I email you and tell you where I am going to be tomorrow night - a local bar about halfway between our two apartments. A place with an older crowd, and a band that plays most of the night. It's always very busy on a Saturday – both the upstairs and downstairs will be packed, dance floor full.
I tell you what I'm going to be wearing, who I'll be with, where we'll likely be sitting. I send you a picture of a piece of jewelry I'll have on - a really bold and obvious necklace that will stand out.
I tell you to come there, if you want to, and see if you can spot me, watch me for a while. If you don't like what you see - no harm, no foul. If you do, you can catch my arm as I walk by – I’ll make a point of going to the bathroom every twenty minutes or so - and pretend like we're just meeting for the first time.
No one else will know we’ve planned it all out, or that we’ve already been talking to each other for weeks.
I’d posted an ad on a dating site, titled “SWF, kink curious” and of all the responses I got, yours was the one that got my attention.
Funny, sexy, intelligent. Demanding, in exactly the way I’d been needing: bossy, but gentlemanly; sexual but not crude.
You hadn’t pushed to meet, but had said you wanted to – any time, any where. So when I finally decided to throw caution to the wind, this busy bar and an innocent girls’ night out seemed like a good way to do it.
You come to the bar around the time I’d suggested, and you sit along the curved counter on a stool, looking at all the tables.
It's so loud you can barely talk to the person next to you. You think of how ideal that is - if you spot me, you'll be able to lean over and whisper in my ear and no one will hear you.
Eventually you figure out where I am - up on the second floor right along the railing. From where you are sitting, you can see my table - a large group of women my age, obviously celebrating some kind of birthday or event. You watch for a while, and you can tell by the way I'm moving and talking that I have no idea you're here.
After ten or fifteen minutes, you see me get up, gesturing with my hands, obviously yelling, saying I'm going to the washroom and will be back in a few minutes.
Once I'm standing where you can see me better. I'm wearing the necklace in the email, a dress that falls above my knees, black sheer stockings, black leather boots, hair down and wavy.
Yes, you think. You do like what you see.
I come down the stairs, still unselfconscious and obviously unaware that you’ve located me. You get up off the stool and walk quickly, connecting with my path just as I'm on the verge of going down the hallway leading to the washrooms.
You put your hand on my upper arm, squeeze, and when I look back and come face to face with you, you lean in to my ear, putting your other hand around to the small of my back.
"Hi," you say, and I can hear the glint of laughter in your voice. "I found you."
I'm speechless. Perhaps part of me had thought that you might not follow through on my idea to come find me...
Perhaps I’m just surprised that you did find me and elected to stay – I’m just a normal, average woman and not some sexpot...
Most of all, I'm frozen because I know: this is the line, the moment I can go one way and stop everything before, or go the other way and see what happens.
Also, I’m thinking of all the dirty fantasies I’ve confessed to you over the last few weeks of correspondence. It was so easy to say it all – telling you that I wanted to be blindfolded, restrained on the bed with silk ties, maybe spanked even - before we were ever met.
You continue whispering into my ear. "Your friends are watching us right now," you say, chuckling. "Should I give them something to gossip over?"
Your hand on my back slides down just slightly, so now it's at the upper curve of my ass. A few inches lower and you'd practically be cupping my cheek in your hand.
"Oh, yep, that made them go all a-flutter... They're wondering who I am and why I've stopped you."
I finally find my voice: "Let them wonder."
You smile at me, and laugh.
"Good answer, C. Now, here's what I want you to do. Go ahead to the washroom, take this and put it in your purse."
You hand me a digital key card, like the kind that hotels use. On the back is a yellow sticky note with the name of a nearby hotel, and a room number written on it.
"When you're done in the washroom, go back up to your friends. Visit and chat and think about the key in your purse. In twenty minutes, if you decide you want to, catch a cab down and meet me there."
You lean back far enough to see my face. I'm blushing, wide-eyed, obviously excited yet extremely hesitant. You lean back in:
"Listen, I know we’ve talked about a lot of things but we won't do anything you're not ready for. We don't have to do anything at all. But anything you are ready for, we'll do. All right?"
I nod. You release your gentle grip from my arm, smile and turn back towards the bar, grabbing your jacket from your stool and then heading to the exit.
