I’m no virgin, not by any stretch, but hell, I’ve never felt anything even remotely like this. Never even imagined it could be like this.
His mouth lifts from mine and I cry out as my body spasms around his hard length, accepting, reveling in this glorious new sensation, this intimate, powerful connection between us. What he’s showing me, sharing with me. The secret he’s letting me in on. I stretch my hands above my head, my fingers clutching at the fleece of the sheepskin rug. Tom’s hands follow mine. He threads his fingers through mine to hold me in place while he deepens his thrusts, pounding into me even harder, his tempo picking up, hitting that wonderful, sensual spot deep inside me with every stroke.
I arch upwards, beyond coherent thought again as I feel my climax start to build. Now taking both my hands in one of his, Tom slides his other hand between us to stroke my clit, first circling the sensitive nub as he did before—his touch light as he traces it softly. Then he slides his gentle fingers through my wet, slick lips before firming his touch. Now he takes my clit and rolls it firmly between his fingers, heightening my pleasure beyond all imagining. I might have screamed. I’m sure someone did. Then I shatter, the fireworks behind my eyes detonating as I spiral off into my own personal pyrotechnic starburst. My body arches, and I scream again as Tom takes my nipple in his mouth, sucking hard. Bolts of lightning shoot from my nipple to my groin, my whole body crackling, electrically charged, pulsing as my orgasm grips me, carries me away. I’m airborne, spinning, falling again, but this time I know my joy is shared.
Tom is tensing, his thrusts more forceful, his own orgasm gathering. A brief moment of respite before I feel the crackling, pulsating pressure grip me again, My pussy clenches once more before the sensation bursts, explodes and I’m spiraling away, helpless, overjoyed, overwhelmed. And this time Tom’s right there with me, his own shout forced from his mouth as his release grips and takes him. I feel his cock jerk inside me as his semen pumps out, its warmth caressing my cervix as he falls forward, his weight momentarily on me before he rolls quickly to the side, taking me with him.
Breathless, we’re silent for a moment, drinking in the wonder of what just happened. Drowning in it. Tom shifts slightly to pull me on top of him and I realize he’s still inside me. He nuzzles my ear, then the sensitive skin below it. He slides his strong, firm hands down my back to cup my bottom, holding me in place when I might have moved.
“Christ, Ashley, that was worth the wait.” His muffled words are dropped into my ear as he flexes under me, as though readying himself for another round. Instead, though, he gently lifts me away from him, separating us and carefully setting me down alongside him, face down in the fleece. I watch him over my shoulder as he swiftly removes the condom and ties it tightly, slinging it carelessly into the hearth to be disposed of later. He turns back to me and lifts me easily in his arms, pulls me again up, over his chest to lie there, draped listlessly across him, thoroughly sated, thoroughly fucked.
He enfolds me in his arms, sinks his fingers into my hair to caress the back of my head, the nape of my neck. He drops his other hand to my bottom again, easily reaching, to slide intimately along the seam between my buttocks. My legs drift apart and he teases me as he feathers his touch around my entrance once more.
Oh God, will I ever get enough of this?
I moan, and he chuckles. “I’m guessing you like this, sweet Ashley?” I nod against his chest, wriggling and writhing as though to catch his fingers and ease them into me again.
Please.
“Happy to oblige, baby,” he murmurs, understanding my need as he reaches farther, sliding his fingers into me once more. First one, then two, and I can only shiver, tensing in anticipation as my body responds again. Tom shifts, rolls to his side, and I find myself on all fours, him curled around and behind me, my bottom at his eye level. Christ, what a view he must have but I find I don’t care. He was right about passion driving out all modesty. I spread my legs instead, past any shred of shyness now as he purposefully slides his fingers deep inside me, them pulls them out to rim the lips of my pussy before plunging back in.
