KIMONO

Tess Danesi

I‘ve always thought of myself, affectionately, as a slut. At least I did before the big, life-altering move from New York City to the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Somehow, small-town life won me over. Instead of enjoying my big-city ways, with my beloved rotation of always younger, always dominant partners, I now spend my time creating art, cooking, walking country roads, and gazing at the spectacular skies. It might not sound exciting, but it suits this stage of my life.

The art part is how I met Sam and, as the saying goes, “got my groove back.” Right around the holidays, I found myself trying to sell my creations at a local art fair. Amid all the beautiful art, I was struck by the collection of vintage kimonos just a table away from mine. Between sales, my eye kept wandering back to the silky fabrics. They tempted me with both muted and vibrant tones, lush floral patterns, scenarios of nature—and the irresistible, to my magpie self, glint of metallic threads. I vowed, if I made enough money, one would be mine before the night was done.

Sam, though, was a complete surprise. Since I’d traded men in custom suits for those clad in camo or overalls, the entrance of Sam was reason for, if not celebration, salivation. This dark-haired, dark-eyed miracle brought his six-foot-two, trim and toned, late-twenties self into view as he casually strolled into the fair and headed for the kimonos.

He seemed to know Swallow, the kimono vendor, as they engaged in animated conversation while he removed his leather jacket, revealing a snug-fitting simple white T-shirt that hinted at six-pack abs beneath. I must have been staring; after all, I hadn’t seen a man this fine since I left New York three years ago. And, of course, he caught me, no doubt wide-eyed and slack jawed, midstare. Surprisingly, he turned on that brilliant smile and I, remembering who I used to be, smiled right back.

I got busy with a customer, and when I was done he was gone. Sighing, I went over to Swallow and decided to console myself with the purchase of a kimono. I fell in love with one made of somber black fabric woven with gold thread on the outside and a colorful nature scene inside. While Swallow packed my purchase, I asked her, “Who was that young guy and wherever did he come from?”

“That’s Sam, and, yes, he’s something of an oddity around here. I know him from when he was younger and used to babysit my sons. Now, he models on and off.”

“It’s not often that you see a man have the confidence to wear a kimono, is it?” I queried.

“That’s for sure,” said Swallow. “In all the time I’ve been doing this, I think it’s the third one I’ve sold to a man for himself. And I’ve been doing this for years.”

I sighed again. “Oh well, a girl can dream, can’t she?”

Back at my booth, I promptly got busy again, remaining cognizant of the tingle that had begun to awaken my somewhat dormant sexuality.

The night drew to a close and I began packing up and carrying boxes to my car. As I made my way out the door, burdened with too many boxes to see over, I was startled by a deep voice saying, “Here, let me help with that.” Never being one to turn down an offer for help with manual labor, I quickly peered over the tops of the boxes to see Sam and allowed him to take them from my suddenly sweaty little hands. We made a few trips, Sam carrying the heavy stuff and me schlepping a bag or two while I watched his butt.

“Thanks so much for helping me, by the way. I’m Regan.”

“Nice to meet you, Regan. I’m Sam. And you’re very welcome.”

In the crisp, cold moonlit night, his smile illuminated his face, one so strong and chiseled and everything that made my panties wet.

“Did you buy a kimono, Sam? I noticed you trying them on. I bought one.” I started to ramble like I often do when sexual tension with a stranger makes itself known.

“In fact, I did,” replied Sam. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. Come on; let’s take a walk. The grounds here are really beautiful, especially by the river. Grab your bag; I really do want to see your kimono.”

And just like that, I let him take the lead. We walked down the path lit only by the moon and the stars, until we got to a weeping willow tree by the water.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he said, grabbing my shoulders and pushing me back until the tree stopped me. I think I nodded or mumbled; whatever I did it was clear I was in agreement. His lips were firm and demanding and when he took my bottom lip between his teeth and bit down hard, I knew we were kindred spirits. I groaned and pressed my pelvis into his leg, reveling in the sensation that had started in my clit and was now lighting even my toes on fire.

Still kissing me, his hands slid my coat off my shoulders. I heard it softly hit the frigid ground. He pulled off my top and my bra and slid off my skirt as I shivered.

“I’m freezing, Sam, I can’t…”

He cut me off with another kiss, then removed his own jacket and T-shirt and brought my kimono out of the bag and helped me into it. The silken fabric rubbed erotically against my already hardened nipples, making them that much more erect. Then he slipped off his pants and shrugged into his kimono.

“I fully intend to keep you very warm tonight, beautiful Regan, especially if you’re a good girl and do exactly as I say. Now, feel what you do to me,” he said, guiding my hand to his erection. His cock felt rigid, pulsing, so alive and hungry that I sighed audibly at the thought of it sliding into my cunt and filling me.

After he’d spread his discarded jacket on the ground between us, his words weren’t necessary to convey his next desire, but he spoke them anyway. “I want to feel your lips on my cock now, Regan. On your knees, pretty little bitch.”

I must have tried not to seem as eager as I felt or maybe my bratty sub-slut self was returning; whichever, I wanted the electricity created by his hands as he gripped my head by the roots of my long hair, guiding me to that perfect cock.

Lifting me up from my kneeling position, he pushed my breasts into the rough bark of the willow tree, his chest hard against my back as the wind fluttered the soft silken fabric of our kimonos. His hands found my wetness, pinching my clit to the point of painful pleasure, as his erection teased at my cunt.

Even before his cock entered me, I knew my life had once again changed for the best.