“Intimate”
A bedtime story
Jason Luke
Copyright © 2016 Jason Luke
The right of Jason Luke to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any other means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
LG, A – PBS&ST
Let’s talk about sex, you and I.
Or, more accurately, let’s talk about sex and seduction.
I mean that’s why you invited me into your home, after all, isn’t it?
Apparently I’m a guy who has some kind of a reputation for telling erotic stories that engage the senses and imagination, and right now you’re in the mood to listen to me. So let’s have the conversation – just you and me. We’ll spend an intimate evening together, alone in our own little world where only you and I exist for the next few hours. We’ll talk about sex, intimacy, erotica, and all those things that go together to create a sense of arousal.
And we’ll be honest with each other.
You see the attraction here is mutual. You’ve invited me into your home because you want to be aroused, but I’ve come here because you fascinate me.
I mean that.
I want to know what you think and how you feel. I want to watch your face while I talk, and read the subtle changes of your expression. I want to see the way your eyes change when I share my stories and remember where your breathing quickens.
I want to know you, and what turns you on.
It’s important to me – very important – because the art of seducing a woman is all about being able to read the signs… and as a writer of erotica, I need to know women in order to touch them, inspire them, and stimulate them.
Will you help me?
I’ll tell you my stories and all you need to do is relax and listen. I know you don’t need to hear what I have to say… I’m the one who needs to talk, because I have a lot of stories to share, and I feel I can talk to you. We have that type of connection – the kind of relationship that’s personal, but not so intimate that it will ever become awkward. I can talk to you, and you can be yourself. That’s how this works.
But do me a favor first. I want you to find a quiet place alone, somewhere you really can relax and tune out the world. I want your attention, and I want you to be comfortable.
Maybe it’s that big chair in your living room, with the lights dimmed down low and the drapes drawn. Or maybe it’s behind the closed door of your bedroom where no one can interrupt us. We’ll need to be alone for this. I have you for a few hours and I don’t want anything to interrupt us.
Now take your panties off.
Go on – it’s okay. In fact it’s perfectly fine.
It’s what I want you to do.
You see these stories I have to tell you are those kind of stories – they’re erotic memories I want to share with you because I need to work out some things in my head, and talking about them helps. I hope listening to them is arousing for you. As I said a few minutes ago, that’s why I’m here with you right now, isn’t it? You invited me into your home because you’re in the mood to be aroused, and I have some stories I want to share.
So take off your panties and get comfortable. Very comfortable.
Good girl.
I want to talk to you about erotica, and I want you to feel free to touch yourself. Tonight I would like for you to feel completely uninhibited – maybe even a little reckless. Remember how you used to be before life and all its responsibilities started beating you down, stealing your time? Well this is our special time together, and I want you to shut out the rest of life’s madness and spend the evening with me.
Just me.
Connecting intimately.
Glide your fingers gently over your body for me. Don’t rush. Take your time. Make it one of those casual caresses where your touch lingers deliciously. You can imagine they’re my hands if you like, or maybe the hands of a lover, boyfriend or husband. The main thing is to set the mood between us and to establish the bond of understanding we have. If I’m going to be honest and share my stories with you, then I need you to be honest with me in your reactions.
Feel free to touch yourself if the stories arouse you. No one is in the room apart from you and me – and I won’t tell. In fact, it would be nice to watch you. It would be arousing to see you with your eyes closed, listening to my stories while your fingers caress your body and to hear those soft seductive sounds you make when you’re turned on.
Let yourself go. I know this might not be normal, but neither is this conversation we’re having, right? Shed your reserve, let go of any inhibitions. This evening will only work for both of us if you surrender yourself to your feelings and emotions – the sensual ones. Let yourself be taken away and forget about feeling awkward. I don’t want to see the woman you show the rest of the world. I want to see the real you – that private erotic piece of your soul that you keep secret. Show me that woman tonight – the real you. Let your hair down and be yourself.
Really. Take a deep breath and let it all go.
I want to spend an hour or two alone with you, in the intimate darkness, and I want you to be a woman. That’s what you want too, right? You want to feel like you’re a woman for a few hours – not a mom, not a sister or a wife. You want something secret and sexy that is yours alone – a private fantasy place you can escape to in your mind where the rest of the world falls away and it’s just you and me, talking.
I’m not going to raise my voice. This isn’t some kind of theatre performance that relies on stage effects or lighting.
This is raw and it’s real.
And it’s intimate. Just you. And me.
Tonight I’ll whisper to you, I’ll talk like it’s just you and me alone together speaking in the hushed tones that lovers do, if you like. And I’ll be patient. I’m in no hurry. I’m grateful for the time you can give me, and I want to spend this time alone with you. Together, we can pass a few pleasant hours in each other’s company and no one need ever know that I was here with you now. I won’t tell anyone. Will you?
