Seduce Me (9 page)

“Again, please do it again,” she cried softly.

Patrick followed up with another trail this time dropping a few drips between her spread thighs. She turned over onto her back. She loved feeling the congealed wax pressing into her skin. “Now do my nipples.”

Patrick replaced the empty pot and lit a fresh candle. When the liquid started melting he angled it directing the wax to her large areola. Her back arched when fire met skin. Her fingers moved between her legs and she played with herself while he administered heat to her breasts. She gave a high piercing whimper and in a second she came.

She looked up at Patrick and smiled. “Wouldn't you like to know what that feels like.”

“I think I'm gonna right now.” He handed her the candle and stretched out on his back. He had an eager grin on his face that reminded Tuesday of a little boy on Christmas morning. God, how she loved him!

She knelt beside him and aimed the wax towards his nipple. He didn't say anything at first. He was too busy trying to analyze the sensations he was experiencing. But when he allowed his mind to simply surrender he connected with a part of himself straddling the thin line between pleasure and pain.

When Tuesday ran a stream of wax down the length of his cock, his moan stopped halfway in his throat. The sensitive skin, thinned from stretching to accommodate his erection, throbbed with excitement. As the wax congealed she peeled it away pulling little fine hairs with it.

“Oh shit, that hurts so good! Hurt me again, baby,” he growled out.

Tuesday played with him taking him to the brink of his control before putting aside the candle and laying down next to him. She placed one leg over him and lifted her hips slightly for him to enter her. Patrick grabbed her hips. This time their dance was gentle. She caressed his head as they moved together. He alternated his caresses between her hips and breasts. They gazed into each other's eyes and talked like they hadn't since their honeymoon.

So much of their conversations lately had read like to-do lists. When they were dating her smile had been a topic of conversation, the way he looked in his jeans had given her butterflies.

Tuesday knew they couldn't live in a bubble blissfully tucked away from real life but they needed more moments like this, to talk about sweet nothings which really meant so much.

Their climax was more of a gentle wave filling them with warmth but still leaving them breathless and basking in the glow of the candle lights.

Meeting Mister M
by Evalina Frances

He's not a total stranger.

For the hundredth time I repeat this to myself as I move one station closer to my destination. The rocking rumble of the tube train is both calming and ominous. The butterflies in my stomach fall quiet then erupt into a mass of fluttering each time the doors open and then clamp shut.

I look at my reflection in the darkened window opposite. My long messy bob is tamed in a knot at the base of my neck, leaving a curtain of dark fringe from under which my green eyes seductively peep. The fitted white blouse unbuttoned, showing more than a hint of the black bra that barely contains my ample cleavage, and it clings perfectly, accentuating my waist. A neat black skirt skims my hips and stops just below my knee so that my calves, dressed in the sheerest of stockings, looked toned and tanned all the way to my 4 inch giraffe print heels.

I smile at the girl that stares back at me from the glass, even more pleased with myself when I think of what is hidden beneath my outfit. It's all about the lingerie for
Mister M
.

I'm here, my stop. I stand, grab my bag and hop onto the platform. My echoing heels click time with my repeated mantra …

He's not a total stranger. He's not a total stranger.

We've known each other for some time. Drawn to a site of erotic writings, I couldn't contain my curiosity from peeking at pictures of its members.
Mister M
had stood out immediately. Unlike the other faceless, gratuitous shots of cocks in various states of arousal, his were interesting, cheeky and oh so sexy! Some stripping in a suit, others in jeans without boxers, wrapped only in a white sheet or naughtily under the desk at work they had made me smile as well as making my pussy wet.

Uncharacteristically, I soon posted some of my own and it seemed my pictures had the same effect on
Mister M
. We started chatting and before long progressed to webcams. I lacked the hardware so swapped his spare camera for a pair of my panties which I had misted in just a hint of my perfume, the same perfume I wore today. The first time I heard him call me his ‘good girl' in my headphones, a jolt of desire ran through my body, ending up in a slippery mess between my legs. It was addictive and electric – cyber sex that rivalled the real thing.

It was inevitable we would meet.

Reaching the top of the stairs I step out into the early summer sunshine. I love London at this time of year and the most obvious place to meet was right in its heart, Trafalgar Square. We'd arranged just outside the National Gallery but now, as the butterflies twisted themselves into a frenzy in my belly, I feel a sharp stab of nerves.

Hanging back from the spot we'd agreed, but keeping it in clear view, I pull out my phone. I'll call, and watch him waiting. Make sure I really want this before I commit.

