Story of Us trilogy 01: TouchStone for Play (8 page)

Dear God. Why did I ever agree to this?

The man of my dreams stands before me like an
unwrapped gift, perfect in his passivity and aroused state. What’s he waiting
for?

I know the answer: he’s waiting for my command.
"Ayden, I want you to get into bed now."

"Yes Elizabeth."

He slips under the duvet and lies on his back. Beneath
the duvet I can see him rigid and primed and it’s taking every speck of
willpower I have not to launch myself onto him. But that wouldn’t be fair, he’s
played his part to perfection. Now it’s my turn.

Against every inclination I have to turn out the light,
I leave it on. Taking my time, I remove my shoes and unzip my dress, knowing he
is watching me. I thought I would struggle with this but the further down the
zip goes, the more I’m getting turned on by the fact that this gorgeous guy
with an enormous hard on is lying in my bed, watching me. As I wriggle out of
my dress, I feel my pants sticking to my crutch, I’m sodden and stimulated
beyond measure.

I let my dress fall to the floor and start to remove
my stockings slowly, scandalously. I’m not just undressing, this is a
striptease. I’m the exhibitionist and all the time our eyes are locked together
closing the distance between us, intensifying our connection. I throw my
stockings onto the chair and they float slowly down and settle on the carpet by
the bed. But ... my confidence is failing. I’m almost naked before this
stranger: what am I doing …?

Just as I’m about to lose my nerve, Ayden’s movement
draws my attention away from my bashfulness. He lifts up the sheets and holds
them up for me. An understanding smile forms and I move towards him willingly,
with gratitude and position my body next to his.

No words are spoken but for all of Ayden’s apparent
calmness, I feel his heart racing against my palm. I’m certain he will not
touch me, but I so desperately need to be touched. I remember my promise and I
know what I must do. I reach over to my stockings and straddle him.

"Give me your right hand Ayden." He lifts up
his arm so I can gently wrap the stocking around it. I lean provocatively
across his face, and feel his involuntary jerking as I do so. His breath is hot
and shallow against my bra, triggering an aching hunger to be tasted and
enjoyed. Once his hand is secure, I sit back down onto him. His breathing is
laboured and his chest is lifting but he makes no sound.

"Give me your left hand Ayden." He does, and
I rock forward again trying to find purchase for my needy clitoris on his
taught abs. His jerking returns as does my deep craving for his hands on my
body, but he’s bound by my stockings to the wrought iron bedhead and I must
satisfy my yearning another way.

I lower myself onto him and his rate of breathing
intensifies. Arching myself forward, I push out my breasts so he can taste the
perspiration forming between the cups of my bra. He licks and traces the top of
each cup with his tongue. The thrill of letting him see me so scantily dressed
burns in my throat and finds its way to my groin. Every sensation finds its way
to that place, the most sensitive part of my body.

I lean into him once more, gripping his shoulders for
support. His teeth tug at my bra and he rolls his tongue from one breast to the
other, seeking hardening flesh. He pulls on his nylon restraints and I long to
release him into my arms but I daren’t. I want to say his name. I want to hear
him say
my
name.

"Ayden, say my name, please say my name."

In no more than a half whisper, he says, "I’m all
yours … Elizabeth."

The sound of his fractured voice touches me, and his
declaration spurs me on. I have to give him what he wants: to be taken. Against
my deepest desires I move to his ear and whisper. "I want you to lie still
and stay hard while I fuck you."

Like a powerful aphrodisiac, the words ignite his
passion and he begins breathing frantically, arching his back and pressing his
throbbing cock into me, desperate for liberation.

Keeping my hands on his shoulders I lower my thighs so
I am perfectly placed to rub myself against him. In quick response, his stomach
muscles tense and flex and I place my hands there to experience the undulating
movement beneath my fingers. I so want to feel his perfect body against mine
and I flatten myself across him, pinning him to the mattress: hot flesh on hot
flesh.

