Chapter 7: A quiet evening at home

He was just building up to the interesting part of his meeting with the two pharmaceutical company directors when his mobile rang. Damn! He'd forgotten to switch it off.

It was her.

"Don't masturbate," she said.

"What?"

It took a moment to reorganise his train of thought.

"I don't want you to cum. Not by yourself. I'll let you cum tonight. Promise you won't jack off in the meantime."

He'd been sorely tempted. With their lunch-hour play session still very much uppermost in his mind, he sure had some pent-up frustration to deal with.

"Promise?"

"Okay."

"See you downstairs at five-thirty."

The drug execs waited patiently for him to finish the call so they could continue with their pitch. Didn't matter a damn, though. He'd been through the books and knew they didn't have a whole lot of options. Apart from the one he was about to spring on them, that is.

For the sake of form he let them drivel on a little longer before he went for closure. The delay gave him a little more time to think back fondly on having his face all buried in her pinkness. He started to crack yet another hard-on, about the sixth so far during this current meeting. He was in a heightened state of horniness. He felt so alive!

When he emerged from the elevator into the lobby of the office building, he saw her waiting for him on one side. She was back wearing the floral number and high-heel pumps. Her boobs were very obvious. He started getting hard again at the mere sight of her. Struggling with his briefcase and all her shopping, he held the bundle of bags further in front to conceal any tell-tale bulge in his trousers.

Didn't fool her for a minute, though. She pecked him on the cheek and simultaneously squeezed his dick. He glanced around nervously, but fortunately no co-workers were anywhere in sight.

"You been keeping your promise?"

"Yep."

"Thank God it's Friday!" she said, shouldering her carry bag and slipping her arm into his. "Let's go have a quiet night at home."

"Sounds good" he replied, and his dick throbbed in anticipation.

Sitting together in a cab headed uptown, they didn't talk much because the things they wanted to talk about were not things they wanted overheard. She did manage to occasionally slide her hand through the bundle of shopping bags he held, and rub the tent in his trouser front while looking silently and sexily into his eyes. She knew to draw back if he seemed in any danger of losing the plot completely. Such sweet torture!

Letting themselves into his apartment, she immediately flopped into the sofa. He sat beside her.

"What's for dinner?"

"I can get something delivered..."

"No way! I want some more of your fabulous home cooking!"

He demurred. He really just wanted to blob out.

Her hand stole its way back to his prick, and began stroking through his trousers. It was almost instantly back into a full state of readiness.

"Pleeeeeeezzze?" she cajoled.

"Um... I'll see what can be whipped up."

It just so happened he had some good steaks. And fries in a freezer bag. And enough stuff in the veggie crisper to come up with a pretty decent salad. He put it all out on the bench top, and got the oil going for the fries.

"And one more thing."

"What?"

"Take all your clothes off. Except for the necktie."

"Really?"

"Really."

Her wish was his command. He got everything off and bundled it all into the laundry basket, then slung the loosened tie back around his neck. His dick stuck out before him, and never slackened to less than a half-fat.

"Wine?"

"No thanks, it dulls the senses. Got any orange juice?"

"Sure."

She sat on a stool and watched him cook as she sipped her orange juice. Anytime he saw her eyeing his dick, it seemed to point ever more skyward in response.

He tried to direct attention away from his exposure and vulnerability by making conversation.

"Dulls the senses - wasn't that Jack Nicholson's line? Y'know, the masochist dental patient in the original "Little Shop of Horrors"?"

"You seen that movie too?"

"It's a cult classic."

"It was a gas. And so obvious the actors got paid in drugs."

He set the fries a-frying, and started slicing up salad stuff.

"Can you spend the night again?"

"Yeah. I got some clothes packed this time."

"Will your aunt be bothered about you staying out so much?"

"Nah, she's pretty cool. She's a lot younger than my mom, only eight years older than me. We get along real good."

"Is she married?"

"Was. Now she's "out there" again and making up for lost time. She won't be at all upset if I don't come home on a Friday night."

He had to stand beside her to get the frying pan out, and she took the opportunity to grasp his prick and wank him a little. He stood stock still, because it sure felt good to him. Realizing the adverse effect it was having on his productivity, she released him again after a few seconds.

He timed the arrival of the fries and steak to perfection, to have both simultaneously sizzling as they sat to dine.

"Does Auntie know about your particular tastes in men?"

"Nope. Nobody does, 'cept you and the other two."

"My predecessors in slavery?"

"Oh, there's a few others who have an inkling. Macho jocks who I could wheedle into letting me tie them up a little. They didn't mind some mild kink, so long as their dicks got sucked in the process. Concerned for their own pleasure, not mine. I'd always end up dumping 'em, 'cos they weren't the real thing."

"What's the real thing?"

"Someone who's pleased to please me."

