I stare at Roger for a moment without speaking. What he said made perfect sense and yet I’d never thought of dieting over such a long period myself. If I lost one pound a month, I could be almost within sight of the ideal BMI for my height in 5 years. In 10, my weight would be comfortably in the range.
“I don’t know why I always think that I have to lose weigh overnight,” I admit. “I didn’t gain it overnight. It’s logical that I should lose it the same way I gained, but every time I go on a diet I want to be slim by the end of the month.”
“If you had health issues, I would suggest making losing weight a priority, but thankfully you don’t have to. Gradual weigh loss is less traumatic on the body.” He takes my hands in his. I have to admit I love when he does it. “But there are things you can do that will immediately make you feel more confident.”
“What? Have a body transplant?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him. “I’ll swap with you in a heartbeat.”
“I would do it, too.” He laughs. “If those breasts were mine, I would fondle them all day. And if I had your ass, I would develop a permanent crick in my neck from looking back at it.”
“You’re insane!” I laugh out loud and raucously at the idea of him wanting my body.
“Getting back to the topic we were discussing.” His face sobers and he gives me a stern look. “First, I want you to buy some scandalously sexy underwear and lingerie, and wear them in the house at least. But, they will make you feel more feminine even if you’re wearing a business suit.”
“They probably don’t do sexy lingerie in my size,” I mutter.
“They do,” he responds and something tells me that he knows what he’s talking about. “Just do a search on the internet. If you can’t find what you want, give me a call and I will give you the links to some great websites. You can order what you want without leaving your home.”
“Okay.”
“Practise walking in the heels I bought you until you’re more confident and then get yourself several more pairs. And wear shoes that show off your feet. They may not be slender, but they are pretty and well shaped. Paint your nails, even if it’s a French manicure. If possible, have it done professionally.”
“The women in beauty salons are always so perfect.”
“And imagine, you can pay them to be at your command.” He laughs. “Imagine yourself sitting there like a queen and having them wash your feet, cut and shape your toenails and then paint them.”
I’ve cringed at the idea of a slim, perfect beautician taking my fat feet between her dainty palms, but I now laugh as I picture it with his words in mind.
“Fashion comes and goes all the time. Rubenesque women were once all the rage, they will again be some time in the future. Think of yourself as being ahead of fashion.”
I laugh and realize that I’ve done it more times in one night with him than I’ve done in a long time.
He’s so easy to talk to.
He must be great at his job as a volunteer.
We’d spoken to each other five times on the phone and he’d asked me a lot of questions. Personal questions, but not the kind of questions a pervert or con man would ask and I’d found myself responding truthfully even though he was a total stranger.
“I don’t think that fat women would ever be in fashion as far as my mother is concerned,” I respond.
“The next time she calls and tells you something negative, pull her up on it. Or better still, call her as soon as you get home today and tell her that you need some time to yourself, so you won’t be calling her for a while.”
“She would go ballistic!”
“Do you care?” he asks. “You need to spend some time focussing on you without her constant criticism.”
“I do,” I admit. Truthfully she’s never gotten over my dad deserting her, but I reach for a tub of Ben and Jerry’s Utter Peanut Butter Clutter after almost every conversation I have with her. I’m her only child, so I’ve allowed her to vent her frustrations on me. It stops now, I decide. “I will call and have a frank talk with her.”
“Make sure you do.”
“I will.” Nothing he’s said is new, but yet it’s like something in my brain has clicked into place.
I deserve to be happy.
The thought almost made me giddy.
I have so much to be grateful for: I’m still young; have no health issues, a home of my own and a well-paying secure job.
And finally I’ve been fucked by a man.
It was worth every penny and I would do it again in a heartbeat, but I know now that there’s no rush—my bunnies will do until I find the man I want.
I will miss Roger’s arms, though.
Maybe it was time to get the boyfriend pillow I’ve wanted to buy.
“Everything you say makes such perfect sense,” I tell him and kiss the tip of his nose. “Are you sure I can’t hire you as my psychiatrist, dietician and personal trainer?”
I’m only joking, of course. I know that he has a full plate already.
