Latest Forum Posts:



First person perspectives of an encounter at a dance concert.

There are these transcendent moments in my life, moments when my consciousness expands beyond the normal, day to day concerns regarding the next patient, what to eat for dinner, toe jam, the fucked-up state of our Union. Most of these moments have happened during times of intense physical exertion of some sort. I think my first happened when I was playing ball in high school - I found that zone that athletes speak of. Time slowed, awareness focused and broadened simultaneously, and my body became the perfect expression of my intent. These nearly out-of-body experiences have happened at least twice during sex. But most often they have taken place while I dance.

I remember sitting in on the only lecture I’ve ever had about dance back in college. The professor was suggesting that dance was a means by which early cultures would alter their consciousness, creating a shared euphoric state that glued the spirits of the dancers together during hours of sweat-soaked movement. He showed us a series of prototypical, positions or moves that were observed across many different ‘primitive’ cultures in the carvings and other depictions of their dance rituals. He went on to tell us that the nature of moving into and out of these postures created real chemical changes in their brains. I knew then, and I know even better now, that this prof had gotten his theory exactly right.

I was thinking about that lecture for perhaps the 100th time as I inhaled my last puff of a joint. Rolling up the roach as I walked toward the bar a smile crossed my face in anticipation of surrendering myself to the beat of my favorite local band’s ska-styled, lap-steel infused music. I’d been coming to see them for years and knew every note, of every song they ever played. Knew how Trina would sing the chorus when they covered the Clash’s “Armageddon Time”. Knew how John would bend his chords in exactly the right way to morph a seemingly straight tune and bring out all sorts of psychedelic undertones. Knew that William’s work on his lap steel would bring a soulful, otherworldly slant to the music. Knew that all of that was merely window dressing. Dance for those aboriginals had more often than not been nothing more than a raging fire and a guy (or three, or ten) and his drum. Knew that for me it was all about the beat that synced every single dancer in that smoke-filled bar. Knew that without percussion we might as well have been listening to lullabies.

Paying my cover I walk in, put a beer on board, piss in the dank and cramped john, and walk onto the dance floor just as they finish tuning up. John smiles at me knowingly - I think he (and probably every musician out there) truly gets off when they can bring such ecstasy to their listeners. They start into things and within a couple of songs I’m already starting to lose my self-consciousness, which characterizes the rest of my existence. I begin to sweat after 20 minutes. After another 10 minutes I’m beginning to float in and out of the normal boundaries of my self. Others around me are doing the same, enhancing the effect for all. We spin. We jump. Our hands trace the patterns of energy that only we, the dancers, are privy to feeling. Smiles, red faces, sweat-soaked black shirts, matted and tussled hair define those dancers who know, from the newer folk who are here for the first time.

And then, as my favorite mesmerizing quartet begins to climax the first set, I see her.

I'd been watching the cascade of bodies on the dance floor rising and falling like an ocean of flesh for an hour. It was the same shit every night of every weekend for a month. I'd get dragged here, watch my friends get drunk and act like whores on the dance floor. Making promises I knew they wouldn't keep, like a bunch of high school cockteases playing at getting laid. For what? To get a phone number? I was never that much of a dancer. I just loved to feel the rhythm course through my body. I could sit and feel work its way from my neck through my spine and down through my legs like a skilled lover. Right now, I just took solace in my drink and watched them. Moving, stretching, the rise and fall cascading to the pounding beat. My goal right now was to reach that point where I could no longer feel my lips or fingertips. I would drink hard.

Some asshole hits me hard in the back on his way to the bar. He kind of murmurs, "Sorry" and makes his way past. I'm tired of this scene. I'm tired of this same old shit. I'm tired of my friends acting like a bunch of drunken prom dates. The vodka must be hitting me, because I can smell the scent of sweat somewhere in the back of my nostrils. If I were on that floor, I wouldn't make an ass of myself. I wouldn't make a promise I wouldn't keep.

I would lick flesh just taste the salt of the sweat.

I would lean back to feel his breath on my neck.

I would let him press his cock into the back of my thigh just to get a taste of what I could have when we got out of this shithole.

And I wouldn't giggle like some stupid schoolgirl, tell him maybe sometime and ask for a phone number.

Someday I will get out of this shithole.

Someday. Maybe.

Maybe tonight.

Maybe it's just the Kettle One talking.

Maybe it's been too long.

My God, the bodies on that floor look so beautiful from here...

I see her looking down onto the floor, her face displays a mixture of boredom, longing, danger, and the blush of whatever she is drinking shows on her cheeks. Everything about this woman contrasts her with the other women here, even her drink, which is clear and umbrellaless. The leather choker around her neck, something that none of the delicate flowers could pull off in a million Saturday nights, hints at her confidence, her power, and oddly, a submissive side that seems at odds with her air of strength.

I smile inwardly. I love to get these glimpses of others as I flow with the music. Most of the time I close my eyes so as to be closer to the music... no, that’s not it. It’s to filter out the visual noise in the bar - the unthinking, unfeeling automatons that seem to populate any and every place that promises loud music and liquor. I move, brushing against the soft curve of a woman’s hip with my thigh, then butting up against the hard muscles of some guy’s shoulder. I feel a woman’s long, black curly hair fly up against my face as she spins in front of me. But even as I try to lose myself in this frenetic, near-orgy of dancers I find myself looking for her again.

