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.’

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Barcelona

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.

Oleana

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.

 

Perfection

adonis

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!

Good morning

You stir beside me in bed. The final ebb of sleep draws away. Your eyes are closed, and you begin to breathe irregularly as you put motion in your limbs.

I love seeing my man like this. Uninhibited. Completely relaxed. No façades. Especially when you’re so much in control every moment of the day.

You roll on to your back. I was hoping for that. I stroke my hand down your chest, feeling the warm skin and the hard muscle beneath.

Even in your sleep, you make me wet. I push my Venus mound into the mattress to absorb some of my sweetness.

I pull down the sheets as my hand encompasses your trunk above your curly undergrowth. You are already hard and ripe.

I wet my lips and kiss the tip, my tongue swirling around the head. A bead awaits me. I lick it up and begin in earnest, drawing you in with gentle suction. Your slick hardness makes my hips squirm.

Your breath catches as my lips brush against your curls, your strong trunk completely covered by my mouth. You groan a deep sound that makes my chest resonate.

I feel your hand grabbing my hair, guiding my head, seeking control. I continue to suck you with abandon; the sound fills the bedroom together with your grunts. You are close. You tighten beneath on the cusp of fulfilment. Your shoot your seed into my mouth and I happily swallow.

Your breathing returns to normal. Your hand caresses my hair as I linger.

‘Good morning, Oleana,’ you say with that husky voice, I love.