He mulled over this rather ambiguous remark as they polished off the food on their plates.

Back in the living room, she rummaged in her carry bag and came up with a brightly-coloured plastic bottle. What new kink was this? She handed it to him. Ah! A bottle of bubble-bath.

"Can you run a nice hot tub for me?" she asked.

"Sure."

She gave him a quick smile of appreciation, and fondled his prick for a couple of seconds. This only served to render both him immobile and it very hard. She released her grip and gave him a gentle shove in the direction of the bathroom.

He prepared the bath for her, making it good and hot and with a mountain of bubbles to sink down into. As he did so, he heard the opening riff for "So What?" float out of the stereo speakers in the lounge. The Miles Davis' "Kinda Blue" re-issue. Sounds like she just discovered there was music before hip-hop.

She appeared in the bathroom doorway and inspected. Everything met with her approval.

"Undress me."

Hoo-boy! Move over, Miles. Her words were suddenly much better music to his ears.

She turned and he ran the zipper down slowly. The dress parted down her smooth brown back, revealing unblemished, slightly-glossy skin, her bra straps, and the waistband of her panties. He glided his hands across her shoulder blades, causing the top half of the dress to slip down her arms and gather at her waist.

He wondered if he dared place his hands at her narrow waist, to push the dress past her hips so it could drop to the floor. She gave no instructions, but just waited. He took the chance and did it anyway. When he felt how her waist swelled toward her hips and rounded bum as he pushed the dress downward, he could hardly stand it. The intimacy of this bare-skin contact was so excruciatingly pleasurable, he nearly came on the spot. This was despite having no other contact with her whatsoever.

"I hope you're not enjoying this too much?"

"Not at all. It's a dreadful bore." He affected a yawn.

She reached back to unerringly encircle his dick with one hand and his balls with the other. She was not very gentle about it.

"I gotta warn ya. If you jizz without my say-so, there will be consequences."

He winced.

"Capische."

Pleased with the tone of discomfort she'd just injected into his voice, she took her hands away. He reached up to release her bra. Damn hooks! Why can't they design a man-friendly bra? The back-band parted suddenly under the weight of her boobs, and she shrugged it off.

Now for a very delicious moment. He placed his hands flat on her hips, one either side of her round, curvy buttocks, and slowly slid her panties downward. Getting to his knees, he tugged them past each ankle as she stepped out of them. He remained on his knees, eyes glued to the round brown butt only inches before his nose.

"Clean me."

"Pardon?"

"You'll have to clean me, before I get into this lovely bathwater."

To remove any doubt about what she meant by this, she leaned forward and gripped the edge of the bath. Bent over at the waist, her pink gash was presented to him most assertively. A day's worth of mild sweat and pussy odour wafted to his nostrils.

He bent forward to make delicate contact, then slowly trailed his extended tongue the full length of her slit.

Then he placed his hands on each butt cheek to spread her open even wider. Concentrating at first on the zones of dark fuzz either side of her opening, he licked ever inward and began sucking the butterfly-like inner lips into his mouth. A few more minutes of this indulgence in her salty tastes was enough to thoroughly wash the whole of her sex with his tongue.

"That's good, sweetie! Now do my asshole."

He hesitated. This would be another first for him. Her puckered orifice had been right before his eyes all this while, but so far in life he'd managed to maintain a policy of "look, but don't touch" where anal sphincters were concerned.

"Please? For me?"

She was looking back at him with those big soft eyes of hers, entreating him, inspiring him to more things he'd never normally consider.

His reticence evaporated before her gaze, and she had to stifle the urge to giggle as he rimmed the tip of his tongue around the rosette of encircling fine black hairs. Then he slathered his way across the tight entrance, noting an initial acrid taste that soon disappeared under his ministrations.

He formed his tongue into a point and tried to penetrate that tight little asshole with it, but he didn't get very far with that. It made her squirm a bit though.

Then she straightened and whirled around to stand before him, upright again. He noticed a strange light in her eyes, and when she caught sight of the sudden nervousness it engendered in his own, this light glowed even brighter.

Gripping two fistfulls of his hair, she forced him to hunker down lower until his backside was against the soles of his feet and her pussy was riding up on his face. Her thighs tightened either side of his head, and she pulled on his hair to get his face harder against her. He cried out, but it only seemed to spur her on. Her hips started moving, humping, gyrating. Tongue-surfing.

He didn't resist or try to escape, but rather just went with the flow. His body was pinned in place beneath her, breathing was difficult, and her grip on his hair was hurting like hell. But after a time his mind began floating, as if released into space. It seemed to him almost like the beginnings of an out-of-body experience, a prelude to being snuffed out and drifting across some kind of divide. He was a passive witness to her orgasm when it finally arrived, managing to keep his tongue extended and able to draw the occasional breath, but otherwise inert, ethereal.