This is for me, just for me, all for me, and the sweet generous gift is almost more beautiful than the pleasure curling through me. I tense, instinctively seeking more pressure, and he provides it with a third finger, angling his hand so his thumb is against my clit. He rubs softly, and I start to come. He increases the pressure, and the fireworks are off again as I clench around him, moaning and thrashing my head from side to side. I hear the tear of foil and snap of rubber, and even before my orgasm has died he’s withdrawn his fingers and he’s sliding back inside me from behind. My sigh of welcome is all the encouragement he needs. There’s no pain this time, no fearful tensing. I just relax under him, his hands holding my hips steady as he eases inside me, slowly withdrawing and sliding home again. He thrusts purposefully, the friction just right, and I move my hips instinctively in tune with the rhythm he’s setting. The first urgent rush of desire and need spent, this time is unhurried, easy, long and slow. I rest my forearms on the rug, my bottom held high and my legs widely spread for him to access all of me. And I sink into a heady, pre-orgasmic haze of pleasure, the result of being so beautifully, skillfully and thoroughly fucked.
Chapter Fifteen
“Lamb casserole all right?”
I’m seated at the kitchen table, my legs tucked under me, slightly sore but in a good way, wearing only Tom’s discarded shirt. He’s just pulled on his jeans, commando-style, and he’s now fishing about in his huge chest freezer for something for us to eat. The two border collies are milling around, watching with optimistic interest.
“I should really have fed you first. Food before fucking, I’m sure that’s the rule. What must you think of my manners?” He’s grinning as he returns from the utility room with a large square dish wrapped in cling film. I suspect another sample of Mrs Richardson’s home cooking may be my next unexpected treat in what is turning out to be an absolutely wonderful day.
I laugh. Really laugh, and note with some surprise that it’s the first time I’ve actually laughed out loud in a long time. Tom glances sharply at me, his grin widening. Maybe he’s noticed too. I think so. He passes behind me, stopping to drop a kiss on the top of my head and slide a cheeky freezing hand down the front of my/his shirt. I shriek and start to struggle but he holds me firmly in place with his other hand on my shoulder while he warms his cold hand on my breast before lightly squeezing my nipple. Only when I’m relaxed and acquiescent does he straighten, slide his hand out. “I know some tricks with ice lollies we could try later. We’ll have those for pudding.” And without warning, I’m laughing out loud again.
The casserole is wonderful, naturally. I’m thinking the pudding could be even better.
* * * *
After we’ve eaten, Tom slings Jess and Fly out into the yard before piling cushions from the lounge on the table. I watch nervously, wondering what might be coming—apart from me. Tom sits alongside me, taking my hands in his.
“Will you let me tie your hands, blindfold you and lay you on the table? Your legs’ll be spread wide, obviously. You’ll still be able to move, but your hands will be behind your back. You won’t be able to see what I’m doing, but that makes it feel more—intense. I won’t do anything to hurt you, you have my promise. Do you trust me, Ashley?”
I hesitate, not sure where this might lead. He senses my unease. “It’s okay to say no, love. We can still do what I have in mind for you, and it’ll still be good, I promise. But I do genuinely believe you won’t regret doing it my way. And I’ll give you a safe word. You won’t need it, but it gives you control. So, are you game for a little adventure, Ashley?”
His hands are still holding both of mine. I look down at them, at the long, skillful fingers that have already brought me more pleasure than I could have imagined in my wildest dreams. I can’t imagine them hurting me. I realize I
do
trust this man. If he says he won’t hurt me, then I guess it’s true. Pushing my inhibitions and boundaries, though, now that’s entirely another matter. I’m not ready to submit to him totally, maybe I never will be, but I do want to try a little sexual adventure and it feels safe with Tom. Pretty much. I take a deep breath, and nod my consent.
With a smile he gets up, goes over to the oak dresser and comes back with two soft black silk scarves. Prepared as ever, I can’t help thinking. Ex-Boy Scout probably. He obviously planned this, hoping I’d agree. And I have. He lifts me up and I’m sitting on the edge of the table, my bare legs dangling. I’m still wearing his shirt and nothing else. Without breaking eye contact he slowly unbuttons the shirt and slides it from my shoulders. He stands back to admire my naked form. His slight smile is appreciative, and I feel beautiful. And cared for as he gently pulls my hands behind me, then leans around me to tie them securely with one of the scarves, looping it around my wrists so I have no movement, but without causing discomfort. It feels strange, alien, but not unpleasant.
“Is that okay? Not too tight?”