He smiles. “You don’t need any of them...although a good personal trainer could help you tailor an exercise programme that’s right for you. Just make sure you find one that suits you and remember that you’re paying them and not the other way around.”
“Okay.” I will give the idea some serious thought, but I’ve seen documentaries like Fat: The Fight Of My Life and Obese: A Year to Save My Life and though the people they help mostly end up losing the weight, I don’t want anyone to push me that hard. “But I think I will try on my own for six months first.”
“Doing it on your own would be better,” he replies.
“Really?” I ask, surprised.
“Yes. When you achieve your goals without assistance, you own them. Some people need personal trainers. They will only lose weight if someone’s cracking a whip over their heads and pushing them to exercise regularly. Many will change their lifestyles and continue to make healthy eating choices once they understand the correlation between what they eat, how much they exercise and the weight they gain or lose. But there are others who will regain the weight once the sessions with their trainers stop and that’s because they weren’t in full control of the process. To them it’s like passing an exam by cheating and as a result they feel guilty and quickly gain it back. So, it’s much better if you take control of your own life.” He rubs his thumbs over the skin at the back of my hands. His hands aren’t rough, but the skin is much coarser than mine and bizarrely when he’s stroking me, I can feel how soft my skin is in comparison. “You must exercise, though. Start gently, with fifteen minutes of either Pilates or yoga every morning. You can increase duration and difficulty as you go along.”
“I think I’ll do Pilates.” Three years ago I used to regularly attend a class on Wednesday evening, but it gradually became filled with skinny women in skimpy outfits who didn’t look as though they needed the exercise. One by one the larger women left, until the session I was the only one attending. I didn’t turn up the week after and have never had the courage to go back. It was a shame because the older woman who taught the class had been an excellent teacher and though I hadn’t done it long enough for it to make a huge difference to my body, I’d felt fitter and younger. “I might even get myself a Pilates Reformer. I’ve always wanted one.”
“They are great machines, but start with a DVD first. Too many people buy exercise machines with good intentions and never use them. I’m not saying that you will be one of them,” he says, staring into my eyes. “But you can get great results without having one. So, start without one and see how it goes.”
“Alright.”
“You might find that you’re happy to just do enough to keep your body supple, but you don’t want to lose too much weight.”
“I thought losing weight was the whole point,” I protest.
“The point is you loving and accepting your body,” he tells me. “Once you start to focus on your body and what it needs, you might find that getting fit becomes a priority over getting slim. If you wear the right clothing to enhance your shape rather than hide it, you might find that you like the attention men give you too much to lose your curves.”
“The attention men give me?” I scoff. “Most of them act like I’m invisible.”
“I can guarantee, if you put on a form-fitting dress and a pair of heels, and walk down the streets, men won’t be able to keep their eyes off you.”
“Yes.” I laugh. “They’ll be thinking, cover yourself up, woman!”
“They’ll be thinking as I am right now, God, I want to fuck her!” He pinches my left nipple between his fingers and it immediately pouts. He stares at it for a moment as he reaches down and slides two of those same fingers up inside me. Then he bends his head to flick his tongue at my swollen nipple and lifts his head. “I love how responsive your body is.”
This time when he bends his head to it, he captures the whole areola and sucks my breast hard into his mouth. He pulls as though he wants milk and each tug sends sensations shooting to my centre.
“Yes.” I cup the back of his head and watch him.
Soon it becomes too intense, I’m circling my entrance on his fingers, trying to tell him that I want more. I know his penis is erect because I can feel it squashed against the side of my hip.
He ignores my silent plead and I finally reach down for it.
I run my hand up and down its length, marvelling at its softness, smoothness and hardness. I marvel too that not only had I been able to take the whole length inside me, but how much I wanted it again.
“Fuck me again, Roger,” I tell him when he doesn’t seem to get my tacit message.
“I thought you’d never ask.” He laughs as he takes his penis in hand and points it between my legs.
“I didn’t know I had to,” I complain.
“Most men don’t need asking, but if you want a man to fuck you, just tell him. Although few men will need prompting to fuck this sweet pussy.” He rubs the head against my opening, liberally spreading the moisture oozing out of me. Then he gives me a few, teasing, shallow thrusts but makes no attempt to push deeper.
