Going Dutch Ch. 06: Edge

We hold hands as we walk, before Saskia pulls herself free so that he can wrap her whole arm around my body. She looks up, connecting with me not just with her eyes or her body, but also with her heart and soul. In an intense and intimate moment. She stops walking, turns to face me, and wraps me up. Her six-pack is pressed against mine, her hard nipples poke into my body.

We remain locked in that position for some time, our lips millimetres from each other, breathing each other in, watching each other intensely. Saskia is a multi-faceted character, on the one hand an incredibly gifted rower, on the other a real social lite. But then also comfortable in her own company, or with me when we are together. She's also frighteningly smart and has an easy self-confidence that comes from perpetually winning at life. Not that she is arrogant. On the contrary whilst she is gregarious, she's also humble and doesn't big herself up by putting others down. Rather she wins people over by her infectious enthusiasm and beauty.

It was only after we'd been dating for a year that I found out that she's the only daughter of very wealthy, well-connected parents who mingle with the crème de la crème of Dutch society. Think about links to royalty or a brewing empire and that's where Saskia's roots lie. She likes me because when I met her, I took her at face value. Her surname immediately gives away her aristocratic roots to those in the know, but as a foreigner I wasn't aware of her grandiose upbringing.

Looking back, there were clearly some clues to who she was; most students don't live in 200m2 loft apartments in the historic centre of Amsterdam, for example. Technically she was telling me the truth when she told me she was house-sitting. But the reality, I later found out, was that the whole building and not just the apartment was owned by the family business.

I also remember when the women's boat needed repair work after a crash. In elite rowing, what would normally happen is that the repaired boat would be sold on since repairs weaken the boat and slow it down. But the club didn't have money for this, so the women were expected to continue to use that boat. A week after the crash money was pledged from a large corporate sponsor for a new boat for the elite women's crew, and when it arrived it had the sponsor's name on it; a large brewing company.

When I asked Saskia about her parents, she was always a bit vague, saying that they lived in another part of Amsterdam. All of that changed one Saturday morning. We had been out rowing and were cycling back from the boat house with pangs of hunger. We stopped at "Holtkamp" on the way home - an excellent and well-known patisserie a couple of minutes cycle from the apartment. We were deciding what to have when a person I later found out was Saskia's mother walked into the shop.

Saskia's mum Lotte was the spit of her daughter. She had aged, clearly, but then in the same way that a fine wine does; the youthful exuberance had been replaced by something richer and smoother. We were bent over, peering into the glass display cabinets when she saw us. She yelled "Saskia!" at the top of her voice.

Saskia smiled, and kissed her but in a way that appeared to be stiffer and more formal than I had expected. Something about Saskia's body language suggested that I wasn't going to be introduced. Indeed, there was something in the way that Saskia stepped in front of me as we chatted that suggested that she was trying to write me out of the conversation As we cycled back the short distance to Saskia's apartment, I asked who she'd been speaking to.

"My mum," came Saskia's curt reply.

I knew Saskia well enough to realise that she didn't want to speak about the meeting, so I said nothing as we cycled the short distance down the Vijselstraat before turning left onto the Keizersgracht.

As we parked our bikes Saskia ventured "We've been invited to lunch today, and we have to go. My parents want to meet you."

The cold, blandness of her language was a great contrast to the Saskia I know I love. It felt like we'd been lumbered with an unsavoury task. Rather than enquiring further, I let Saskia take the lead on how we move things forward.

As we entered her apartment, I grabbed Saskia with one hand, spinning her round so I could grab the other.

"Hey, it's going to be fine," I reassured Saskia. "Let's make the most of the morning and then lunch will be a breeze."

"Sure," she said, "let's."

Saskia ran a bath as I put the cakes on a plate, made coffee and then padded into the bathroom, discarding my clothes on the way. Saskia was already in the bath enrobed by foam when I arrived. We sat there in silence, eating. I attempt to create some spontaneous fun by feeding Saskia, but it didn't work, nor did it improve her mood. She seemed distracted and distanced.

After 20 minutes of silence, Saskia got out, leaving me to finish the cakes and luxuriate in the bath. The warm bubbles and the cakes were soporific, so lay back and enjoyed feeling by body relax after a hard training session.

