The End – part 2 of 2

Can be read independently, but read part 1 too. Oleana

He clicked the computer closed and rearranged his pants. Anticipation made me damp. I casually strolled over to him, rubbing his tense shoulders.

‘Do I have your attention now?’ I asked, keeping my voice sugar sweet and letting on that I had plans.

His voice was husky when he answered to the affirmative. I climbed onto his lap; the floral fabric of my sarong divided and framed my Venus mound. I smiled at the way his lips parted.

‘Let’s get this shirt off,’ I unbuttoned his white shirt and pulled it away from his chest. Oh, his glorious chest. I believe his wide, slightly chiseled chest was my favorite part of his body. I enjoyed stroking it, licking it, and supporting myself on it during the act. It embodied his strength and as the same time the shiver that rippled his muscles before he came and the feverish beating of his heart under my touch reminded me that he was human.  I couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss the firmness covered in curls. His hands grabbed my hips, nudging me closer to his bulge. I pulled out a blindfold.

‘Oleana,’ he said in warning. I knew blindfolding him would be new for him. He preferred to be completely in control and enjoyed our mutual physical banter about domination. I usually let him win, but tonight would be different. I started to get up, but he stopped my motion. He was too far gone in lust to back out of this. I leaned forward and tied the blindfold behind his head.

I rewarded him with a kiss, which he made him thrust into my mouth; his tongue trying to dominate. I guided his hands to the knot at the nape of my neck and he quickly unraveled the snippets of the sarong. His hands fondled my body, finding my nipples and pinched them. He followed with his tongue, swirling it around my nipples before pinching them again with his lips. I couldn’t help the groan. His ministrations were wonderful and his enthusiasm inspiring.

I guided his hand to my mound and relished his touch. This was his field of expertise. He stroked me with the palm of his hand, before sliding a digit between my slick folds. He understood how this wasn’t a one-handed job. He toyed with my clit with one hand, while two fingers delved into my slickness. His concentrated circles on my clit and his hooked fingers massaging my inner walls made me gasp for air. The sensations carried me over the top and I came, wetting the front of his pants.

He reached for the blindfold, but I stopped him before he could see anything.

‘I want to see you quivering, Oleana.’ It wasn’t time yet. I had plans, delicious plans.

‘You left me waiting before. Now it’s my turn,’ I said, getting off his lap. I wanted him “needing” to see me, not just wanting to.

‘What do you have planned?’ I heard to the warning in his voice. He didn’t completely appreciate being on the receiving end of my plans.

With the blindfold still in place, I led him to the bedroom, his hands resting on my naked body.

‘Take off your pants.’ Finally, he was quick to comply. His member sprang in attention; he stroked himself and his head glistened. The sight of him made me want to jump him.

I trailed my thumb over his head, spreading the moisture. His hands quickly navigated my body, kneading my breasts hard. His touch was electrifying. I lead him by a tight hold around his shaft over to the bed and coaxed him down on his back. I straddled him, adding agonizing pressure to his erection, but without letting him slide in to my folds. The temptation to feel him inside of me was almost unbearable, but only almost.

For my next step, I needed to be sneaky. He would never condone what I had in mind. I bit down on one of his nipples, making him arch his back and hiss. With slow licks, I moved to the other nipple, noting the way his breath caught. With my bite, I clamped the hand-cuffs around one of his wrists. Before I could recover from the sensation and the surprise, I closed the hand-cuffs around his other wrist and made sure his hands were secure above his head. Now, I had him where I wanted him.

‘Oleana!’  he called with the voice of his dark disciplinarian side. I didn’t let the voice faze me and continued to kiss and lick him.

‘You wanted to lose the blindfold and you’re almost there.’

I moved lower and kissed the base of his shaft.

‘Let me go, Oleana,’ he said, pleasure tainting the roughness he most likely intended. I embraced his silky head with my lips and knew, that he was relinquishing to the slow rhythm. His breath hitched and his stomach muscles rippled. That was my cue. I pulled back, ending with a kiss at the tip.

‘Oleana, I need you to finish,’ he pleaded as he pulled at the restraints. I smiled at myself. I knew I was leaving him hungry, and that was the point.

‘Well then, we better get that blindfold off then,’ I pulled it off and gave him a few moments to take in his surroundings. His eyes were thunderbolts of lust. If he could, this would be the moment when he would impale me and rock my world. I felt his stare on the juices on my inner thighs. He momentarily forgot the hand-cuffs, and growled when he realized he was tied up.

