Graham should be banned from wearing clothes. His body was so beautiful, all that clean caramel skin, taut muscle and artfully drawn tats, but what I loved most was his ass. It was tight and round with well-defined glutes like those pictures of that Russian dancer, Nureyev, only better. I liked the way it blushed a hot pink, adding heat to its creamy colour, as I knelt behind him and nipped a bit of caramel candy, the resilient plumpness hovering just between my teeth. He groaned like he liked it and his bottom bounced backwards, the smooth skin grazing my smile. I licked the pinkish bite, and then nipped him again. His groan sounded like a shiver.
‘On your knees,’ I said rubbing the highest point of his ass as I stood up and stepped back a little to make room for him.
‘Like this?’ he asked as he knelt beside the bed, long arms and large hands stretching across the peach chenille bedspread. I reached under him to press his hips back so that his backside would be more prominent, but my hand got distracted by the firm jut of his thick cock. I wrapped my fingers around it and squeezed. His breathing increased and he stilled in anticipation. I tugged his cock a couple of times and then I released him and kissed the top of his head as I unwound my body. He looked back at me over his shoulder, a little sullen. I smacked his beautiful ass and he lurched forward, his arms slipping further across the bed and his ass accessible, just where I wanted it.
As I dipped three fingers into the jar of petroleum jelly that stood on the nearby nightstand, he watched me over his shoulder.
* * *
I met Graham at Belle Isle, a little island park in the middle of the city. He was sitting atop a picnic table licking a chocolate ice-cream cone. His eyes were fixed on the Canadian skyline just across the river. It wasn’t the first time I’d caught him invading my spot. When it was sunny and warm like it was that day, I usually ate lunch or read there. The first time he’d just stood on the shoreline looking out over the river. I’m sure he’d seen me, but he didn’t say anything to me. The second time he’d stood on the shoreline silently like he’d done before, but he nodded at me as he headed back to his car. I nodded back, but he didn’t stop, he just kept going. I watched as he climbed into a silver Lexus.
‘Where’s mine?’ I asked when I caught him sitting on the table that I considered mine.
‘This was for you, but you took too long to get here,’ he’d said, holding the half-eaten cone out to me.
I could tell he was surprised when I took it.
‘Graham,’ he said as he held his hand out.
‘Miza,’ I said, ignoring the hand.
I wondered how long he would hold his hand out. He’d held it out longer than he should have, which told me that he was polite, and, based on his age, the nice car, the Jacob Cohen jeans and the crisp collared Dolce dress shirt worn casually with its sleeves rolled up, I surmised that he probably came from a good family with money. I watched him sitting there leaning forward, legs wide, fingers laced as I finished off the cone.
When we began to talk, I found that my assessment was pretty much on target. It was summer and he had come home for a couple of weeks before going back to finish the last year of his Master’s degree. He’d chosen grad school, but it seems that most of his friends were doing corporate or congressional internships in DC or New York or tramping about Europe. ‘Amsterdam, London and Rome have become more popular, but the more adventurous learn Spanish and head to South America to work with the poor.’ He had grinned as though it was a joke, but I knew it wasn’t. With all of his friends away, he was bored. He’d made the last admission with a shrug and a prep-school pout.
He squinted and looked at me as though making his own appraisal. ‘You look young. You’re probably still an undergraduate. Where do you go to school?’ he asked, smiling at me with those straight white teeth.
‘I don’t go to school,’ I said. ‘I wait tables.’ He didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. He just shrugged and kept his smile going.
I liked that he didn’t apologise or say something fucked-up to try to cover his blunder, like he felt sorry for me. Besides, he was fine, had time on his hands and I was horny. That was the first time I took him back to the old two-bedroom bungalow I inherited when Gran died.
* * *
‘I’ve never done this before,’ he reminded me as he peeked back at me, his forehead pressed into his forearms.
‘You’ll like it,’ I assured him. He was already hard, the shiny tip of his cock bobbing towards his stomach, his balls hanging loosely between his thighs. I liked the way they looked there dangling between his legs, like dark gumballs still in their wrapper. With my free hand, I reached between his legs and cradled his balls, tipping them in my palm. He shifted his knees, widening his stance so that I could have better access. I liked the way they felt in my hand, the weight of them and the flexible texture of the ball sack, the steamy heat. But even better, I liked the way that Graham let me have my way with him. I liked that he trusted me. I was tempted to taste the saltiness of his balls, but there were other things I wanted to do more. Instead, I reluctantly released them, placed my hand on his lower back and pressed firmly. He shifted, teetering uncertainly, his knees sliding further apart before he gained control and locked them in place to steady himself.
