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The Real Awakening

She had her first real orgasm before he had entered her or even touched her clit.
They were downstairs, in his beautifully restored Victorian terrace. It was 11pm on Friday night. The deal had been signed now for almost 12 hours and they were still celebrating it.

The others had both left while she was in the bathroom apparently. George and Todd, the fat Englishman who had been negotiating with David for two weeks. She was glad they had gone. She had wanted to be alone with him for so long. She forgot even to care that leaving her here, in her tipsy state, would inevitably lead them to salacious speculation.

She swayed towards David, smiling at him, cocking her head to one side.
"You're gorgeous" she said to him, giggling. Held out her arms "Dance with me, David"

A bit more direct than her usual approach with him, but then champagne always went to her head. He looked disapprovingly at the champagne glass, now empty in her hand.

"No thank you. And I thought I told you I disapproved of your drinking?" he barked at her.

"It has already led you to flirt shamelessly with a very important professional contact. That man, Todd Wright will soon be second only in seniority to me in this company Charlotte. You would do well to guard his continued good opinion of you"

She laughed in his face
"Oh Old Toddy boy has a pretty high opinion of little Charlotte...don't you worry. He slipped me his cell phone number...and his spare hotel room key!" She dangled the pass card in front of his eyes. Then she looked up at him and a devil entered her soul.

"You don't seem to want me here. You don't even like to dance! Mind if I use your phone to call old Toddie?"

She had been slightly taken aback by his blunt rejection of her advances actually.She may have been extraordinarily innocent about sex, but Charlotte was not a young woman used to being refused a dance . Especially not by a man who despite his money and looks ought to be old enough to know how lucky he was to be getting attention from a beauty like herself.

Charlotte had no doubts about her beauty. She knew she had some kind of over men. She wasn't quite sure yet just what that power was, or indeed how to use it yet, but she was damned certain she possessed it.

That was one of the reasons David intrigued her. He saw her beauty. He appreciated it. But he gave no signs of being overwhelmed by it. Or of making it form an opinion of her abilities in the business world. She appreciated that, she really did. She had no intentions of sleeping her way to the top. She was more than capable of working her way there.

She shrugged and swayed away from him, filling up her glass again as she swung her hips across the room and past the bar. David looked on from the other side of the room and frowned. She poked her tongue out at him, defiantly downed the glass at a gulp and began dancing again, but her heel caught on the edge of the rug, She stumbled, almost fell flat in fact, but magically David appeared and caught her just before ignominy threw her to the floor.

"Whoopsa daisy!" She said, flinging her arms around his neck in rather more enthusiastic a fashion than she may have needed in order to rebalance herself.

Leaning against him, feeling quite drunk now with the champagne on top of the cocktail and wine and after dinner cognac, she again threw caution to the winds.

"I am a disgrace to womanhood...and to your company! I am drunk David Fordham...shrilly, unattractively...DRUNK!"

She teetered away from him, laughing mischievously. Kicked off her shoes and said huffily, "But I'm not drunk enough to have fallen if I weren't wearing these stupid stilts!"

The shoes landed at opposite sides of the room...and she danced away again, swinging her hips and watching him over her shoulder.

"I am a slattern David. You might as well sack me now. Bound to bring shame on the precious old company sooner or later...what with my...DRINKING and all."

She was furious really. He had made it sound as if she were a candidate for AA when she barely touched the stuff except on weekends. Defiant, she filled her glass again. No man would tell her how to behave!

Heart of Glass faded out and I'm Gonna Love You Too came on. Charlotte was fuming at being practically accused of alcoholism and she could see that he hadn't liked the news that Todd had been slinging his balding, pudgy hook at Charlotte one little bit. She decided to have some fun.

"So David where is the house phone? I really should call Toddy. Just to make sure it's not too late to pop over to The Radisson."

David's jaw tightened but he said nothing. He was collecting Charlotte's shiny new black pumps.

She felt that devil inside her again,. She crouched down beside David, who was retrieving her shoe from under an end table, slung her arm around him and said in an impish manner.