It only rings twice. He answers.

‘Hey D, where are you?' The voice I know so well from my fantasies licks at my ear and my knees buckle.

I can't see him where he should be standing.

‘I'm here, M.' I reply, my eyes frantically scanning the stone steps of the gallery in case he is hidden in the crowd. ‘I can't see you.'

My heart races, I can't stand still. I need to see him first.

‘Well I'm right where I said I'd be.'

My searching is fruitless but he sounds close.

‘Where exactly?' I ask. ‘What can you see?'

‘You.'

I feel a hand on my shoulder and hear a phone snap shut.

For a second I am too scared to look, still foolishly holding the phone to my ear. Taking a deep breath I begin to turn on my heel.

The moment I see his eyes, sparkling blue and green, I realise it is futile to resist. Without a word his hand is on the back of my neck and he kisses me full and hard, his other hand firm on the small of my back, pulling me into him. I surrender totally to the most passionate encounter of my life. A massive surge of adrenalin burns through every pore as his tongue investigates mine and his lips grind into me.

The tips of his fingers teasingly slide under the hem of my blouse and brush my back. His touch on my bare skin causes my pussy to tighten and I know if he hadn't held me, I would dissolve into a pool on the pavement. My hands grasp at his strong shoulder, desperately wanting to feel the smooth, warm skin underneath.

I feel his mouth break into a smile and as he pulls back, he gently grips on my bottom lip with his teeth. I giggle. I can't help it, casting my eyes downwards and instantly back up to his face, the face I know so well from a tiny window on my laptop screen. Here, in the sunlight I notice the red in his thick hair and don't stop my hand as it reaches up to touch it. My eyes never leave his face.

He'd listened when I said I liked stubble and the growth on his chin holds promise of a grazing between my thighs that I can't wait to experience. I giggle again and as his laugh joins mine, I notice what perfect teeth he has.

‘Want to see my room?' he enquires, and anticipating my answer takes my hand in his and leads me out of the hustle and bustle of the square.

I walk beside him, my heels causing my hips to sway and bump into his with each stride. Our bodies are so close that I can smell his cleanly soaped skin and a vision of him in a steamy shower causes me to wobble slightly. Our fingers hang together like tangled vines, as though we have been holding hands for years. Silently we walk for a few minutes until we reach the entrance to a hotel, grander than I had expected. The doorman welcomes us as we pass and smiles politely. The lobby is smart, large and anonymous – perfect for our purpose. Casually he hits the button for the lift. I watch his fingers and long to feel them disappearing inside me.

The doors open with a ‘ding' and we step inside. Without waiting for them to fully close, I twist and kiss him, hungry to taste his mouth again. He steps back as I devour him, our teeth clash and my hips pin him to the wall, the buckle of his belt digging into my soft stomach. There is no denying how excited he is through the crotch of his Levis, the jeans from the photos I so admire, and I wonder if he is naked inside them. I have to fight against touching his cock and instead place my hands on his chest, the hair within his cool cotton shirt surrounds his hard nipples and a rush shoots through me ending in a soaking spasm between my legs.

I moan words, broken between kisses.

‘I … want … you … inside … me …'

The lift stops and he leads me along the corridor to the room, trailing his fingertips around my waist, brushing against the underside of my breasts as he opens the door. We only manage a couple of steps inside before my back is against the wall, his weight deliciously holding me there. His hands push my wrists high above my head as his lips meet mine once more. I eagerly accept, but move my kisses from his lips to nuzzle into him. My tongue licks his neck and he moans as I knew he would. I laugh and, as my teeth nip his ear, he flips me round so suddenly I gasp as my face is pushed against the door frame.

In a second my skirt is around my waist, his hands run up my thighs to savour the silky tops of my stockings, and then onto naked flesh as he holds me firm. Fingertips caress the sheer fabric of my underwear and a trickle of anticipation escapes my pussy, running down the inside of my thigh and onto his hand. He pauses briefly to lick it from his fingers then pulls my panties to the side and without hesitation, forces two fingers deep inside me. I groan as I feel his hot breath on the back of my neck, his teeth grazing as he kisses. His free hand works itself between my body and the wall, grabbing at my overflowing breasts. His cock, fully erect within his jeans, is hard against my arse and as I feel my sex begin to spasm, he stops.

