Strict Susan
07-31-2005, 9:58 AM
She was not sure when he first asked her to sit on him.
“Why?” she asked.
He tried to explain. To be under that part of her; to feel her pressing onto him; to taste her and have her fill his senses….
She really did not understand, but eventually she agreed.
She lowered herself slowly towards his face as he lay on his back. She felt his warm breath, his tongue reaching up to touch her, his lips on her.
She would have stayed there, enjoying the gentle touch of his face under her and the soft movement of his mouth on her, but he pulled her down onto him. She pressed against him, her weight on him pushing his head down into the soft bed. His mouth and nose were covered by her and surely, she thought, he could hardly breath under her. She felt him not just against her but pressed into her, and enveloped by her soft flesh round and over his face.
His hands pushed for her to rock and move on top of him. She rocked her hips back and forth and from side to side, as his hands urged her this way and that, and then he was pushing her up and from him. His damp, gasping face still only a few inches below her as she looked down at him, and his gentle murmur “That was wonderful” as he rolled her off and onto her back, and they made love.
He was right. It was good, and the lovemaking that followed was something special that rarely happened with such intensity between them. She lay back after it was over, in her own thoughts, satisfied, but at the same time with a niggling feeling that something was missing, unfulfilled, incomplete.
The next time she knew what to expect and what was expected.
Slowly she lowered herself right onto him, pressed down, rocked, moved, wriggled and jiggled. Yet as she started the slow rhythm, pushing down so that he pressed against her and into her just where she needed him, he had had enough and his strong hands raised her up from his wet and gasping face.
Then she knew. She knew what was missing and what she needed.
A sudden and unexpected thrill went through her as the realisation hit, formed and crystallised into the certainty of exactly what she needed to do – if he would let her. And her lovemaking that followed as before, took on an even deeper and more furious intensity as her thoughts ran away with the fantasy she planned to turn into her reality.
She prepared carefully. She now knew what she wanted, and she was quite determined to get it. The thought of it excited her in a way she had never experienced before. This would be special. Very special. Very special indeed.
“No,” she said to him as he lay on his back and she knelt astride him. “No. I want to do something different. I don’t want to sit on you.”
It was partly a lie. She wanted so much to sit on him again, but her way, not his and she needed his co-operation – at first.
“What? Please. You know I like it.” He pleaded. ‘Pathetic,’ she thought.
“OK, I will. But…….” She paused as if trying to make up her mind, “But I want to tie your hands.”
“What?”
“I want to tie your hands. To the bed.”
“Don’t be daft. You’re not tying me up.”
“OK,” She shrugged her shoulders and climbed off the bed. “I’m not sitting on you.”
It was a gamble – one hell of a gamble because she ached to have him under her and the last thing she wanted was not to do it again. It would be worth it though, to get what she wanted, and she was determined to get what she wanted.
“You’re serious?” He seemed surprised.
“Why not? Your kink is to have me on top of your face. My kink is to tie your hands. Oh come on, let me try something I want for a change!”
“Go on then.” He still did not sound sure, but that was all she needed. Gently but firmly she grasped his right wrist and pulled his arm above his head and to one side, feeling for the strong cord she had attached to the bed earlier, and left coiled up just out of sight. As she looped the cord round his wrist and knotted it tightly, he gave a yelp of startled surprise.
“You planned this!?”
“Of course. If you don’t want to do it then I’ll put my clothes on and go back downstairs.”
He said nothing, and after looking at the expression on his face for a moment she gently raised his other arm and tightened the other cord round his wrist.
He pulled against the cords as she watched, and realised that it was now totally impossible for him to free himself. Until she released him there he would remain, on his back, on the bed, with his arms outstretched. Helpless and vulnerable.
She had not finished.
To his surprise and concern she went to the bottom of the bed, and swiftly attached two more lengths of cord one around each ankle, pulling his legs far apart and attaching them securely to the bottom corners of the bed.
“I didn’t say anything about tying my legs too.”
“No,” she agreed. “You didn’t. What a shame.”
He was going to reply angrily, but by then she was kneeling astride his face.
“Yes?” she said, “You were perhaps going to say you don’t want to do this?”