‘Let’s see what you can do without the use of your hands,’ I ventured. I stroked his chest again as I moved up and up, until I could straddle his face. Surprise marked his eyes, but I felt his nose inhale my salty scent. He quickly forgot any inhibitions and traced his tongue between my folds. I rocked back and forth, helping him to hit the spots that burned the most. He lapped at me, his tongue circling my clit that was painfully sensitive. He sucked my clit and pressed his tongue hard against me, making me come throbbing with a scream.

I resurfaced lying beside him, running my fingers up and down his chest, sated and happy. Me: 2. Him: 0. An excellent score in my opinion.

‘Get me out of these cuffs,’ he said, sounding like a powder keg. I glanced at his member. It was the darkest red, ready to burst.

‘Now, Oleana.’ There was no room for negotiation in his voice, not that I wanted any.

‘I have something for you,’ I said as I began to undo the cuffs. I put the short riding crop in his hand. I had given it to him a few times before, and recognized the dark lust sparkling in his eyes. The moment his wrists were released from the cuffs, he jumped up and pulled me in front of him. I stood on all fours His wide hand on my lower back forced me down on my elbows. My cheek rested on the sheets. The riding crop snapped against by butt cheek.

‘You drive me crazy,’ he said, stroking my buttocks, before yielding the crop again. Snap. Heat radiated through the muscles. He caressed me with the soft tip over my now rosy cheeks and down the crack. The crop glided in my moisture. He pecked my clit with the tip, making me buck and groan with the bright star of combined pain and pleasure.

‘You deserve payback, but truth be told, right now I don’t care. I just need to bury myself in you.’ He accompanied his words with sharp whacks with the crop on my cheeks. Each of them sent a current to my clit, which throbbed.

‘Get on with it then,’ I managed to say.

He rammed inside of me with a burning sensation that made me call out. He growled behind me as he pounded me with all his might. I met his rhythm. My walls clenching him, until we screamed in unison.


We didn’t talk about the end during our weekend. We gave each other our undivided attention and achieved that sweet intermingling where our bodies were attuned in pleasure.

As we packed our bags, he held up the riding crop.

‘Mind if I borrow this?’ I shook my head. It was my parting gift together with this prolonged weekend.

In the cab to the airport, his cell phone rang. Exhibit I’ve-lost-count-and I reminded myself that there was no reason to count anymore. Our relationship was great and the finale was thrilling; the thought of it made my panties damp.  

On the plane, we toasted in champagne and his hand rested less on my knee and more in between my legs than was acceptable in polite society. Fortunately, I’ve never been one for polite society. His hand stilled.

‘This is the end, isn’t it?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ I replied. Goodbyes are bittersweet, but it was time. Our escapade was at an end. Any future would be repetition of great encounters.

He pulled my hand to his mouth and kissed my knuckles.

‘I understand.’

The Liebster Award

Thank you Written Therapy for nominating me for the Liebster Award – and the questions you have asked are wonderful!

What a way to spend a Sunday afternoon when it is too hot to do anything other than lounge and sip margaritas.

  1. You’re in a witness relocation situation and they let you pick your new name, what would it be?

Wendy – I always loved that name and every time I think about it, I always wonder what would be next for Wendy and Peter Pan and I believe, I would find it enjoyable, very enjoyable.

  1. You can only listen to one song for the rest of your life, which song do you pick?

I would probably be a piece of classical music.

  1. Blue or black ink pens?

That depends on what or who I am writing on, but on a day to day basis: blue.

  1. What’s your favorite book?

Mentioning just one is impossible.

  1. When was the last time you laughed?

I am not one to kiss and tell – or the equivalent

  1. You have one wish, what is it?

My one wish would be that more people dared to be in touch with their sensual essence and enjoyed themselves.

  1. What’s your favorite smell?


  1. What’s the best joke you’ve ever heard?

I rarely remember jokes, once I’ve heard them, but I do remember who told it to me.

  1. What makes you nostalgic?

I am nostalgic person in general, but the gifts I receive always remind me of the givers.

  1. If you were to lose one of your senses, which would you be okay with losing?

Hearing I think.

  1. Why do you write?

Without going completely Rilke on you, because I cannot do without writing, but also because I love to share stories.

Nominate up to 11 other bloggers yourself (preferably those with fewer than 500 followers, this is more of a newbie award)

Provide those bloggers with 11 questions of your own for them to answer Don’t forget to put the Liebster Award sticker on your blog! And here are the 11 questions for you!

  1. What is your favorite part of your body?
  2. And what is your favorite part of your lover’s body?
  3. If you were to tattoo a saying or quote on your body, which would you choose?
  4. What is the most daring thing, you have ever done?
  5. Which destination would you choose for a fantasy vacation?
  6. And who would join you on that vacation?
  7. Which food is the sexiest or most erotic?
  8. What is your favorite word?
  9. When is your favorite time of day?
  10. What is your best pick up line?
  11. If you were granted a supernatural gift or superpower what would it be?


