"Is it too tight?" he asked.
I shook my head. "No, it's fine." He hooked the other side of the cuff to the bedpost, then did my left wrist. "You can do anything you want to me, now. I'm at your mercy."
He stood staring at me for so long I started to squirm under his gaze. Eventually, he reached for the hem of his shirt and peeled it off, then slipped out of his pants so he stood naked in front of me. His cock stood straining straight up, thick and purple-veined, hard and begging to be touched. I lay, cuffed to the bed, wanting desperately to touch him, to take him into my mouth, to feel him slide between my lips and my palms and the folds of my pussy.
"Jeff...let me touch you," I said. "Come here so I can taste you. Let me put your big cock in my mouth."
Jeff gaze went heavy and hooded. "Uh-uh. No. I wouldn't last three seconds if you did that. Just looking at you like that, cuffed and helpless, wet and ready for me...I'm so hard I'm about to come without even touching you."
"What are you gonna do?" I asked.
He grinned and stepped toward the bed, his cock bobbing as he moved. He took the blindfold and wrapped it around his eyes, tied it in back, and crawled onto the bed near my feet. He took my foot in one hand, slid his palm up my shin to my knee, traced the circumference of my thigh from one side to the other. His finger trailed up my other leg, tickling gently along the inside to the lace "V" of my panties. I writhed my hips into his fingers, feeling dampness moisten the black fabric as he barely brushed up the mound of my pussy to the band of my panties.
"Oh, Jeff...I love the way you touch me. Take them off, please."
He smiled beneath the blindfold. "Not yet, sweetness." He ran a finger underneath the waistband, teasing me. "I'm not ready for you naked yet. I'll get there, though."
He lowered his face to my leg, kissing up my thigh from knee to my hipbone.
"You take everything so slow," I said. "Have I ever told you how much I love that about you?"
He paused with his lips on my belly and turned his face to me. "You do?"
"Yes," I said, sucking in my belly in anticipation as he resumed kissing my flesh ever farther downward, now at the inside of my thighs. "It's so delicious. It--oh, god, yes, right there--makes everything...just better."
"You like it slow, huh?" A hint of something in his voice made me shiver. "Well, then, I'm gonna have to go real slow, aren't I?"
He pressed his mouth to my pussy through the lace and breathed on me, a long, slow, hot breath. I moaned and writhed on the bed, wanting his fingers in me, or his tongue on me, or something, but he refused to even slip a single finger under the elastic to touch my bare flesh.
Instead, he traced a fingernail over my pussy where his breath had blown, the lace and the flesh beneath still hot. I trembled and thrust with my hips, but he drew away and laved his tongue along the inside of my thigh parallel to the elastic band.
"God, Jeff, touch me, please!"
He only laughed, another blast of heat on my folds. "Already begging, my love? This is gonna be so much fun." He bit the soft skin of my thigh, hard enough to draw a yelp of protest. "You're handcuffed, Anna. Did you think I wasn't going to draw this out as long as I could? I have you helpless. I could draw this out for hours. I could feed you, and give you water, and never ever let you come. You're so expressive. I know exactly when you're getting close to coming."
Something like real fear shot through me; he was perfectly capable of torturing me with near-orgasm, I realized. "You wouldn't."
He tugged the waist of the panties down to the very edge of the crease of my nether lips and dipped his tongue in, a mere brush against the sensitive skin, but it was enough to make me cry out.
"Oh, no? You don't think I would?" His voice dared me to think otherwise.
"Please, Jeff..."
"Please what?" His tongue dipped back into the crease and slid toward my clit.
"Please, touch me. Let me feel you. I want you inside me."
"Oh...no. I don't think so. Not yet. You aren't screaming my name yet, baby. You're not even really begging me properly yet."
What have I done?
I'd known he would tease me, but he seemed to be dead set on truly teasing me into hysteria.
Jeff pulled the panties lower, exposing my clit, giving me hope. My body was on fire, every nerve ending alive with hope of stimulation. He hadn't touched me above my waistline.