I want to stamp my heel in frustration but no sooner do I catch my breath than he shoves me face down on the bed. The sound of his belt sliding through the buckle fills me with sweet expectancy, he unzips his fly and I raise myself up to him. I know his buzz is to fuck with lingerie on and as I feel his fingers stroke my silky, sodden panties I know he is relishing the view.

It takes all my self-control not to orgasm.

I turn my head to look just as he smears his precum around the red head of his solid cock with the same fingers that had been buried in me. I stare at the member I have adored during our online liaisons and the thought that it will soon be pounding into me almost tips me over the edge again. He takes his sticky fingers and leaning forward, slips them into my mouth. I lap at the combination of our juices, watching as he tears into a condom wrapper with his teeth, slipping it over his throbbing cock. I start to purr as he slowly rubs the red head of his dick on my swollen clit, the heat from it sensational against my dripping flesh.

I ache for him. I cannot wait.

‘Fuck me, Mister M!' I demand, shuddering as he obeys and hammers himself into me, deeper than I have ever known before.

His fingers dig into my pale skin as he fucks me furiously, guaranteeing bruised souvenirs of our first encounter. Within a few thrusts I succumb entirely to the pulsating waves inside me, squirting all over his throbbing cock and biting down on the bed to stop myself from screaming. He pulls out and I turn onto my back, reaching down to touch myself as I look into his beautiful eyes, never dropping my gaze as he groans, spraying thick drops of spunk all over my burning pussy.

‘Good girl' he whispers down at me, still wanking proudly. ‘You're a good girl.'

Those words have fuelled my dreams since we first met and now, hearing them for real, a shudder of pure satisfaction rocks my body. I laugh and smear his stickiness all around my clit, almost too sensitive to touch. He flops on the bed beside me, his eyes dazzling, laughing too.

Over his shoulder I notice the bedside clock. It is only 30 minutes since we met in the bright daylight of the most public place in London and yet here we are, just yards away and acquainted in the most intimate way. It feels as though I have known him for a lifetime. I think back to my trepidation on the Tube train and wonder what I had ever been worried about.

He is certainly no longer a stranger – and we still have the rest of the night.

Our lips touch again, softly this time, savouring every second as though we were born to explore each other. My eyes are closed but I know he is grinning once more through his kiss.

Blissfully, I wrap my arms around him and allow myself to melt.

Lisa's Lessons
by Izzy French

I knew Martin was gay, of course, probably before he did. So it came as no surprise when he came out to me the day he left for college. It was a relief in fact. The pretence we'd been keeping up till then was beginning to show the cracks. And at least now we could have a more open and honest relationship, or so I hoped.

“Just have fun, son,” I said as I kissed him goodbye. “Be careful and work hard.”

I didn't see him for a couple of months after that. Too much partying, I imagined. I had to admit to being the teensiest bit jealous. I'd had Martin young, out of wedlock, as my mum called it. There'd always been just the two of us, and we'd been close and spent a lot of time together. I'd tried to kick-start my social life when Martin was about a year old, but it had been difficult to be a single mother and get out a lot. I did manage the odd singles club, or speed dating session with my best friend Clare, but besides the occasional dinner date and quick, often unsatisfying, fumble they didn't amount to much. And now Martin had left home I felt too young to give up on the idea of partying myself, and wished I could join him. Now doubt his new social life was a blast. But what eighteen-year-old gay man would want to drag his mum along to a club, and have her cramp his style? Not many, I'm sure. And I missed him too. We got on so well together. Had a laugh and a giggle, and a cry too over soppy films. We had our moments like all mothers and sons, but they were rare. And I'd been really looking forward to his first visit home, after a couple of months away. He arrived early on a Friday evening.

“Hi, Mum, hope you don't mind but Tom's come to stay for a couple of nights.”

I looked at Tom as he followed Martin into the kitchen. How could I mind? He was gorgeous. Tall, slim, a wild mop of blond curls and a goofy smile. Eye candy for the middle-youth woman, that was for sure. And, of course, almost certainly gay. And not only gay, but chances were high that he was my son's boyfriend, the first he'd ever brought home. This was going to be a steep learning curve. What was the etiquette around that? Did I offer to make them up the spare bedroom, the one next to mine? And, more importantly, the one with the double bed with squeaky springs, so if there was any nocturnal activity I would hear everything. Or did I put them in Martin's bedroom, in the bunk beds? He'd been used to sharing his room with his mate Paul, when they'd dossed down here after working on their A-level projects. Maybe that's what he'd prefer to do with Tom, share the bunks. Carry on with a tradition. And, though I had no problem with Martin being gay, and bringing home a boyfriend, it might spare all our blushes, for the first visit at least. I just wanted Martin to be safe and happy. Isn't that what every mother wants for her son? Oh, and to be looked after and cared for. I wondered if Tom was the looking after and caring for type.

