Letting Go (Letting Go Series #1) (9 page)

“It’s massage lotion,” he says. “You and I are going to enjoy a nice massage
. I’ll be getting, you’ll be giving.”

I feel the mattress sink underneath me as he climbs onto the bed.
I hear a slight rustling as he settles into position. Suddenly, soft music begins to play—he must have a remote. It’s Eastern relaxation music, the kind with sitars and stuff. I have a CD like this at home—it’s called “Tranquility.”

“I’m ready,” Sir says. “Try not to make a mess.”

I guess the blindfold is staying on. Carefully, I feel for the middle of his back and squeeze a bunch of lotion out onto it. I begin massaging him.

His back and shoulders are smooth and well-muscled. Not huge like a bodybuilder or anything like that. More like an athlete of some kind. He told me he was fit, and he certainly feels like he is. I work his upper body
for what seems like an adequate amount of time, then shift lower down on the bed so I can do his butt and legs. Sir hasn’t said a word the whole time, but I’ve heard a few soft sighs, so I know I’m doing at least an okay job.

This all may sound a bit one-sided or even selfish to some—him lying there and enjoying the fruits of my labor—but I actually think I’m getting the better part of the deal. He’s just passively lying there, while I’m getting to explor
e his sexy body at my leisure. And trust me, I’m loving it. His contented sighs are icing on the cake.

I’m definitely starting to get a better understanding of this d
ominant/submissive stuff—we’re both getting what we want and need.

Sir’s legs and butt are even more tightly muscled than the rest of him. He’s obviously a runner or
a bike rider or something. I’m particularly enjoying kneading the firm, rounded muscles of his butt. I begin imagining what they must look like in a pair of running shorts. If we ever go for a run together, I’ll have to make sure to let him forge ahead of me now and then, just for the view.

Finally, the relaxation music stops and Sir calls the massage to an end.

“Very nice,” he says.

I feel him move on the bed and then he kisses me quickly on the lips. Before I can respond, his lips
are gone.

“Thank you, Sir. I aim to please.”

“Yes,” he says, chuckling. “I can see that you do. Lie down on your back.”

Restraining my smile, I stretch out on the bed. My self-consciousness at being
nearly naked and not knowing when or where he’s looking has mostly disappeared. I hope he’s taking a long, admiring look rather than searching for flaws—that would mean all my exercising is finally paying off.

I feel the mattress shift, telling me he’s moving. One of his legs brushes mine, and then he settles down
atop my hips. I’m pretty sure he’s sitting on his knees, letting just enough weight press down on me to let me know he’s there.

His hands find my breasts and begin squeezing and kneading them. I guess this is my massage.

He plays silently with my breasts for a few moments. It feels wonderful.

“For what I have in mind next,
” he says finally, “we need to get me nice and slippery. Do you have any ideas how we might accomplish that, Jennifer?”

I definitely was not expecting that question. I think quickly.

“Well, we could use the massage lotion,” I say. “It’s pretty slippery.”

“Yes, we could do that.”

I decide to be bold. I sense that it will be okay right now.

“Or we could use my saliva.”

“Mmmmm… I think I like that idea even better.”

I feel him move up the bed until his knees are right under my arms. He slides a pillow
beneath my head.

“Go ahead,” he says, touching the head of his cock to my lips. “Get it nice and wet.”

I reach out and grab the base of his cock with my right hand, cupping his balls in my left. He’s rock hard—and big, too. I kiss the soft head and then open my mouth and wrap my lips around him.

I slide my lips slowly up and down his
shaft. I love the way it fills my mouth. Remembering my assignment, I generate as much saliva as I can.

Much too soon
, he pulls out of my mouth. I can’t see it, of course, but I bet his cock is glistening with my saliva.

His hands return to my breasts.

“You have beautiful tits,” he says.

I’m beaming inside. “Thank you, Sir.”

“It would be a shame not to make full use of them.” He gives my cleavage a long, wet lick. “I’m going to fuck your tits, Jennifer.”

I’m trying to picture what he means
by that when he takes my wrists and places my hands on the sides of my breasts.

“Hold them together,” he orders.

I do as he says, pushing my breasts together. A moment later, I feel his cock slip up between them. Covered with my saliva, it slides easily over my skin as he thrusts up and down, just as if he was fucking me. Damn, this is something I wish I could watch!

The feeling of his hard, slippery cock sliding between my breasts is awesome. I push them even more tightly together, to give him more friction and to make him hit my sensitive nipples. His breathing begins coming in sharper and sharper gasps. My own breathing is mirroring his, even though I’m pretty much just lying here. This whole thing is driving me wild.

Trying to picture what’s happening in my mind, an idea comes to me. I bend my neck forward and stick out my tongue. Every time he thrusts upward, his cock head hits my wet tongue. I’m not worried about taking the initiative without asking permission—he told me to get him slippery. If he says anything, I’ll just say I’m continuing to do as he ordered.

He doesn’t say anything
, though. He just keeps fucking my breasts.

Finally, he gives an extra powerful thrust and
lets out a loud groan. I feel his warm, slippery seed splash against my chin and neck. He thrusts more slowly now, four or five more times. With each thrust, I feel another stream of cum land on my skin. If the amount of it is any measure of his enjoyment, then he’s one happy guy.

He moves back, sitting on my hips once again. This time, he’s letting a little more of his weight press down onto me, but still not enough to be uncomfortable.

“You look incredibly sexy right now,” he says. 

Huh?
Sexy?
That’s the last thing I expected to hear with his junk dripping all over me.