“Roger! Take me, please!” I beg.
“Your wish is my command.”
“Aw!” I’d thought that he would just slide inside me with ease, but it’s almost as bad as the first time.
“God, baby, you’re still so tight.” His face twists into a slight grimace as he starts to push inside me.
“Your cock’s so big,” I complain as it forces me open.
“The better to fuck you with, my dear.” He laughs and then slides his arms under my shoulders, cradles my head and gives me a long kiss. He sucks on my tongue and then slides his along it sinuously as he keeps pushing into me.
He almost distracts me.
Almost.
I can feel my wetness aiding its passage and yet it seems to get stuck a few times. Undeterred, Roger withdraws silently and then presses forward more forcefully each time and soon I can feel his tight balls flush against my skin.
“I wish you could feel how good it is to have your pussy wrapped around me like a second skin.”
“Stretched more like!” I retort and give a moan and he withdraws slightly and manages to get even deeper.
Eleven inches was more than I’d bargained for.
I had hoped for eight or nine, would have been thrilled with ten, but surely eleven was too much?
“Stretched wider than you probably will ever be again,” he says arrogantly. “But you’ll never forget the experience.”
The thought of him being mine for only one night suddenly makes me sad. Instead of telling him off for his arrogance, I wrap my arms around his neck and say, “Nor will I ever forget you.”
“I won’t forget you either.” He says the words sincerely and although I don’t know if he means them, I begin to feel better.
And a minute later it doesn’t matter as he starts to move smoothly in and out of me.
“Feels so good.”
“It does?” He props himself up to the side on one muscular arm and gives me a clear view as he withdraws and then plunges himself back inside me, and says, “Watch me fuck you, baby.”
His olive complexion and short, dark pubic hairs are stark contrast to my lily white, shaved mound. And as I watch I imagine that he’s a light-skinned black man. The thought sends a thrill through my body and almost immediately brings me to the point of orgasm.
It’s another of my fantasies taking form.
I don’t know if I’m bold enough to date a man of another race. I don’t know if I can deal with society’s, my mother’s and possibly his relatives’ disapproval, but in my fantasy world, I let my imagination run free.
I swear I come harder at the thought of a man of another race....
“Still good?” Roger demands with a hard slam of his hips, as though he’s sensed that my mind had wandered for a minute.
“Yes,” I reply.
Why are you fantasying about some unknown man when you have a flesh and blood man right here with you, I chastise myself. I guess I’m so used to conjuring up a man in my mind’s eye when I’m plunging one of my rabbits inside me, it’s odd not to have to do so.
“Only good? Then, I’ll have to make it better.” He promises and covers my body with his for a moment, pressing his pubic bone against my clit as he gives me a long hard kiss. Then he hooks my legs over his arms and brings them almost to my chin.
I feel, and I’m sure I look, like a trussed-up chicken without the string, but I have no time to think about that as he raises himself on his toes until only the tip of his penis is inside me. He gives me a few slow, short jabs and then a sudden deeper one.
“Ah!” I sink my fingernails into his wrists. “That hurt!”
Only for a moment, but he’d gone deeper than he had the whole night.
“It’s called ‘sweet pain’, baby.” He leans down and brushes my lips with his. “In this position I can go deeper inside you than almost any other, so you get to enjoy my full length, sweetness.”
“Enjoy?” I almost choke on the word as he gives me another full thrust. “It feels as though it wants to burst through the top of my womb.”
Not really, but I can feel him incredibly deep inside me. I couldn’t take another inch.
“You know you want it all.” He holds my gaze as he continues to work himself back and forth, his huge muscles bulging as they support his weight. “Say you want it. Say you want me to fuck you deep and hard.”
“I want it,” I admit.
“Some or all?” he teases and gives me only a few inches before he withdraws again.
“All.” In disbelief I hear myself say the word. It’s like I have a split personality and my horny alter ego is the one beneath him. “I want all of it.”
“That’s my girl.” There’s a smile that looks suspiciously like approval on his lips as he increases his stroke. “You feel so good, baby.”
