Friday, February 28, 2014

Encounter

Candles, lit. Sandalwood? Four of them on the coffee table. The living room smelled good. Too good in fact. She examined for signs of a dead body. It had to be somewhere, buried. He who killed them now tried to entertain her, or rather, to be entertained by her.

A pillow, on the floor, near the foot of a chair.

She arrived, in a coffee color suit, with leopard skin belt and heels. Her hair tight up. She was on the phone. "Look, I have to go. I'll get that information to you tomorrow." She hang up the phone and looked at him apologetically.  He embraced her. They appeared to have known each other for sometime, there was no need for pleasantry. He was in a blue checkered button down shirt and jeans, and he had been waiting for her arrival for nearly two hours. He kissed her and she was feeling a bit shy.

She knew what was expected of her. So she knelt down on the pillow. He sat down on the chair. She started to unbuckle his belt, and then she unzipped his pants. He let loose of her hair. There was no words exchanged. She knew what she needed to do and he was wasting no time at all to let it happen.

When he was done being serviced, he lifted her up from the floor and moved her to the couch. He removed her clothes and laid her on the couch. She was not ready but he forced himself in. It hurt her, he was hurting her, but he was not going to let this stop him. She was feeling a sharp pain and her soft opening was torn. There was a lot of friction. As he continued in his singular motion, she sensed her muscles going from tense to relaxed.. Her body parts responded accordingly. The opening of the lips was becoming soft and wet like the way he had hoped. "Good. And now it is ready." He felt it too. He pounded her in that position for sometime, and then lifted her legs up so he could penetrate her deeply. Eventually he pressed his body onto hers, crushing her floral peach colored necklace. She heard several piece falling. It was a beautiful architectural piece that she picked up at an art gallery in Beaune, France. He had broken her necklace at last.

There was a level of intensity that she felt that was unlike their normal interactions. "Why, why are you so intense?" She asked.

"You know why." He said. "You know."

"Tell me. What is it?" She wanted to hear him to say those words.

"I love you.." His answer did not surprise her.

When he finally collapsed, she was surprised. She wanted it to go on forever.

After a shower, she walked around the house naked to find him in front of his laptop.

"Are you dry?" He asked.

"Yes." She lied. Her shoulder was laden with water.

"No, you are not." He could see the water from the reflection of the lighting.

She giggled.

"Come. let's lie down." He suggested.

Then she joined  him in bed.

He held her and fell asleep with lights on.

At 2 AM he was up fetching a cup of water and catching up on emails.

At 4 AM he was rubbing himself against her. When that was not deeply satisfying, he asked her to go down on him. She put his equipment inside of her mouth and sucked on it until it was hard. Then he got onto of her and shoved his erection right into her mouth as she deep throat the fuck out if it.

"You are so good at giving head." He would comment later on.

She had a good teacher. It was the free internet porn sites that he had introduced to her when they first met. She also had an oral fixation. She liked the feeling of having something in her mouth and feeling it grow.

"When was the last time you fucked another guy?" He asked.

"In July." She said.

"That was a long time ago." He had women outside of this relationship. She used to date men outside of this as well, until she was unable to give herself to them. She wanted her body to be his and his only.

"Did you give head?" He wanted to know the details. It turned him on to know she was with other men.

"Yes I did." She used to, but not any more. She used to have sex with others. She was more carefree then.

Everything since July just stopped, everything but this thing.

He flipped her over. In that spooning position he rubbed himself against her. She liked how she was getting used by him, in whichever fashion. She liked that she was able to please him, to serve him. It went beyond the normal relationship dynamics. It could only be understood by people who were like her. People who enjoyed being submissive and derived pleasure from that role, even pain, was a pleasure in this relationship.

"I want your ass, baby. So I can own you." He talked as if he was in a BDSM porn.

Yet she liked it. She wanted to be owned by him. In the years that she'd been with him, it became clear to her that at the root of this relationship was her submissiveness to him and his dominance over her. That role she took on with him was the exact opposite of the role she played in her everyday life. Thus it liberated her.

Last time when they met he positioned her in a bath tub and proceed to piss all over her. She liked that too.

She especially liked when he pissed directly into her mouth, onto her hair and drenching her body. She liked being used by him.

They used to watch porn together. Now she watched the kinkiest porn on her own and wanted to reenact with him in private.

It happened once in a life time.

He was going to be this life partner for her.

And it was going to be fine. Just the way she liked it.

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