The wider position gave me an even better view of his ball sack and I couldn’t resist cupping and tugging and rolling his balls around in the palm of my hand again. He pressed backwards, trying to urge my hand up towards his cock, but I ignored him. I leaned down and ran my tongue up the centre of his sack then sucked each ball. He shivered and shifted, unintentionally taking his sack further away, and my mouth tried to follow, but his muscled thighs served as a stalwart gate.
A surge of electricity lurched and shifted deep inside my pussy, causing the muscles to tighten and flex; I sat back on my haunches. I could feel the wetness growing and coating my inner thighs. Later, I vowed. I would suck his balls again later. But right then, I wanted to fuck him.
* * *
Graham admitted that he hadn’t experimented much with sex, and I haven’t known him long, but he likes to play and so far he’s been pretty fearless. His most thrilling sexual experience was fucking his high-school girlfriend doggie-style on her back porch while her parents were making dinner. And while that’s hot, it’s still pretty much a straight fuck.
He’s a fairly big guy and kind of macho with those tats. On his chest, he has a tribal design with thick black lines tipped in red that covers his left pec and continues over his shoulder and halfway down his back. A circle like barbed wire is wrapped around his well-muscled right bicep. His walk is so sexy, so confident, like the world is his and he knows it, and the way he wears those well-worn jeans low on his hips sends a jolt straight to my pussy that makes me want to squeeze my legs together. He looks almost Latin, reminds me of that actor Daniel Sunjata, all wholesome and wicked at the same time. The first time I saw him, I wanted to suck on that lower, pouty lip, and then I wanted to make him kneel before me, pull my panties down and bury those beautiful lips between my legs. And he hadn’t even smiled at me yet.
I was surprised that he trusted me enough to let me take the lead, especially since this was only our second time together. Maybe he reasoned that I was female and younger and smaller than him. Maybe he thought that those things made me more vulnerable, but he was the newbie here, the one most susceptible.
My last boyfriend, Larry, was a banker in his forties. He liked role-playing – a lot; he rarely ever wanted plain sex. We only did it missionary-style once, and that was the first time, when he was testing the water. But I liked playing with him, and I found I liked it better when he gave me control. He could take a lot of licks and came hardest when his ass was striped red and I was fucking him in the ass with his braided leather crop. But I liked it best when I fucked him with a strap-on; he could take it fast and hard, and if I made him wear a ring, I could ride him awhile afterwards.
We used to go to this toy store in Royal Oak to buy restraints, butt plugs, collars and costumes. It was like an unending birthday party: presents, party favours and games. He would let me pick out whatever caught my eye and then he’d take me to his apartment and show me how to use it. When he decided to marry a girl he’d been crazy about since college and put ‘boyish’ things away so he could become a loyal family man, we parted ways. There were no hard feelings, we’d had a lot of fun and he’d taught me a lot. I went to our store for the first time by myself and bought a brand-new strap-on. The dick part was a flesh tone, a darker tan, and made of a nearly lifelike substance that felt like skin when you rubbed it and warmed it up between your palms. I think it’s perfect for Graham’s maiden voyage. It’s barely six inches long and maybe a little less than an inch in diameter. I could tell he liked the way it looked when he saw me wearing it.
* * *
I stepped behind him so that my dick was aimed at his ass. My left palm rested on a high, tight cheek, holding him in place; I stroked the smooth skin with my right, enjoying the slide where the muscle hollowed. Then I dipped my warm fingers into the hot crevice that separated the two taut cheeks and stroked its length before pressing the cleft wider to reveal the tiny puckered hole. With the three coated fingers, I worked the petroleum jelly around the hole, then dipped the tip of one finger in, making sure that the hole was well lubricated. He squirmed and peeked at me over his shoulder again. I pulled the finger out and used another oily finger to stroke along the crease again, slow and easy, before dipping the finger deep. As I bent over him, touching and teasing with my fingers, my dick grazed and rubbed the sensitive strip of skin between his ass and his balls. He squirmed and groaned a little, but didn’t shout ‘Uncle’.