He closes his eyes and throws back his head as he carries on. I look down at where our bodies join and I can see that my nether lips are now reddened and swollen and glistening with my fluids. In fact, I’m so wet, each time he withdraws threadlike ribbons of moisture connect us briefly before they snap. His penis looks like a broad, flat blade as it pierces me repeatedly.
Suddenly it dawns on me that this sexy, good-looking, muscle-bound hunk is making love to...no fucking...me!
It doesn’t matter that I’d paid him to do so.
What matters is that he seems to be enjoying himself as much as I am.
I’m giving him pleasure, even if it’s not as much as he’s giving me.
He talks dirty and I know that he wants me to talk dirty back.
I’ve cringed, wondering what Mother would say, each time I’ve said the crude words he’s deliberately making me repeat.
But saying them hadn’t been that bad.
In fact, saying them was surprisingly freeing.
I can behave like a total whore if I want to, I realize.
He knows nothing about me, except my first name.
“Your cock looks incredible inside me.”
His eyes snap open and he stills for a moment before a smile breaks across his face.
“Say it again for me, baby.”
“Your big cock looks fucking incredible inside my tight, little pussy.”
He seems to lose control when I say the words. He lowers his body as close as he can to mine, spreading my raised legs further apart, and plunges his tongue deep within my mouth as soon as I open my lips at his unspoken demand.
I grab his butt and urge him to go even faster as I feel my orgasm building and building, from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet and then back up to my centre where he was pounding into me like a cog in a well-greased hole.
“Ahhhh!” I pull my lips away to gasp as my orgasm hits with the force of a truck.
“Oh, fuck, baby!” Roger climaxes seconds later and I feel my inner walls pulsating and contracting in unison with his jerking penis.
I think I actually feel his ejaculations hit the back of my womb.
Slowly, he releases my legs one after the other and lowers his body sideways on to the bed and takes a couple of deliberate breaths.
When he raises his head, he says, “That was fucking awesome!”
“Yes, it was.”
He settles his head comfortably on one of the large pillows and pulls me closer to him. “I hope you’re not tired.”
“I’m wide awake,” I reply.
It’s way, way past my bedtime, but sleep is the last thing on my mind.
“Good.” He strokes his hand down the length of my hair and then cups my behind. “Because I’m not quite done with you yet.”
“Oh really?” I raise myself on my elbow and look down at him.
“I promised you a night of pleasure. There will be little sleep tonight...unless you get tired.”
“I’m fine. I usually go to bed by ten, ten-thirty, but I’m always up by this time, tossing and turning in my bed.”
“I used to be a terrible sleeper,” he tells me. “Now I sleep eight to ten hours each night. The trick is to totally unwind before you go to bed.”
“I try.”
“Not hard enough.” He laughs. “Your bedroom should be a sanctuary. No phones, no television...nothing electronic if you can help it. I know physical books are no longer popular, but they are restful to the eye than other reading device for bedtime reading.”
“My Kindle keeps me company on my commute to work.” I protest. “I love it!”
“Yes, but does it love you back?” He chuckles. “I’m not saying give it up, just that it’s perhaps not the best thing to read before bed, if you want restful sleep. Have you tried audio books?”
“I love them. As a matter of fact, I’ve been buying Audible Narration with my latest books so that I can switch from reading to listening when I’m doing chores around the house.”
“Then use it at night instead of reading,” he said. “No point overusing your eyes.”
“That’s true.”
It had taken a while for me to get used to audio. I still don’t like all the voices, but overall the quality was getting better. I still preferred reading to listening to books, but anything that would help me sleep better was worth investigating.
“And restful sleep is essential for maintaining healthy body weight.”
“So they say.”
“It’s a scientific fact,” he insists. “Do some research on it.”
“Okay,” I agree.
It would be fantastic if it was true. It would be easier to sleep rather than exercise away my fat.
“I’ll be right back.” He kisses my neck before he gets off the bed and walks to the door.
“Cognac,” he says when he returns with generous shots of the amber liquid in two snifters on a silver tray accompanied by the bowl of chocolates from the fridge.
“Thanks.” I smile at him as he hands one of the drinks to me.
“My pleasure.” He places the tray on the bedside table and gets back into bed.
Then he picks up a strawberry. My mouth waters in anticipation, but instead of offering it to me, he rolls the cold tip around my right nipple.