"Nicky! Nicky!"

The sound of my name being called pulled me out of a light snooze; I sat up in the bath.

"Nicky, come here!" I heard.

I got out the bath, wrapping a towel around myself and padded into the bedroom to find Saskia lying naked in bed half covered by a sheet. Her face was puffy I slid into bed beside her and simply hugged her without saying a word since I realised what she'd been doing. When Saskia has unmet needs, she often masturbates herself to orgasm. It gives her release and the pleasure is a distraction from whatever is upsetting her.

As I lay there hugging her, I heard a gentle buzz coming from under the sheet and I realised that she was playing with one of her vibrators. The first time I saw her doing this, I felt threatened. But over time I fell in love with her orgasms. They are a delicious and incredibly sensuous experience for me as well as her. It connects us deeply and we play with the energy it creates as individuals and as a couple.

Lying beside her, I could feel her breathing change, and sensed pulses of pleasure reverberate around her body as she stimulated her clitoris. I watched as her eyes closed tightly; she pants as the feeling inside her grow. Whilst watching Saskia come makes me hard, the overwhelming emotion is one of deep connection. I see her at her most magnificent and at her most vulnerable. She trusts me enough to let me in on something deeply personal. When she touches herself like that, it's not done as an act of foreplay, although it can lead to sex, but rather it is an act of self-soothing. It deepens our feelings for each other. It makes Saskia feel safe and accepted.

I hold her tightly as her muscles clench, the outline of her legs which are spread wide, are visible under the sheet. He face is a picture of concentration as she starts to reach her peak. Her cheeks flush and her lips open as she focusses on the sensations. One hand is clutching her vibrator which is pushed hard against her body. The other hand is jerking up and down as she finger fucks herself.

A look of relief, tinged with pure lust cuts across her face. I squeeze her tight, my hard cock lying against my body, as the first waves of orgasm wash over her. She's panting, as her lungs suck in the oxygen needed to sustain her arousal. She's starting to cry out. Her hand has moved, her fingers repositioned so that she can finger fuck her bum and pussy at the same time; her holy trinity is complete.

Then she cries out more -- in pain, pleasure, release and frustration. All those emotions and more are writ large in the sounds she makes as she vocalises her feelings. Her arm is pumping frantically as the orgasm builds, her digits deep inside her whilst the vibrator dances on her clit.

Her legs shake as the orgasm builds, her head arches back, her muscles tense as she cries out. I watch as she reaches her peak and then hold her close as she starts to relax and cuddle close to me. The vibrating stops and her hands relax.

Whilst she often sleeps after she's sated herself, on this occasion it's clear she's not done. She yanks open the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. She looks at me longingly as she clicks the first shackle shut on her wrist. Then she rolls over and places her hands behind her back expectantly. I know what I need to do, but this is the first time that I have been asked to be dominant partner. Saskia has taught me everything I know about BDSM, but up until now, she has always cuffed me to the bed before taking me.

My dick is as hard as hell, buoyed no doubt by a couple of hours of intensive rowing, a huge portion of sugar-filled pastries, and from watching my beautiful girl cum beside me. Before I met Saskia, I had never tried BDSM, but she had given me a taste for it. I kiss her sweetly as I take her other hand and capture her second wrist, snapping the cuffs closed over her wrist as my tongue slides down her neck.

I know what she needs. Our bondage play is never rough or hurtful. Rather we enjoy conscious kink. What happened this morning in the patisserie unsettled her. This required her to undertake some self-soothing with her vibrator. What she needs now is to feel safe -- to feel that someone more powerful than her has taken over control of the situation. I give this to her with the handcuffs: she's lying naked and vulnerable on her front, legs open and with her hands cuffed behind her back. She's handed control of the situation to me and is able to relax herself as a result.

I straddle her, my hard dick resting up her back. This part of the game needs to be non-sexual so I lean forward to massage her. I know where her muscle knots are, where she likes to be touched, and I have mastered her erogenous zones.