"Now you've known old Toddy a long time...does he like to dance David?"

"Behave Charlotte. You're making a spectacle of yourself!"
" the optometrist who fell in his own lens grinder?" Charlotte giggled...wandering off to the stereo giggling and repeating gruffly "You're making a spectacle of yourself young lady"

She looked back at David again and was surprised to see he was actually glowering. He seemed really upset. What a stitched up prude he had turned out to be. Not old enough for that kind of fussiness. Not by a long chalk. After the other weekend she had thought her boss may have had a wild side, but it seemed rather well hidden this evening.

The Moet flooding her brain had then prompted her final fatal foolishness in this little scene, which was for her to look at David and say quite cattily:

"If you disapprove of my behaviour so much David why don't you spank me again? Hmmmmm?" Raising one eyebrow, smiling at him...daring him. She was doing it, she told herself, to show him she was not intimidated by him. By his money or his age or his position as the head of the global company that employed her. She was not intimidated by anybody. And Mr David Fordham had better understand that clearly.

She was just about to say so to him when she was swept up in his arms, laid across his shoulder in a classic fireman's hold and David took off at quite a clip up the long staircase.

"If you insist. But you won't enjoy this one quite so much. Or forget its lessons quite so soon!"

Charlotte was still holding her champagne glass, She could have fought and kicked but decided it was far more sophisticated to play it cool. So she curved her her forearm on his shoulder. rested her her chin on her hand, and sipping her champagne as they ascended the curving mahogany staircase she commented.

"You're remarkably fit for a man of your age David. I expect it's the lack of alcohol in your diet. Very sensible!"

David merely said
"You could do with showing a little more respect my dear. Never mind though. you will learn it, I'm sure as this evening progresses "


He dumped her, unsteady though she was, on her feet in the middle of his massive R furnished bedroom. It was opulently furnished with genuine Regency antiques. Charlotte was taken aback at its richness.

He kicked the door shut without ever taking his eyes off her. Smiled that Cheshire smile of his and quite literally rubbed his hands together as he took in the view of her, standing brazenly, if a little drunkenly before him, daring him to take her.

"You'd better get out of those wet clothes, before you catch your death" he said lazily.

“ Wet clothes. . . ?” Charlotte began to say in a puzzled voice, when she realised what he meant by it. A triumphant little smile began to lift the corners of her pretty mouth.

I knew he wanted me, she thought, satisfaction welling within her.

So, he likes to be in charge in the bedroom, eh? Well that's OK. I bet he knows what he's about an' all, she thought impishly. She felt like a character in one of her stories. To cover her level of inexperience in these kinds of things she had decided before she left her flat tonight for this celebratory dinner, that she would behave as if she were a woman in one of those stories. She would be sophisticated and cool. Sexy. Wanton.

She was aware on some level that the champagne and sheer exhaustion were working together to make her bold and a little foolhardy, but she was allowing herself to be carried along by the momentum of the situation. She had decided days ago that her need of this man was so powerful that she had to throw caution and all her staid, stitched up Anglican upbringing out the window and just go for it.

"Oh yes Sir, Mr Fordham" she said in a mockingly demure tone. The one she used on him in the office when he was being particularly gruff. In the office it brought a smile to his eyes...and sometimes a rueful "Cheeky brat!" But now he simply looked annoyed.

She was puzzled by his brusqueness. He had been, over the last fortnight while they slaved to make this merger happen on his terms and his timetable, at pains to remind her that they had unfinished business of a much more personal nature to attend to. All in good time he had promised her.

She had felt the warm, wet reaction between her legs to his words now ."Get out of those wet clothes"  he had said......and her stomach had fluttered deliciously as her warm juices suddenly flowed, flooding the flimsy black g-string knickers she wore.

She had imagined him saying just that to her so many nights, as she lay in her bed, bringing herself to orgasm as she visualised him inside her, thrusting her fingers, where she wished his cock to be.

