In her bedroom Neely had done the low-budget equivalent of lowering the lights. Two small lamps were burning, from bookcase and bedside table respectively, and both dresser and headboard had been decked out with strings of multi-coloured Christmas bulbs. Neely leaned into the mirror, swaying her bottom gently as Shakira’s Hips Don’t Lie poured from her amped-up iPod. Her moves were vastly more sultry than she was used to, but several glasses of mulled wine were helping her swing into them. A daring theatrical performance for her audience of one.
Her old school tie swayed from its loose knotting down between her naked breasts. The only other garment she wore was the matching pleated skirt, the hem of which skimmed her upper thighs. In the absence of high heels, she stretched onto tiptoe, feet and back arching to draw the plaid up over the swell of her rump—revealing the half-moon curves of her lower buttocks, displaying her pussy’s plumped lips for the benefit of her bed-bound lover.
Literally bound, that was. Four lengths of red silk ribbon wrapped his wrists and ankles, stretching him out and securing him to the corners. That Duke of Edinburgh Award training from secondary school had finally proved its worth. Restraining a man in her modest boudoir, subjecting him to a schoolgirl striptease, it was all newly broken ground. A long stretch from anything her Alton Bridge friends might have expected, but a perfect expression of the secret Neely—the one sublimated since the first erotic stirrings of her teen years.
“My uniform from St Albans High School,” she explained, accentuating the thrust of her ass, allowing her hair to swish about her bare back. “Haven’t worn it since leaving the Sixth Form. Of course, we didn’t wear it quite like this. We weren’t allowed to go without tights.” She gave a Shakira-esque sashay with her rear and eyed him over her shoulder. “… Never mind the knickers.”
She spun around, seating herself on the dresser’s edge with one leg raised playfully, the sole of her foot stroking the polished vertical surface. Her head she cocked to one side, spilling luxuriant tresses over a shoulder, giving him the full Rita Hayworth. A touch reminiscent of her Gilda poster she hoped. “See what a naughty girl you’ve turned me into? Just watching you there makes me want to be positively shameless. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” With his eyes fast upon her, she wet the middle and index fingers of one hand and rotated them slick on a hardening nipple. So much fun to taunt him, make him writhe against his bonds. “You so need punishing.”
Impulse on naughty-girl impulse awoke within her and she acted on every one of them. Even to the point of reaching into her bottom drawer and drawing out her bulbous purple toy. “See what I had to resort to when you weren’t there?” she asked coyly, heart a-thump at her own sexy daring. She set the device buzzing and waggled it upright, so that the vibrating tip almost brushed her lips. “Well a girl gets lonely. Even one who works for the church.” She slung the beast so that it aimed downwards, then dropped it to her thighs and plucked at the hem of her skirt with the tip. “Would you like to see me use it?”
The affirmative was in his eyes. Not letting go his stare she teased the tip of the great throbbing pencil between her swollen labia. Bad girl. I’m such a bad sinful girl. It thrummed on her clitoris, causing a sensory mini-explosion that shuddered her to her toes and her pointed nipples. “Oh my, that feels good. So good.” She allowed the vibrations to shiver through her a moment longer, so that she trembled visibly for her one-man viewership. How deliciously wanton, to be perched there, insteps flexed, toes pressing into the carpet. This would send the guilt-o-meter’s needle into the red zone next morning, but it was worth it for how gorgeous and womanly she felt right now. The taut mask of desire on his face urged her to further misconduct.
“You’re wondering if I’ve ever put it up inside me?” She flipped the vibrator in her hand, directing it upwards between her thighs. “Put it inside and set it buzzing?” Her words and the touch of the dome on her engorged lips caused memory to swell and her head to drop back, eyes closing in reverie. Pussy tightly filled, finger flicking the device steadily up through its settings, sending ripples of sweet sensation coursing through her body as she lay, thighs splayed wide on her bed. The power of that throbbing engine within her loins, the whirr of the lower nodule insistent on her pulsing clitoris—sensation building and expanding till it consumed her with ecstasy, blotting all other thought from her head. Not quite as good as having a thick flesh-cock thrusting inside her, powered by a panting muscled guy, but pretty damn spectacular in its own right. “I think you know the answer,” she said, eyes prising themselves open to look blurrily on him again. “But only because you weren’t around. Maybe you’d like me to put it there now?”