My hands trace their way up her spine, I take care to massage the muscles around each side of her vertebrae, moving slowly up to her neck. This part of her anatomy will be tired from rowing, and I know that Saskia will feel the relief as I ply her. I work around her hands, which are cuffed together behind her back, stopping briefly to massage her palms and fingers.

Leaning forward, I kiss round the nape of her neck, and see the little shivers of enjoyment that I expect. My hands wander across her shoulders, kneading out the work that she did in the boat today. I alternate between the hard strokes of a sports masseur and the tender, sensual touch of a connected lover. I know I am deft at both types of massage and choose to mix them knowing it will frustrate her deliciously.

Sure enough I feel her squirm under my touch. Just as she is getting used to having her shoulder muscles squeezed hard, I switch to some very light and sensual touches, using only my fingertips. I keep my mouth millimetres from her neck, knowing she will sense that I am there and will want to feel me stimulate her with my lips. Her body arches, her head raising as she seeks the familiarity and comfort of my lips. I smell her pussy and know that as I massage her, she will be starting to leak girl juice. Whilst I would love to slide my hand down there to confirm what I already know, I want to leave her unsatisfied since I know this means she will be forced to cede ever more control to me. I know that this is what she needs.

I change position so I am kneeling beside her body. This allows my right hand to massage her neck and upper back, whilst the other hand massages her thighs. I feel energy there, so move again so that I am kneeling between her open legs. Here I can massage her more intimately, starting with her calf muscles and moving upwards across her knees then to her inner upper thigh.

She is breathless with anticipation as I play her, giving her just enough stimulation to feel excited, but nowhere near enough to satisfy. As I touch her, she squirms, mainly because I am connecting to her everywhere apart from where she wants it. As she wriggles, I notice her fucking the matrass, trying to find some relief by rubbing herself against it. Seeing what she's up to, I push her legs further apart to stop it. In response I see her hands sliding back and forth in the cuffs, looking for any sort of touch, hoping that in the absence of anything else, the sharp metal will provide some meagre level of comfort.

I know that she wants to be fucked. But we both know that that if she states her need, this will be the one thing that she will be denied, so she remains silent. I move up to her head, licking her nape, running my tongue up her ear as she gasps for breath.

"Do you want fucking?" I whisper in her ear.

Of course, it is obvious that she needs cock in her, but we both know that to say so would mean that it is the last thing she get. She says nothing, instead turning her head to plead at me with her eyes.

I move down again and lay my hands on her butt cheeks and massage her buttocks. Starting in the middle, I move my hands in small circular motions across her bum, movements which get bigger with every loop. I alternate between softer and harder strokes, pressing into her arse muscles with my thumbs, then circling round and repeating.

As the circles grow, I use my thumbs to spread her cheeks apart. I can see her dripping wet pussy and bum hole. With each cycle I hold her open for my viewing pleasure. Each time she's spread, she pushes upward, hoping that something connects with her, Be it a finger, a thumb, the tip of my tongue or my cock. But each time she offers her sex to me, I hold back. She's moaning into the matrass with pleasure and frustration as I tease her.

Then I bring my head down so my mouth is almost in contact with her crack and blow out gently and slowly. The warm air stimulates her moist pussy and sensitive anus and she squirms some more. Then with the next circle of my hands, I allow my thumbs to brush her labia before moving up across her bum then back around again. The smell of her soaking wet slit gets me massively worked up and it takes significant self-control to not simply fuck her hard. I circle again, this time avoiding her labia, then circle back once again and let my thumbs slide across her lips. She shivers, her constant panting a sign that she's enjoying my attention.

As I circle my hands around again, I keep my thumbs in her butt crack, prising them apart and leaving her exposed. I lick her anus gently with my tongue, allowing the briefest and lightest contact as I circle round her opening. The moaning is louder now and more urgent, she squirms against her restraint, the feeling of the metal digging into her skin giving her some slight relief from my teasing.

I decide to intensify her pleasure, sliding a finger between her pussy lips. Although I know that she is massively turned on, I am surprised by just how wet she is. I run a feather light touch along her slit, starting at her peritoneum and working slowly down to her clit.