I dipped my fingers into the jar of jelly again, coating them once more before sliding the longest one into his tightly curled anus, pressing it a little deeper. He tensed, but I could tell he wanted more, so I gave him what he wanted, sliding in a second finger, pressing both fingers deep and fucking him slow and easy, sinking them deeper before pulling them almost all the way out. He leaned forward, palms flat on the bed, backside pointed in my direction. Fingers still in the hole, I leaned down and nipped the smooth skin of his ass, tugging the creamy flesh with my teeth. His breath caught and he whimpered. I smiled and drew my tongue over the tiny bite mark.
He was on his knees, ass oiled and ready, waiting for my next move. I stood behind him and ran the tips of my fingers over his shoulders to get his attention. I wanted him to see who was fucking him. He watched me over his shoulder as I stood, legs wide, the nipples of my healthy C-cups rouged, freshly shaved and oiled legs accented by a pair of black stilettos, and my hand on my cock, its straps braced around my ass so that it jutted out from the base of my pussy.
He grinned and shook his head like he couldn’t believe me, but I knew it was a gesture of appreciation. The he licked and tugged at his pouty lower lip with his teeth and half turned his body towards me as he reached out to tug at the soft leather straps that harnessed the dildo to my hips. He slid two fingers beneath the base of the dildo and cupped my sex, then ran his fingertips back and forth across the juicy lips of my pussy, testing their wetness and sending a chilly jolt up my centre. I let him stroke me for a few seconds because I liked it, and I knew that touching me would make him even hotter; the moistness and my musky scent were all a part of it. When I could tell that he was really into it, I slapped him, a quick flat palm across his cheek just as he’d slipped a finger deep inside my pussy.
‘Don’t touch me unless I give you permission,’ I warned.
My handprint was a red, hot stain on his cheek; he ducked his head as though acknowledging my words. To let him know I was pleased with his obedience, I sat down on the edge of the bed and, pulling him forward, let him suckle at my tits while I slid the beaded cock ring onto his penis. I fondled him awhile because I liked the way it looked, straining upwards, all powerful and strong while wearing its little necklace.
His was a beautiful penis, long and darker than his skin, a work of art in sepia. I wanted to suck it, to feel the smoothness of its hood on the roof of my mouth, but that could wait for another time. He leaned forward to kiss me, pulled me close, his hands massaging my ass then slipping lower, under my ass, trying to tease the damp lips of my sex from behind. The slow trail of his fingers in my wetness felt good, and the muscles of my pussy constricted. I stepped back, nearly out of reach, and gave him a mean face, but he just leaned up and took one of my nipples into his mouth. He was still on his knees and even though he was six feet to my slightly over five, I had on four-inch heels and felt like I was towering over him. His face was just about level with my dick, and it felt good; I could feel the cream gathering in my pussy.
When I ordered him to turn back towards the bed, he stubbornly lingered, sucking my nipple long and hard, tugging and stretching it before grumpily obeying. It was his way of rebelling, letting me know that he was still the man; I thought it was cute. I smacked him hard on his ass, a burst of sound that corresponded with the stinging flat of my hand, but it had been necessary to remind him that he’d agreed to play by my rules. He squirmed, wiggling his ass as though to cool the red mark, and then he ducked his head, letting me know that he’d gotten the message.
The ancient bed creaked a little under his weight as he leaned forward. I was behind him again, pressing my oiled cock into the crevice of his ass. He tensed. I pressed further, poised at his tightly curled opening. Stopping just there, I waited and, instead of pressing home, I stroked his ass, massaging and kneading the cheeks before reaching beneath his stomach to pump the steel of his jutting penis. His breath was coming hard and fast as he waited to see what I would do next. I kissed and sucked and nipped, using my teeth to gnaw and graze the skin of his shoulders and neck, all the while pumping his penis with my hand. The head of my dick was tucked into the cleft of his ass, nudging the tight hole every time I moved to nip a bit of his back with my mouth. His skin was hot and growing damp, his slick body scorching me wherever our skin touched, the thick flesh and savoury taste of his shoulder and back filling my mouth.