I envelope his face in my hands and suck the steaming
breath from his body. My mouth finds his and his hunger for my tongue is
insatiable. He rocks his head and tugs and pulls, straining his arms to reach
me. I pull away to prolong his sweet agony.

Watching this remarkable man coming apart before my
eyes is too much. I have to taste him, devour him. Without thinking I lower my
head onto his chest and lick his flexing muscles, relishing every precious
inch. His chest hair tickles my nose and I brush my face against it to savour
his faultless physique. I move lower to the firm centre of his core and brush
my cheek against soft skin and pubic hair, feeling him quivering under my
instruction. I’m not myself, I don’t know how to do this … but Elizabeth does
and she is, thanks to this benevolent God of a man.

“Fuck, this is insane,” he calls out and I have to
agree, I don’t know what I’m doing but it feels too good to stop.

Making it up as I go, I brush against his pubic bone
with my nose and nibble the elastic waistband on his boxers. His desire is
peaking and he’s groaning and lifting his body in search of my moist tongue. I
run my hands across his boxers and become aware of an aching need in him to
release. I can’t take him in my mouth, not yet, I’m not ready for that, but I
offer him my hand.

I trace the rigid grooves and the veins with my thumb
before folding my fingers around his throbbing cock and begin fisting him,
gently at first and then at a faster rate; up and down, from tip to base using
seeping, pre cum to lubricate my fingers.

“Let me come …” he begs, for some strange reason.

As gently as I can, I acknowledge his neediness with
an intimate smile and watch as his breathless panting dissolves into feverish
moans of pleasure.

He calls out, "What-the-fuck!” In broken words,
and ejaculates into his boxers.

After a breathless interval, I sit astride him and
suddenly become aware of my semi-naked state. Snuggling down, I pull up the
covers, with my hands tucked against my breasts. It feels wrong to touch him
now. I ask tentatively, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I’m great Beth."

My change of name takes me by surprise: he’s back and
the role play is over.

"Do you want to untie me?"

I turn to face him. I’ve forgotten about the
stockings. There he is strung out over my pillows like a scarecrow: a gorgeous
one at that. Forgetting my inhibitions, I jump up and go in search of scissors.
It isn’t until I’m on my way back from the bathroom I catch myself in the full
length mirror: I’m virtually naked.

He follows my approach with a lecherous stare, making
me feel awkward and shy, wondering how the hell I’m going to get the stockings
off without thrusting my breasts in his face.

I climb onto the bed. "Excuse me," I mumble
as I lean over him. It seems the polite thing to say but clearly it’s
inappropriate because he finds it hilarious.

I sit back down, wave the scissors around and
playfully remind him; "Aren’t we forgetting who’s tied up and who has the
scissors?"

He pretends to be silent, "Alright, I’ll be
good." But then he bursts into laughter again and it’s a real heartfelt
giggle that makes me laugh too.

"I’ve known people die this way. Their bodies
aren’t found ‘till months later, not until the neighbours start to complain
about the smell."

"Is that so, then we’ll have to come to some
arrangement won’t we?" He rolls his eyes theatrically. "You set me
free and I’ll get you off. How about that?" He means it and the laughter
is still visible in his eyes. It’s highly infectious. "Just don’t say
‘excuse me’ again or you’ll crack me up and I’ll have to start
renegotiating."

I cut him free and he rubs his wrists and grabs me by
the waist, pulling me down from the top of the bed to face him.

"I like being around you," he says with a
grin, pulling up the covers around me. He’s so warm and that, just ‘come’ look
is playing havoc with my libido. "I’m going to clean up. Don’t move."
He kisses my nose and jumps out of bed.

Now it’s my turn to ogle him. I watch him go and
inside I saying, please hurry back, but my thoughts turn to more intimate
matters: what does he want to do to me? Now the shoe’s on the other foot, I
think I prefer him passive and restrained.

He returns, gloriously naked and excitable. When he
positions himself next to me I’m aware of the smell of sex on skin, laced with
pheromones. My heart flutters, more with apprehension than desire.

