Intimate (5 page)

At the moment before I began to thrill, I gave Emily permission to enjoy her own orgasm, and our rhythm broke down as we both went in search of release. Emily began to push back against me, and the thrust of my hips became savage. Each crashing together of our bodies filled the air with grunts and passion-fuelled groans. Emily arrived at the abyss before me; her body wrenched and then went stiff. I kept driving myself deep inside her. She hunched her shoulders, and then gasped – did the same thing two more times – and then went very still. She was panting, tumbling down from her high and struggling to catch her breath.

I sensed the instant when I had reached the trigger of my own orgasm – that split-second of no return. Emily sensed it too. She came off the hood of the car, turned and dropped to her knees in the same movement with her mouth wide open. I threw back my head, literally saw stars – and then came hard across her tongue.

During the drive back to her apartment we talked quietly about the evening, and Emily revealed that the fantasy of a car full of men stopping and wanting to fuck her had tipped her over the edge, down into the spiral of a powerful orgasm. But she was like that as a person and as a sex partner.

Emily was a free spirit. She taught me spontaneity and in return I taught her some aspects of the BDSM lifestyle. In truth, BDSM was never for Emily. She was as keen to try breast-play as she was bondage – as enthusiastic to try a threesome as she was orgasm denial. She was a sexual thrill-seeker. The relationship was like a shooting star; a blinding flash of light followed by a slow dimming decline.

Into nothingness.

We didn’t break up, we just drifted apart. I was offered a new job with a rival business and took it, always drawn to meeting new people by the lure of the BDSM lifestyle and the search for a compatible partner. Emily went seeking her own new sexual delights. I don’t know that she ever found the utopia she was looking for. Last time I heard from her she was miserable in a marriage with children. It seemed a sad way for such a sensual woman to settle – like a sleek and beautiful wild animal trapped behind the bars of a cage.

* * *

Alright. I’ve done a lot of talking, but I have just as many questions I want to ask you as I have erotic stories to share. You see I
really
need to understand what things you find sexy. But there is one question that simply cannot wait any longer – something special I have wanted to ask you ever since we got here.

It’s important to me so I’d like you to think about your answer.

What
is
erotica to you? Have you ever asked yourself that question? Have you ever sat down and considered which single act defines erotica in your own mind?

Not sex. Erotica.

It’s something I think about a lot. Maybe it’s because of the writing I do, but I’ve thought long and hard about this question and do you know what I’ve decided?

Shuffle closer, I’m going to whisper this because, for a man, what I am about to share will probably surprise you.

Are you listening?

Okay – to me, the act of kissing a woman’s throat is the absolute definition of erotica. That single action encapsulates the essence of the concept in my mind because it contains so much – promise, anticipation, intimacy…

Have you ever had a man kiss your neck – trail his lips down along the soft tender flesh of your throat?

Of course you have, right?

But have you ever thought about it – thought in depth about how much is happening in that fleeting instant of contact?

He is close, either standing behind or in front of you, and his hands are touching your body. You’re so close that you can feel the heat of each other. Your head is thrown back, or inclined to the side, and your eyes are closed. Your mouth is open, your skin alive and tingling with a sizzle of so many sensations; the feel of his stubbled jaw, the musky man-smell of him, the soft growling sound he makes in the back of his throat…

It’s the moment where intimacy and erotica blend, and where a defining moment can lead in so many directions. It’s the sensual time before sex, and yet the tantalizing time after the spark of desire has first been ignited. It’s seductive without being graphic. It’s all about touch, taste, smell and sound – the erotic cocktail of senses needed to seduce a woman.

Try it for me.

Touch your neck lightly – as lightly as you can with the bare tips of your fingers… trail them down across your neck and throat. Imagine it’s me standing behind you, right now, holding you close. Think about the touch of your fingers being like the fire of my sensual kisses.

Can you feel it? Can you feel your skin come tingling alive?

Did your mouth open just a little?

Now slide your hand down to your breast. Imagine my fingers, gentle and exploring – touching you
the way you want to be touched
. The way you wish a man would know to touch you.

Breathe deeply.

Intimate. Erotic.

You’re such a good girl for me.

* * *

Now that we’ve met; now we’ve becoming comfortable with each other and I’m here alone with you…
are you disappointed?

Does the image of Jason Luke measure to this reality we’re sharing?

You see I’m talking to you right now in the same way I would talk in everyday life, when I’m with any other woman. There’s no passages of eloquent flowing prose, no lyrical metaphors… not even a contrived plotline or a story arc. It’s just us, and I figure that might be a let down for you.

Some people read my books because of the language – the way I describe scenes – and I realize this must be a very different reality you’re experiencing. It’s just me, uncensored and unfiltered. I actually feel unarmed – unable to hide behind character conversation and all those neat things that writers use to create a sense of atmosphere.

Instead you’ve got me, alone with you in your private place, and I figure an exotic location with a compelling hero right now might just be a lot more appealing than listening to the real me.

I hope you don’t really feel that way. I hope so far I’ve been all you expected: entertaining at least. I am enjoying our time together,
but I can’t seem to shake the vision of watching you pleasure yourself.

I said earlier that every woman has a fantasy.

Well men do too…

Touch yourself.