My breath huffed in and out, and I made my first pull against the handcuffs. He laughed and speared his tongue against my clit, giving me my first taste of near-climax. He left the panties where they were and removed his mouth from my skin, exploring me now with his fingertips. He drifted from kneecap to inner thigh, traced up the line of my pussy, brushing briefly over my clit and across my hips, the merest grazing of the pads of his fingers, crawling slowly over my flesh. His fingers slid up under the edge of the bustier, touching my ribs and the padding of flesh over them, just beneath the wire of the bra.
Touch me! I pleaded silently, but the words wouldn't come out past my panting breath. He clawed his nails slowly and gently down my sides, gathering inward toward my wet, aching folds. My hips involuntarily left the bed as he drew closer, closer, nearing the goal, across the smooth-waxed mound and--
Down either thigh, drawing a desperate whimper from my lips. I wanted him to touch me, needed to feel his fingers dip inside me. I knew he wouldn't give me his cock, not yet, but surely he would slide a finger into me, give me a taste of release?
He curled his fingers into the panties at my hips and drew them down farther.
"Yes, yes...please," I whispered.
He kissed my belly, my side, my hipbone, the edge of my pelvis above the lace panties, and then...yes, he licked my clit, a single slow swipe of his hot, wet tongue, and then a second, even slower. While his tongue made its aching path against my clit, his fingers danced up my thighs and hooked inside my panties, brushing my cleft, and my entire body lifted off the bed, bridging with shoulders and feet. He lapped against me yet again, and now hope blossomed through me, tangled with the rising phoenix of orgasm.
Abruptly his tongue and fingers were gone, and he was kissing my shoulder, his weight hovering over me but not touching, a felt presence. I lifted my head to watch him, felt a thrill of excitement at the sight of his naked body over mine, covering me, his broad shoulder and back rippling with heavy slabs of muscle, the burn scars ridged ropes glinting in the moonlight and city light. His buttocks flashed pale and hard as he stretched over me, his palms planted on either side of my breasts, his arms tree-thick and his cock throbbing against my belly.
I felt an upwelling of love, a roaring inferno of passion for this man, even as he tortured me with sweet, ecstatic pleasure. His lips moved against my clavicle, touched my throat, gentle as a thought, slid stuttering slickly down my breastbone to kiss the heaped flesh of one breast, the right, and then the other. His cock bobbed against my belly, so close but so far; I strained downward against the handcuffs, seeking to get him inside me. He moved with me, though, kissing my breast inch by inch, only the exposed flesh. I waited for him to pull the cup down and begin the slow tease of my nipple.
After an agony of minutes spent kissing my breasts as if he'd never touched them before, never tasted them before, he finally tugged one cup down enough to let a nipple pop free. He kissed his way toward it, and I found myself holding my breath as he circled the hard-standing bead of nerves with his tongue.
He teased it with gentle nips of his teeth, light flicks of his tongue, moist pinches with his lips, and then, without warning, he bit the nipple hard enough to make me buck up off the bed with a squeal.
"Too hard?" Even teasing he couldn't help worrying about hurting me.
I shook my head, then realized he couldn't see me. "No," I gasped, "just...shocked me. Any harder would be too hard."
He didn't answer, went back to flicking my nipple with his tongue, licking in a rhythm that set my hips undulating. His fingers met my clit on my hips' up thru
st, and I gasped at the sudden pressure, sudden burst of intense pleasure. As quick as the full thrust of his fingers against me appeared, it vanished again just as fast.
"No, Jeff, please, bring it back..."
For once he did as I asked, sliding his fingers along my belly to cup my pussy, a molasses-slow molding against my folds. His middle finger moved inexorably inward, slipping under the panties to dive inside me, the first full penetration.
I moaned, a long, throaty voicing of relief. He added his ring finger, and then moved them together deeper inside me until his pinky and index finger were splayed on either side of my labia. He swiped in, curled in, brushed the rough patch of my G-spot, and this time I shrieked aloud.
My hips were writhing as alive, bucking and gyrating, a silent plea to keep stroking me, keep going, don't stop. His fingers moved inside me, pushing the waves of climax higher and higher, until the waves were on the verge of breaking within me.
"Are you about to come, baby?" Jeff's voice spoke from between my legs, his breath huffing on my thigh. "Are you so close?"
I knew, even in my desperation, if I told him I was mere moments from coming, he'd stop.
"No?" My voice was a breathy squeak, and my hips gave the lie.
