satisfied with the spontaneous combustion of our physical attraction. That alone had sustained us. Now I decided it was time to introduce a new aspect to our encounters.
I cupped my hand under Christine’s chin, lifting her eyes to mine and told her that submission was about willing surrender. I told her that she should leave her personal problems with her clothes at the front door. I told her that our time together was not for anything other than my pleasure and that her pleasure should be derived from satisfying me. Then I told her that good girls were rewarded with orgasms and bad girls went home with an empty feeling of frustration.
She told me she wanted to be a good girl in the baddest possible way. I didn’t understand that to be truthful but it sounded kinda cool. It also sounded – for the very first time – like something that seemed real . Passionate. There was no acting. Her words were genuine. In that instant I realized that the role-play, which had characterized Christine’s submissive poses, suddenly burned away like a morning mist and she became submissive. The look in her eyes changed. The vacant distance of her gaze blossomed into something soulful.
I took Christine again on the kitchen floor on her hands and knees with her perfect ass high in the air. She looked at me from over her shoulder. Her breasts had spilled free from the cups of her bra. Her nipples were hard and pointed. She balanced on one arm and reached behind herself to stroke her hand along the moistening slit of her pussy as if in invitation. For a moment I watched her touch her fingers to her clit, then provocatively open herself up to my gaze, wide and wet. Her hair hung in a long blonde cascade over her shoulder, almost brushing the floor tiles, and the look in her eyes became smoldering.
She touched at her lips with the tip of her tongue and then her hand on her pussy caressed the cheek of her ass. She shifted her weight a little, changed the tilt of her hip, and her hand reached down again to her pussy, rubbing herself in long slow strokes.
I stayed on my feet with my legs spaced wide apart behind her. Christine planted the palms of her hands on the floor and raised her hips up to meet me. I slid deep inside her and the air came from her lungs in a deep sigh that was significant. Her head turned to the side, and we made eye contact. She began to gasp softly as I started thrusting inside her with long, slow, measured strokes. I was rocking my whole body, swinging forward and bending at the knees, with one hand clutching at the kitchen counter to maintain my balance and to add weight to each thrust. I filled her completely and Christine melted into a long throaty groan that was raw with desire.
After several minutes I could feel the first far away tingles of my orgasm. I dropped down onto my knees and Christine lowered her body so that her elbows were on the ground, her fingers splayed wide on the tiles as if to give her purchase. The tendrils of her hair swept the ground with every rock of her body and her firm milky-white breasts swayed. I had one hand in the small of her arched back and she began to meet the beat of my thrusts – but in a way that was quite different to our previous sexual encounters. Now she was matching my rhythm as if to maximize the pleasurable sensations from her pussy rather than meeting each thrust to speed herself to orgasm. Something had changed, ignited by the tone of my voice and my attitude. Christine was giving herself wholly to me.
Her rocking became more determined. She took one of her fingers and sucked the tip into her mouth. My hands slid up around her waist and clamped around her body. Her skin felt warm and tingling.
Her enthusiasm drove me quickly to the edge of orgasm. Christine seemed to sense my rising urgency. She reached back to strum her fingers across her clit. The air was filled with the sounds and scents of sex.
On the very brink of exploding I withdrew myself from her pussy
I cupped my hand under Christine’s chin, lifting her eyes to mine and told her that submission was about willing surrender. I told her that she should leave her personal problems with her clothes at the front door. I told her that our time together was not for anything other than my pleasure and that her pleasure should be derived from satisfying me. Then I told her that good girls were rewarded with orgasms and bad girls went home with an empty feeling of frustration.
She told me she wanted to be a good girl in the baddest possible way. I didn’t understand that to be truthful but it sounded kinda cool. It also sounded – for the very first time – like something that seemed real . Passionate. There was no acting. Her words were genuine. In that instant I realized that the role-play, which had characterized Christine’s submissive poses, suddenly burned away like a morning mist and she became submissive. The look in her eyes changed. The vacant distance of her gaze blossomed into something soulful.
I took Christine again on the kitchen floor on her hands and knees with her perfect ass high in the air. She looked at me from over her shoulder. Her breasts had spilled free from the cups of her bra. Her nipples were hard and pointed. She balanced on one arm and reached behind herself to stroke her hand along the moistening slit of her pussy as if in invitation. For a moment I watched her touch her fingers to her clit, then provocatively open herself up to my gaze, wide and wet. Her hair hung in a long blonde cascade over her shoulder, almost brushing the floor tiles, and the look in her eyes became smoldering.
She touched at her lips with the tip of her tongue and then her hand on her pussy caressed the cheek of her ass. She shifted her weight a little, changed the tilt of her hip, and her hand reached down again to her pussy, rubbing herself in long slow strokes.
I stayed on my feet with my legs spaced wide apart behind her. Christine planted the palms of her hands on the floor and raised her hips up to meet me. I slid deep inside her and the air came from her lungs in a deep sigh that was significant. Her head turned to the side, and we made eye contact. She began to gasp softly as I started thrusting inside her with long, slow, measured strokes. I was rocking my whole body, swinging forward and bending at the knees, with one hand clutching at the kitchen counter to maintain my balance and to add weight to each thrust. I filled her completely and Christine melted into a long throaty groan that was raw with desire.
After several minutes I could feel the first far away tingles of my orgasm. I dropped down onto my knees and Christine lowered her body so that her elbows were on the ground, her fingers splayed wide on the tiles as if to give her purchase. The tendrils of her hair swept the ground with every rock of her body and her firm milky-white breasts swayed. I had one hand in the small of her arched back and she began to meet the beat of my thrusts – but in a way that was quite different to our previous sexual encounters. Now she was matching my rhythm as if to maximize the pleasurable sensations from her pussy rather than meeting each thrust to speed herself to orgasm. Something had changed, ignited by the tone of my voice and my attitude. Christine was giving herself wholly to me.
Her rocking became more determined. She took one of her fingers and sucked the tip into her mouth. My hands slid up around her waist and clamped around her body. Her skin felt warm and tingling.
Her enthusiasm drove me quickly to the edge of orgasm. Christine seemed to sense my rising urgency. She reached back to strum her fingers across her clit. The air was filled with the sounds and scents of sex.
On the very brink of exploding I withdrew myself from her pussy
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