He walked into the crowded bar, hair slightly wet from the drizzle outside. The weekend yuppie crowd had milled in for their Friday evening drinks. He weaved through the throng and saw an empty booth in the corner.

When he came closer, he saw that it wasn’t empty, but had one woman slumped against the corner near the window, almost out of sight. Tough for her as she was rather voluptuous. Rounded and soft, curves in a lot of places.

“A few dress sizes larger than my preference,” he mused.

His eyes rested for a moment atop the tops of her bountiful breasts tastefully displayed by her flower-patterned top. The woman stared out the window, clearly not noticing him. Her eyes were resting on something but she wasn’t seeing it. It was clear her mind was on other things.

He cleared his throat. Her amber eyes locked on his dark ones.

“May I have a seat?” he asked.

Her eyes returned to their earlier spot.

“Sure,” she mumbled softly, not seeming to care either way for company.

He sat down and waved a waitress over. His drink soon in hand, he watched the woman who still resolutely gazed away into the distance.

His mind reminded him not to say anything, but his mouth refused to obey as usual.

“Everything okay, Miss? You seem quiet.”

She continued looking out the window. “Thank you, but it’s really nothing that should bother you.”

“Lovely voice,” he thought. Suddenly unbidden thoughts of her honeyed voice moaning out in sexual ecstasy ran through his mind.

He remained quiet for a few seconds and his mouth betrayed him again. “Hey, come on. Misery loves company. I just had a breakup myself.”

The eyes snapped back onto his as her brows narrowed. Her scarlet lips seemed to peel back in a snarl. He leaned back into his seat, cowering.

“A breakup?” she whispered, voice barely in control. “You think your little breakup is the same as what I’ve been through?”

“No,” was the almost inaudible reply. “But talking about your problems might help.”

“All right, then,” she breathed out. “My family has been bugging the hell out of me the whole month, the students at my job are making me half insane, and my damn husband hasn’t fucked me in six whole months! Now, do you think you can help with all that?”

He sat speechless and slowly broke into a grin. “Being fucked I could help with. The other two, I’m not so sure.”

She looked at him open mouthed and then the two of them broke out into laughter.

“Risky move,” she said.

“Big mouth,” he grinned back as he signalled for refills.

And they started talking. He learned of Louisa, the schoolteacher. She learned of Rick, the architect. They told each other about themselves and exchanged information on hobbies and interests. They found they had a common interest in Neil Gaiman novels, and had an animated discussion over books for a while.

Inevitably the topic returned to their shared lack of sex lives.

“And why has your husband been not making love to you?” he asked.

“I don’t want to make love,” she paused. “I want passion, I want roughness. I want to be fucked, taken all the way.”

“Something tells me there’s more,” he countered.

She nodded. “And I might have what some call kinks.”

He leaned forward, fully engaged. “Ooh, so do I. My ex- girlfriend was too vanilla. Saying she did not like me experimenting in bed would be an understatement.”

“You broke up over just that?” she asked.

“Yes and no. Well, I am a very sexual person. Scratch that -- physical person. Kissing, cuddling, the works. Sounds girly but I really do love the physical contact. But the experimentation part is something that is entwined with sex for me. In the end she treated me like a pervert. Every time we even kissed she made one thing clear. If we went any further, I wouldn’t do anything beyond ‘normal’ stuff. I felt like I was being held down. And things started to go south from there,” he held up his hands. “And here I am, single as I can be. And whoever I am going to be with has to accept all of me, kinks and all. And sometimes I’m scared they won’t.”

“At least you have the luxury of breaking up,” she sighed. “I want to try new things, maybe be with new people. People who might do things my husband isn’t open to doing.”

“Wouldn’t that be adultery?”

She stared into her glass. “Maybe -- but I’m sick and tired of not getting what I want. I even looked up open marriages one time and mentioned it to him.”

“And what did he say?”

She did not answer for a while. “I don’t want to cheat on my husband. I did make a promise. But I did not think lack of sex would be such a big problem. We were both virgins till we got married. And as for pre-marital flings, my figure isn’t exactly a guy magnet.”

He did not say anything.

She paused a moment, and went on. “I thought that with the safety and security of marriage sex would be great. But it was only later I figured out what I wanted was something different altogether.”

“Kink,” he said.

She nodded. “My interest in BDSM came a year after I got married. I explained it to him but he can’t do things that would get me going. He says he’s just not into it. And soon he had to take meds for blood pressure. That all but killed his sex drive altogether.”

“So you guys have no sex at all?” he asked, shocked. The idea of a relationship without physical contact was alien to him.