She turned now, arching her back coquettishly and took a few small steps in reverse until she was almost touching him

"Can you help me with my zip?" She asked flirtatiously, colour rising in her cheeks. But the blush was born of desire too, not shyness alone.

Without a word he reached out and smoothly took the zip of her silk jersey sheath from her neckline, down all the way to the top most curve of her delightful derrieres. He looked down and could see the edges of her curved buttocks, and the top band of the g-string.

He dropped his hands. Stepped back.

"Take it off. Take everything off!"

Again it was a command; growled more than spoken. His voice thick with desire and - something else. Something that was starting to make her very nervous. He sounded threatening. Not playfully threatening, as he had been with her one or two times recently, when they found themselves alone for a brief moment between frantic meetings. He had taken to approaching her in such rare private moments, usually from behind. He would entwine her in his arms and kiss her neck. Inhale her scent and promise her “When this merger is a done deal Charlotte I am going to fuck you within an inch of your life. I do hope you're aware of that.”

But now he had her here, in his magnificent bedroom, ripe and ready for him and he seemed – well he seemed irritated with her. As if she were an annoying inconvenience, not a pleasure he had looked forward to for so long.

Pride and desire worked within her to make her pretend she was calm and collected, but he could see her hands shaking as she slipped the sheath off her creamy shoulders, exposing a very expensive few square centimetres of silk and lace flummery not quite covering her beautiful proud breasts. Smallish breasts they were, but Charlotte was by no means flat chested. She had beautiful breasts in fact. Firm, high, soft little cushions.

He could clearly see how erect her nipples were under the translucent lace net of her demi bra.

He knew that her shaking was due as much to anxiety as desire and it thrilled him. He smiled at her then. Just a small smile. And it did little to reassure her. It was not meant to. He was enjoying playing with her head just as much as he knew he would soon enjoy playing with her luscious little body.

"All of it Charlotte. Hurry now."

It was said quietly. His head angled back, observing her with seeming detachment. But his erection rising so rapidly inside those Armani dress pants gave the lie to his nonchalant pose.

She felt on safer ground now. She had seen that reaction in him before. She may have been inexperienced, but she had instincts. She had known for a long time he was attracted to her. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. A little smile of triumph worked at the edges of her mouth and slowly, sinuously, she divested herself of the tiny scraps of fabric still covering her, making sure she turned her back to him and stepped forward a pace as she lowered the g-string, bending at the waist and looking back at him as she stepped out of them. Just as she had read of a girl doing this morning before leaving for the office. She had decided then that it was how she would undress before David. Like she had done it a million times with a hundred other men.

"You are one fine looking Woman, Charlotte"

He approached her now, arm extended slightly as she was still in the process of straightening up, still looking back at him. Running the tips of his fingers along that secret recess she had so wantonly exposed to his gaze.

"But as I said, you're very, very wet"

One hand came around the front of her, cupping her breast gently, taking the nipple between thumb and forefinger, rolling it ever so tenderly.

She whimpered and leaned back on him, frozen with delight and desire. Feeling herself flood again at his slight touch on her sex and her breast. Oh god he was going to be good, wasn't he? So what if he was a little bossy. He was the boss wasn't he? After all, it wasn't as if Charlotte had much of an idea what to do. She needed a man to take the lead. It was why she had chosen him, she was sure.

She giggled then. realising as she did so that she was a lot more affected by the wine than she had wanted to let on. Floating almost, watching herself relax against this beautiful, powerful looking man from some place above it all.

He abruptly moved his hand from between her legs and at precisely the same moment pinched her nipple cruelly, then dropped his hands from her body.

She gasped.

"Don't get too carried away Sweetheart, there's plenty of time".

Her head snapped back as if he had struck her. He walked over to where she had kicked off her shoes, brought them back to her and knelt at her feet, sliding each one on her in its turn, running his hand up her leg as he did so. Stopping to carees her at the crease where thigh met buttock. Smelling her musk as he looked up at her. Smiling at her. Knowing now. Knowing that whatever the outcome of tonight, he would soon be fucking this beautiful, demure, intriguing creature, every which way he wanted. And then some.


