I had wondered what the night would bring when I received a text from him around two o'clock that afternoon, as the office had quieted into the post-lunch lull, with the words, “My place, tonight, 8pm. Let yourself in. I'll be waiting.” I didn't get much work done that afternoon as I thought about what he might have planned. After the success of our last date, my anticipation was high, but as he was as non-commital as ever about making arrangements, and just said he'd be in touch, I worried he might be losing interest. Obviously not.

At ten past eight, I clattered up the stairs to his apartment, made late by fussing for too long with my hair, nervously applying and blotting and then re-applying my lipstick, and studying my legs in the mirror as I put on my stockings, adjusting the suspender belt and ensuring the seams were perfectly straight. I wanted to impress him. I reached his door and found it unlatched, so I knocked lightly and then let myself in, as he had instructed.

“Hello?”

Silence. My heels clicked along the hall to the living room, where I found him, leaning back into the middle of the couch, blinds closed, lights dimmed, cigarette in hand, his legs stretched out next to a small table that held a fat glass tumbler, half full of a clear liquid which I guessed would be vodka rather than water.

He turned his head to regard me as I approached the doorway. His face betrayed no emotion. He was still in his work clothes, the top two buttons of his shirt undone and his tie loosened. I wondered if he'd been having a hard day, if his message earlier had been prompted by him knowing that later on he would be in need of some fun which I was more than happy to provide. He didn't look stressed though, just calm and strangely focused.

“You're late.” He took a drag on his cigarette and reached for his drink.

“I know! I'm so sorry.” I said, smiling apologetically. I was about to launch into an excuse when he cut me off.

“You better go and stand over there.” He motioned with his head towards the fireplace, directly in front of him.

“What? Are you putting me in the naughty corner?” I was trying to sound unruffled, but he had caught me off-guard.

“I want you to go and stand over there.” He spoke with deliberate slowness, his voice flat but insistent. I thought I saw his eyes glint mischievously. What was he up to?

Smiling again to hide my confusion and nervousness, I did as he said. He looked me up and down, his face inscrutable as he took in the short black dress with a low scoop neck that clung to my curves, my long dark hair set in loose curls and my red painted lips. He narrowed his eyes and smiled.

“Now take off your dress.”

“What?”

“Take off your dress. Do you have to be told everything twice?”

My heart thumped. This demeanor was all new to me. There'd been no hint of this the last time I was here, when we'd fucked for the very first time on his couch after he'd taken me out to a restaurant close to where he lived, and asked if he wanted to see his apartment. I'd accepted gladly, fired up from his hand on my thigh under the table during dinner and the looks he'd given me across the table, hungry for more than the delicious food we had eaten. When he'd started to kiss me after a giving me a brief tour of his place – which was hard-edged and unmistakably masculine, all black furniture and stark white walls - I had willingly submitted to his advances, weeks of longing finally fulfilled. Now, he'd thrown me a curveball.

Slowly, with slightly nervous movements, I slipped my arms out of the long sleeves and peeled off the dress until it fell to floor.

“That's better.” He smiled approvingly as I stood before him in just my black lacy bra and thong, my stockings and suspenders and heels.

I knew that sex would be on the cards tonight, but not like this. I tried not to let my face betray my conflicting emotions. Part of me wanted to run out of the door, away from the searing heat of his stare burning into me and out into the safety of the cool night air. But another, it seemed stronger part of me wanted to stay, was turned on by the undercurrent of danger and the electricity in the room. I smiled back at him, my arms awkwardly at my sides, not knowing quite how to act around this new persona of his.

Of course he would tell me.

“Take off your bra. I want you to show me your tits.” The words escaped bluntly from his lips along with a cloud of smoke. He set the cigarette down in the ashtray on the table. I noticed he was aroused, his erection forming a bulge under the fabric of his trousers.

Feeling more confident, I held his gaze as I unclipped my bra and tossed it aside, covering my breasts with my hands and then letting them bounce free. My nipples were hard. I was starting to feel strangely turned on by him bossing me around like this.

“Very nice. Come here.”

I took a step towards him, but he put his hand up and said curtly, “No. Get on your knees.”

I looked at him, shocked, fighting the urge to run, my confidence disappearing again. An evil grin spread across his face as he waited to see if I would comply. I hesitated.

“Come on. Crawl for me.”

I bit my lip as he unzipped his fly and pulled down his pants and boxers just enough to release his cock. His long, thick, beautiful cock. The sight of it almost made me salivate, and despite still feeling some apprehension at the situation the wetness was growing between my legs.

“You want this?” He took his rock hard length in his hand. “Then crawl for it. Now.”

I lowered myself to the floor, blushing, his eyes on the swing of my naked breasts as I crawled slowly towards him on all fours.

He looked down at me, now knelt between his knees, then put his hand on the back of my head, loosely gripping my hair and ordered me, “Open your mouth.”

As I complied he pushed my head down onto his cock, sliding it between my lips and causing him to groan. I started sucking on it, moving slowly up and down, his hand still on the back of my head guiding the rythym. Normally I hated it when guys did this. With him I was unexpectedly loving it. His hips bucked and his breathing got heavier as I flicked my tongue against his hot hard flesh as it slid beautifully in and out of my mouth, trying to find that sensitive spot on the underside.

“ Straddle me.” His voice was harsh and urgent. “I want to suck on those tits while you ride my dick.”

This was the kind of instruction I didn't need to hesitate over. I stood up and lowered myself into his lap, sticking out my chest so my breasts were right in his face. He grabbed my hair again and kissed me hard, my hips grinding into him and crushing his cock between against his belly and my wet, aching need for him.

“You feel so good,” I whispered into his mouth, feeling his hardness rub tantalisingly against my clit.

“Shut up and fuck me.” He yanked my head back by my hair and took my breast into his mouth, sucking and then biting down on my nipple until I squealed. Then his hands were under my buttocks and he was lifting me up, my hand guiding his cock until he had speared me, filling my tight wetness. I groaned loudly, loving the hugeness of him inside me and his tongue on my nipples.

That was the night I discovered that, despite my reservations, some things are definitely worth being made to crawl for.