“It’s fine,” I whisper. He takes my face between both his palms and drops a kiss on my lips. I realize I’m already wet, my clitoris swelling and throbbing, and he hasn’t even touched me. Ah, the power of the mind, the irresistible tug of anticipation…
“Your safe word, Ashley. You can choose. Is there a word or phrase that means safety to you?”
“Smithy’s Forge,” I answer, without hesitation. It sprang instantly to my mind.
His eyebrows lift in surprise, but he nods. “That’ll be fine. If at any time you’ve had enough and you want me to stop, untie you, take off the blindfold, you just say your safe word and we’re done. You can stop what’s happening at any time. Do you understand?”
“Yes, but can’t I just say ‘stop’? Wouldn’t that be simpler? I might forget the safe word.”
He stands in front of me, takes my face in his hands again to look at me. His eyes are gentle, but serious too. His tone low as he explains. “When things get heavy or intense, people often say things like ‘stop’, ‘no’, ‘I can’t’, but they don’t mean it. They usually mean just the opposite, in fact. With a safe word there’s no mistake, no misunderstanding. I won’t ignore you and carry on, thinking you don’t mean what you say. Your safe word breaks into whatever’s happening, whatever I’m doing to you, and stops everything, instantly, no questions. And I’ll keep reminding you of it so you won’t forget.” He pauses for a moment, before adding, “You
will
be safe with me, Ashley.”
I believe him, but don’t answer. I’m lost for words. Instead, I give voice to another small fear of mine. It’s not a big thing, but… “When you blindfold me, don’t go away and leave me, will you? I don’t like the dark much. Don’t leave me on my own.”
“I’ll be here the whole time, Ashley. And because you’re new to this, and nervous, this first time I’ll tell you what’s happening, what I’m doing. If you want me to. Or not. It’s up to you.”
I nod, close my eyes, and wait for the blindfold.
Tom carefully covers my eyes and ties the soft scarf at the back of my head before dropping a quick kiss on my mouth. “Lie back, sweetheart. On the cushions.” With his hands on my shoulders he gently presses me backwards until I am lying on my back, comfortable and warm on the pile of cushions. I feel disorientated for a moment, vulnerable, but a light stroke of his hand across my breasts and a tender caress of my swollen nipples is enough to reassure me I am safe. And, I suspect, about to have a seriously good time.
He lifts my bottom up to slide more cushions under me before lifting each of my feet in turn to place them on the edge of the table. I hear the scrape of a chair and know he’s taken a seat close to my feet. Between my legs. Sure enough, a moment later his hands are on my knees, gently but firmly spreading them, putting me on display. At his eye level.
With some considerable conscious effort I don’t resist. Instead I lie still, conscious of his eyes on me, my pussy moist and swollen, and throbbing for him to touch me again. I allow him to look, to inspect me to his satisfaction, to know every delicate fold and sensitive lip.
“Now who’s staring?” I remind him of his comment to me earlier, when he removed his shirt.
“Not staring, love. Admiring. Wonderstruck. You’re so beautiful, so perfect.” The now-familiar clenching in my lower abdomen starts up again at his softly murmured words, the wetness gathering, flowing before his eyes. He notices. “You’re so wet, pink and glistening. For me. Do you want me to touch you, Ashley? To taste you?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes, please.”
His hands are on my inner thighs, sliding down to my core. His fingers resting in the slight hollow at the top of my legs, his thumbs—I think it must be his thumbs—gently caress the entrance to my pussy. He opens the delicate, swollen lips, softly stretching them. I jerk, gasp with pleasure.
“What? What are you doing?”
“I’m opening you, love. Am I hurting you?”
“No. It feels wonderful.”
“Good. And this?”
I can’t contain the squeal of pure pleasure as he slides his tongue, rough and rasping, across the outer lips of my pussy before plunging deep between the lips he has spread with his thumbs. Incredibly, it is better that my hands are restrained and my eyes covered. All my senses are focused on this. On what he’s doing to me and the wonderful, intense ripples of pleasure shooting through me. I give myself over to him, to this, completely. Relaxing against the cushions I moan softly, my head thrashing from side to side as he tongue-fucks me. I accept it, take it, love it.