“Ah!” The cold sends a shock through me and hardens my nipple instantly.
“Good?” he asks, continuing to circle my nipple with the tasty treat.
“Mmm.”
It’s a little painful.
My nipple feels so hard it could snap off, but the sight of it so aroused turns me on.
The heat of my body starts to melt the chocolate and my nipple has gone from pink to very dark brown.
“Open wide.” Roger commands as he finally lifts the strawberry to my lips.
I take a big bite. He smiles and finishes the rest himself.
He’s eaten my pussy, but sharing the strawberry somehow feels more intimate.
Picking up another strawberry, he attacks my poor beleaguered nipple again. The chocolate on it instantly hardens.
“Ouch!” My toes curl in reaction. It’s deliciously painful.
“Let me soothe it.”
He puts the chocolate back in the bowl and bending his head, he swallows my nipple deep.
For a moment, the chocolate seems to defy the heat of his mouth. Then I feel it melt on his tongue. He cups a hand under my breast and gives two long, hard pulls before he slowly pulls his lips away.
“You have the most amazing breasts,” he tells me as he feeds me the now slightly melted sweet. “If they were filled with milk, I would nurse all day.”
My mouth is too full to answer, so I smile with my eyes.
They are too big, but not bad looking, even if I say so myself. My nipples tilt slightly upwards and make them appear firmer than they are. They’re not—recently I stuck a pencil under each of them and it stayed in place without me holding it.
“Two more left.”
I turn instinctively, offering my other nipple as he picks up a third strawberry, but instead he moves down the bed until he’s kneeling between my legs.
“Oh no!” I said when I realize what he’s about to do.
“Oh yes!” he replies and spreads my legs further apart with his knees and his free hand.
“Aaaah!” My whole body jerks when he places it right against my clitoris.
He immediately takes it away and swipes his tongue along the same path the strawberry had travelled.
“Mmm...that feels good.”
“Yes?”
He does it again and then rubs the strawberry over my outer lips.
I feel my body heat melting the chocolate.
“Do you want a shot of your chocolate-cover pussy before I lick it clean?”
“Yes.”
He grabs the camera and I laugh as he takes two shots.
He hands the photos to me and settles back between my legs.
“Do you take photos of all the women who...who come to you?” I ask.
“Only if they want me to.”
I feel something...his tongue...no the strawberry...breach my entrance.
“What are you doing?” I ask in alarm.
The strawberries he’d chosen were big, juicy and firm—not the sort you can get in regular supermarkets.
This one feels like a very rough tongue as he pushes it a little further inside me.
“Okay, one more shot.”
He snaps the image and again passes the developing photograph to me.
The first two are coming into focus and I smile at the mess he’s made of me.
I feel him fumbling with the strawberry and realize that he’s pinched off the end of it as he starts nibbling on the fruit.
“Ssss...aah!” His mouth so close, eating not me but something inside me, is strangely intense.
I remember the third image and take a look at it just as he starts to lick the chocolate off my outer lips.
It’s one of the most erotic things I’ve ever seen and I immediately feel a squirt of moisture flood my inner walls. The image is simple and made up of only three things: my vagina, chocolate and a strawberry, but it’s sensual and strangely powerful.
And it’s one I will treasure for a long time, I decide as Roger pulls the last bit of fruit out of me and quickly devours it.
Then grabbing hold of my bottom, he slides his tongue deep inside me and sends every thought scattering.
“Oh God...yes....yessss,” I can’t help but moan as he start vigorously thrusting it back and forth.
In no time at all I feel myself inches away from coming. Locking my ankles behind his head, I wiggle my hips to pull myself away...and make his tongue go deeper.
In a silent show of strength and command, he reaches upwards and tweaks my nipples with his fingers while somehow managing to immobilize my body in the cage of his strong arms.
“Ah! Ah!” I look down to find him looking back at me and lose control as we lock gazes.
Then, as my head falls backwards onto the pillow, I tighten my legs wrap and reach out to cup the back of his head and hold him in place for a minute.
If I’d thought he was done with me, I was mistaken.
He broke out of my enfolding limbs as though they were made of cotton wool, and quickly flipped me over.