Once more his answer was clear, but she held back from using her birthday toy. Partly through a flash of her once-characteristic modesty, but more due to the smorgasbord of options laid out before her. “No, I’ll leave it for now. I’d rather have you use it on me later. That’s if I decide you deserve it.” She flipped her purple-plastic friend away from her pussy and set it aside. “Besides, I want my wits about me. I’ve got something else to share with you tonight.” Delight bubbled in her stomach so she could hardly contain it. “I’m going to read you a bedtime story.” Her fingers tripped to the paperback lying on the dresser free of its pink wrappings. “It’s a Christmas present,” she confessed, “but I kind of knew what it was, and I couldn’t wait till the day itself. My temperance is shot tonight. Plus, it’s not appropriate reading matter for Christmas morning with the folks.”
Neely caught her lower lip between her teeth as she pushed away from the dresser and padded slowly towards the bed, letting her captive’s eyes rove all over her skirt-and-tie combo. She hoped the fairy-lights were playing prettily on her body. Her lover seemed transfixed, certainly. And what an attractive sight he was, manly form stretched long on her duvet, legs forked and that thick, engorged cock twitching helpless on his belly, craving attention. He was behaving himself; the plump tangerine with which she had gagged him was still in place when he could have spat it out at any moment to express his thoughts.
The book she tossed casually onto the covers. “Such a patient boy.” She climbed onto the bed, trailing trimmed nails from his ankles all the way up, lingering on his lightly haired thighs, then fluttering over his pelvis and stomach, not quite making contact with that gorgeous erection. As she swooped in to kiss his neck, however, her school tie brushed him from balls to swollen tip. “Got you where I want you,” she whispered in his ear, letting her tongue waggle inside before snaring his lobe in her teeth and tugging hard. He groaned and strained against his bindings and Neely paused in a moment’s wonder at having this finely-honed man defenceless beneath her. Such a sinner he’d been, but now he was ensnared on her bed and ready for chastisement.
She drew herself down his splendid body, his cock tugging against the pleats of her skirt as though trying even in its supine position to gain access to her pussy. Her cheek brushed against his broad expanse of pectoral, so that her hair fell all about him. Then she unleashed a flickering tongue on one nipple before sucking him in. His body seized at her mouth’s tight suction, and she held the moment, gratified at his response; then she released him and her tongue wetly soothed. In the interests of symmetry, she attended to the other nipple, the ardent thrash of her tongue slowing to hard suck, then melting into a luxurious licking. The recipient of her discipline grunted against his citrus gag, saliva trickling from the corners of his mouth. Neely stared up at the convulsion of his Adam’s apple, as his head rolled on the pillow, and wondered at herself. Transformation from seduced virgin to sexual tormentor. How she relished her new role. How her cunt dripped anticipation of where it might lead that night.
That thought in mind she dropped further down the bed and claimed her lover’s cock by its thick base, prising it from his belly. A moment of will-I-won’t-I tease extended, as did the smooth rigid column her palm was caressing. She revelled in his expectancy, the defiant not-quite-pleading in his eyes as her lips skimmed his velvety head. His desire fed hers and she took him into her mouth, sealing her lips tight around his glans, till its salty pre-cum discharge diffused all over her tastebuds.
She was alive with her own slutty power, having captured the throbbing source of his virility in her mouth’s succulent trap. Look at his stiff body attempting levitation under influence of her rhythmic oral attentions. Listen to that gurgling ache in his throat as her tongue squeezed his head against the roof of her mouth. Neely was transformed. Gone the virgin fellatrix of mid-summer and in her place a temptress who could use her tongue so that her man writhed with desire. She held him upright at the base and sucked down thick hard inches of cock, eying him through her veil of red hair like a wanton gypsy. That’s it, I want to see you squirm, hear you moan—I want my mouth to drive you insane.