Do it – not because I’m commanding you, but because I’m
releasing
you – giving you permission to free yourself from inhibitions… allowing you to be yourself with me watching you.

Touch yourself because you want to, and because I want to watch you.

We’ve reached that stage now, haven’t we? I feel like I can share almost anything with you – and I want you to feel the same way. I don’t want barriers of self-consciousness to inhibit you for a moment more.

So touch yourself. Right now.

Slide your fingers down between your spread legs and let yourself relax. Draw your fingertips across the smooth skin of your inner thigh and then let them meander slowly higher. Take your time. Tease yourself. Draw out the moment for as long as you want – there’s no hurry. We’ve got plenty of time. I want you to enjoy the delicious pleasure of feeling aroused and reacting to that urge in complete privacy – in complete safety.

Because it’s just you and me alone here, and I’m watching you from the shadows. No one else will know. You have some of my secrets, and now I want to share this intimate pleasure with you. It will be something to take with me when I leave tonight. Something I can always savor and remember.

Say, ‘yes Sir.’ Whisper it as your fingers glide across the sensitive flesh of your pussy. Say ‘yes, Jason.’ 

If I could touch you right now, I’d start with your shoulders, standing very close behind you so that our bodies were brushing against each other – so that I could feel the heat of you against me.

Could you imagine that?

Could you imagine standing in a shadow struck room, maybe with just a little pale light filtering in through the windows? The house would be quiet and we would be alone. I’d appear from out of the gloom. You’d smell my aftershave first, then sense that I was nearby.

I’d reach for you, pull you back against me and then begin to caress your shoulders.

Not massage. Caress. This would be sensual, provocative… the touch of my fingers suggesting that I wanted more from you.

How would you respond?

Would you close your eyes, throw your head back and gift me the long soft tender flesh of your throat? Would your breathing hitch? And if one of my arms wrapped around your waist and drew you close to me, would that be all right?

I can hear your breathing turn husky in the back of your throat and feel little pieces of you melting.

Shhhh.

It’s okay. I want you to relax. I want you to slip into fantasy. We’re sharing this together, you and I. It’s intimacy made sensual. Go with it.

Imagine me gliding my hand slowly – very slowly – up over your body until I have one of your breasts cupped possessively.

Would you like that?

Lean against me. Sway back. It’s perfectly okay. I want to feel you closer to me, and I want to be able to draw my lips down along your throat and smell the lingering scent of your perfume, and that first musky hint of deeper feminine desire.

Our bodies would sway slowly, pressed hard against each other, moving as one. You’d sense my need and, like dancers, I’d guide you with careful touches, encouraging you towards slow simmering arousal – sensing those parts of your body that begin to catch fire and salving them with cool fingers until my hands and our bodies were moving with a will of their own.

What would make your knees go weak? That’s what I want to know.

Would it be the first passionate kiss that melts on your lips and somehow touches your soul… or would it be the hungry look in my eyes; that look that says I want to devour you?

Let yourself go.

I’ve got you…

* * *

I’ve always favored orgasm control as a way to discipline and punish submissives. I’ve never leaned towards the more corporal aspects of the lifestyle’s punishment regimes. In fact, if
you
came to me for personal training, I’d control your orgasms as a way of instilling obedience in you to follow my every command.

How would you handle that, do you think?

Does the thought of submitting yourself for training by a Master arouse you?

Could you imagine what it might be like?

Whilst I don’t live the lifestyle anymore,
and I haven’t for quite some time,
I admit there are still moments in my life when I miss the interplay and dynamic that stems from a BDSM relationship.

Let’s explore this, you and I. Let’s have a quiet little discussion about why so many women find the idea of submitting sexually to a man appealing. I’d like to know your thoughts. I’d like to get a better understanding of what makes a woman want to submit and surrender her body willingly to a man.

What do you think? Is the fascination born from boredom with a man who is an inept lover… or is it some deeper sensory instinct – an urge to simply feel more feminine, more desired in the bedroom?

Is submission something you have ever actively considered…
has the idea ever crept into your sexual fantasies?

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to surrender your mind, body and soul to a man?

You would look so very pretty wearing a collar.

Do you know that? Well you would.

Not anything bulky; nothing brash or overstated, that just wouldn’t suit you, and I doubt it’s your style any more than it is mine. No, for you the collar I’d select would be something very elegant – a piece that stated simply that you were owned… something you could wear every day and night as a secret reminder.

I do apologize if I am being too confronting. I have a habit of doing that, you know, so please forgive me. I tend to ask very direct and sometimes personal questions. I don’t mean to – I simply have a genuine curiosity about other people and I rarely have the time for idle chatter, so my questions tend to be pointed – probing.

You don’t have to say anything. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, not when we have spent such a lovely time in each other’s company. I don’t want to ruin this time by making you feel awkward.

Well… okay, maybe I want you to feel a
little
awkward. I mean that’s a good thing right? You know you are alive when you’re taken just a little ways outside of your comfort zone.

It
is
a good thing.

So go with it…

* * *

Not all of my stories I want to share with you are about women I had sex with… although they are all about women… and sex…

You see there was this one woman I met named Karen. I never had sex with her, but we did have a frank and animated conversation – the kind of chat that anyone overhearing would have felt uncomfortable listening to.