How I Took Him to Bed in My Head

I stood before him, trembling and vulnerable, in the heat of his gaze. Seated in the chair facing my bed, he bade me with a nod, to strip for him, slow and languid. At first, my fine lace top, reaching down then pulling it over my head, only to discard it on the floor. He met my gaze, then allowed his eyes to traverse my body, a closed mouth smile of approval, the white lace bra, my now naked and lightly tanned midriff. Continue. I undid the belt around my hips, pulling it free of the loops of my jeans. He reached out his hand, a silent command to hand it to him, and he gestured me to turn and bend over. The belt slapped hard against my arse, a sting, that made my eyes water, just to remind me who was the master here.

He then placed the belt beside him. Continue. I reached round to unclasp my bra and self-consciously let it too fall to the floor. My long nipples were erect, chilled by the suspense, their naked vulnerability. He gazed at them for some time, licking his lips; I read his mind, my pussy wet. His excitement, visible, his beautiful phallus butting hard up against the constraints of his pants and he reaches down to stroke it as he once again bides me. Continue. I unzip my hip hugging jeans, and wiggle free of them. His eyebrows arch in surprise, no panties! I am naked. Quivering in the cold and the heat of the moment.

One hand on his cock, he gestures me to the bed.

We know the rules of engagement in this game. He cannot touch me, I can't touch him.

My back feels the cool of the satin sheets and I gaze down the length of my naked body, my legs, bent up, raised and parted frame him in my sight, looking at the most secret part of me, open only to him, as he unzips to release his huge potent manhood.

I hug myself gently to begin, to acknowledge self, to know that I do this as much for the love of me, as I do for the lust of this beautiful exotic man. Gently my fingers run down my own arms, the skin soft beneath and then trail across my sensitive stomach, alternating finger tips, finger nails and I try to imagine them somehow larger, harder, "his hands", massaging my belly, one finger tip, an imagined tongue weaves circles around my belly button until it reaches the centre. Then up up the flat of palms to my breasts, my back involuntarily arching, my body greedy for the touch, I hold them one in each hand, feel their weight and then squeeze them, again the imagined tongue traces the circle of each moving in ever decreasing concentric circles, nipples demand attention. I lightly graze them, not enough! I squeeze them, not enough! I start to tug on them, imagining the force of his suckling, and I pull on them hard! In my head he is biting them, hard! Then mollifies them with the gentleness of lips, another "bite", another "kiss".

My pussy stirs, hips lifting, and his gaze has not yet faltered, nor his own stroking of his now glistening member. And for a moment I pause to meet his eye, his desire palpable, golden sparks amongst the velvety brown.

My hands, "His hands", trail slowly back down my torso to my upper thighs and then inward and upward.

One finger "his tongue" traverses a line up the valley of my pussy, wet and damp and I bring it to my mouth, to languish in the taste of myself and I watch him lick his own lips, trying to imagine that taste of the essential me. So hungry he is, so desirous of that taste on his lips. The rhythm of his own self-love increases with his mounting desire.

Gently I part my own lips to show him, how wet and swollen I truly am, so open for the wanting of him. I flicker my finger against my clit, again "his tongue", and my hips buck wanting more, wanting him, harder and deeper. Slow circles, massaging my clit harder and harder, faster and faster, with the other hand I slide my fingers into me, so wet so soft, I part one finger, now two, and I wish they were longer, thicker more like his own.

I am only my clit. I am only the deep void. I reach now for the vibrator I had placed early in anticipation of this moment, when I am no longer enough for my own pleasure. I place its buzzing tip on my clit and tiny tremors spread outwards, each muscle vibrating to its tune. I press it harder and I groan, my desire for climax now audible and visible.

I feel it building now and I am too far-gone in my self-reverie to stop it. And I throw myself onto my stomach, giving him the view of the rise and fall of my rounds buttocks. My lips wrap around the vibrator placed between my bed and my pussy and I imagine him on his back, me sliding my clit up and down the shaft of his beautiful throbbing cock, from base to the head where just the slightest movement, would impale me, then back down, each movement a little harder than the previous.

Seconds away from crescendo and I mount my clit along the vibrators shaft one last time, I scream in my coming and at last allow myself to swallow the phallus deep within, the spasms gripping it hard in waves, it has entered me as I come, groaning, whimpering his name over and over in ecstasy.