A Connection is Made

She bent over and began fingering my hole. Rough at first, pushing in and out, twisting her wrists in a gradual rotation moving from left to right. She pulled out her finger after a couple of minutes, licking it not just for the added lubrication but for the sensory overload. Then with a sharp slap, I reminded her that she was not told to stop. The risk of potentially losing our connection became apparent. Not that I consider her indulgence a distraction, but we needed to stay focused on our growing bond.

I always keep a set of basic tools available at arm’s length and decided a simple crop would suffice. The ground rules were laid out and we were well on our way. My senses were overly responsive and the shattering crack of leather to skin reverberated in that oh so distinctive way. I almost came right then.

Somehow, after so many years, the scent of sweat and leather was still so evocative, still so moving. She crouched down low and began to lick the inside of my thigh. She then worked her way up to my navel by way of my pussy. My clit pulsated with the blood that filled it and I lay there, very much receptive. The agonizing excitement sent my limbs into tiny convulsions.

I looked up at her and examined her body, little violet halos surrounded the welts that began to appear on her beautiful brown skin. I continued to slap her across the fleshy part of her shoulder and egged her on as she licked me in a circular motion. With a pinch several layers of purple, brown and burgundy came out from underneath the surface.

My left hand clamped down on her back leaving creases about an inch and a half long. Grabbing her shoulder with my right hand I flipped her over effortlessly switching positions.

Her whole body was now active; I hovered over her like a surgeon preparing to operate. With a jerking tug I pulled her head to the side and kissed her. First her cheeks, then her lips. I ended each kiss with a firm bite hoping to send a lasting sensation that resonated through her. Tiny curls of knotty brown hair poked out from between my fingers and she began moaning.

My leg rested between hers. I raised myself while gliding it up and down, pressing firmly into her pussy. I felt warm labia stick to the side of my leg as I raised it, and she moaned louder. Then I started biting her neck and shoulder, my teeth cutting into her skin without breaking it. Her breasts were perfect little mounds of flesh, their tips erect and tightened by the excess blood trapped inside them. I opened my mouth wider and covered her breasts completely. Never have I wanted so badly to fully consume someone, to take as much of them in as humanly possible. Her skin felt like butter melting on my tongue, smooth and creamy. I licked her navel, spending extra time on that space just underneath her belly button. I had lusted after her for hours and now I had her.

The mounting tensions, shortened breath, beads of sweat now starting to pool- everything began to escalate as I made my way down her body. I rubbed my cheek against a patch of fur, and thought of whether tugging at it would excite her or interrupt her state of ecstasy. I decided against it and ran my tongue underneath a tuft of hair, gently gliding across her labia, working my way around her clit, around and around but not quite licking it. It’s called ˜the gentle art of the tease’. I waited a painfully long time before actually touching her clit. This denial lasted for several seconds until I felt her legs bend and jerk. Her toes curled inwards and I knew this was my cue to dive in. I enthusiastically licked and sucked on her. I could feel it swell as her clit started to protrude outwards.

From underneath us, the sheets crept out towards the base of the bed stand. Her fidgeting led a slow downward procession of silken fabric that accumulated at my knees.

I know this part well; we were nearing the final act.

The night’s denouement always comes in a flood, a blooming rush of energy that expands outwards from our cores all the way to our finger tips. Her head was pulled all the way back, her entire body was trembling and she allowed me to overwhelm her. I looked at my tools suspended above us, sharp stainless steel reflecting some miniscule amount of light from places unknown, the mixture of shimmering metals, tightly wrapped treated grips and strips of already worn in leather. I let them all hang by close; their accessibility was an indication of how often I gave into spontaneous whims. I often changed tools to suit the needs of my suitors.

Having already found the spot my mouth stayed with it and I continued to rhythmically deconstruct her. Each stroke brought her closer and closer and knowing this, I strummed faster and faster. Her quaking tender form shook the bed. Milky streams of fluid ran down the sides of my mouth and chin and I knew she was coming from the stalled jerking motion of her body. A silent scream tried to escape her but only air came out. Then that shot of electricity, like sparks in between your teeth, all that energy converging, initiating tiny explosions throughout each limb, finger and toe. Then she rested and all at once her body went limp.

She was completely still for a full six seconds. I sat up on my knees above her. The window, open only two inches or so, allowed a slight breeze to trickle in hitting the sweat on my skin cooling instantly. I closed my eyes for a few seconds and listened to her breath until it returned to normal. I opened my eyes to that devilish smile, the one that manages to appear at the end of each and every one of our late night sessions. What we shared was pure; it had a visceral heat that was a rarity in this business. Then raising her arm, she made a simultaneous gesture of pulling me close, kissing me in a most endearing fashion and gesturing for her clothes.

Her smile kills me, it always has. We’d be holding each other and there she is grinning like a demon in heat. That lovely face was always so casually flirtatious.

It only takes a few seconds for her to fully dress in the darkness.

“I really wish I could stay.

A sentiment we both shared.

“Time¦ is money, I guess.

She threw a few $20s on the ottoman that I kept by the door for hovering guests, voyeurs, and bystanders. The only real bit of ˜furniture’ in the room.

A smile escapes, reflected in the wall length mirrors that fortify the hallway as she exits.

“See you soon

Instinctively, I reached over and check my phone.

Three new messages.

I fell back into the bed and rolled my eyes. It looked like it was going to be a busy night. Underneath these tired lips, a grin settled in, slightly tilting to the side and I whispered to myself nothing in particular, nothing worth noting as the nighttime air dissipates and becomes morning.

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