I waited for him nervously, pacing to and fro, hovering anxiously just behind the door. It was strange enough to be here, in this one-bedroom apartment where I had last stayed as a young girl. Whoever would have thought that one day, I’d be waiting here for my lover? And yet, so it was. It had been over a month since our last rendez-vous. The last time we had met after such a long separation, there had been something strained and strange between us. All that was behind us now, and yet… one never knows. Something else could have changed, something subtle, indefinable, but real.

‎I heard a sudden knock at a neighbour’s door, and then a polite apology. Oh no! He had stopped at the wrong door. I felt a flush of embarrassment just thinking about how flustered and panic-stricken I would have been if that had happened to me. But, of course, he didn’t give a damn, and just rapped sharply at the right door – my door – next. I flung it open, and the moment I saw him there, his hair wild and disheveled, his eyes gleaming, I knew that nothing had changed between us. I was still smitten – more than ever.

‎Two hours later, I sat happily beside him in his car, with my grey lace panties stuffed inside my cunt to keep one month’s pent-up lust from spilling out onto the seat. He pulled up in my drive, and I kissed him again and again before I climbed out.

‎*********

‎The next four weeks were all that my heart could desire, and more. I greeted him each day in ever-increasing stages of undress. It started when he arrived one time to find me almost naked, and in response, he unfastened his belt, pushed me face-down over the desk and fucked me with his clothes on. I stood on the tips of my toes to give him easier access to my pussy, my heart burning with the desire to please him, to distract him, to make him forget. The way I forget myself when I’m with him.

‎He told me to remove my stockings and climb into the tub. I knelt, trembling – it had been so long since he had given me this. But I opened my mouth for him willingly. I wanted so badly to please him. I held his dick between my lips, waiting. When the first few jets of urine spurted out, I gulped them down greedily, relishing that special, secret taste in my mouth. Perhaps, at last, I could swallow it all. But I couldn’t, and watched it overflow, a golden stream across my naked breasts and quivering stomach.

‎After that, I began to wait for him in various humiliating positions, with the door ajar – bent over the desk, with my butt-plug gleaming between my trembling cheeks, or kneeling at the door, clutching my ankles, waiting for him to run his fingers lovingly across my breasts and push his thick dick between my parted lips. “You should spend the whole afternoon on your knees,” he told me. But we spent it in bed, with my lips wrapped around his dick while he caressed my swollen clitoris with his fingers, reaching down to grab a fistful of my hair and use it to pull me off him, watching me writhe in uncontrolled ecstacy, as he continued to manipulate me, and then pushing my head back onto his dick – “get back to it,” he said. My body seemed no longer mine, stripped of volition, transformed into a purely sexual being, whose lips and limbs he rearranged like those of a puppet. It was a strangely exhilerating feeling, to have given myself up so completely – to relinquish responsibility, to have no will. Were it only for a few moments, it was like a vacation, not just from my Life – which happens all the time when we’re together – but from my Self.

‎Was it just the next day, or the day after, that I was walking down the street and caught sight of his car turning onto the road right in front of me? I smiled, knowing where he was going, and that I would be there soon too, on my back on the desk, with his hands around my hips, crying out in heady rapture as he pulled me onto his dick, fucking me hard, using me, like a sex doll, emptying into me, and that I would be walking away after that to my lunch date with his come spilling out between my legs and my dress sticking to my damp thighs.

‎And was it the very next day that, after fucking me senseless, he dragged me from the bed, using my nipples as handles to push me to my knees, and, with his hands in my hair, forced his dick deep into my mouth, until it hit the back of my throat, and then face-fucked me violently, gagging me, cutting off my oxygen, until I felt my head spinning and the bile rising up in my throat, and then he pulled out, just in time, and asked me, “did you like that?” “Yes,” I said dully, still dazed, and he slapped me sharply across the face. Stunned, I gazed at him in disbelief, and admiration, and then he thrust his dick into my mouth again, to carry on.

‎That’s what it was like – every day an escalation of dreams and desires, until it seemed we could go no farther, and it was almost frightening, for surely it’s possible to reach too high, too far, too soon

‎”If you can take six strokes on your breasts,” he promised me. “Then you may request anything of me.”