“Sometimes, but only when I want to. He remains erect, but he almost never orgasms. It’s not his fault, the meds do that,” she said defensively. “But lately it seems he’s satisfied with not having any physical contact -- or any kind of contact. He just lapses into his own private world. He’s always been a private person. But lately, he shuts everyone and everything out. I’ve asked, even pleaded. But he won’t let me in.”

“And that drives you nuts,” he said.

“Yes, and that’s why I asked him about the open marriage,” she paused, remembering. “He was unusually cool about it. Said if that was what I wanted, he wouldn’t stop me.”

He shook his head. “I’d have serious problems letting my woman be with some other man.”

“I thought he would be that way too,” she said quietly. “Maybe he doesn’t care anymore.”

She snapped back to attention, eyes focusing on him. “Why am I telling you all this?”

“Maybe you want me,” he chuckled.

She leaned over and her heavy breasts came to rest on the table. He leaned back instinctively.

“What?” she frowned.

“I’m kidding,” he raised a hand. “But I think you want freedom and attention more than anything.”

She smiled. “A shrink, are you?”

He shrugged. “Just someone who figures things out.”

“And what have you figured out from your breakup?” she tilted her head.

“Well, I’m always inventive in thinking up wacky ways to indulge myself and my partner. See if something that works in my mind translates well in bed.”

She grew curious. “Things like?”

“Let’s see. The basics -- spanking, blindfolds, tying up, trying anal sex. Also using food, ice, things like that. I have a whole range of perversions,” he said.

She shook her head bemusedly. “You’d need an open minded partner for that.”

“Got that right,” he agreed.

They remained in companionable silence, two strangers sharing secrets revealed in anger and frustration. And understanding each other’s wants.

“It’s getting late. Want me to walk you home?” he asked.

She told him the street her apartment was on. “Is that on your way?”

“Sure is. So what do you say?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

They walked down the streets in silence. The streets, wet from the rain, reflected the garish neon lights. The air bore the smell of earth after rain -- fertile and clean. They made a detour to buy frozen blueberries for him. And shopping bag in hand, they resumed walking home.

She paused by a house, looking up. “This is me.”

Her expressive eyes had an ache in them from an inability to get her desires fulfilled. Simple things wanted by a complicated mind that would make her happy.

He impulsively leaned in to kiss her cheek. Her soft skin was slightly perfumed, and he was left wanting more.

He kissed her soft lips chastely at first. A moment later their tongues were dancing with each other.

After a long moment they stumbled back. She looked at him, panting. She grabbed his arm and pulled him with her into the hallway of the apartment, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Hey, what are you doing?” he protested.

“Shut up,” she whispered.

He found himself being pushed into a dark corner beside a stairwell. Her plump body pressed up against his. Her chin was tilted, almost challenging him to look away. His body reacted to her warmth and he found he wasn’t averse to the feeling of softness in a female body.

“I want you to make me cum. But I want you to be inventive like you said,” she said quietly.

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re married.”

She moved in closer, his erection pressing up against her flesh. “You don’t seem to care. Neither does my husband. I want this.”

His base instincts took over as he felt desire he hadn’t in months. Her scent, her softness and the close proximity of her body drew him to her. But there was something else he couldn’t place.

His hand cupped her bottom drawing her closer. She audibly gasped, surprised that he was actually taking her up on her offer.

“Scared?”

Her chin jutted up. “No.”

He remembered the frozen blueberries he had and the gears of his mind began to spin away. If she wanted kink, she’d get it.

“Where’s your husband?”

“Off on a trip,” she whispered.

“Where’s your apartment?”

“First floor.”

Her wrist bore the mark of his grip for a few hours after he dragged her up the stairs.

#
Their lips met the moment the door closed, hands scrambling over the unfamiliar territory of each other’s body. He stepped back after their drawn out kiss and ran his eyes over her.

“Take off your clothes.”

After a tiny pause the layers wrapped around her skin were peeled off. Her movements were unsure, but he saw the underlying grace in every one. She stood in the dimly lit room stripped down to her lacy underwear.

He looked at her body. She was not in shape; that was clear. Heavy breasts and a tummy. Flabby, one might say. She was everything he had never ever thought about sexually. But here he was. Till now, the lithe athletic women he had been with had not embraced his true kinky self. They found his tastes funny or distasteful. But here was a woman wanting to try everything once. The possibilities were endless. Her mind and body were being offered to him and she expected him to let his twisted brain run amok. It was something that he had not experienced, someone trusting him to do things to them, and hoping it would lead them to pleasure. Being offered the chance to plumb the depths of her mind excited him immensely.

To his surprise, he was throbbing in anticipation.

Her willingness to push limits and experiment excited him far more sexually than her physical appearance. It was a chance he had never been offered before, and he was going to take it.

“All of it, Louisa,” he said.

She looked up at him, the familiar jut of her chin back. “No. Not so soon.”