He shook his head. Satisfied with this, she started to lower herself over him.
.....to be continued.
“Why?” she asked.
He tried to explain. To be under that part of her; to feel her pressing onto him; to taste her and have her fill his senses….
She really did not understand, but eventually she agreed.
She lowered herself slowly towards his face as he lay on his back. She felt his warm breath, his tongue reaching up to touch her, his lips on her.
She would have stayed there, enjoying the gentle touch of his face under her and the soft movement of his mouth on her, but he pulled her down onto him. She pressed against him, her weight on him pushing his head down into the soft bed. His mouth and nose were covered by her and surely, she thought, he could hardly breath under her. She felt him not just against her but pressed into her, and enveloped by her soft flesh round and over his face.
His hands pushed for her to rock and move on top of him. She rocked her hips back and forth and from side to side, as his hands urged her this way and that, and then he was pushing her up and from him. His damp, gasping face still only a few inches below her as she looked down at him, and his gentle murmur “That was wonderful” as he rolled her off and onto her back, and they made love.
He was right. It was good, and the lovemaking that followed was something special that rarely happened with such intensity between them. She lay back after it was over, in her own thoughts, satisfied, but at the same time with a niggling feeling that something was missing, unfulfilled, incomplete.
The next time she knew what to expect and what was expected.
Slowly she lowered herself right onto him, pressed down, rocked, moved, wriggled and jiggled. Yet as she started the slow rhythm, pushing down so that he pressed against her and into her just where she needed him, he had had enough and his strong hands raised her up from his wet and gasping face.
Then she knew. She knew what was missing and what she needed.
A sudden and unexpected thrill went through her as the realisation hit, formed and crystallised into the certainty of exactly what she needed to do – if he would let her. And her lovemaking that followed as before, took on an even deeper and more furious intensity as her thoughts ran away with the fantasy she planned to turn into her reality.
She prepared carefully. She now knew what she wanted, and she was quite determined to get it. The thought of it excited her in a way she had never experienced before. This would be special. Very special. Very special indeed.
“No,” she said to him as he lay on his back and she knelt astride him. “No. I want to do something different. I don’t want to sit on you.”
It was partly a lie. She wanted so much to sit on him again, but her way, not his and she needed his co-operation – at first.
“What? Please. You know I like it.” He pleaded. ‘Pathetic,’ she thought.
“OK, I will. But…….” She paused as if trying to make up her mind, “But I want to tie your hands.”
“What?”
“I want to tie your hands. To the bed.”
“Don’t be daft. You’re not tying me up.”
“OK,” She shrugged her shoulders and climbed off the bed. “I’m not sitting on you.”
It was a gamble – one hell of a gamble because she ached to have him under her and the last thing she wanted was not to do it again. It would be worth it though, to get what she wanted, and she was determined to get what she wanted.
“You’re serious?” He seemed surprised.
“Why not? Your kink is to have me on top of your face. My kink is to tie your hands. Oh come on, let me try something I want for a change!”
“Go on then.” He still did not sound sure, but that was all she needed. Gently but firmly she grasped his right wrist and pulled his arm above his head and to one side, feeling for the strong cord she had attached to the bed earlier, and left coiled up just out of sight. As she looped the cord round his wrist and knotted it tightly, he gave a yelp of startled surprise.
“You planned this!?”
“Of course. If you don’t want to do it then I’ll put my clothes on and go back downstairs.”
He said nothing, and after looking at the expression on his face for a moment she gently raised his other arm and tightened the other cord round his wrist.
He pulled against the cords as she watched, and realised that it was now totally impossible for him to free himself. Until she released him there he would remain, on his back, on the bed, with his arms outstretched. Helpless and vulnerable.
She had not finished.
To his surprise and concern she went to the bottom of the bed, and swiftly attached two more lengths of cord one around each ankle, pulling his legs far apart and attaching them securely to the bottom corners of the bed.
“I didn’t say anything about tying my legs too.”
“No,” she agreed. “You didn’t. What a shame.”
He was going to reply angrily, but by then she was kneeling astride his face.
“Yes?” she said, “You were perhaps going to say you don’t want to do this?”
He shook his head. Satisfied with this, she started to lower herself over him.
.....to be continued.