No. Tonight it’s just you and me, alone, together in your special place with the lights down low and the world left far, far behind.
It’s like a sexy date; an erotic encounter at a secret location that only you and I know about.
Are you relaxed?
Are you comfortable?
As soon as you’re ready, we can begin.
* * *
I lived the lifestyle of a Master for quite a few years when I was in a long-term relationship with a woman I met in my mid-thirties. Her name was Steffie and she was a tall, slim, dark haired woman who had the body and moves of a dancer.
Sometimes, I still think about her at night. On occasions, when I cannot sleep, Steffie comes to me during that time just before I dream, and the memories of her are always the same.
Does that happen to you – or is it just me? Is there someone from your past who comes to you in the quiet, lonely moments? Someone who makes you smile when you think of them, or someone you turn to when you’re mind slips into your private fantasies?
Yes, fantasy.
Every woman has a fantasy.
r /> Some of the women I have known have been wildly imaginative – eager and willing sexual partners where the relationship was more physical than emotional. Others… well there have been plenty of them too, but they’re not the ladies I think of late at night – and they’re not the ladies I want to talk to you about, nor, I suspect the ladies you would want to hear about.
No, the ladies I want to share stories about are the ones who have left a profound impression on me – those women whose memories are branded into my mind because of their willingness to be adventurous, erotic women.
But before we go further, I forgot to ask you something, and this is a conversation after all. I know I’m here to entertain and arouse you this evening, but a healthy relationship requires give and take, right?
So tell me – do you have a fantasy?
You don’t have to tell me what it is – perhaps we aren’t close enough yet for you to feel comfortable sharing the details – but can you at least acknowledge that you do have a fantasy?
Just nod your head.
Good girl.
Thank you.
A lot of ladies I write for have fantasies about the BDSM lifestyle. The images in their mind are very powerful, their fantasies dramatic and intense. I get that. Having lived the lifestyle as a Master for some time, I know for a fact that the interplay between a Dom and his submissive can be charged with a sexual energy that is difficult to duplicate. The interplay of roles can be highly seductive – intoxicating.
Addictive.
Have you ever fantasized about being sexually and emotionally submissive to a strong man who knows what he wants and gets what he goes after, without ever compromising his integrity or the safety of the woman who has placed herself in his charge?
Have you ever dreamed about what it would be like to really experience just a couple of erotic-filled hours at the command of such a man?
How would you feel? Does the idea excite you?
Have you ever wanted to say ‘yes, Sir!’ to a man?
Try it, now. I promise it’s okay. No one will ever know. Just whisper the words for me.
Say, ‘yes, Sir!’
Good girl.
I’d love to watch you on your knees, with your hands clasped behind you, your back arched just a little, and your hips thrust forward… your lips slightly parted, your eyes like dark pools of desire…
I really would.
That’s okay, isn’t it?
It’s okay that I fantasize about you – after all, you’re the reason I’m here – the enigma of you; the mystery that I can’t quite solve. That’s who you are to me.
You’re the only one I’m being intimate with tonight; the only one I’m sharing this moment with.
I’d like to watch you from the dark corners of your room and hear your breathing become a little hectic. It will be our secret – our sexy secret. You see I really want to watch you pleasure yourself. I want my stories to arouse you – to make you feel uninhibited and crazy turned on. That’s the real reason I’m with you tonight.
I want you to cum for me before I leave.
Sorry. I seem to be wandering away from the story I was telling you about my life as a Master with Steffie, but I will get back to it. I mean there’s plenty of time, right? We’ve just begun our night together and I said I wouldn’t rush. I said I would be patient because I want you to enjoy these few hours and I want it to be an unforgettable experience for you. There’s just one last thing…
Are you okay with some graphic language?
I’m no great author. I’m just a guy trying to tell you a story, trying to whisper words and paint images in your mind that you will find stimulating. For my entire career I’ve wrestled to find the right word – the one that captures the essence of what I am trying to express. Sometimes I get it right. Most of the time I fail. But I don’t use graphic language for shock value, so I hope you’ll be understanding tonight. I feel like I can be honest with you. I feel like we have some special chemistry happening here, and if I’m going to tell you my stories, then sometimes I’m going to have to use words that only belong in erotica novels.
You’re okay with that, aren’t you?
They’re not the kind of words I would use if I met you on the street, but we’re way past that point now, aren’t we. Look around. I’m here with you in your home because you invited me in, and we’re alone, you and I. We’re in the soft seductive darkness of your special place and I’m watching you from the corner of my eye, gazing at you with a look somewhere between wonder and fascination. I want to know the dark sexy secrets that lurk behind your eyes, but for now that can wait. Because I’ve come to entertain you, and that means I first need to share with you my story about Steffie.