I write this in the spur of the moment:

I am going back to the apartment with a slowdancing buzz and a heart shaped lollipop – and company I thoroughly enjoy. Barcelona, Spain is wicked.


The End – part 1 of 2

I knew the end was coming. Complacency and steadiness had edged their way into our whirlwind and passionate relationship. His text the morning before our prolonged weekend getaway was exhibit I’ve-lost-count in my case.

Running late with work. Rebooked flight. See you later tonite. XXX

The message reminded how much I didn’t appreciate his staccato texting skills. Running late with work. STOP. Rebooked flight. STOP. See you later tonite. FULL STOP.

I spent to morning getting ready, contemplating the weekend ahead and the future, while folding lingerie and beach wear. And handcuffs – they were essential for this trip. Almost as an afterthought, I placed a short riding crop on top before closing my suit case.

I am by no means bitter, but melancholy that the end of a relationship is drawing near. We’ve been together for a little more than a year and the last six months, we’ve been exclusive. True, our relationship has been based on passion and sex, and yet somewhere along the way, we came to know one another and have feelings for each other.

This weekend vacation was our goodbye and I wanted it to be our finale, bittersweet as it might be.


Marta had a lovely dinner ready when I arrived. She looked perplexed that I arrived alone. I skipped through the house, complimented the way, she always made everything homey. You could smell the freshness of the sheets in the master bedroom. There wasn’t a fleck of dust playing in the rays of the afternoon sun. Fresh flowers littered side tables, just the way I loved it, the exotic scent already reaching my libido.

‘Enjoy your stay,’ Marta said, as she grabbed her purse and left with a wave over her shoulder. I couldn’t help but smile, I always do. I found a chilled Chardonnay to accompany my dinner and planned the evening.

He arrived as the sun began to set, looking a little rugged with his five o’clock shadow and his suit jacket over his arm. He had taken off his tie and opened the top buttons of his shirt, drawing my attention to his chest. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal his muscular arms. The sight of him always made me salivate. He is the right combination of brains and brawn – and with an excellent humor to boot.

‘Honey, I’m home,’ he said from the door.

I went to him and gave him a chaste welcome home kiss. Kinky came later. I draped the jacket over my arm and dug my hand into his pants’ pocket where I felt his cuff links and something else. This was about as domestic as I get, which he knew very well.

‘I need to finish something, before I can give you my undivided attention,’ he said. He licked his lips, ready for the undivided attention, but his eyes and the faint slump of his shoulder told me his mind was still at work.

Exhibit I’ve-lost-count and one.

I took his jacket and cuff links to the bedroom and used the opportunity to change in a white and blue floral sarong. I loved the feeling of the flowing silk caressing my body and the edge of the fabric binding the sarong together and ending in a knot at the nap of my neck.

The sunset was just an orange slice against the darkness of the ocean and the sky. The breeze whispered in the palm trees and the cicadas hummed their music. I served him a glass of the chilled Chardonnay and began to light candles around the room, playing with the options for the evening.

His eyes followed me around the room. The sound of him typing away stilled when I bent over to turn a leaf of a potted plant. Of course, he was watching me. I was only wearing the sarong. Every time I moved, the fabric divided in the front, flashing my thighs and my dark curls. When I bent over, my soft cheeks whispered an invitation. I turned and gave him a frank stare.

‘Finish!’ I ordered him. Our eyes met and I knew that I was winning him over. He concentrated on the computer screen in front of him and I resumed my teasing tour.

The cool air from the open doors brushed my sarong aside and let me feel how wet, I already was. He groaned from his seat by the table, one hand in his lap.

‘You type faster when you use both hands,’ I tell him.

With both hands on the keyboard, I clearly see the bulge he was nursing in his pants. I hope we soon skip to the main attraction of the evening.




The striking male body resembles a reclined Adonis. Ripped muscle, inherent strength, colorful tattoos. The models in Michael Stokes’ photographs are the epitome of beautiful men – and then you notice that the perfect model is an amputee; the lower part of his leg is missing. I did a double take and realized that model is perfect in every way.

Michael Stokes’ photographs of war veterans are breathtaking and I highly recommend his coffee table books. You can even check Michael Stokes’ homepage. Enjoy!

Luke and the Sunflower seed

His name was Luke. He was so beautiful. His skin was velvety soft and darker than the night. He would moisten his lips with his tongue, the rare pink against his dark lips enough to make me sigh and beckon me closer.