He took her arm...not roughly at all, but firmly. Very firmly. And with little indication that he intended it to become an embrace. He led her to a marble platform which was laid in front of a blank white wall. It was raised slightly off the carpeted floor, about a metre wide and ran the length of the wall. He placed her at one end of it, facing the corner.

"Squat down here...on your haunches. And do not move or take your eyes off that wall unless I expressly tell you to do so."

Shaking for real now, head still spinning and feeling a little queasy, she did as she was told. Shame reddening her cheeks this time as when she opened her legs to squat she clearly caught the aroma of her own musk and she knew that he had too, for he reached down the front of her, placed his hand between her legs so that his palm was almost touching her cunt and said, with an edge of something like contempt in his voice

"I can feel the heat of you from here."

Two great tears formed in her eyes as she felt her heart sink, and rolled silently down her shame flushed cheeks.


He had left her then. Left her for so long she thought he had forgotten about her. The wine and the long week, the stress of the position he had made her take up....the cold of the room. All of these things conspired to start her shaking. Uncontrollable shaking. And as she shook, she began to cry for real. Not just the one tear of shame and embarrassment he had seen, but huge great drops. Little girl tears of fear. Real fear. Gut wrenching, heart clutching fear.

What would he do to her? Oh god...was he some kind of serial killer, like the ones in those graphic crime shows on the tele? Dexter and The Bone Collector. Was he like that creepy Shrink in Silence of the Lambs?

She began to sob. She tried at first to keep quiet about it. Afraid that if he heard her it would bring him back and hurry her to her fate. Just shuddering breaths and massive tears. But soon she was gasping aloud, hyperventilating. Panicked. alone, naked. Forced into this humiliating squat. Those almost fetish shoes making her arches and calves scream in pain. Afraid to move, yet terrified of what might happen to her if she did not try to flee.

She sobbed like a lost child. Great desperate heaving sobs and as they grew in strength her indrawn breath was an audible wail.

David was in the bathroom adjoining the room where the sobbing girl waited to learn her fate. His head against the wall, breath coming ragged, a hand towel wiping his come from the head of his softening cock. He had had to get some relief or he'd have exploded. He needed to take his time with her. He had rushed her far too much already. He knew that even now. He would have plenty of leisure to recover his erection.

All he had needed to do was to close his eyes and picture her as he had last seen her. Naked, squatting on that platform he had built just for that purpose. The orgasm under his own hand just imagining her had been better than many he had experienced with actual women. He had held the fingers he'd touched her sex with to his nose while he masturbated, and her sweet sticky musk still intoxicated him.

As the rushing in his ears subsided he cocked his head.....he could hear something from the other room. He stopped to listen and was horrified to realise what it was. Charlotte. Charlotte sobbing as if the hounds of hell were after her.

He groaned. Oh God, that was all he needed, an overwrought emotional woman, weeping on his bedroom floor. He briefly considered climbing out the window, and leaving her there, making some excuse when next he saw her. But that was out of the question. He had got her this far, he was hardly going to leave her all alone, weeping, then slink away after cracking a quick one off the wrist.

And she was so fucking ready for it! He had to play this carefully, or he would feel no better than a rapist afterward. His immediate lust slated, he felt able to return, and comfort the girl.

He just hoped he hadn't put her off the whole idea.


He zipped his pants, wiped his hands quickly and re-entered the room. She was still in the squat, shoulders heaving, head hanging, great wracking sobs sending spasms through her body. He had to get her back to that relaxed, (and more importantly, receptive) state of mind, that had made her such a fascinating proposition.

He softened his voice consciously...made it kind and gentle. Easy enough to do. He looked at her there on the floor still, tears in her eyes, and felt himself stir again. He knew he had been right about her.. She was 23 but he knew (he had inquired. Had a very good agency inquire on his behalf in fact) that she'd had only one lover in her life. The dull, well raised polite type of young man named Nigel, whom she had met through her parents social circle. The son of a teacher and an accountant, born and raised in the same stunningly dull country town from whence she came.