As you've requested, I go back up to my friends, thinking about the key in my purse. I slowly sip on a drink, feeling that familiar achy pulse between my legs.
Only now it’s more urgent, more real, more erotic - because I know that if I want to, I can do something about it.
My friends notice that I'm spacey and ask me what's wrong. Finally, I just say that I'm not feeling well, something's been going around lately, maybe I'm coming down with a flu, and suggest that I'm going to go ahead. Someone offers to drive me home and I say no, that's fine, I'll take a cab, no need for anyone else to leave.
I stop in the bathroom on my way out, pull my panties off and put them in my purse. Doing so makes me ten times more excited and ten times more terrified.
Panties in my purse? There's no denying what my intent might be.
I get a cab out front, and head down to the hotel indicated on the post-it note. When I arrive, I'm tempted to find a lobby washroom to fix my hair and calm down, but decide if I stop myself now, I may just not make it up to the room.
And I really want to make it up to the room.
I use the key card to activate the elevator, go up to the right floor, and head down to the indicated room number. There's another post-it note on the door: “C: Come in. I'll be right back.”
I enter the room - simple, modern-looking, though it's hard to see it well because the lights are all off. There are two candles burning on the dresser. There's a small overnight bag on one of the arm chairs, and your jacket draped over the other.
I remove my jacket, lay it over the same chair, and sit on the foot of the bed, leaving my boots on.
My heart is pounding. My mouth is dry. My hands sweaty.
But the proof of whether to stay or go is between my legs: I'm getting wetter by the minute, and I can feel my pulse echoing in my pussy – insistent and needy.
I wait for what seems ages. Five minutes, maybe ten. Finally the door opens, just enough to let yourself in while keeping the light from the hallway out. You approach the bed slowly, and stop in front of me, facing me.
"I went for a walk, so you could come in – if you were going to come at all – and get comfortable," you say. "I'm really glad you came."
"I'm... very glad... I came... too," I say, nervously, haltingly.
You put your hands on either arm, and say, "Look up at me."
I do, hesitantly, shyly, my nerves written all over my face.
"If you say stop, anytime, I stop. If you say it in thirty seconds, or an hour, I'll stop, ok?"
"Ok," I reply.
"I'm not joking, you need to know it doesn't matter when you say it, if you're uncomfortable we stop," you repeat.
"Until then, I'm going to assume you're enjoying yourself. And I'm going to make sure you're enjoying yourself. And if I think you're comfortable enough, I might, maybe, consider restraining you a little bit."
My eyebrows pop up. But I don't look scared. If anything, I look more excited, the flush on my face rising higher and pinker now.
"Yes," I say in reply, still mostly incapable of intelligent thought.
"Good," you say, and smile.
Then you lean down so we're face to face, push the hair back on one side, and slowly lean forward till your lips press to my neck below my ear, gently kissing up and down.
You hear my sudden exhale, and feel my knees widen a little. The space gives you room to stand a little closer. You move between my knees, leaning against the bed as you keep kissing at my neck.
When your lips close over my earlobe, I gasp, then moan, and my legs open even further, spontaneously.
Your hands, still on my arms, push back gently, encouraging me to lay back on the bed. So I do, and I inch myself a few feet further up the bed. Once settled, you crawl over me, returning your mouth to my ear, sucking in my earlobe, tongue flicking over it. I continue to gasp, unable to control myself.
Under you, you feel my body start to move, my hips pressing up slightly like I'm looking for pressure against me. But you don't give it to me. You barely make contact with me at all except for your mouth on my ear and neck.
Eventually, you slide back down to the foot of the bed, and stand.
"I think we can take a few of these things off?"
Your hands close over my foot, find the zipper on the inside of the high boot and unzip it, then remove it and set it aside. You repeat it on the other side, leaving me stocking-footed.
"Are these all the way up, or lace-topped?" you wonder, more to yourself than to me.
Your hand runs up my leg to the edge of the skirt of the dress, and you push the skirt back until my upper thighs are exposed.
"Perfect. Lace-topped. They can stay on," you say.
Just then you realize that my skirt has been pushed high enough up to just barely catch the tiniest peek of my pussy, what with my legs already spread wide.
