – nothing at all left to give.
Christine had been a very good girl for me and my good girls always got rewarded. I perched her on the edge of the kitchen countertop and she parted her legs wide, then leaned back with her head resting against the wall.
I went down on one knee and kissed her swollen clit. I heard Christine sigh. The lips of her pussy were flared and swollen with her arousal, the flesh of her shaved sex reddened. My lips slid down to the wetness welling within her and I lapped at her juices hungrily. Christine wrapped one hand into the hair at the back of my head and braced her balance with the other. I reached up with one hand and teased her nipple while the other hand held her knees wide apart. Christine threw back her head and closed her eyes. Her fingers tangled in my hair clenched and released, mirroring the pulsing waves of her pleasure.
Quickly I settled into a rhythm, judging the pressure of my tongue by the changing sounds of her breathing. My tongue danced lightly across her clit and then flicked within her. She stiffened for an instant and tried to thrust herself against me. I slid my tongue from inside her and sat back for a moment. A flush of color was spreading slowly across her chest. I went back to teasing her clit.
I was ravenous now, sensing that it required just a little longer for Christine to orgasm. My tongue thrumming across her clit was incessant. She drew in a sharp sudden breath and then began clutching at one of her breasts and plucking at the ruby red nub of her nipple, her head bowed over, watching me with wide mesmerized eyes.
When Christine came, it was with a growl in her throat and a convulsive bucking of her hips. My tongue stayed pressed to her pussy and the rush of her arousal was as warm and sweet as honey on my tongue.
Much later, when we were dressing, Christine told me she wouldn’t be visiting any more. I never asked her why. Maybe she found a tree in a forest that had vines like long tentacles… or maybe she felt it was better to jump before she was pushed. We both knew right from the outset that our relationship was for the pursuit of a good time, not a long time.
Before we went our separate ways, Christine suggested offhandedly that I should write a book about some of the things I had discovered about women and sexuality.
So I did.
It was a novel about a fictional interview with a Master…
Which happens to lead me to my next question.
So what does reading erotica do for you? How does reading repay you in exchange for the time you give it?
Ever think about that?
I mean, reading erotica means something different to just about everyone. For many women, it’s a chance just to deservedly unwind and relax for a couple of hours at the end of a frantic day after everyone in your family has made demands of your time. Reading is your little reward.
Or maybe you read erotica in order to live vicariously through the exploits of fictional characters. There’s nothing wrong with that. Daily life is a grind and if your escape is into the fantasy of fictional erotica heroes, and that’s how you take a rest from the worries of life, then who is anyone to judge?
Good for you.
Some ladies read because they are especially fascinated with an aspect of the erotica genre – most notable the BDSM lifestyle. For them, reading is a little like research, and they dream about maybe one day being able to experience for themselves some of the things their favorite characters experience.
How about you?
I write erotica books because it’s a subject I know a little bit about. But I’m not the mystery here… you are!
I suspect your reasoning changes. I suspect you love books, love to escape into the pages of a compelling story… and the erotica genre allows you to enjoy harmless fantasies and at the same time maybe discover some fascinating stuff and sexy ideas along the way.
Am I wrong?
Tell me if I am. It’s important because I want to understand you, and I want to know where you’re coming from. That’s what friends do, don’t they. They listen and learn about each other…. just like we’re doing, you and I, right now.
* * *
Do you like to watch?
It’s a fantasy that a large number of women secretly think about; they dream about watching another couple having sex. Some submissive women crave the specific humiliation of watching their man with another woman…
Does this surprise you?
From personal experience I can tell you that having sex with another woman while your partner is watching is an enormous turn-on. At the dominant – submissive level, a Master might use such a scenario when training a slave.
How would you feel about watching your man or your Master pleasure another woman while you sat – only allowed to watch – on the edge of the bed, or maybe in a corner?
You see, submission comes in many forms; pain and specific humiliation are just a couple of aspects. I guess being a cuckquean falls into the latter category.
On two occasions I have brought another woman home for sex while the submissive sat and watched us. On one of those occasions the scenario blew up in my face – the submissive girl I was in a relationship with realized after the first few minutes that what she thought would be arousing was actually enraging…. so I won’t talk about that night!
The other night though was a spectacular success and actually went on to become a semi-regular arrangement that worked well for all three of us; my submissive, the visiting woman and myself.
The submissive girl I was training was named Deanne. She was an athletic girl who was active in a number of sports. We had met at a local sporting event and over time began seeing each other exclusively for BDSM training sessions. Deanne was a willing student and a very obedient submissive. Everything she did was given the same careful attention and discipline as her sporting pursuits. She hated to lose, and she hated performing her submissive tasks to a less than excellent standard. At school she would have been the kid who always got gold stars.
Kimberly on the other hand was a different woman entirely. We had shared a few sexy weekends together before she had moved to a different part of the country a year earlier. She was a voracious insatiable fiend with long black hair and a willowy figure. She had a pretty face and a spectacular figure. I called her up and we talked. I mentioned my plan and offered to fly her in for a weekend.
Kimberly was on the next plane and Deanne was sitti
ng in the back seat when we picked Kim up from the airport.
The two women were like fire and ice. Deanne was demure. She had a trim figure and brown hair. Her intensity was a total contrast to the wild-child personality of Kim.
When we arrived at my apartment, it was natural for Kim to hook her arm in mine, and we walked side-by-side to the front door with her hip and her breast brushing against my arm while Deanne followed, silent and pensive.
Kim was staring up into my face, smiling with big flirtatious eyes. When we got inside she threw her jacket over the sofa and stood with her hands on her hips, eye-to-eye with Deanne.
Kim made her intentions clear, taking the script we had roughed out over the phone and then ad-libbing outrageously. She told Deanne that I was hers to fuck for the weekend and that Deanne had better learn to love watching my cock in another woman’s pussy. Then she told Deanne that she would sit and watch, but never comment, and never come. For the entire weekend she was to be denied the release of an orgasm.
Okay… well that hadn’t gone quite to plan. I had intended an explanation that was more sensitive, more sensual. My style of domination was more sophisticated and reasoned. Kim’s set of demands was like a slap in the face.
For long, long, very long seconds Deanne said nothing, but I could see the turmoil in her eyes – the simmering, lip-quivering outburst that hovered between her thin pressed lips.
Finally, to my bewildered surprise, Deanne nodded her head in capitulation and then lowered her eyes submissively to the floor. Kim shot me a glance over her shoulder and gave me a triumphant wink.