“I want your sweet pussy from behind again,” he says. “And if you think that I’d gone as deep as I could the first time, think again.”
I should object to his handling.
I shouldn’t want him once again buried so deep inside me it hurts.
But I can’t help but push myself impatiently onto him as he first teases my entrance with a few shallow thrusts.
“Yeah....aaah...yeah.” I moan as he pushes all the way inside me. “Fuck me, Roger. Fuck me hard.”
“Don’t worry, baby. Daddy’s going to fuck you real good,” he promises.
He quickly changes from a kneeling to a swatting position, moving first one leg and then the other, and then grips my hips tighter.
His first smooth slam sends a puff of air out through my parted lips.
“Ah!” I curve my spine and wait for the next one and the next. Each one penetrates me fuller and deeper and yet I hear myself say, “Deeper...harder...faster.”
Unbelievably, I feel my orgasm already building strength.
Surely it hasn’t been more than a minute or two since he entered me? I ask myself as I bite down on the pillow and meet his forward stroke with a tilt and shimmy of my hips.
There is something in the way he takes me that makes me feel wanton and wild; sexual and sexy, and more alive than I’ve felt in my life.
I turn my head to gasp as one perfect stroke finds a sensitive group of nerve ending inside my vaginal walls and sends me spinning into oblivion.
The only thing that mars my pleasure, as Roger keeps thrusting as though he has no intention of ever stopping, is the morning light peeping out from under the drapes, reminding me that my time with him is short.
***
The next morning he serves me breakfast in bed and then we have a shower together.
We kiss and caress as we lather each other.
I think he’s going to probably make love to, correction fuck, me one more time, but he doesn’t.
“Can I book you again?” I hear myself asking when I’m fully dressed and we’re sitting on his living room sofa sipping coffee.
Four months is a long time, but if I don’t book him now it could end up being an even longer wait.
“Sorry, I don’t do repeat business,” he replies, and takes both of my hands in his, his face looking regretful. “Not because I don’t want to fuck you again and again, but because this is a business and I can’t afford for either of us to get hooked on each other.”
“The taxi should be here soon.” I try to free my hands, but he holds them without applying any real force.
“It’s not due for another hour,” he reminds me. “Anna, this is not a rejection.”
“Are you sure?”
“How can you doubt how much I enjoyed fucking you?” he asks with a smile. “I only finally stopped because you said you were so sore you didn’t think that you’ll be able to sit down for a week.”
“I did, didn’t I?” I laugh as I recall wincing as he withdrew his still semi-erect cock after our last session. He had pounded into me with the force of a jackhammer and I had come so hard I swear my teeth rattled.
“You did.” His smile faded. “Anna, there are other women I want to help. It’s a compulsion driven by my sister’s death. I should have paid closer attention to her. We spoke on the phone a lot and I visited her often, but I never thought or worried about her personal life. I was glad that she wasn’t out all night partying and drinking with friends, but I didn’t realize that it was because she had none. Her suicide note still haunts me and until it stops, I have to help others like her.”
“I understand.”
“Truthfully, you’re the first woman who has made me think about giving this up.” He smiles. “Like all men, I like being the first.”
“My bunnies were first,” I remind him, laughing.
“They don’t count,” he says. “But more than that, it’s the way your body eagerly opens up for me and yet stays nice and snug.”
“And yet you won’t let me book you again,” I complain.
“It would be so easy for me to fall in love with you,” he says and my heart soars. “But we would end up hurting each other if we don’t end this now. Me fucking other women would hurt you and it would hurt me if you were hurting.”
“I wouldn’t be—” I start to protest.
“You would be jealous and it would be only right that you were. If you were mine, I wouldn’t even share you with your bunnies!”
I laugh at that.
“You know what?” He winks at me. “I’m going to break my own rule just for you. Call me in six months if you still want to.”
My smile almost splits my face.
“I will,” I vow.
It will be the longest six months of my life, but I will definitely call!
“Before you do anything else, I want you to spend a couple of days thinking about what will make you happy. It might be decreasing your working hours and spending more time on pottery; it might be going on that singles’ cruise, having fun and not caring if you find someone or not, or it might be simply accepting that you are worthy of being loved, regardless of what size you are.”