You jolt when you notice that I'm not wearing any panties, and though you wanted to go slow and take things one small step at a time, you can't resist pushing the skirt up a little higher to get a better look.
In the low light of the candles, you can tell I'm already puffy with arousal, a tiny shimmer of wetness evident where my pussy lips meet. You can smell me, smell how aroused I am, smell how wet I'm getting.
You're suddenly very, very hungry.
You crawl back up over me, and I think you're going to return to my neck but instead you whisper in my ear:
"C, fuck, you smell incredible... I'm going to taste you, ok?"
Because it's new to me, this entire situation, you keep checking in, like gentling a startled horse. But now that I'm here, I'm more comfortable by the second and I look at you, eyelids almost sleepy with lust, and nod, then smile a little smile.
"Yes, please," I say. Then I grin a little more, and add: "Sir."
You feel your cock get harder in your pants, and your need to taste me is suddenly more urgent, desperate.
You slide back down, push on my inner thighs to spread me wider. I instinctively lift my knees up, putting my feet flat on the bed, nearly parallel with my hips, so I'm opened to you.
I'm starting to move now, not even touched yet. My hips roll and curl, and I'm moaning, starting to curse. You hear me whispering "fuck fuck fuck" over and over under my breath.
You kneel between my legs, and drop your head down, pressing your tongue deep. As my pussy lips open to the pressure, your chin and nose are quickly covered in my wetness, and almost instantly, I start bucking under you. My thighs close tightly on your head. My hips grind up to meet your mouth and tongue. My "fuck fuck fuck" is getting louder and louder. You bring your hand up and quickly slide two fingers into me, your tongue lapping and sucking on my clit as I buck and roll under you.
Your fingers slide in and out faster, your mouth clamped over me, and you can tell by how wet I'm getting and the sounds I'm making that I'm not far from cumming.
In a moment, you feel my hands come down on your head, my thighs closing around you, as I cum hard, pushing up as my orgasm rides through me.
"Jesus Christ," I say, breathless.
I lean up on my arms and look down at you, your face between my thighs, your lips and chin shiny wet from my pussy, and my mouth opens...
You know exactly what I'm thinking, and you quickly climb up over me, bringing your pussy-wet lips to my mouth, kissing me hard with the taste of me all over your face.
I can feel your cock pressing against me, still inside your pants, and hook my legs around you to push myself hard against you while we kiss.
Finally, you stop and pull away, and get back on your knees, looking down at me.
I sit up, and surprise you by putting my hands to your belt and unbuckling it, pulling your zipper down, tugging your pants down around your hips till they're loose at your knees.
I pull your boxers down as well, careful to pull the elastic wide over your hard cock so it doesn't catch.
I lean forward, take you in my hand, and lick across the top of your cock, catching a tiny taste of pre-cum along the way.
I close my mouth around you, tongue swirling over the underside of your cock at the same time as I suck you in deeper. I am easily overwhelmed by the sensation of being unable to breathe properly, but I love the way your cock feels going deeper past my lips, so I keep trying to go a little further each time.
I reach down with my other hand and cup your balls, squeezing them gently as my mouth keeps sucking.
You're still, trying not to thrust hard into my mouth even though you want to, badly. Actually, what you really want is to bury your cock in my warm pussy and before you can stop yourself from asking it, you blurt out:
"Let me tie you up," part question, part statement. "Let me tie you up, and fuck the hell out of you."
I have no reason to know for sure if I can trust you, other than gut instinct - but I nod and say, "Yes."
"Get undressed, then get over on your tummy, lay flat."
I do as you tell me, pulling off my dress first so I'm left in just the stockings and bra, and lay flat on the bed, head turned to one side.
You move to your overnight bag, dig around, and I realize you've come prepared for this. The realization gives me a jolt of both nerves and excitement, and I can feel my pussy - still pulsing from your mouth - begin to hum, my inner muscles squeezing involuntarily.
You find what you're looking for and tie one hand to the upper corner of the bed, and then the other to the other corner.
When you're done, you put your hands on my hips and pull up, indicating you want me to come up on my knees. I keep my head flat, my arms spread out, and my chest pressed to the bed, with my ass up in the air now.