Nothing in her sexual experience could have prepared her for this scene.

“ What on earth is the matter? Why are you upset? I had a little unavoidable chore to do. I'm sorry, but it took a little longer than I expected. Everything is as it should be now, so we can relax.”

He approached her slowly as he said this. Finally coming to a halt about half a metre behind her...and off to the side so she could see him as he came closer.

“ Come on Charlotte, dry your eyes, and put this on, or you'll catch a chill. I'm sorry I was gone for so long, but it couldn't be helped.”

She looked up at him, saw that he was holding out a black silk robe, offering it to her. Offering to let her cover herself,. to shield her vulnerable, shaking naked self, before he approached any more closely.

She took the robe, overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude to him for allowing her this return of some dignity and control. Without even being aware of the irony that it had been him who had placed her in the out of control, undignified position in the first place.

She struggled to get up but he decided to let her do it. She was obviously quite capable. And this show of vulnerability just made him want her even more. He watched her moving, shrugging the robe on with great haste, still sniffling a little. He had meant to build her anticipation, not make her think he'd thought her not worth the effort after all. He could have kicked himself. How nearly he had come to ruining it all, by his own over eager efforts.

She was huddled in the robe now, in the farthest corner from him, still sobbing, but at a quieter level now, winding down. Calming. He stretched back on a chaise lounge, hands behind his head..

"I've been watching you for a long time Charlotte, there's something about you that is different, refreshing, rare. And I have often wondered on what it was about you. Unfortunately, whatever it is, eluded me, until tonight.

He raised his head...she was looking at him, still shuddering occasionally with reflexive sobs, but the tears had stopped coming anew with each spasm. She was wiping her face with the back of her hand...but she was looking at him...and he knew she was listening.

Here" he said, passing her a monogrammed handkerchief. "Wipe your face"

Charlotte leaned across and reached for the handkerchief. Her face was swollen from crying, but she was still beautiful...Lord how beautiful. Big wet eyes, her bottom lip raised and red from where she had bitten on it trying to stem its trembling, to calm her frayed nerves, before the crying had started in earnest.

She took it from him and wiped her eyes. Blew her nose and then in a confused sort of manner looked at the soiled cloth and then impulsively stuffed it in the pocket of the robe. Huddling again, but not moving off from him.

He took a second handkerchief and tentatively reached out, wiping the wet sides of her lovely nose, the glistening salty drops that still clung to her perfect jawline. The smooth soft flawless skin of her face still glowing, despite the mottled evidence of her recent ordeal. The gesture was so infinitely gentle. so filled with concern, and consideration. Charlotte dissolved into fresh tears and said in a voice filled with hurt and incomprehension, a whisper almost.

"I was so afraid of you David"

And then somehow she was in his arms. He was nestling her head in his shoulder. kissing the top of it, murmuring over and over "Silly girl, I wouldn't hurt you, why on earth would I do anything to hurt you?”

Even as he comforted her he felt himself stirring again. She smelled divine. Of expensive soap and fine moisturiser. Luscious enriching shampoo, mixed with her sweet musky sex and the slight acrid undertone of her stress induced perspiration.

He inhaled her miasma as if by doing so he could take some of her essence inside himself. His arms tightened around her, his hand moving from smoothing her hair, to caressing her neck. Kissing its nape softly. Murmuring of her beauty and his penitence.

Charlotte felt as though she were dissolving into his gentle embrace. He moved the back of his hand down her throat, delicately tracing the lines of her graceful neck, thrilling at the feel of her delicate skin under his knuckles. Moved it lower, down past her collar bone, pausing there too, tracing their hollows with the tip of a finger. He wanted to map her beautiful body. To get to know it's every swell and turn. Each subtle change of texture. The feel of her, shivering and plaint through the silken sheen of his robe, held within it promises of carnal pleasures David was certain now would be unsurpassed, even in his wide and varied experience.