His fingers went still inside me, but didn't withdraw. "Oh, I think you are. I can hear it in your voice. Your pussy is so tight around my fingers, and the way you move against me? Yeah, you're close. I bet if I licked your clit, just once, you'd come so fucking hard, wouldn't you, baby?"
I couldn't help the answer ripping from my lips. "Yes! Please, give it to me, Jeff."
His tongue swiped next to my labia, one side and then other, stroked in beneath my clit, licked just above it. I undulated against him, dying to feel the wet heat of his tongue against my clit, desperate for climax.
The waves of orgasm floated away, lessened and shrank, and then, right then, he flicked the button of my clit with his tongue, just once, bringing me back the edge. But then his mouth swept upward along my belly to kiss my cheekbone, my forehead, my chin, my lips, exploring my face as his hands skimmed over my skin, over the lace of the bustier beneath my breasts.
He pushed his hands beneath my back, and I lifted up to let him touch me, anywhere and everywhere. He followed the line of clasps along my spine, exploring the catches. I rolled to my side, my arms twisted unnaturally. He unhooked the uppermost clasp, then the next, and his lips pressed burning kisses to my skin where it was exposed by the widening gap between the edges of the bustier. With each released eyelet, my breasts gained weight.
With each kiss to my skin, the velvet blindfold brushed my skin, soft and cold against the heat of my skin. I'd forgotten for a moment he was doing all this by touch alone. He knew my body so intimately, was so familiar with my every curve that he could explore me blindfolded, kiss my face and unerringly find my breast from mere memory. I imagined I was him for a moment, smelling the scent of my soap and the light dusting of perfume, silky skin beneath his lips, flesh firm in his hands.
The way he worshipped me told me I was beautiful. The loving and delicate way he kissed my flesh told me how desperately he desired me. The slight tremble of hands on my back as he released the final clasp to free my breasts told me how much he wanted to forget the game and ravage me hard and fast with primal fury. The fact that he continued to move with aching, tender slowness told me he cherished each salty touch of skin to his lips, each gasp elicited from my lips.
He hadn't said the words "I love you" since he handcuffed me to the bed and began his blind mapping of my body. He didn't need to; the feather-soft grazing of his fingers across my skin spoke the words for him, the gentle crush of his lips to my breast made the words clear to me, the effortless strength with which he lifted my body to strip off my panties showed me how much he loved me.
I stopped fighting, stopped wishing for climax, and closed my eyes, lay back in the bed and let him love me, as slow as he wanted. This wasn't about any kind of chemical orgasm any longer. This was pure adoration made physical. I was finally naked beneath him, my bare breasts cupped in his hands and lifted to his lips to kiss and taste and touch, my nipples sucked into his mouth and drawn taut, bringing fire rushing to my loins and bursting through me, a shuddering precursor of the earthquake to come.
He slid up my skin, the soft, leaking head of his cock stuttering along the inside of my thigh, bumping against my entrance. I held my breath, straining helplessly against the bonds restraining me from touching him. I wanted to hold him, needing to feel his firm flesh under my hands, but I couldn't. All I could do was lie tensed and coiled for the moment of his body's slide into mine. I drew my knees up, and my shoulders lifted off the bed as I sought to curl closer around him.
His lips caressed my breast, first the right, then the left, brushing underneath each one, carving around the sides, coming to a stop on my nipple. All the while his hands were cupping my hips and dipping between my thighs to tease me with a quick finger slipping in between my slick lips before retreating and tricking my clit with a circling tip. I gasped and whimpered, sounds brought forth from me without volition, my entire body now writhing against him, begging him to move inside me.
"Jeff, please, I'm begging you, please let me feel you inside me. I need it. I want it so bad. I need your cock inside me. Please!"
He sucked my lip into his mouth, silencing me, stroking my pussy with his fingers, drawing me toward the cliff of orgasm. His thick, hard cock was probing my entrance just beneath his hands, and now he braced himself above me, his broad, essence-slick head touching my clit, sending me into paroxysms of need.
"Beg me again, baby," Jeff whispered.
I wrapped my legs around him, struggled to pull him closer, but he resisted me, held himself in place. "Please, Jeff! Give it to me. I want to feel you inside me."