“Hello, Mrs Bateman, lovely to meet you.”

He shook my hand. I warmed to his manner immediately. And I couldn't stop myself feel a twinge of jealousy. And that felt strange, feeling jealous of my son's luck.

“Lisa, please. Mrs Bateman makes me feel about 70. And anyway, I'm not, Mrs that is. Cup of tea? Beer?”

“A beer would be great, Lisa. Thanks.”

And the evening went swimmingly from then on. I cooked for them, we sat round the table and ate, drank beer and red wine, gossiped and laughed. Tom's smile was completely infectious, and it was good to have my house reverberate with the sound of men. It felt like he was flirting with me, which felt good, though I was conscious of what Martin would feel. He didn't seem to notice. Or mind. It was the best time I'd had in ages.

“Cool, Mum,” Martin said when I told him about my suggested sleeping arrangements.

When I finally made it downstairs the next morning, feeling a little groggy from the wine, Martin had left me a note to say he'd popped round to visit an old school friend, Paul, who was home that week too. He said not to worry about Tom. He'd probably have a lie-in and work on some college stuff until Tom got back.

“Morning, Lisa.” Tom's voice took me by surprise. It sounded deeper, like he'd just got out of bed, which, by the look of him, was the case. His hair was unbrushed and he wore a tight T-shirt and jeans that fell around his slim hips, exposing a line of dark hair leading down to his groin. I looked, then looked away, blushing.

“Cup of tea?” I asked, brightly. I was still in my dressing gown, which I pulled more tightly round me, as I was naked underneath. It didn't generally matter what I wore around the house, as these days there was rarely anyone to see. Not that Tom would be interested in me. Not only was I nearly twice his age, but he was also probably far more interested in my son.

“Thanks, let me get it.” He came closer and his hand brushed over mine as he reached for the kettle. This one touch sent a tingle throughout my whole body. I must be starved of affection, I thought, if this is how I react to a brief encounter over a kettle. As I reached up to the cupboard I felt my breasts rub against the silk of my dressing gown, and I caught Tom's eye. He was gazing at the curve of my breasts, I was sure. The ‘v' of my dressing gown deepened as I placed two cups on the side, and I crossed my hands across my chest to cover myself up. Tom was close to me. I breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of him. Not the heavy cologne, mixed with whisky, of the men I met at singles club. But the sharp and sweet smell of a young man just out of bed. I admitted to myself now just how much I wanted him. He reached forwards and brushed my hair back, placing his hand gently under my chin and bringing my eyes up to meet his. He was a foot taller than me at least.

“Me and Martin.” His voice trailed away and his fingers grazed over my cheek.

“Yes,” I replied.

“We're just friends you know. Good friends. But just friends. I like girls. Well, women.”

I just nodded. And then he leant down and kissed me. It was just the lightest touch of a kiss at first. Tentative. I imagine he was uncertain, waiting for my response. So I returned his kiss, opened my mouth to him. The taste of him was wonderful. Sweet like his scent. We stood and kissed in the kitchen for an age, like teenagers, which I guess he was. It felt so good. Warmth radiated through my body and we moved closer together. I felt his body press against mine. I laid my hands on his hips. He was angular and firm. No soft edges to him. He pulled away. I felt momentarily disappointed. Had he changed his mind? Did he think he'd made a mistake? Oh, God, how awful would that be? Not least, now because I was anticipating and fantasizing about what would happen next.

“I definitely like women,” he whispered softly. “Women just like you. May I?” He reached for my dressing gown belt, which was tied into a loose bow.

“Yes, please do.” In one deft movement he undid the bow and pulled my gown apart, so it was just resting on my shoulders, exposing my body to him. My instinct was to cover up, cross my legs and pull my hands across my body. But I resisted.