"Later on, I'm going to take you over my knee and spank you properly. Right now you get just a few."
I feel your hand rubbing warm and smooth over my right ass cheek. Then suddenly your hand is gone. But a few seconds later, "smack" and the sting of your palm radiates out over my skin. You repeat this on the other side, then back to the first, then to the second.
"Do you like it, C?" you ask.
"Yes, yes, yes." I'm breathless, but coherent.
You lean over, kiss one pinkened ass cheek, then the other, then smack each side one more time.
"Good, I like doing it to you. I like seeing your skin get pink. I like knowing it's making you wetter," you say, and then as if to illustrate to me just how wet it is in fact making me, you slide two fingers back inside me.
I can feel that I'm practically dripping now, feel how easily your fingers stretch me, feel how easily my body jumps when your knuckles graze over my clit on each inward thrust.
You pull your fingers back out, and come up next to my head, still flat against the bed and hold your fingers out towards me. I open my mouth, look up at you, and you slide them into my mouth. I close my lips over your knuckles, lick and suck the taste of me from your fingers, watching you the whole time, knowing that you enjoy watching me as much as I enjoy doing it.
You pull your fingers out of my mouth, then stand back up next to the bed, finally shedding all your clothes. Your cock is so hard and I can't stop looking at it, at you, knowing you'll be inside me soon. I want it so badly - any question over good or bad completely gone now.
You walk around the end of the bed. I can't see you now but I can hear you moving and feel the bed heave under your weight as you get into position behind me. My instinct is to get up on my hands, to pull my head up - typical doggy-style - but when I do, my arms are tugged back in down by the ties on each wrist. I can't lift my head at all, and can only keep my ass up in the air and my head down on the mattress.
I know you'd planned to go slower than this, to move slower than this, but now I don't want anything other than this: for you to fuck me, hard, my arms held taut by the ropes. I want you to fuck my pussy and afterwards, if you want, my ass. The thought of it makes both parts of me clench and tighten, and you can see my ass sway a little, my thighs squeeze.
You put your hands on my hips, and again my instinct is to raise up on hands, and I can't.
The feeling is strange and nerve-wracking, but incredibly arousing. I can't control the situation and know that ultimately, you could do whatever you wanted to right now.
One of your hands leaves my hip, and I realize that you’ve taken hold of your own cock. I feel the tip of it rub against my pussy lips, up and down, pressing at my clit, then back up, almost slipping into me but not quite.
The tease of it is killing me, feeling your hardness rubbing up and down this way, just slipping between my lips but never all the way in.
"Fuck! Please" I beg.
Hearing it, you can't resist any longer, and you slide your cock head back up to the right spot. You push your hips forward in one solid steady thrust, burying yourself completely, balls tight to me.
You stay like that, just in, letting me get used to the feel of your thickness. I feel your hand rub across my ass cheek and then again – a quick, light smack.
It makes me jump, makes my pussy clench. You feel it tighten around you and you have to start thrusting, sliding halfway out then back in again, again, again, again, harder and harder and harder, the smack of the front of your hips against my ass audible each time your body connects.
You can tell I'm close. You press your fingertip to my ass and push in, just a half inch, but it's enough to make me go crazy.
I’m cumming hard, screaming, groaning, pussy tightening around you, and as the first orgasm dies, the second one begins right on its heels, my pussy suddenly wetter, so wet you can hear the sound of your cock fucking in and out of me.
As I cum again, swearing, you feel yourself following, unloading into me, wave after wave, still thrusting, cumming harder than you have in a long time.
Breathless now, you lean forward over me, and you can feel me quaking under you, muscles shaking and vibrating.
"Fuck, C. Fuck," you say, moving to untie my wrists, kissing at them where the rope was tight, pulling me in close.
You kiss my forehead.
"Are you ok, was that ok?"
I look up at you, my hazy eyes finally clearing as though I'm shaking off the last of the final orgasm, and grin.
"I'm great. Go again?"
I laugh, but my eyes are serious, and my hand reaches to your nipples, first one, then the other, teasing a little to see if you might like this.
"Yes. Definitely. Again," you say, laughing.
And so we do. Loudly.