He paused at her breast. Cupped it with infinite care, still through the robe. Ran his long thumb slowly and insistently over the already erect little nipple three or four times, before gently moving the robe to one side and lowering his head.

He suckled at her like a sweet lipped babe for long moments. His eyes closed in ecstasy, his cock ramrod hard and pushing up into her thighs as she sat cradled in his lap. His other hand came to rest on the nipple of her left breast and he rolled it expertly between thumb and index finger, while he continued to work at her right breast with the rough of his tongue rasping back and forth across the underside of her nipple as he suckled harder, making gulping wet sounds reverberate around the otherwise silent room. Kneading at her breasts with both hands, firm but gentle on the warm plump pillows.

Charlotte whimpered and sobbed. Sighing “Oh David. Oh my god. I've never felt anything like.....” Without warning, she leaned back in his arms to his delight and amazement actually came to a shuddering, thundering, bone shaking climax. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she keened out the depth of her pleasure to him.

“ Hmmmmmm.” said David, his voice muffled and blurred somewhat by the fact that most of her nipple was still in his mouth. “Breast only orgasms. Charlotte you didn't tell me you experienced those. I bet you've had some fun with that facility young lady.”

She was shell shocked from the strength of her climax and unthinkingly spoke the simple truth that she had vowed she would keep from him always.

“ Is that what happened? I've – I've never had any kind of orgasm – well not d- during. . .well. . .not with a – a man before.”

David sat bolt upright, though he tightened his grip on her. He looked at her hard and long. No. Surely not. It was not possible. She had been engaged to that twat. She'd lived with the fool. Was it possible that he was such an inadequate freak as to have. . .

“ What do you mean?” he demanded of her, rather more brusquely than he had meant it to sound.

Charlotte shrank from him, blushing. Damn the wine that was still fogging her head, loosening her tongue like that. Her pride had long ago led her to decide that if she were to pursue her crush on David, he would never know her horrible secret.

Yet here she was, sitting with her breasts exposed to his eye and hand and tongue, sobbing quietly and finding herself telling him all. All her shameful sad little secrets. That her own fiance, the man she had been with since she was 16 years old, had been so little attracted to her that he rarely if ever fucked her. And that it lasted no more than five or 10 minutes when he did. And that these brief encounters, always enacted in the dark, partially dressed in the night clothes they both wore to bed, left Charlotte wholly unmoved, other than occasionally feeling a degree of pain and discomfort, from being entered when she was so ill lubricated.

That indeed she had lain there most nights of her time with Nigel, eyes closed and teeth gritted, her only thought on most occasions being “Oh please get it over with.”

She had wanted David to think her so worldly wise; experienced and alluring and thus worthy of him. Now he would know the truth. That she was so inexperienced as to be almost virgin. And so desperate for his skilful hands to guide her that she had just orgasmed at his first real touch. Shame and humiliation suffused her.

Her words came out in a rush, tumbling over themselves in her haste and her tipsy, vulnerable state.

“ Oh David. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You must have thought you'd be getting something special. Someone who would know what to do and how to please you. And all you got was me. I don't know what to do David. I don't know anything.” Her tone had got higher and more frantic as her words came pouring out. Words she had never spoken aloud before. She fair wailed to an end with this stupefying revelation

I've never even had oral sex!”

With that bombshell, she burst out sobbing again and buried her head in his shoulder to cover her blush and her tears of shame.

“ I suppose you just want me to leave now.” she whimpered out. “I don't blame you. I'm sorry. You're right. You're always right. I am an idiot. I shouldn't drink. I shouldn't flirt with men so far out of my league. I- I shouldn't be allowed out without a keeper. I'm hopeless.”

And she began once again to cry in earnest.

David cradled her, a sense of delight and surprise filling him with tenderness for her as well as a new and overwhelming rush of desire. Oh Christ, what luck. A clean canvas. He looked at her, marvelling that she had lasted so long before someone of his ilk got their hands on her.