“You're beautiful.” His fingers traced imaginary lines down my body from my neck, across my breasts and stomach, to the top of my thighs. Kissing me again, he then nuzzled into my neck, taking the weight of my breasts in his hands. My nipples were hard now, responding to his touch. He twisted and turned them gently between his fingers, then reached down to kiss them. Every possible nerve ending responded as he licked and sucked on my nipples and breasts. He tongue circled each nipple, slowly at first, then more quickly. He licked each areole, then blew gently, his breath feeling cool against my wet skin. I had to shake myself mentally. Was this bliss really happening? How could this experience be so different from the selfish fumbles of my more recent encounters? I pushed these thoughts from my mind, and decided to enjoy this moment for what it was. Pure pleasure. I would surrender myself and enjoy. As if he sensed this, Martin ran his hands over the curve of my hips and tangled his fingers first in my pubic hair, then delved deeper into the folds between my legs. My hands had rested on his shoulders until this moment. But if he was to explore me so deeply, then why couldn't I? It was many years since I'd run my hands over the body of a fit young eighteen-year old. And it felt good. His hips were narrow. His skin was smooth. I ran my hands around the waistband of his low-slung jeans. And he gasped. Taking this as encouragement, I undid the buttons and peeled them away. He wore nothing under his jeans, and his cock was hard. I took it between my hands and began to caress him, pulling gently at his foreskin, and reaching into his jeans to cup his balls, which I could feel tighten at my touch.

“Wait,” he said. Again, for a moment, I anticipated disappointment, but he was just pulling off his jeans and T-shirt, then my gown and throwing them into the corner of the kitchen. We stood facing one another now, both naked, and both extremely aroused. Taking the initiative I knelt in front of him, and took his cock into my mouth. His hands brushed though my hair, encouraging my. His cock filled my mouth as I sucked him rhythmically, my tongue encircling him. I could hear him groan, and began to feel him thrust into my mouth, and I expected him to come now, and I was ready to swallow his sweet juices.

“No, wait, I want us to come together.” He pulled his cock from my mouth and lifted me up, kissing me again, tasting himself on my lips. Putting his hands around my waist he lifted me onto the table, sitting me on the edge, and parting my legs. Then it was his turn to kneel in front of me. I leant back, exposing my cunt to him. At first he just looked, caressing my inner thighs as he did so. Then he parted the folds of my labia with his fingers, gently but insistently, and found my clitoris. His touch was exquisite. I was wet with excitement now.

“Fuck me,” I pleaded.

“Soon,” he replied, then buried his mouth into my cunt, his tongue inside me at first, then twisting and turning my clitoris, sending shudders through me. He pushed one hand into me, and I could feel myself clench and release around it. I knew I was close to coming now, to losing control. But there was nothing I could do. Looking down I could see he was tugging on his cock with his free hand, bringing pearls of cum to the tip. I wanted that cock inside me now, pushing my folds to the limit. He sensed my need, gave my clitoris one last suck, which almost made me explode with desire and pleasure then stood in front of me, his beautiful cock nudging at my cunt.

“Ready?” He asked, knowing I was. My body pulsed with wanting him, and all I could do was part my legs further and offer my cunt to him in reply. At first he nudged and teased the entrance, releasing my juices, ensuring a smooth passage. The sensation was so sweet as his cock pushed into me, slowly but firmly. I opened up to him as he reached deeper and deeper into me. Then he began to thrust and I matched his rhythm as his fingers circled my clitoris again. The waves of no-going-back desire soon overcame me and I cried out with the pleasure of my release as I felt my cunt pulse around his cock, and, in turn, felt him reach his climax and thrust his juices deep into me. My pleasure seemed endless, as did his. When he finally pulled away, I reached down to my cunt, then brought my fingers to my mouth, savouring the sweet and salty taste of our inter-mingled juices. He pulled me towards him, and held me close for an age, kissing my hair, stroking his hands down my back. I showered his chest with tiny kisses, and I could feel his cock harden against my thigh. The joys of a younger man, I thought, as I dropped to my knees again, this time determined to satisfy him with my mouth. And this time he allowed me.

Martin arrived home shortly after I'd pulled my dressing gown on and re-tied the bow, and Tom had tugged on his jeans and T-shirt.

“Cup of tea, Martin?” I offered him, as we all sat around the table, my chair next to Tom's. I pulled my eyes away from Tom, and glanced at my son. Martin's eyes were shining and his lips looked bruised, somehow. Then I remembered he'd been to see Paul that morning, and the truth dawned on me.

“Great, Mum. Hey it was good to catch up with Paul this morning. Mind if I go out with him tonight? Will you two be OK on your own?”

I felt Tom's hand run up my thigh and across my stomach, sending desire shoot through me.

“We'll be fine, Martin. Won't we, Tom? Don't worry about us.”

“Yeah, Martin, you go out and have fun. Everything will be taken care of here.”