When his cock was damp with precome and he was moaning and squirming in front of me, I pushed forward, easing the slippery tip of my dick into the little puckered hole. He grunted and tensed, but he didn’t try to get away. I swatted his ass, a flat palm to a hot muscled cheek, and then I gripped his hips to make sure my aim was straight. I like to wear the strap-on low so, when I’m fucking, the base of the dildo bangs against my clitoris, sending little jolts every time I push into him. It was hung just right, smashing my clit as I pressed forward. I took it slow at first, just the head, and then a little more. I could feel him opening to me, the resistance lessening even more as his muscles relaxed, but he was still cautious, his body stiff, waiting for more. He whimpered and spread his knees, opening to me. I pushed forward a little more and he rose up, his chest coming off the bed about a foot, but I didn’t stop. I pushed home, a slow easy slide.
‘Oh, fuck!’ he choked out. I slapped his ass again and slid in further, knowing that I’d made it past the sphincter muscle and that now it was just about getting him used to the glide and feel of my cock deep in his ass.
My fingers left little dents where my short nails gripped his hips as I rolled mine, moving deep inside him. The suede base of the dildo was pressed tight against my clitoris, and as I rolled my hips and bounced against his ass, my dick sliding deeper, the movement sent little jolts and sparks of sensation that caused my pussy to get even wetter and the muscles to quiver and clench.
He was groaning now, his torso supported by stiff arms as his head hung between them while he offered me his ass to plunder. The rasp of suede against my clit and the way my dick slid in and out of his tight ass had my pussy humming. It was so wet I could feel the cream sliding down my inner thigh, and his skin was so damp with perspiration that my fingers were slipping as I gripped his shoulder with one hand and his waist with the other. I was fucking him, my dick sliding in and almost out, long easy strokes. Sweat was trying to roll into my eyes, but I shook it away, not wanting to miss the way his ass swallowed my dick and how he pressed backwards, eager for more.
He was groaning loud now, clutching at the pillow, the sheets, but he didn’t try to pull away. And then I was ramming him, hard and fast, all six inches sliding deep, each thrust a sharp jolt against my clitoris. I aimed downwards like Larry had taught me so that the dildo stroked his prostate. He moaned, a long guttural sound, like a distant foghorn, and then he shuddered, but I held on.
‘Fuck,’ he grunted as he pressed his mouth into a pillow. I closed my eyes and rocked into him again and again until he cried out, trembling and trying to tumble forward. I gripped his hips, tight, and held onto him, continuing to thrust forward until a quake began deep in my pussy and quivering waves surged through me, tightening my innermost muscles and causing the wetness to overflow and spill down my thighs. My hands slipped on his wet skin and I fell forward. He grunted again at the unexpected jolt, but I quickly righted myself and pulled out slow and easy. Graham collapsed onto the bed and belatedly moved to the side to avoid the damp spot he’d made on the sheets.
‘I’m not done with you,’ I said, but it came out breathy as though I had just come in from a run. Graham looked up at me, one eyebrow raised. ‘Get in bed,’ I said as I unstrapped the dildo and tossed it onto a nearby chair. ‘Fuck,’ he said, ‘I don’t think I’ve got any more, babe. You might have to give me a minute,’ he added, but he did as he was told and climbed heavily onto the bed.
I wasn’t worried about Graham’s stamina. He was maybe 25 or 26, only a couple of years older than me. Admiring his hard body as he lay stretched out, all muscle and creamy skin spread across the peach bedspread, it was clear that he ran and did some lifting. I liked his strong, thick runner’s thighs. I wished I had one of those green saplings that my Gran used to whip us with when we were small. I would have loved to slap those thighs with one and watched as the skinny welts rose like candy stripes as he winced at the tiny stings. Maybe next time. I let my eyes trail along the flat stomach and land on the still rigid cock that jutted up from its beaded necklace. He winced, his hand going to his cock.
‘You look like you’ve got a little something left,’ I said as I stood over him.
He grinned up at me, his hazel eyes still a little dazed.
* * *
Graham lay on his back and smiled up at me. When I didn’t smile back, he reached for me. I stepped away. He’d been a sport, giving me control, and I’d just come really hard, but I still wasn’t ready to let him touch me. We’d agreed that he wouldn’t unless I directed him to, unless I told him when and how. I turned to the closet behind me, pulled a couple of scarves from the rack on the door and proceeded to tie his wrists to the iron slats of the headboard. I pulled them tight and double-knotted them. Laughing, he tried to nip at my nipples as I leaned over him, but he stopped after the second slap. The first was a warning smack to his side; the second fell soundly on his right cheek and chin. He looked surprised and then daunted, but his penis was as hard as ever.