Share?
Yes. Because I want you to feel involved in these tales I tell you. I want you to feel what the ladies in my stories felt, and be able to imagine yourself in their place. I want this to be something intimate we share. After tonight our relationship will never be quite the same.
Now, spread your legs for me… just let your knees fall gently open because I want you to be completely relaxed.
Steffie was into the BDSM lifestyle, and maybe that’s why I’m sharing her story with you. When I met her she was like a beautiful flower deprived of sunlight – she had lost herself in a series of short meaningless relationships and forgot that secret part of her that was aroused – that erotic flame that flickered because she had tried to be every man’s fantasy instead of living the fantasy that compelled her – that made her complete.
Maybe you can relate, right? Maybe you’re nodding your head right now. I can’t see you in the shadows, but I sense some sympathetic understanding for Steffie’s plight. I guess a lot of ladies lose themselves by trying too hard to be what someone else wants them to be.
The first time I told Steffie to touch herself she was laying on my bed with her legs spread, and a blindfold tied tight across her eyes. It was a warm summer’s afternoon and the windows were open. A gentle breeze came drifting off the ocean and I could smell the salt in the air.
Steffie was lying with her hands clenched into anxious little fists beside her. Her legs were wide apart and she was wearing white lingerie; stockings that ended above her knees and then a corset cinched tight so that it lifted her breasts and her nipples peaked like hard little berries above the lace trim of the cups. White lace suspender ribbons connected the top of the stockings to the bottom of the lingerie.
She wore no panties – but Steffie never wore panties.
It was a rule of mine.
I think the blindfold made those early submissive sessions we shared easier for her. The darkness – the sense of detachment seemed to make it easier for her to react and respond to my commands. It was like a thin veil between us that freed her to be pliant and responsive. I guess it’s a little like our situation right now – the place you and I find ourselves. We’re alone together, but that shroud of darkness between where you are and where I’m standing watching and talking to you… it’s a comfort maybe – just enough anonymity for you to feel comfortable touching yourself, trailing your fingers over the soft creamy flesh of your inner thigh…
The darkness gives us all that freedom, don’t you think?
Steffie was lying with her lips moist and parted, frowning just a little to get a sense of where I was, what I was doing. I prowled around the bed for a long time, drinking in the erotic fantasy of her; she was quivering with that rare kind of sexual anticipation that seemed to heighten all her senses, made her skin come alive to my every touch. I leaned over the bed and trailed a line of wet kisses down the soft exposed flesh of her throat and drew one of her nipples between my teeth.
Steffie gasped – a sigh of pent up breath that turned into a groan.
“Touch yourself,” I told her. “I want to watch you pleasure yourself. I want to know what arouses you. Show me.”
For an instant she hesitated, and then one of her hands came tentatively from her side, acro
ss the flat taut muscles of her abdomen and dipped deliciously between the folds of her pussy.
It was an erotic moment I will never forget. The air seemed to crackle with sensual energy. For all it’s simplicity, the act of Steffie slowly sliding one of her fingers between the glistening folds of her sex was something that stays clearly with me to this day.
I watched, mesmerized – not the actual way she moved her fingers, but rather the way her body responded. That was what intrigued me. That was what held me utterly mesmerized. It began with her breathing – the sudden tightness of each inhalation as her fingers became slick with the rising heat of her desire, and then brushed, light as butterfly wings, across the jutting button of her clit. The breath seized in her throat and her mouth fell open into a long throaty moan. I watched her face, and even behind the blindfold I sensed her eyes were screwed tightly shut.
“Keep touching yourself,” I insisted. The sound of my own voice in my ears was suddenly thick with my own need. “Make yourself cum for me.”
Steffie trapped her bottom lip between her teeth and her head turned to the side as if she had drawn all the air from around her. A rising bloom of color rose up across her chest like a blush and then her knees bent and raised, and her hips began to undulate, lifting off the bed in a slow erotic private dance.
I brushed the tips of my fingers over the lace of her corset and then the palm of my hand finally reached the exposed tanned flesh of her thigh. Steffie flinched as though the sensitive skin had been electrocuted, and the flurried touch of her fingers became more frantic – more primal… as though she had given herself over to raw instincts as old as time itself. Reason and inhibition slipped away. Steffie’s breathing became hoarse explosive gasps. Her whole body began to writhe and the air in the bedroom became scented by the musky natural aroma of her excitement.
When Steffie came at last, it was with two of her own finger thrust deep inside herself while her other hand plucked at one of her nipples. She came hard, in three distinctive gasps of breath, each one torn from her throat as the grip of her orgasm clenched and then reluctantly released, washing over her like waves on a beach, exhausted and spent, drawn back into the dark depths of the ocean with the beach washed clean.