Wordlessly, he advanced on her. His hand reached out to press against her mound, the flimsy black lace panties barely an obstacle.

“And how exactly would I make you cum with your panties on?” he asked.

His fingers were now softly stroking her skin through her panties. She moaned softly, swaying on her feet.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Be inventive.”

He felt her thighs unclench, allowing him easier access. His fingers continued softly stroking her increasingly moist nether lips through her underwear.

He paused and picked up his bag with the container of frozen berries. Taking one hard, cold fruit in his fingers, he walked back to the almost naked woman and pressed it against her breast.

She gasped as the berry was pressed against her. He reached round to unsnap her bra, before she could protest, and had the fruit pressed against her bared nipple the second the garment came off.

She hissed and a moment later felt his mouth close on hers, silencing her. She bit his lip hard and felt the berry soften against her skin.

He leaned back and pressed the berry against her lips. “Open up.”

Compliantly she took it in her mouth.

“Chew. But do not swallow,” he said firmly.

She bit down. As the juice flowed into her mouth, she closed her eyes. The last time her husband had done anything like this was eating ice cream off her on a whim once. She missed the man who would surprise her. But now she hardly recognized him.

She never thought she’d stray from her marriage. Yet here she was on an impulse, seeing if the younger man she’d met just a few hours ago might match up to the inventiveness he claimed he had. His candour and sense of humour had made her genuinely interested in him. She felt she could trust him. And more than that, her body had its desires. She wanted to feel her toes curl in pleasure, morality be damned. She wanted attention, and she was having it.

Her eyes flew open as she felt something small and cold slide down her panties, the waistband being tugged down to expose her.

“You’re not shoving that up my cunt,” she yelped, taking a step back.

His eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”

His hand had reached out and was still persistently rolling the ice cold berry along her slit.

“You aren’t shoving that up my -- my pussy,” she said weakly.

He leaned in further. “What word did you use?”

She merely looked at him, mouth slightly open. The coldness she felt against her warmth was making her drip.

“Say it,” he said, insistent. His fingers closed around a nipple, pinching it.

She moaned out loudly as she felt her nipple being tugged, pain slightly tingeing the pleasure. “C-C-Cunt! I said cunt.”

Her legs almost gave way as his thumb rested against her clit firmly. His mouth was now on hers, his tongue dipping in to lap up her saliva mixed with the berry’s juice.

“Like talking dirty, do you?” he whispered as his tongue darted along her lower lip.

“Looks like I do,” she whispered back shakily.

She was now dripping wet, and his fingers hadn’t even entered her.

He stepped back, nodding. “Panties off, please.”

She peeled her panties off and stood in front of him. She did not attempt to cover herself up in any way but just waited. One berry was still in her mouth, half-bitten.

He stripped himself fully naked in economic motions. They stood for a few moments taking each other in.

“Open your mouth,” he said.

As she did, he reached out and plucked the berry from her lips. In a fluid motion, he crushed the berry against her nipple. The half bitten fruit broke and dark juice trickled down her flesh.

She gave a gasp as she felt him press it against her nipple, grinding the nub against the crushed pulp. The juice flowed down her body, and she tilted her head back.

He wrapped an arm around her, the other hand still crushing the berry against her, as they collapsed onto her couch. Her thighs splayed now, as his fingers slowly explored along her smooth entrance. Dripping and slick, he slid two of his fingers into her as she gave a slow keening noise.

His fingers slid in and out of her in slow strokes. Her eyes were fully closed now. He leaned down to latch his mouth onto her nipple, and felt her body undulate against him.

He nibbled and suckled her large nipple, taking his time. His tongue circled her areolae and his fingers continued their ministrations. And to his astonished ears came the noise of a low growl.

He leaned back surprised to look at her. His fingers stopped moving and her eyes opened. The noise originating deep in her throat died away.

“Why are you doing that?” he asked, pausing.

“I can be animalistic,” she said. “Primal.”

Her eyes were on his, and he could not look away.

“Biting and growling?” he asked. New surprises every second, this one.

She made an impatient movement with her hips, trying to get his still fingers moving. “I can bite, yes. I want to growl and make noises. But that scares my husband.”

He remained quiet.

“Do I scare you?” she asked, almost pleading.

He could not wrap his mind around the details but he saw her for what she was -- a woman wanting nothing more than acceptance. A person who couldn’t help the way her mind worked. And he knew what that felt like.

“No,” he said and felt his cock throb.

His fingers dug back into her, making little noises as they moved faster into her sopping wetness. She tilted her head back, enjoying his touches. Rough growls rumbled from her throat like an animal in heat. Her hips pumped to his rhythm and her snarling lips seemed to almost smile.