I feel Saskia writhe and wriggle on the bed. She pants hard, moaning and writhing under my touch, signalling that she is close to coming. I ease off the stimulation, withdraw my hand from her slit, and I remove my tongue from the crevice of her bum. I go back to rubbing her bum cheeks, before my hands wander up to the cuffs. I hold them in one hand, whilst my other traces a line across her back dimples.

She's done this to me on many occasions before -- edged me to orgasm and then backed off. I have spent many a deliciously frustrating hour in cuffs whilst Saskia played with me, so for me this is time for some sweet revenge. As her breathing subsides, I go through the ritual again, circling her butt, letting my fingers and thumbs slide across her labia and anus, before rubbing her slit and clit whilst I lick her. As she again approaches orgasm, I ease off, holding her as close to the edge as I dare whilst denying her the pleasure of relief.

This little game is repeated several more times, and with each iteration Saskia gets more frustrated and louder. She's dripping and so wet that a dark patch has appeared on the sheets under her pussy. This time, before I withdraw the pleasure, I slide my ring and second finger into her and then offer my hand to her mouth.

"Do you need fucking?" I whisper into her ear. The voice of the attentive, loving boyfriend is almost mocking in its intensity.

Rather than answer, she pushes her tongue out, attempting to lick her juice off my fingers. As her tongue connects, I withdraw my hand and plunge my sticky fingers in my mouth, moaning to signal to her how nice she tastes.

I cycle through another round of stimulation, but this time spread her butt cheeks further so that I can probe her hole one again with my tongue. I'm rewarded by her moans and sighs as I lick around the opening. Once again, I slide fingers into her pussy, this time focussing on her g-spot. I feel the slight roughness of the area and delicately stimulate it whilst I lick her bum. I know that this will make her come quickly, so once again withdraw my fingers. I move up to her head, lying beside her and planting kisses on her forehead before presenting my juice-slicked fingers to her once again.

I ask her if she needs fucking once more. She refuses to answer, instead reaching out to taste my fingers. I smile at her, repeating what I did before by sliding my fingers into my own mouth. I feel a jolt of pleasure both at the delicious taste of her cunt, and from knowing that I have denied her something she wants. I reach forward and gently kiss her, playing my tongue briefly across her lips so that she can get a sense of what she's just missed.

I then look up and look at the clock -- it's 12.15 and we were invited to lunch for 13.00. Between now and then we need to make ourselves decent and cycle across to her parents' house -- I have no idea where it is since Saskia hasn't told me. I decide that rather than finger her to orgasm, it would be much better fun to leave Saskia unsated. I kiss her on the forehead and then return to her nether regions. This time rather than massaging her I kneel between her legs and slide my cock up and down her soaking slit.

Saskia moans with pleasure, thinking that the frustration and energy that has been building over the hour will be released. I ease my cock forwards, allowing it rest between her labia right at the entrance to her vagina before sliding into her. Saskia gasps loudly as I begin to enter her, but I stop when I am just a few millimetres inside. I withdraw and am rewarded by a pained cry from my lover.

I then move my cock so it is resting on her bum hole. Saskia relaxes, thinking she's got the measure of me and that she's going to be butt fucked instead. She rocks her hips to-and-fro in anticipation of being penetrated and calls out, desperately asking me to fuck her arse.

I press my cock down, and slide forward, feeling her hole give way to my throbbing member and feel Saskia tense with anticipation. But once again, having gained the slightest of entries, I withdraw, much to Saskia's frustration.

I then move forward and lie beside her, my mouth by her ear.

"Saskia, I know you want to be fucked, but in life you don't always get what you want."

I reach to the night stand, take out the handcuff keys and release Saskia from her bondage. She looks pained, angered even that the sex bubble we created has been burst.

"We need to go, sweetie, or we'll be late for your parents," I say in explanation as I hop off the bed and trace my way back to where I'd earlier removed my clothes.

"Fuck! You fucker! I fucking hate you!" she calls after me. Saskia is clearly not amused by my game but has been left frustrated by my antics in the most deliciously dirty and erotic way possible.

I pull my clothes back on and then wait for Saskia in the kitchen, staring out across the Keisersgracht and remembering our first night of passion together. I look down to see a black gull-winged Tesla pull up, parking outside the apartment.