The door to my balcony is ajar, and the fan blows the curtains just a little in my darkened room. You lie there, still, blindfolded, waiting.
Summer is nearly here, the approaching heat of July radiating in on days like this one. I am sweating myself, and I see your shoulders glistening above the soft shadows. I hear your breathing. You are not asleep, but trying to relax.. Your buttocks tense as you hear me shut the door and walk into the room.
“So you arrived.”
“Nice of you to send me the key,” you say. “Do you always go around mailing your key to strangers?”
“Oh, you are hardly strange, my dear.” And I run my fingernails down your back, watch your buttocks tense as I get closer to your sacred hole.
“Mmm. I thought you bit your nails.” I scratch a little deeper into your skin, deeper still, deeper. You grimace.
“No more. Now is the time for high glamour. Are you ready for that?”
“What are you wearing?”
I am wearing heels. I am wearing the same sheer black stockings you peeled off my legs in the movie theater bathroom. I am wearing a red garter belt. And red lipstick. And red nail polish. You will know about all of these things, but you will never see them today. You will lie face down on the bed for a long time, in fact, struggling against the ropes that have secured you to my bed.
I have nice friends, don’t I? They know how to tie the right sorts of knots, the kind that are extremely difficult for you to remove. Difficult for me, too. Did you enjoy the little game before she tied you? Did you enjoy her teasing, her tongue on your prick?
I believe you did, judging from your breathing, judging from the “Oh fuck” you let out when I was hiding in the closet watching you.
I think perhaps you have crossed a line, entered into a world you could not find before today.
“Yes?” I know that your moans are in direct response to my finger teasing you, ever so gently teasing you helpless there and exposed. I reach into my drawer, let the glove snap when I pull it on, let you hear me pop the cap on the lube and feel the cool liquid run from your ass to your balls. I know that your cock is aching. Your back arches.
“You like that?” I know the answer to my question as you sigh, squirm when my finger goes straight inside you. I know your cock twitches. I hear you gasp, beg me, “No, no.. too much…”
Slower, yes. I draw my finger out. You feel my finger gone now, wish for it back.
You relax after I walk out of the room. You relax, despite your burning desire to be free, to find me wherever I have gone in the house and hold me down to fuck me, fuck me hard. You relax, despite the fact that I will not untie you. Yet.
You tense again as my heels click on the bedroom floor. You tense, then relax as you anticipate my finger back circling you, entering you. Your cock aches, but you want so much for that fullness inside–you nearly need it now.
Now you feel it, feel that wetness–now cold–in your ass. You feel it, intensely, feel the ice that I have pushed inside you, gentle, gentle. You moan–feel your balls tighten, your absolute inability to relax now, to do anything but lie there in some combination of misery and ecstasy.
You cry as I push the Hitachi against the base of your balls. Can you hold back? You arch your back, and call my name. Can you hold back?
I fear not. Your muscles tense more more as you moan deeply, and I keep the vibrator hard against your perineum. You tense, your hands clenched and trying the ropes. You explode, shaking, the bed wet with your come, the ice, your perspiration, you. I believe the ice has melted, and so have you.
Well, we may have to wait a while for that.
But fuck we shall. I shall untie you, and we shall fuck, fuck merrily. But for now, dear, rest.