Erotic Fiction

A short excerpt for a nude bodywork session –

He lay there.    Face down.     I poured hot oil all over his body.    I watched the oil drip down his spinal column.   I traced it with my fingers as it edged down over his lower back,  his sacrum, spiling, eagerly in between his buttocks, dripping down to where his genitals waited eagerly

for its arrival.     I reached my fingers down and latched on to his hard cock with one hand, while I dripped hot oil onto his throbbing member with the other hand.    He moaned.   His body writhed with pleasure under the intoxication of my touch.

We sat in the back row.    I thought we would be sitting in a dark, almost black back row where no other theater patrons could see what I was going to do to him during the course of the film.     About ten seats away there sat about 5 or 6 teenagers, munching away on their popcorn.  My first thought (the Catholic school girl in me):   “FUCK”.    My next thought (the indifferent teenager in me):   “Oh well.   Whatever”.  And the thought after that, my favorite thought of all (coming from the exhibitionist in me):    “HOT”.      I got excited.

The movie started.    We shared our popcorn.   Our elbows and legs touched.   The electricity and sexual chemistry grew.   I am 47.     He is 28.    Not more than 20 minutes into the film, he reached down and placed his hand on my leg.    I wore a dress with a tiny black g-string under it.   His hand slid up my thigh.    We made eye contact.    Deep, intense, penetrating eye contact.    That beautiful, sinister, turned-on look in his eyes was too much for me to bear.   My breath quickened and deepened.    I leaned into him.   Our lips touched.     I reached over and placed my hand on his hardness.    I undid his belt while maintaining eye contact in that dark, back row of the theater the entire time.    Slowly.   Ever so slowly, I unzipped his pants while his hand raised up higher on my thigh, finding my tiny little g-string underneath my dress.

Hello Professor.       I am addicted to you Professor.  Yes.    I know you are, student.  Do you have a lesson for me, Professor?  Whaty can I do to please you, beautiful professor?   To prepare for you?   Well….hmmm.    To begin, stroke your cock while you think about me.   Anything to please you, my most beautiful professor.   Tell me what is beautiful about me, student.   Tell me how you want to serve and please me.  Your eyes are so intriguing and hypnotic and the taste of your wet lips and your beautiful body.   I love your sexy body so much and I love the deviant look in your eyes when you are about to punish me.   Aw.   Good boy.    Are you stroking your cock?   Yes.   I am for you, my beautiful professor.  Tie it up.   Tie up your cock.   (he ties it up and sends me a picture)    Mmmm.    Hot.    What a good student you are.    DO NOT CUM.    You save that for me, do you understand?   Yes, professor.    Yes ma’am.     (pause).     May I stroke it for you in person?   Yes.    Meet me at the park.    You are going to stroke your cock in your car in the parking lot of the park and you are going to cum for me.    Keep it tied up.

The waitress came up to take our order.    I grabbed your hand and placed it under the table on my inner thigh.    As she was taking our order, I pulled by skirt up.    I wasn’t wearing any panties.     I slipped your hand in between my thighs.    She was still taking YOUR order.     I grabbed your finger and slid it inside of me.     The waitress turned to me and said, “And for you, miss?”     I stared directly into her eyes and politely ordered a club soda with a splash of lime (I do not consume alcohol, remember?), the grilled kale salad with dressing on the side, and a baked sweet potato, hold the butter, while my pussy was getting wetter and wetter under the table with your fingers inside of me.

My voice did not falter a bit.    That waitress had no idea.    I wanted to cum while ordering and see how stealthily and quietly I could gush my wetness out all over your hand while calmly ordering my dinner, staring directly into that innocent, clueless waitress.

My red stiletto heels are completely ravishing.    My sweet, submissive slave adores my red shoes.      I decided NOT to wear the red shoes for our lovely lunch date that he invited me to because I was still punishing him for his mishap.  He needed to earn the right to the red shoes again.

After a nice conversation  and meal and just a teeny bit of naughtiness in the restaurant (putting my leg on top of his & letting him place his hand on my stockinged leg while four uppity women, you know, the type who have probably never been fucked in the ass in their entire life, bake apple pies for their husbands, have squeaky clean perfect hair & make up, (I mean how the fuck do they get their hair so straight like that, anyways) kept glancing over at us, shocked by the brazenness and “indecency” of our behaviour (it wasn’t indecent at all….it was hot…but I am sure in their vanilla, never-been-fucked-in-the-ass kind of world it most definitely was).  Them watching made what I was doing that much more sweeter.    I was so turned on by their discomfort.   Such an unruly, exhibitionist, I am.     My slave had no idea that all of this was going on in my head as I had him try to zip up my dress (the zipper was, indeed, stuck) and stroke my leg under the table.

 

He walked me to my car.     I was parked in the parking garage.    We took the elevator up.   Once the elevator door closed I gave him this directive: get down on your knees and worship my shoes.    (while we were eating lunch, he had hinted to the fact that he had secretly hoped I had worn the red shoes.    He had no idea that I purposefully did NOT wear those shoes as part of his ongoing punishment.   He still needed to repent a bit more before I would succumb to wear them again).     Sweet, submissive slave dutifully bowed down before me and began to worship my shoes.   He began softly and sweetly kissing all around my shoes and up my leg, around my ankle.   “Lick the bottom of my shoe” I barked at him.    He, of course, did as he was told as any good slave would do.   “Make out with my shoe”    He eyed.   “Now….suck the heel like you are sucking a big, huge cock    That’s right.   Slide it in and out.   That’s a good boy”     The elevator door opened.     He walked me to my car.    “Get down on your knees and worship my shoes again before I leave”       Such an obedient slave.    On his way to the reclaiming of the red shoes.