She was as plaint fine clay with which he could mould for himself the perfect fucktoy. She was fucking ganting on it. All those pent up wants and needs and desires. Charlotte was carnal to her very core, he knew that for a fact. She was a treasure trove of unexploited wantoness. And he had been given the key to opening it. He had already been the first man to ever gaze upon her face as she orgasmed. He thrilled as that thought dawned on him.

To hell with breaking their hymens, any fool could do that. It was perfectly obvious to David that a real fool had indeed already done it to Charlotte. But bringing them their first pleasure. Watching them quiver and shake and shudder with the dawning realisation of what real physical lust felt like. That was what turned David on. Made him feel immeasurably powerful. Made the women he did it for slavishly devoted to him. For never having experienced real pleasure before, they were always certain that none but he would ever bestow it upon them again. And thus they would do whatever he bade them, as once awoken, a woman's carnality was an irresistible force within her.

But unless you were the kind of creeper who loitered outside schools, it was getting harder and harder to find the innocent type of lass for whom David had such a decided preference.

“ Oh Charlotte. Silly girl” He deliberately made his voice gentle and indulgent. Kissed her neck softly. Caressed her face. Touched the tip of her nose with his lips.

“ Do I want you to leave now?” He roared with laughter. “Baby, you'll be lucky if I ever release you from here.”

Charlotte looked at him for a moment, half believing he was only trying to pacify her. But then she looked deeper into his eyes and saw the hunger there. A spark that the earlier passion had not contained. A yearning for her. Like the yearning she knew was in her own eyes when she gazed at him.

“ So - so it doesn't matter to you. That I'm not – not very – good at – sex things?” she asked in a faltering little voice, but edged now with hope and happiness too.

“ Matter to me? Of course it matters. excites the fuck out of me. I've never wanted you more than I do right now. I'm going to teach you everything I know about sex. I'm going to mould and form and guide you. You'll be yowling your pleasure to the moon baby. I'm gonna take you to nirvana my love. And you will take me there too. I know it.”

And with that he picked her up and carried her to the bed. Where for the first time in many years he didn't just fuck a woman royally. He made long slow passionate love to her. She came so many times that night they both lost count as he explored her body with his tongue and fingers. His nose and eyes and mouth and cock touched every part of her.

He guided her to explore his own body too. To touch it and lick it. Nibble his nipples. Lick and gnaw at his belly, his chest, his balls. To take the tip of his penis into her mouth. To suckle at it as she cradled his balls. To lick them and suck them. When, even before she had learned to take his length fully into her dark little toothy cave, he could no longer restrain himself from coming, he tried to pull out before he blew, afraid that the shock of his semen in her mouth would frighten her off. It often did with the new ones.

But to his ecstatic pleasure she held onto his staff and tried valiantly to swallow him, as she had read girls did in all her stories; as she had dreamed of at night alone in her bed, longing for him to be there with her, invading every part of her body, just as he was now.

His heart melted at the sight of her. Valiant little thing she was, choking on his come, the pearly liquid spilling from her mouth as she alternately gulped and gagged, and finally was forced to let go of him, coughing and sputtering, retching a little and wiping frantically at her mouth with the back of her hand. But smiling still, hopefully and with a touch of trepidation as well as hope in her little voice.

“ Did I do it right David? Was that the way it's supposed to be done?”

“ Oh baby girl you did it great. You did it better than anyone ever has.”

And he lay beside her, touching and murmuring to her. Kissing her and spooning her and poking at her quim with his fingers and knees and tongue, till long after the sun had risen, and the maid come and gone, cleaning away the detritus they had left downstairs.

The woman did not come up the stairs however, as she knew from long experience that when her boss had a woman's handbag on his sofa and her car in his driveway and they were both still in his boudoir at 10 am, he did not wish to be interrupted for clean sheets and towels.

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Copyright © Each story published here remains the property of ME, Danand...anyone infringing this copyright will be pursued to the ends of the earth and persecuted soundly.

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