He had not expected this but he enjoyed watched her revert to her primal nature. She derived pleasure from the fact she was being what she wanted to be. A wolf in heat.

He took another berry into his mouth and bit down on it. Leaning over her, he let the trickles of juice stain her pale skin, marking her. Heard her moan and growl in abandon as the juice trickled down her lips and breasts, anointing her pale skin.

Her pussy -- no, her cunt -- was clenching around his fingers. Her noises grew louder. He could tell she was close.

“Let go, Louisa,” he whispered. “Cum for me.”

With a slow, drawn-out howl she did let go, quakes of her orgasm rippling through her fleshy body. Her cunt pulsed against his fingers, her juices leaking copiously. And without waiting for her to subside, he angled her plump body to the side and grabbed her hips. She made no protest as he plunged her length into her.

He wrapped her hair in his hand, and tugged her head back. Her skin was marked with the juice, but he felt the need to mark her very soul.

His fingers dipped below to scoop drops of her arousal, and smeared it along her lips. He felt her tongue snake out, licking his fingertips clean.

“Whose is that wet little cunt?”

“That cunt is yours!” she moaned gutturally.

He pulled out of her and heard her gasp at the emptiness.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

She obeyed and rolled onto her back. Her dark hair fanned out beneath her head. He pinched both nipples of her full breasts, rolling them in his fingers. He knew he was being rough. He tugged them upwards till the mounds of flesh were slightly lifted from her chest. Her growls grew louder.

“Like that?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she groaned.

He pinched and tugged them a little more, her mewling music to his ears.

“Does it hurt?”

“Any more and it will,” she gasped.

Her body was arching off the couch, her breasts almost forming cones terminating at his fingers. He let go after a moment and fascinatedly heard her make noises he had never heard a woman make before. She was gasping from being freed of the pressure, and was somehow arching herself as if she wanted more. He leaned over and plucked two of the half-frozen berries and quickly grinded them on her reddened nipples. Dark juice dribbled down her breasts to her sides staining her skin. Half of her torso was blue from the berries. She was now putty due to the switching sensations he was making her go through.

Moisture had dripped down her inner thighs and onto her couch. He let go of the berries now crushed to a pulp against her skin. He kissed her breasts and licked the liquid from her skin. She responded to his kisses, gripping his head as his tongue ran over the sides of her breasts and her ribs.

“Like what I’m doing?” he teased.

“Fuck my cunt, Rick.” she said bluntly. “Fuck me now. Cum for me. Be inventive later.”

He rubbed the tip of his cock around her wet folds. She was grinding her hips against him, the look in her eyes almost pleading for him to fill her. He was finding it hard to control himself.

He placed his throbbing tip against her. “Don’t move.”

Her gyrations paused. He gripped his cock, and stroked himself against her slit. He felt a mixture of his precum and her juices coat his fingers.

He wiped three wet fingers along her lips. “Making promises, are we?”

She opened her mouth and just sucked all three of his fingers in reply, amber eyes locked onto his. Her warm, slick tongue hungrily twirled around the digits in her mouth. He couldn’t wait anymore and pushed his length into her in one thrust.

Growls and wet noises filled the air as he fucked her raw. Her wet cunt accepted every inch of him. His hips moved frenziedly, slapping against her skin. A half-chewed berry rolled down onto the floor and the couch creaked.

Her eyes flashed open and he felt her nails rake down his back. The sharp pain took him by surprise and he looked down. Her lips were again forming that half-smile, half snarl. She knew he felt pain and her insolent expression served to fuel him on.

His own expression now mirroring hers, he leaned down and bit her lip. Her body rubbed against his, friction dulled by the stickiness of the juice smeared on her belly and breasts. Her nails raked him again. He growled and bit down on her throat, applying a firm pressure with his teeth.

The feeling of his bite on her throat tipped her over the brink again, and she came for the second time. Her cunt clenched and unclenched as his cock still pumped in her.

Feeling her grip him deep in throes of orgasm, he felt his own peak boil up. Ropes of his seed splashed deep into her and her wet channel milked him of every last drop. And with their orgasms achieved, their frantic dance slowed to a stop.

They held each other through the aftershocks, relaxing as the waves subsided. He remained in her, softening, as her plump body rested against him.

“That was something,” he said.

She giggled. And the girlishness of the sound threw him off again.

She rolled over to face him, his cock sliding out of her wetness. She burrowed against him let his arms wrap around her. She ran a finger down his sticky chest.

“Messy,” she said.

He nodded. “We sure are.”

And as they languorously basked in the afterglow, both knew that this path they had set out on would take them to uncharted territories. Peel away desires and explore their limits. And yes, give them both pleasure in ways they never had though possible before.

And it would be glorious.

Special thanks to Burquette for proofreading. You’re a great gal!