Confidence mounting, she increased her downward plunge, getting his shaft slick with her saliva, staring into his near-frantic eyes as she pumped him. Look at me. This is me, Neely—fucking you with my mouth. She was in a groove now and, in a show of bravado she had not expected of herself, dived far, taking him into her throat. His cock grated wet in her airway, and she had to fight the gag impulse with sheer focus and willpower. I want to do this. I want him to watch me do this, to feel it. She came off him, spitting saliva like a dirty girl, holding him rocket-vertical for her repeat attempt. You think I’m done? Don’t you know how determined I can be? This time she went for it, fully relaxed with her mouth stretched wide, right down till her lower lip touched his ball-sac, swallowing his big rigid dick in the tight sleeve of her throat. Controlled breathing in such circumstances was a talent she had yet to master but she clung on, sustained by her previous intake of breath. Keep it there, keep it there, all of him, all his beautiful hardness inside me, inside my throat, oh holy heavens …
She reversed the dive and lifted off with a messy suction-slurp, gasping and trailing strands of drool which splattered about his thick rod and his stomach. Neely Jordan—whorish and victorious. Her lover was staring with astonishment that mirrored her own. His teeth had bitten through the skin of the tangerine deep into the flesh, all but slicing the fruit in two. She could not help but wonder, even in her excitement, how her deep throat compared with that he had experienced times past. Her cunt, she realised, was ready to take him as her throat had done and the crazed arousal on his face told her he craved the same. But she was not done with her torment. This moment was too exquisite to rush. “You want it inside my … my pussy this time?” The c-word eluded her. She could think but not articulate its nasty sound. Not yet. To compensate she added, “You want to fuck this naughty girl?” adding fricative relish to the ‘fuck’.
Dutifully he let the squashed gag dangle from his mouth; his burning stare was answer enough.
“Well she’s going to make you wait. She’s going to read you that story she promised.” She picked her book from the covers and drew herself up his body, nestling the wet slash of her sex onto his bone-hard length, skirt screening their intimate connection discreetly. She made sure he could see Odyssey of Lust’s heroine naked on the novel’s cover wilting into the arms of a ready male. Smiling she leafed to the final chapter.
“I never told you about this book. Believe it or not it was my summer reading. But, well, events conspired so that I never got to finish it. And I’d like to do that now. I skimmed it earlier and I must say I liked what I read.” She slithered her cunt-lips about his cock, making herself comfy and elicited a tortured growl from him into the bargain. The sound made her ache for him to her core, but this game was too much fun to relinquish yet.
“The story’s unfeasibly silly,” she explained, flicking her hair back so he could see her playful glance and her pert tits, “but somehow, I can’t help but like it. It’s all about this not-very-bright rich girl who travels the world and keeps kind of accidentally having sex. I mean—a lot.” He stared at her, nonplussed. She continued regardless, shifting about expressively to provide a sex-to-sex massage that made his loins hump in response. “So – she’s been rescued from the castle of the wicked and sexually deviant Count Buchenwald by Prince Sven, a member of the Swedish Royal Family. Only it turns out, I discovered today, that Prince Sven is even more wicked and deviant than the count. The whole rescue was in fact a set-up planned between the count and the prince as part of a financial deal and she finds herself added to the prince’s troupe of exotic women, forced to perform for him daily in a sort of lesbian sex-circus. It’s all whips and paddles and big jewelled phalluses. Kinky and disgusting and …” She pulled an embarrassed face. “… Weirdly arousing.
“But then …” She lit up as she came to the good part. “But then her real protector, a Romanian Gypsy King called Dmitry, shows up. He’s not been allowed into Castle Buchenwald, as the count didn’t recognise him as proper royalty, so he gazed up at the room in which she was imprisoned every night as she stood naked at the window. He’s tracked her to Prince Sven’s palace, frees her from the dungeon and challenges the prince to a duel, which he wins, just. He’s wounded, she nurses him back to health, it’s all very beautiful. Anyway, to cut a long story short, he whisks her onto his noble steed, and they gallop all the way back to Romania for sex.” She paused for breath, enjoying her lover’s bewilderment. “Which is the bit we’ve got to now.” She rolled her eyes as she made her confession. “Okay, it’s daft and … well, a bit rubbish. But it’s made me so horny—so, so incredibly horny—from the first time I read it. And now I want to share it with you.”