“I know I am,” I say.
“You are,” he agreed. “But you have to let the world know. I’m not saying that it will happen overnight, although it can, but once you gain confidence in being who you are, it will show through.”
“Okay.”
To be honest, I feel different already. I had been afraid that he would make love to me as though it was a chore, but instead this sexy, drop-dead gorgeous man had acted as though he couldn’t get enough of me and that had boosted my self worth.
For the first time I believe that there are men...good men...out there who will appreciate my larger body.
“Don’t do it just yet, but there are other options you may want to explore. These are the cards of three people I know personally and can trust.” He hands me three business cards. “They all love fuller-figured women, Calvin in particular. He’s a goddess worshipper and will absolutely love you. If you give him the chance, he will have you naked and lying on your back all day, as he kisses and caresses your whole body. Bruce is a Dom. He will help you explore your submissive side, if you have one. Kathleen is not your average lesbian. Don’t expect all tender kisses and touches from her. You will get those, but she’ll also strap on an outsized dildo and fuck you to within an inch of your life, and will definitely fist you.”
I don’t think so!
“I have another dozen chocolate strawberries in the fridge for you to take with you. Remind me to grab the box for you when the taxi gets here. And don’t forget these,” he says, handing me the shoe box that contains the pair of red shoes.
“I will definitely remind you about the chocolates, thank you. And I think I’m going to wear the shoes home,” I decide spontaneously and take off my flat shoes. I put them in the box as I take the red ones out. “They don’t match my dress, but I don’t care. No one will see them anyway.”
“Exactly. No one will see them but you, yet you will sit differently in the taxi. Your shoulders will be erect, your breasts thrust forward and you will hold your stomach taut.” He leans back in the chair as he’d done the day before. “Walk in them and let me see you.”
I get up and walk towards the door and feel none of the self consciousness I felt previously. I feel the need to taunt him with my body, show him what he’s going to miss. I put a little sway into my hips and toss my hair as I turn around.
“Beautiful,” he says and claps his hands.
“Thank you,” I reply and walk back towards him, making my breasts bounce with each step.
“God, you have such fabulous breasts,” he says and quickly frees them from both my bra and the crossover bodice of my dress. “So beautiful.”
He stares at them for a moment and then with one quick expert motion, he tugs my left nipple into a peak and bends to suck on it.
He looks up and as our eyes meet, a shiver runs through me.
I didn’t know that the sight of a grown man suckling at my breast would be so erotic.
“Yes,” I moan and cup his head as he pulls strongly, sending waves of sensation to my core.
He has a fixation with big breasts he’d admitted last night when we’d lain down for a light doze, and he’d cupped his hand around my left breast as he’d spooned my body. His sister had been born less than a year after his birth, he’d explained with a self-deprecating laugh, so perhaps his mother had weaned him too early.
Maybe those words hadn’t been as frivolous as he’d made them seem.
Feeling suddenly tender towards him, I lay my head against his.
For long minutes he feeds like a breastfeeding child and I sense that underneath the macho image is a vulnerable man who sometimes needs a little of the comfort he offers others.
When it looks as though he has no intention of unlatching himself, I gently ease him off and offer the other to him. He grabs it just as greedily.
Finally, he gives one last, strong pull and lets it slip from his lips.
“Thank you,” he says simply before he gives me a sweet kiss.
“You’re welcome...but now I’m all wet.”
“Really?” he asks and starts to tweak them both between his fingers.
“The taxi will be here in less than fifteen minutes,” I moan, wiggling my bottom against the chair to ease the throbbing of my clitoris. “I’ll have to go and clean up again.”
“I can take care of that wetness for you,” he replies. “Are you still sore?”
“No.”
Well, not sore enough to refuse if he’s offering a last round of sex!
“I wanted to give you a full day to recover for work tomorrow, but I can’t let you leave here with a dripping, needing-a-fuck pussy. I think,” he says with the wickedest smile playing around his lips as he pulls the sopping gusset of my panties to one side with one hand and frees his rampant erection with the other, “there’s just enough time for one quick, hard fuck before I send you home to your little bunnies.”