‎‎He dragged me into the living room, on my knees.

‎”Do I need to gag you?” he asked me.

‎”Yes,” I answered, at once.

‎So he stuffed one of his silk ties into my mouth and tied it shut with another. Then he lightly drew the tip of the riding crop across my quivering flesh. I closed my eyes, in sickening dread… but then I thought of something he had murmured in my ear, the other day, when, after a particularly vicious slap, I had drawn back, in fear.

‎”Don’t flinch from me,” he had said. “You know that I would never hurt you.”

‎It was something I had often considered, rationally – it doesn’t make sense for him to hurt me badly, because he loves me, and also, he is experienced, so he knows when to stop – and yet I had never really been sure of it, in my heart. And so, no matter how eager the anticipation, how intense the build-up, I had always cowered from him, when the moment came. The spirit was willing, but the flesh weak. And I knew, the moment he uttered those words, that something had changed within me. Now, I trusted him body and soul.

‎It wasn’t as though I hadn’t enjoyed it before, the way one gets a thrill from a feat of endurance, like running a race – when you really push yourself at the end, to set a good time, you always feel like a champion, no matter how good or bad your time. But no, that’s not right; the time always matters too, and so I held my naked breasts bravely towards him for the six strokes – there was no way I could allow myself to fail. He was so proud of me, after that, I could tell. He let me undress him, took me into the bedroom and fucked me for a while with my pussy tight and constricted by the butt-plug inside me, and then he pulled that out and fucked me very hard, in the ass, from behind, like an animal, and then on my back, with my legs raised, so he could see my face. I closed my eyes, grimacing, it was so brutal, I could hardly bear it. Was this my reward for how well I had pleased him? He pulled out, I crawled over to him and wrapped my lips gratefully around his dick. Then he plunged it into my pussy and fucked me hard until he came, deep inside me, my body shuddering with joy.

‎”Happy birthday,” I told him, gazing into his stormy-weather eyes, with lust and love.

‎‎I walked by him on the street, twenty minutes later, so close that I could have reached out and touched him, but he was on the telephone and didn’t see. How strange to pass by him like that, unnoticed, with my legs still trembling, with his come still warm in my pussy? I smiled to myself, for I love these chance encounters, these rare real-world glimpses. I guess because there’s some part of me which still wonders: is it all a dream? does this exist, outside the pleasure-dome?

That sunny dome! those caves of ice! He sank his teeth into my inner thighs, leaving two circular red bruises on either side; I would treasure them for days until they faded. And as I stumbled out of bed, my pussy misshapen and aching from the violence of his fist inside it, he called me into the living room and told me to bend over the desk. I obeyed, fearfully gazing at the cane in his hand, and yet lifting up the skirt of my dress to expose my bare ass. I gasped at the first stinging, stomach-churning impact and almost leapt up, thinking, oh no, why today!? When I was already smarting inside, how could he?? But he held me down for the next blow, and then released me – or perhaps I struggled free – and I whirled into the bedroom, my eyes burning with angry tears, thinking, that’s it, this is – and then as we walked down the long, red-carpeted corridors in silence, I thought of all those other times we’d walked down those corridors in adoration, and affection, and, with the sting of the cane already fading from my flesh, I was as full of love for him than ever – or more, so why give him that cold little smile when he asked what was wrong? It was only this – that we had walked down those corridors so many times so full of adoration, and affection, and, before we left this place forever, I wanted to experience it just once another way, with him. He grinned back, but cautiously, warily, his eyes narrowed – was he wondering? Or had he already guessed?

I saw his car pulling into the parking spot later that day, outside the Post Office, as I struggled with a screaming child – screaming, in strange coincidence, for a toy model of that very same car – and oh, it sent a thrill rushing through me, to know he was there, but these two worlds must not collide – I might like that, I might want it, but not yet, it’s too dangerous, for matter and anti-matter to meet. But I walked down the sunny street with my head held high, dragging the babies behind me, returning the gaze of disapproving passers-by with an insolent smile, because I knew that nothing could touch me, as long as he was there, somewhere, so close to me.

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