The cursor whirls across the screen, capturing imagery, clicking as it goes.Ye gods, but James knows what he's doing...Then I smile wryly to myself. You don't get to be Technical Director of a multi-billion corporation by being incompetent.Like he said... there's a reason he has the job...So, what now?*****"Could we stay in tonight? Just you and me? Get takeaway food perhaps?""Sounds good," murmurs Ryan. "I'd like to have you all to myself."He holds me in his arms and we dance to the lovely music washing through the air.As we sway around the room, my face pressed close to his chest, I inhale the sweet perfume of my... my what? My Master? My Dom certainly. My Lover too?The moment feels trapped in time, one of those endless moments where precious seconds are captured and preserved, held forever in the heart.Does he feel it too?He kisses my cheek, then my forehead. "Kirstie...""Mmmm...?" "I know you love the excitement and the thrill... and so
I sit on the dune, staring out to sea where, under a stiff breeze the surf rolls in, tossing its white horses onto the beach.The surf fascinates me, frothing and boiling as it dances over the sand, holding me in its spell in the way a flame will hypnotise, enrapturing the eye. A million white foaming bubbles race and toss and die, only to be reborn on the next wave.The dogs frolic in the waves; at least Emma, Meg and Archie do. Mac is far too dignified to get wet, and he settles for exploring the strand line, poking through seaweed, dead crabs and driftwood. Sometimes, he finds a plastic bottle or other floater that he identifies as entertainment, bringing over his offering and inviting me to do something interesting with this enticing object, like play tag or fetch, or make it go...If I'm really lucky, he'll find a dead seagull and roll. As it is, the car is going to be full of salt and sand, but everyone, me included, will have had a good day's exercise. The sky is blue a
This looks a bit more interesting. It's a good start that he uses my name. Of course, it's not my real name, but nobody on-line gets to know who I really am until I've met them, and often not then. His profile reads well. This one's actually literate. He can string a sentence together and doesn't sound cheap or tacky.On his profile, he doesn't sound bad physically either... 'Attractive', '5 feet eleven, dark-haired, clean shaven, non-smoker. Physical attraction is always important, but even more so when you're screwing for screwing's sake. I don't want a husband or a boyfriend. I want a fuck-buddy, someone who'll not try to take over my life.I've had too much of control freaks...Mmmm... Travels for his work and wants to call by every few weeks...A wife in every port?Education... University level. Interests... movies, classical and jazz music, politics, science, art, the outdoors...Bit of a Renaissance Man...Marital status... Separated...Could mean anything...
"You can ask.""Is Debbie really your name?""No, of course not. On a dating site like that, do you think I'm going to hand out my details to anyone before I've had a chance to meet up and eyeball them?""Very sensible. It's quite dangerous doing what you're doing, especially for a woman.""I'm careful. I follow the rules. No name. No address. Meet in a public place...""I'm pleased to hear it. Have you encountered any...?" He hesitates."Freaks? Looneys? Yes, a few. Most of them I manage to weed out at the e-mail and messaging stage. Only one got past my first defences so that so that I actually met him..."He looks intrigued. "Really? And...""We'd talked on the phone a couple of times before we agreed on a date. He had a beautiful speaking voice, all honey and cream. Y'know, a Richard Burton, or Morgan Freeman, or Alan Rickman kind of voice. But when I met him, I knew instantly that there was something wrong..."He cocks his head. "Instantly? How?""It's hard to
Ryan eyes me speculatively. "Without wishing to seem pushy, did you have any plans for later this evening?""Not at all. I wanted to see how this worked out."A smile plays over his lips. "Rather well so far as I can see... Can I offer you... coffee... back at my hotel?"*****And so, not for the first time, I enter a stranger's hotel room. This is where I find out if he's really what he appears to be.A nervous tingle runs down my spine, the doubt of the unknown; the knowledge that, just possibly, I have misjudged and this man is... a crackpot, a loony, a weirdo...And of course, the doubt is part of the thrill... "When did you book this room?" I ask."I'm staying here anyway. I wasn't making assumptions. As I told you, I travel for my work and I use this hotel regularly.""Ah..."He hangs his jacket neatly over a chair, then dims the lights"Would you actually like some coffee? Or would you prefer wine?" he asks. "It's always a little embarrassing, isn't it? Th
Ryan cocks an eyebrow. "It suits you better. You didn't really look like a 'Debbie' to me. That's a 'pretty' name." He clambers over me, hovering on all fours, straddling my quivering body. "I'll rephrase it then. I'm going to enjoy fucking you, Kirstie."He kneels up, still straddling my legs. "So, you like being dominated... Do as you're told then." He cocks his head to my panties. "Show me.""Show you what?""You know what. Let me see what I'm going to fuck. Give me a show.""You want me to...?""Do as you're told." He looks down at my crotch. "If I thought seduction was what you wanted, I'd go for it. But you don't. I can see from here that you're dripping. And if you wanted to be coy, you should have worn black. Now..." he traces a finger over the dark stain on the crotch of my panties, then, pulling the satin to one side, slips it inside. "So, if you want me to fuck you, show me what you've got."He's not smiling anymore. Instead, his gaze alternates between my eyes a
He's looking down on me now, supporting himself on strong arms as he plunges inside me, ram-rodding home. Sweat running down his forehead, he smells of musk and sex. His dark eyes squeezing shut, he bites his lip, then, with a gasp, withdraws.Hovering over me again, "I'm going to face-fuck you now. Do I straddle you, I wonder? Feed myself to you here on the bed? Or do I get you on your knees?"He drops to take a nipple into his mouth, pulling it with his teeth, nipping, hard enough to make me yelp and buck."On your knees, Kirstie."He stands and I kneel in front of him. Seizing my hair, he pushes his cock, glistening with my juices, against my lips. "Lick me clean," he mutters. "From head to balls. Lick me clean."Compliantly, I glide my lips and mouth the length of his shaft, tonguing away the slick juices. But he is flowing now; a steady trickle of pre-cum that draws into sticky threads, glutinous over my lips and mouth. I wipe over the rim and the silky skin of the head,
I shake my head. "It was bright sunshine when I left home. Didn't think I needed anything else.""I've got a clean pullover in the car. Back in a jiffy..." He strides out, car keys jangling, returning a minute or so later, his hair wet but carrying a sweater.Thrusting it at me, "Get that on you. There's a bathroom out at the back to change."It feels a bit odd, accepting clothes from a near stranger, but I'm in no position to argue. My jeans are still sopping, but with the warm jersey, at least my top half is warm and I do feel much better.The sweater is not a good fit and would easily accommodate another one of me inside. I'd not realised before how broad-shouldered Ben is, or for that matter, how much taller he is than me.A bit self-consciously, I return to the bar. He eyes me, mouth puckering. "Not exactly a fashion statement, is it?""Thanks very much. I owe you one." I say, pushing the sleeves up past my wrists, trying to free my hands to pick up my coffee mug. "I r