I liked the way he looked, arms stretched over his head, elongating his body, adding definition to the muscles of his arms and legs and the flat plane of his stomach. His arms tensed, muscles flexing and tightening, as he tested the bindings, his hands tugging at the silk. I touched myself, two fingers tucked between my labia, sliding back and forth, circling the hood. He stopped tugging at the restraints, his eyes following my action, alert, the slap forgotten. Trying to get a better look at what I was doing, he pulled at the silky bindings again, only to be brought up short. My fingers slid deeper. He spread his legs, his feet slipping along the chenille of the old bedspread. His cock surged, struggling to stand up straighter from its beaded base.
I leaned forward and rolled the beaded band off his penis. He looked up at me hopefully. Yes, I would take him inside me and maybe even let him come that way. He’d been good and besides, I wanted to feel him surging and spewing inside me. I crawled further onto the bed and straddled him. Then I lifted myself over his long, hard cock and pressed down slowly until my labia were flush against his skin and the crisp, coarse pubic hair that sprouted around his cock. All at once, he surged up, his arms and elbows flailing as though he wanted to hold me. But the bindings held fast and by then I was riding him bareback against the wide open plain, my head flung back, and he was murmuring something that sounded like ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck me’, as he surged upwards trying to touch the centre of my being with the head of his cock. I squeezed him, the muscles of my sex clamping down like a long sucking kiss, again and again as he tried to push through the kiss, rasping along my inner walls, growing harder and longer and thicker. I loved his cock, in my hand, my mouth, in my pussy. Not only was it a work of art, it always performed eagerly, rising and yipping like a grateful pup.
My hands on the flat plane of his belly and then gripping his waist for support, I rose up his cock until only the tip remained inside me before sliding back down, the slick skin of his penis a long dark piston disappearing into a raging cauldron. He leaned up to watch, his stomach tight beneath my splayed hands. His lips were a rigid line, his eyes intense as he lifted his hips, thrusting upwards, each thrust surer and faster. My pussy was dripping, the hot wetness splashing over our thighs as I rode him faster and faster, my ass bouncing against his thighs as he drove up into me. All at once, a shard of ice burst and melted over my heated body, lathing my skin with icy tingles. I shivered, my whole body trembled, the muscles of my sex flexing involuntarily around the hardness that impaled me.
Graham was shaking his head from side to side, his upper body trembling while his lower body thrust upwards and upwards until suddenly he stilled, shouting, ‘Fuck, baby!’ as a thick warm wetness filled me, coating my insides, blending with my murky dampness. I sat astride him trying to maintain my seat until our quaking finally began to slow and I fell forward and rested my head on the warm, slick skin of his chest. Beneath the taut skin, his heart was racing. I listened until it slowed and then I closed my eyes.
* * *
‘That was fucking hot, babe,’ Graham was saying.
I opened my eyes. My cheek was wet with his sweat. I sat up, wiping my face with my arm.
‘Untie me, babe, so we can go again.’
I let out a long breath. ‘I’ll untie you so you can go. I need my rest and I don’t let people sleep over.’
‘People?’
I got up, pulled my robe from the hook behind my closet door and put it on before gathering up Graham’s clothes and setting them on the bed next to him. Then I untied the scarves releasing his wrists.
‘You gotta go,’ I said patting his clothes and then I left him there as I headed down the hall to the bathroom.
When I came back, he was pulling his jeans on, slowly.
‘We could go to Greektown and get some more gelato. It’s only eight o’clock, Miza.’
‘Not interested.’
‘Look, you just fucked my brains out and you’re not interested?’ He sounded incredulous.
‘Look, I just felt like fucking and you were willing to play. Don’t make a big thing out of it…I’ll call you, OK?’
‘What about dinner? You haven’t eaten dinner. The Bistro does a nice steak and there’s The Oyster Bar, if you want seafood.’
I was hungry.
‘Look,’ he said, looking all solemn and compliant, his eyes on the blue plaid shirt he held in his hands. ‘I like what we did. I like you. Whatever you want, Miza, I’m willing to try.’
He looked like such a sweet boy. I reached out and tugged on one of his dark flat nipples, pinching it until it poked out. He shivered and his cock nudged the zipper of his pants.
He did have the perfect penis. I smiled. I really enjoyed playing with him and he was such a good sport. ‘OK. Dinner,’ I said.