We had spent only two days apart, but those days, coming, as they had, at the heels of a month-long separation, were harder to endure than whole weeks had been, for it was like touching one’s lips to a glass of cold water after wandering for days in a desert, only to have it snatched away before one’s thirst is slaked. I kept checking the time, willing each world-without-end hour to pass faster, faster…

I wore my special black and purple dress, a little tight around the waist (if I breathed too deeply). My heart fluttered with girlish excitement when he came to collect me. We drove around for a while, looking for parking – there wasn’t any. We eventually stopped some distance from the flat, and got out of the car to confer. I felt a little nervous, standing there with him, out in the open, so close to home, and yet another part of me harboured a crazy hope that everyone I had ever known would pass by, all at once, and see me there, with him.

We decided eventually to drive into town and find some place to have dinner, flitting like forlorn moths from one teeming London hot-spot to another. I knew that all this wandering about was cutting into our precious, always-limited time alone together, but I was so happy to be beside him, walking through misty summer rain, that I didn’t even care. Seated eventually at a dimly-lit speakeasy in Soho, I twirled my spoon distractedly around the foam in my cup of soup. He looked so elegant, and décontracté, sitting across from me, at the table, with his strong, firm hands resting on top of the table, I longed to reach over and embrace him. I raised a glass of something strange to my lips instead. I was too excited – and my dress too tight – for anything more.

We left that place in a hurry, and soon I was back in the passenger seat of his car, counting the traffic lights as we drove back to the pleasure dome. I watched him at the wheel – it always gives me a thrill to see him there.

“Take off your underwear,” he said, with his eyes on the road. I quickly obeyed, sliding my pink lace thong down my thighs and wriggling free. With his left hand he pulled my legs apart and slid his fingers between them. I was wet already, pushing my hips forward to meet his fingers, as he expertly circumnavigated my sex, teasing me, never right where I wanted him to be, until I was panting with desire, my clitoris swollen and aching for release. I glanced over at him questioningly – he couldn’t possibly mean to take me all the way, could he? We were so close to our destination. But he carried on, without a glance in my direction.

‎”Oh, the Edge,” I breathed. “Please, may I come?”

He seemed to be considering the question, for a moment, with his eyes on the road, and his fingers still gently stroking me, keeping me on the edge. And I thought that he would surely say “no”. But he said, “go ahead”.

I moaned, arching my back and thrusting my hips against his hand with a sudden surge of wetness as I came; how odd to see the whole normal world cycling by just outside my window as I writhed in ecstacy! I lay back in my seat, my legs still parted lewdly, my dress in disarray, my eyes full of lust as I gazed at him, dumb-struck, and he smiled back.

We parked the car again, and strolled past the leering porters on our way upstairs. I walked into the darkened bedroom, where we had drawn the curtains the day before to keep out the sun.

“Take off the rest of your clothes,” he told me, following me in, and then, watching me struggle with the zip, he turned me around and, standing behind me, undid it for me.

“What if I were to undress you, for once?” he suggested. “Instead of the other way around.”

He drew my dress over my shoulders and let it drop down around me. Then he unhooked my pink lace bra and slid that off me as well. I sighed as I felt his fingers caress my bare breasts, brushing gently against the nipples, and then moving down to trace invisible patterns on the soft, quivering flesh underneath them. I could feel my pussy slowly swelling again as I grew wetter, and, as his fingers moved upwards again to pluck at my hardened nipples, I could feel a chord of excitement ringing all the way from my breasts to my throbbing clitoris, and I moaned and pushed back against him, wordlessly begging him to touch me there. And, as though reading my mind – or my body (or both) – he slid one hand down between my legs, squeezing my clitoris between his fingers, pushing inside my wet cunt, and as I leaned back into him, I caught a glimpse of the mirror in the entry hall, through the bedroom doorway, and in it I could his reflection, fully clothed, as he stood behind me fondling my naked body, and I shuddered with excitement at the thought of it. Oh! I was so close. He continued to caress my pussy while pinching and squeezing my nipples, until I felt like just a plaything in his hands. I couldn’t hold it in any longer and begged him to let me come, but he held my trembling body on the edge for just a little while longer before he said, “go”.

“Now,” he said magnanimously. “You may undress me.”

I fell to my knees, and began to untie his shoe-laces, my fingers trembling. Once I had removed all his clothes, I paused, with my lips hovering, slightly parted, in the vicinity of his erection, until he nodded to me to continue. I licked the shaft of his dick lasciviously, and then tried to take the full length of it into my mouth, reaching for his balls with my tongue.

“Good girl,” he smiled. “Now remember what we discussed? Come with me.”

I followed him into the darkened living room, in a kind of daze, and looked around myself. I barely remembered having set foot here before, let alone what we had discussed – what the hell had they put in that drink? It was something about a table. I paused, trailing my hand thoughtfully along a wooden surface.

“That’s not a table,” he said.

“Oh! I mean, yes, of course, I know – that’s a table.”

I moved steadily, deliberately, towards the table.

“But wait a minute!” I cried in a flash of lucidity. “This is a glass table. We can’t – “

“OK, bend over it,” he said.

I bent over it, smiling dizzily as I pressed my naked breasts to the cool glass. A few seconds later I felt the sting of the riding crop against the back of my thighs, my smile quickly fading. But in a way I liked it, the way the sharp, shooting pain sliced through the pheromone fog like a knife. Satisfied with the pattern of fine red lines emerging on my bare flesh, he stepped back, and sent me scampering back into the bedroom with glee, clutching my smarting behind.

And I just knew, lying back on the sheets with my legs wide open, that the moment his hard dick slid between my parted labia, I would feel my cunt clamp down on it like a vice, my G-spot swelling against it, my hips rising to meet his thrusts, and then I’d be asking him between ragged breaths to let me come, and all within twenty seconds of that first thrust, and then he’d tell me to get on my knees, and he would push my head down into the bed and fuck me like an animal, from behind, and I would scream into the bedsheets as I came again, uncontrollably, and then I would lie back beside him, limp and languid, feeling completely wasted as I gazed up at him with hooded eyes. And then he would push my legs apart with his hand and fondle my swollen cunt and make me come again and again, pushing his dick into my mouth to stifle my cries. I felt completely stoned, endorphins cruising through my veins, it seemed like I was coming all the time – how could this be?

“Get back on your back,” he said. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

I slithered into position, as he raised my legs over his shoulders, pushing down on the back of my thighs as entered me. My cunt was so wet, it felt like a sponge with his dick sinking into it, closing wetly around it, as if to hold it there. And I could feel the walls trembling a little, that hard little knot of nerves within me gently throbbing, quivering as he pushed against it, sending a thrill shooting all the way through me, but surely, it couldn’t be happening again! And just as those waves began to spread across me, I felt his hand curling around my neck, pressing down on me with all his weight behind it, his fingers squeezing, squeezing the cries from my throat, my eyes rolling back in my head, flashing like fireworks, delirious.

“Wow,” he laughed, emptying his sperm into my trembling cunt. Just what I would have said, if I could speak.

‎”How was dinner?” my mother asked me, when I got home. “Where did you go?”

‎”I can’t remember,” I smiled like a fool. “But it was out of this world.”

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