He wraps his left arm over me and pulls up the duvet
to keep me snug. "You’re full of surprises Beth. Who would have thought …”
He draws his hand to my face and tenderly brushes back my hair.

"I didn’t know what I was doing, but you relaxed
and went with it, and so did I." Lifting out a crumpled hand from under
the sheets, I caress his lovely face. "You know why I used my hand don’t
you?”

"Yes I do: it’s early days." He turns away
and a smirk crosses his lips.

"What’s so funny,"
I hope it isn’t me.

"I’m just replaying what you said before. ‘This
is where the magic happens’ ... you weren’t wrong." He places a wet kiss
on my nose. "I don’t usually get that worked up, but it’s you, you’re
exquisite and you don’t even know it. I’ve not been touched like that since ...
I can’t remember when."

I want to return his cheeky smile but modesty prevents
me from saying anything.

“You even smell great." He nuzzles into my neck
and it causes a twinge of desire to circulate around my body. "Let me get
you off, I want to hear you come."

What! My God!

When he says things like that, I start to lose it.
"… I’m ok. I’m really tired. Maybe next time?"

He raises his right elbow to support his head.
"Are you kidding?"

I shake my head from side to side. He has no idea what
I’m like or what I’ve been through, and I’m not about to get into that now.

He caresses my lower lip with his thumb. "Don’t
go all virginal on me. You just undressed me and gave me a hand job. You show
me how you get yourself off and I’ll improvise. I’m good with my hands."

I bet…

The gleam in his eyes makes me want to say yes, but
something is holding me back. "I want you to, I do, but not now." I settle
me mouth on his and our tongues mingle in wet confusion. My chest is tightening
and the sensation of his hand on my back urging me to give in to him is so
persuasive ... but I draw back and sweep unruly strands off his forehead. “I
know what you’re trying to do Mr. Stone, so stop. Be good."

Another wet kiss ends his enticement and we lay
comfortably together in a kind of afterglow. I place my head on his shoulder
and he enfolds me in his right arm and I feel safer than I have for a very long
time.

"I’ve got to go, so I’ll leave you to get some
sleep. You’ve been busy, and on a school night too!" I feel his smile on
my head and a kiss brushes against my hair. "I’ve got a plane to catch at
7.00 am to New York, so I’ll call you later."

I nod my acceptance, hoping he will.

He swivels out of bed and starts to dress; "I’m
going commando but don’t tell anyone." He’s so unselfconscious, it’s as if
I’m not here. I treat myself to the sight of immaculate manliness. He climbs
into his trousers and casually slips into his shirt. "I’ll shower at home,
pick up the paperwork and make my way to Heathrow."
He
has
everything under control now but, I suspect, he’s been navigating all night,
I’ve simply been following wordless directions.

"I know Ayden, it’s ok. Don’t miss your
flight."

He picks up his jacket off the floor and haphazardly
throws it over his shoulder. Even after having expended all that sexual energy,
he looks fresh and even more adorable. Before leaving he stops dead and returns
to sit by me on the bed. His hand is in my hair; he leans in to kiss me deeply
and I feel a longing that makes me wish I’d taken him up on his offer.

His gazes into my weary face, "We’re good
right?"

"Yes Ayden we’re good." He stands, but
before he can get out of the room, I slither out of bed and stroll over to him
provocatively, wanting to give him a closer look at what he’s walking away
from. I feel shameless. I unclip my bra and throw it on the bed, pinning him to
the door with my nearly naked body. In true Dominant style I raise his hands
above his head and kiss him within an inch of his life.

"Have a safe flight and hurry back." I feel
the stirrings of an erection by my hip, and it’s my parting gift.

"Christ, Beth! I’m going to have to jerk off in
the shower now ..." He rubs his neck to ease the tension and leaves,
slamming the front door behind him, but not without a parting word. I catch a
three syllabled utterance; “sub-miss-ive?” but it’s said more out of disbelief than
a statement of fact. It leaves his mouth in one long hiss.