He ceased to worry about absurd plotting and focused all attention on her lips and the words they uttered.
“Dmitry took firm hold of Sapphire’s waist and guided her from Caspian’s back, setting her down among the blooming corn.” (Neely read it without artifice or satire, quoting it straight, allowing her lips to curl into a smile at the sillier moments.)
“He led the bay stallion to a nearby oak tree and tethered it there, then he turned to gaze on the young, voluptuous American girl he had brought all the way from Stockholm in her simple red dress. He made to remove his shirt but paused to question her. ‘Are you sure this is what you want, my beauty? After all you have been through … Perhaps it is time for you to go home.’”
“‘I know what I want,’ Sapphire replied.” (It was difficult not to lampoon the heroine with a high-pitched breathy voice, but Neely resisted the urge. She didn’t want to dilute the moment’s sexiness.) “‘You rescued me from all of them, but I don’t want anyone to rescue me from you. I want you to make me your captive. Forever.’”
“‘With pleasure my dear,” he said with a grin both kind and wicked. He unbuttoned his black silk shirt and stripped it away, revealing a muscular dark-skinned torso that made Sapphire gasp. He pulled off his boots, then she watched in delight as he unfastened his creased leather pants and pulled them away, letting his … Oh my, these bits always get me hot. … Letting his massive erect cock spring free. It was a cock worthy of the highest kings of Europe. Bit like a cock I’m acquainted with. You could have modelled for this character, babe.” (And Neely wriggled to enjoy the prototype organ to which she referred.) “Sorry, I digress. He strode towards her like a god, tall and strong with his long black hair blowing in the spring breeze, his high, proud man-length … The book’s crammed with phrases like that. They made me laugh at first, but sitting here they seem so damned apt. … His high, proud man-length swaying before him.
“Sapphire’s own dark stallion seized her and pulled her to his naked body, crushing her loins to his thick, throbbing protrusion. Oh …” (The sob escaped her inadvertently and spoiled the cool tease she’d tried to maintain.) “He kissed her hard and this time along with fearsome lust she tasted passionate love. Mmmm—lucky girl. ‘I carried you all the way back here without so much as kissing you,’ he said fiercely, ‘so that I could take you for the first time on my home soil.’ He pulled the straps of her dress away from her shoulders, so that the garment fell from her body, exposing her ripe bosoms. Then he clutched her panties and like on so many previous occasions she felt them being ripped away from her lovely ass, only this time with romance. Wow, are you going to be that kind of romantic to me? (The question, together with their eyes’ contact, made Neely pant. She struggled to go on.) ‘You are truly my captive,’ he said, crushing the swollen fruit of her tits to his chest. ‘And I will make love to you in fields of cornflowers and in the midst of dark forests and on the peaks of mountains and indoors as well. Tender, passionate love and the hard, terrifying love of mating beasts. Each day of our wild, naked lives together.’” (Purple prose regardless, Neely was leaking all over the cock on which she had positioned herself.)
“Dmitry drew Sapphire down into the grass with him, caressing her supple flesh with his strong, calloused hands, squeezing her full breasts and her smooth rounded hips. He took her on top of …” (Neely faltered, her breath catching in her throat. She could hear the rasp of his breathing as well and became aware of how intensely hard her nipples were.) “… Took her on top of him and she realised at the touch of his cock’s head to her pussy that here she had found her destiny. He was about to take her the first of what would be so many times, in so many delicious ways, and she would give herself to him each time with total abandon. Her … Her lips parted and she … sank onto him. Then he gripped her waist and … and pulled her down hard, so that the huge … granite tower of his cock filled her … her … her cunt … utterly.” (Neely clutched one of her own modest breasts as she finished the line and kneaded it with urgency.) “She screamed aloud to the Romanian sunset, as he ploughed her furrow from below. He … He gripped her thighs and … fucked her like a wild bronco, ramming into her lush, feminine grove, as she sat upright upon him … impaling her repeatedly … on … on …
“Fuck this. Danny Woodward, I need you inside me.”