“The blindfold, your chin and neck bathed in
my cum, and that little satisfied smile on your face,” he continues.

I hadn’t realized I was smiling, but I’m not surprised. I came here to please him, and obviously I
’ve succeeded.

I feel his weight shift again. He kisses me tenderly on the forehead and then eases himself off me. The mattress rises underneath me and I realize he’s not only climbed off me, he’s climbed off the bed as well.

I lay there, wondering what I’m supposed to do now. He hasn’t given me any instructions, so I don’t move.

I hear water running in the bathroom. He must be cleaning himself off. What a
bout me? I’m sure I’ve got a lot more cum on me than he does. I touch my chest with my fingers. The cum is beginning to turn sticky.

The water shuts off.
I expect to hear or at least sense him coming back to me, but instead I hear a drawer slide open and then closed across the room. Finally, he sits down on the bed beside me, down near my knees.

“Take off your panties,” he commands.

I guess he’s not here to help me clean off. I reach down and pull off my thong, bringing my legs up toward my chest so I can pull it over my ankles. I drop the thong onto the bed.

“Open your legs,” he says.

I dutifully spread my legs. Seconds pass with no sound from Sir. For the first time in a while, I’m feeling vulnerable and exposed. Why won’t he say something? Or do something? Waiting like this, with my most private parts spread open before him, is torture.

How long this goes on, I’m not sure. It feels like many minutes, but it’s probably only a minute or two at most. I know he’s doing this on purpose, building the suspense, and it’s
definitely working. There’s nothing going on—I’m lying here perfectly still—yet my heart rate is climbing.

Finally,
he moves, positioning himself between my legs with his knees pressed against the inside of my knees. I couldn’t close my legs now even if I wanted to.

A
low hum breaks the silence. It takes me a moment to identify the sound. I think he’s just turned on a vibrator. At least, I hope it’s a vibrator, because it could also be an electric shaver. My first guess is confirmed when he touches it to the inside of my thigh.

Sir is in no hurry. He takes his time, running the vibrator slowly up and down the inside of my right thigh and then my left. A pleasant tingling sensation begins to radiate through my groin. The feeling intensifies when he begins touching the vibrator to my wet, slippery lips.

He uses the toy like a master, coming oh so close to my clit, circling around it again and again without ever touching it. The heat inside me grows, along with a yearning for release. Sir is very patient, though—much more patient than I am. He continues rubbing the vibrator up and down the outside of my sex, covering every sensitive inch—every inch except for the one spot that’s the center of my pleasure.

When he finally presses the vibrator against my clit, pulsating waves of pleasure shoot through me.
The mounting excitement is almost more than I can stand. My hands clench the sheets as I feel my orgasm welling up inside me, a giant wave ready to crash over me. I can barely stand it. My hard fought control vanishes.

“Oh, my god!” I moan. “I’m so close… I’m going to come!”

“No you’re not,” Sir says, and just like that, he pulls the vibrator away.

What the fuck? Why did he stop? The wave that was about to carry me away begins to recede.

“Please don’t stop
,” I beg him. “Not now… please.”

He
ignores my plea and moves the vibrator to my left nipple. It feels good, but nothing like when it was pressed against my clit. A single phrase from his ad pops into my head.
Orgasm control
. Until this moment, I had no idea what that truly meant. I’ve given him control over this most intimate part of my being—and I have no fucking idea what he’s going to do with it.

He returns the vibrator to my pussy, repeating the process
all over again, stimulating every part of my sex except my swollen clit. When he finally touches the toy to my clit, the wave begins to well up inside me once again. As my excitement mounts, I press my lips together, determined to remain silent this time, to give him no clue when I’m about to come. The pleasure inside me soars to unimagined heights. Here it comes….

Sir pulls the vibrator away.

Nooooo… not again!

How does
he do it? How does he know the exact, excruciating moment to stop?

I don’t know what to do. Should I beg him again? Should I remain silent? It’s hard to think clearly when
he’s just taken me to the brink of the most intense orgasm of my life and then yanked me away from it. Maybe I should just kill him and take the vibrator for myself. The idea has some definite appeal right now.

Before I can contemplate the details of his murder, the vibrator is back on my clit, and thinking becomes even more difficult.
Once again, the wave rises up inside me as he skillfully massages my clit with the tip of the vibrator. This time, it’s not just a wave. It’s a tidal wave, an erupting volcano, a rushing hurricane—all combined into one titanic force threatening to engulf me.

This time, Sir does not stop. My orgasm explodes inside me, again and again
and again….

CHAPTER 13

Four hours later, I’m sitting at my computer, preparing to complete an assignment for a man whose face I’ve still never seen.

After I recovered from my orgasm, Sir gave me a warm, wet washcloth to clean his
cum off my face and neck. Still blindfolded, I wiped myself as carefully as I could. He was nice enough to tell me I missed a spot just beneath my ear. When I was clean, he handed me my clothes and underwear and allowed me to dress myself sitting on his bed rather than on the floor, so I guess that was a promotion of sorts. He guided me to the door, gave me my assignment, and told me not to turn around when he removed my blindfold. He kissed me hard on the lips, spun me around, and pulled off the blindfold. Just before I walked out the door—on legs that were still a bit wobbly—he told me I’d been a very good girl. Without turning around, I thanked him for everything and left.

The “very good girl” ech
oed in my head all the way home!

My assignment is to write him an email telling him my reaction to my experience, in as much detail as I can. He told me to wait at least a few hours to let things sink in before
starting my note, so I fixed myself a dinner I barely remember eating and then enjoyed a long hot bubble bath. While I soaked, I ran over my time with Sir again and again.