We met on an outmoded train bound for Rostock in former Eastern Germany. I was on an adventure with a couple of friends, to practice German or so we told our parents and the see the remnants of Eastern Germany a decade after the fall of the Berlin Wall.

This final stretch was long. Outside the landscape blurred to nuances of green, cut with grey high-rises and in between, the evidence of people building new, Western housing. Inside, the open compartments were dreary, the fabric on the seat threadbare and everything in a brown/beige color scheme.

Luke was travelling with a friend, shorter than himself. They sat across from each other by the window and spoke that round African French that I couldn’t get my head around. They were rambunctious, laughing, and animated, so that none of us three, blonde girls, sitting across the aisle, could keep our eyes away.

On the table between them, they had a bag of sunflower seeds. Luke offered us some. We giggled our way through language, finding out that none of us spoke the same ones, but for me, it didn’t matter. I was completely smitten. I wanted to touch Luke’s skin so much so that my fingers tingled. And there he was, beckoning me closer with his dark eyes and that pink tongue.

I sat down beside him, immediately feeling the heat from his body. Our smiles wide to begin with as he showed me how to remove the pesky coat from the sunflower seeds. I wanted those deft fingers touching me instead of the sunflower seeds, preferably flicking my clit. He held a seed up to my mouth. I took the seed and sucked his finger, tasting his dark skin.

Our smiles were gone, replaced by countenances of need and want. His hand gripped my hip and I let his finger go.

‘Avec moi,’ he breathed and stood abruptly, showing me the arousal, bulging in his jeans.

I told my friends that I would be back in a little while and accepted the large hand, Luke held out for me. We jolted down the aisle, me in front of him, feeling his hardness. I touched it, making him groan, which in turn made my knees weak with lust.

We found a closed compartment. Luke locked the door, and I closed the curtains towards the aisle, his hands already stroking my arms and my hips.

‘I need to see all of you,’ I told him, even though he didn’t understand English. I yanked at his clothes,

‘Off, off!’

‘Une tigresse,’ he smiled and shed his clothes.

I reciprocated.

The sight of him, naked, in front of me, his hand supporting his erection made my jaw drop. In that moment, I wished for a camera or at least photographic memory. He was majestic. My very pale fingertips ran over his ebony skin. I moved closer to kiss his chest, his free hand clutching my ass.

I trailed my kisses further down to his shaft, the memory of which still makes me quiver. That was what a cock should always look like. Tall, proud, and ready to pounce. I kissed the very tip before licking the length. Anticipation made us both breathe heavily. I pushed him back on the seat, already on my knees between his legs.

‘Non, en haut, maintenant, tigresse.’ The words were desperate demands. Luke picked me up, spreading my legs. My moisture leaked down my thighs. His voice deep and round.

‘Lentement,’ I didn’t know, if he was telling me or himself, but by the strength of his arms, he lowered me on to his cock ever so slowly. My core was burning with sensation, stretching to accommodate him. Every nerve screaming, until he was completely sheathed.

Luke moistened his lips again and swirled his tongue around my nipple. The current of pleasure made me rock my hips, moving him in and out. The sum of sensations almost too much.

And then, Luke used his dexterous fingers to flick my clit. I screamed at the assault and he drowned the sound with a hungry kiss.

I was at the point of no return. My hips gaining in speed. Luke’s fingers sending jolts of current to my clit and his mouth roaming my chest. My core flashed with the first touch of orgasm, my walls pulsating his shaft as the orgasm took flight.

As the aftershocks of orgasm convulsed through my body, Luke lifted me off him to my audible displeasure. He landed me on weak knees on the floor just in front of his glorious cock. I welcomed him between my lips. His hand gripping my blonde hair, controlling my speed. I strained to take as much of his hardness as I possibly could, but even with my zeal, I could only take half his length.

Luke licked his lips, his breath hitched in his throat. His salty seed hit the back of my mouth in bursts as he came. I swallowed to my heart’s content. When he withdrew from my mouth, he wiped a smear from the side of my mouth, letting me suck his thumb.

‘Chère tigresse,’ Luke said, his voice husky.

We were both spent and the minutes stretched as we had our arms around each other. Conversation was needless and we wouldn’t have been able to understand each other anyway, but it didn’t matter. We existed in a small vacuum of time, speeding through the German countryside.

Slowly we resurfaced from our tryst and got dressed. Luke took my hand and led me back to my friends. Of course they wanted to know the details, but this is the first time I share them. The tryst, Luke and I shared on board the train to Rostock was without words, without description, and for many years it remained that way, until now, that I am ready to share the glorious Luke and the sunflower seeds.