She chucked the book away and threw herself onto him, plucking the ruined tangerine from his mouth with her teeth and spitting it off to the side. Then she seized his face and her mouth locked to his in a desperate thrashing tongue-kiss. He responded hungrily, tasting of orange and lust, his tongue coiling around hers to try and tame it. His arms were straining hard, chest heaving beneath her, upper body pulling the ribbon-knots tight in his efforts to get at the little tease who had been tormenting him.
“I’ve missed you.” The phrase, long and breathy, vented more than Neely’s sexual need alone.
“I was at a three-day conference. God, if I’m away a whole week it’ll be the death of me.”
“Don’t you dare,” she moaned, and kissed him with a hunger matching his.
Less ambiguous than the first they’d shared, the kiss-from-nowhere in October. One moment laughing and teasing him about his childhood Transformers collection, whacking each other with sofa cushions, the next her lips sealed to his. Then confusion on both their parts, him backing off like he’d committed an offense, her blushing and telling him it was okay, neither sure who had initiated the embrace. Too soon, way too soon. Three months prior she’d thought herself in love with someone else, yet here she was snogging her new best friend, her rock, the shoulder on which she’d wept herself dry. Whose phone calls and texts and movie nights had got her through and beyond the nightmare of Ray.
Neely recalled it from a distance as she licked his neck and rumpled his shaggy dark hair.
Turmoil all through work at the café next day—Was it me? Have I spoiled things? Will we even be friends after this—till his call at lunchtime. The one that told her what she knew she’d needed to hear: “I can’t stop thinking about you. I don’t just mean since last night.”
Blissful moment that had changed everything.
She prised herself from him on the bed, the fingers of one hand teasing his sweat-dampened chest hair, those of the other diving to their loins, fitting him to her, guiding them together for the hot union they both needed so badly.
How circumspect they’d been that evening at San Carlo Italian restaurant, their first ‘proper date’. Gentlemanly and ladylike, unnerved by the prospect of new intimacy. His suggestion when they’d driven to the harbour afterwards and made out like teens on his seat covers—those words she would never forget. “I don’t ask for more or need it. I’d rather be able to hold you like this than nothing at all. I used to be a churchman, remember? I get it.”
She looked into his eyes under a wash of harbour light and marvelled at the dark angel of Alton Bridge. “You’re … what … suggesting we both be virgins again?”
His smile made her heart flutter and her pussy liquefy. “I’m suggesting we do what’s best for us. For both of us. That we relax and let time work out what that is.” His offer laid to rest all her qualms; or most of them. In theory it was no less a sin than sleeping with Ray, but trembling in a Fiat Seicento under his touch, she knew all the guilt in the world would not hold her back from making love to this man. Two choices occurred in the light of her disastrous summer: scurry back into her chaste fortress and barricade the doors forever or stay outside and—well—climb back on the horse. And if she didn’t mount the horse with Danny, she realised, she’d do it with no one.
Their love in the velvet dark had been shallow-breathed and feverish, as intense as it was tender. Two naked forms undulating on the same tide, stroking and kissing as they fucked. He’d come like he was in his death-throes and at the point of her own orgasm she’d sobbed into his neck. Then he held her till morning, caressing her from sleep with his mouth before he went to the bathroom, so she wouldn’t wake and panic to find herself alone. Her gathering feelings for him crystallised some more in that crucial moment.
The same tenderness merged with horny confidence as she sank onto him now. Neely Jordan groaned with satisfaction, as her cunt took its fill of Danny Woodward’s cock. “Oh sweetheart, I’ve missed this!” She leaned into his chest once more and moved on him, knees digging into the covers, thighs tensed, as she slid smoothly up and down him, relishing his bulging pressure in her wet interior. His hard flesh tight to her softness—condoms cast aside ever since he, on his own insistence, had got clinically checked and she had gone on the Pill. (How decadent that decision had felt.) Now there was nothing between them and she loved it—physical closeness to mirror that of their emotions. She wondered how the past few days had caused her such confusion.