"Tell me more. Tell me exactly what you want," he said. "I love hearing you talk dirty to me."
"Yeah? You want me to tell you how bad I want your cock?" I gave myself over to his game. "I want it, baby. I want your cock. I need you to slip it into my pussy. I don't care if you go slow or fast, I just need to feel your big, hard cock fill me."
Jeff moaned, a low growl against my skin. He pulsed his hips, pushing his cock against my clit, and I gasped in pleasure as an electric thrill zapped through me. He did it again, and I crushed my pussy against him, moving with furious desperation.
"You want it inside you?" he asked. "Right now?"
"Yes! Please, yes!"
He kissed me, thrusting his tongue into my mouth at the same time as he drove his cock into me. "Like that?"
I let myself scream out loud. "Yes! Oh, god, Jeff, thank you...god!"
He buried himself to the hilt and held there, filling me but not moving. His teeth grazed my nipple, and I knew if he had thrust as he bit me I would have come, but he didn't. He held himself motionless, deep inside me. This was a new kind of torture. I was filled by him, but if he didn't move I wouldn't find the release I needed. He spent sweet, slow moments kissing my breasts, toying with my nipples, licking them in a quick rhythm to mock the motion I wanted his hips to make.
His body covered mine, his weight pressed down on me in the intimate crush of hard male angles on soft female curves. I moved, wiggled, writhed, not just for the glide in and slip out but to feel his skin against mine, to feel his knees inside my thighs, his chest against my breasts, his belly flat against mine. I moved against him only to feel the merge of flesh with flesh, the flutter of hearts beating in sync, the sinfully sweet slip of skin slick with sweat, sliding silk in the searing susurrus of sex. The words naming this union ceased to matter. This was sex, this was love, this was primal fucking and intimate lovemaking, this was the baring of self to self, mind to mind, heart to heart.
I heard no sound but his breathing, each inbreath my name whispered on his quivering lips. He moved then, as he spoke my name.
"Anna," and his manhood slid out of my sex, paused at the slick opening, his lips me
t mine in a soft, sugar-sweet kiss, and he moved into me, slower than the glacial slide of ice down mountains.
I didn't dare breathe, didn't dare so much as flutter an eyelid, held still so the only motion was the beating of my heart and the pumping of blood in my veins. Statue-still, stone-still. His shaft pushing into my desire-damp blossom was the slowest pulsing of a drifting wind, a gliding of silk on skin, a gradual infilling of my body with his. I gasped as he pushed into me, wept his name as he slid back out, whimpered in delight with the feel of his thickness slicking into my heat.
I jerked against the chains, tears dripping down my cheeks, seeking to curl closer, cling tighter, keep him in me, pull him faster. He kept the slowest motion possible, sliding into me like mercury merging, splitting apart and rejoining. He moved with the speed of continents spreading apart, a dozen heartbeats passing between the time of his tip drifting in and his hips bumping mine. I continued to weep, unabashed, feeling climax rise in me, a flood of release pooling like an ocean of potential energy poised on the brink of flash flooding into kinetic rush.
He didn't stop, now. He moved, slid, slipped. He kissed my tears and whispered my name, held my curves close, poured his love into me without words. My feet hooked around his waist, held him inside me. I clamped down with my inner muscles, desperate to keep him deep. He groaned when my vaginal walls clutched his cock, holding him tight. Move and breathe, pulse and pull. The push and pull of lungs filling and releasing, the pump of our hearts spreading lifeblood, these mirrored the sliding of his body into mine, the perfect merge of body into body.
Time slowed, stopped. His face buried into my neck, my breasts crushed up into his chest and my hips crashed against his and we came, we came, bursting together like a storm breaking on the shore, like waves splashing on the sand.
I shattered beneath him, broke apart under his body. I felt him fill me, each thrust of his cock into my throbbing channel like heartbeat, felt the jet of wet heat hit my walls, and then he thrust again and the wash of seed spread through me again, and my inner muscles clenched his shaft, lights bursting behind my tight-closed eyes, fire blossoming in my every fiber. I couldn't breathe for the detonation of my body, couldn't help but scream and weep and call his name, gasp his name, plead his name. Still he moved, slow and deliberate. His pace never changed, even as he came, even when I climaxed underneath him.