She is standing closer to the floor and is beginning to sway in the most sensual way to the music. She seems to have finished her drink - I wonder about how fast can she slug it down. As I watch her, a brute pushes his way past her roughly. The look she gives him would melt the mettle of most any man. It would have struck him blind had he bothered to even glance back at her. That look...

The crash of cymbals.

She is lying beneath me naked except for the thin veil of sweat that has matted her hair. Her hands on my chest, her finger tips digging into my flesh. Her legs are wrapped around my waist pulling me deeper into her, even as my hips push me in the same direction. In the background I feel this pulsing beat of music being pushed through cheap speakers too loudly. I look into her eyes and see that look...

A long and fading chord brings me back.

I’m not going to talk to her. I’m not going to say one fucking word to this one. With eyes like that she’ll figure it out when she comes down here. She’ll either accept the wordless proposal that I’ll make to her later, or she won’t. If there are discussions in our future so be it, but they won’t be spoken tonight. Not one fucking word - I want to lose myself in a sweat-soaked, cum-slickened feast of body tonight - her body and my body, or walk away and never think of her again. And I don't want to talk to her - don’t want to let words steal the heat from passion.

Crashing cymbals jolted me out of my silent reverie. I looked down into the bottom of the empty glass. My head swam slightly. I swear if one more drunk spills gin on my boots tonight I’m going to grab the son of a bitch by the balls and feed him the glass piece by piece. I look up and let my gaze drift through the sea of bodies once more. I see him. He’s looking right at me. At least, I hope to God he’s looking at me. I suddenly feel self-conscious and find myself staring at the floor, slightly flushed. It’s probably too much to ask. I feel a rush of blood make its way out of my stomach, down between my legs and back up my neck.

I try to make eye contact again. I want him to come over here, but then, I don’t. I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to say anything. I hate pickup lines, and I’ve never been good at them anyway. I just want to feel the touch of his hand on my wrist and the weight of his body on top of me. There’s no polite way to ask for that. I want to move now, but I feel frozen in this spot, my heart pounding in my throat.

The first set ends. While my beer and weed buzz has faded with the music’s end, there is another buzz that I’m beginning to feel because of her. Deciding to have a smoke before the last set, I walk past her and the interest I had in her ignites into desire, the speed at which this happens is unsettling. Sparks like this cause forest fires.

What I notice as I walk past her are the things I hadn’t noticed while dancing. I had enjoyed the shape and color of her face, pale skin contrasted by those burning, bright eyes. Her jaw and prominent cheekbones are angular and strong, though the lightness of her skin keeps them from being overwhelming. Her lips, seemingly the only place to have a bit of makeup, are not the silicon-enhanced lips of a supermodel (which I’m quite thankful for).

MOHOLY-NAGY!! She’s wearing boots. Not just boots though. If there is such a thing as a pair of ‘fuck-me’ boots in this world, then this woman is wearing them, and they seem to have broadcast their latent purpose in high definition video.

The sparks of desire are fanned into full-on lust. My buzz, even without the smoke, is now a heady, real thing dancing about in my head. I imagine that this is the same buzz that the Cro-Magnon hunter felt after sighting the mammoth that he would either kill or be killed by on his hunt. The buzz brings a rush of adrenaline that sparks the senses and pushes the mind into overdrive. The world slows as my mind speeds. I take in her skirt, her graceful hands, the curve of her hips in an instant as I glance down back at her on my way out the door.

I walk around the block, taking in the cool night air and recharging my energy. I unwrap the remains of my joint and my lighter flashes...

She is straddling me, hands again pressed into my chest. Her eyes are closed this time as my engorged cock splits the slippery wet space between her thighs. She bites her lower lip as she slides down the shaft and her ass meets my thighs. She is wearing her boots (fuck me!), digging her heels into my thighs as her long fingers scratch into my chest, communicating the intensity of her passion to me wordlessly. Her eyes open and...

... I exhale the long drag into the night’s air. My cock has risen from its slumber and I feel it begin to snake its way across the place where hip meets thigh. I walk back to the bar knowing that my quarry hasn’t bolted.

I watched him walk by, watching his eyes as he passed. I looked down past his mouth; he was kind of biting his lower lip. I turned to watch him pass, noticing the curvature of his back, the shape of his ass and the length of his legs. I thought about the shape of his teeth. I wondered about how it would feel to have those beautiful teeth leave perfect bruises on the insides of my thighs, on my stomach and on my breasts. I want to grab that ass as he pumps his cock inside of me. My pussy starts to tingle. I can feel myself getting slick down there with sweat and lubrication.

He walks by. I wonder if I should follow or wait here. Maybe he's not interested. Maybe one more glass of liquid courage or possibly some 420 would help. Of course, this throbbing between my legs is probably enough at this point. It's been a while, and right now I just want to fuck. Not "make love", not "be intimate", I want to fuck. Pure, simple, primal. I want to feel a cock inside of me. But not just anyone. I want someone to take me like It's the last thing that they're going to do in this wasted life. I want to fuck hard like the bomb has finally been dropped and there's nothing left. After all, that's what punk rock is about. I want him to come back. It's that female catch-22: be available. Be ready, but don't be a total whore. Of course, for the right man, I'd be a cum-sucking whore 24-7. This guy looks like the right man. Christ, where is he?

As I walk back into the bar, flashing my stamp at the bouncer (who in the fuck thought a red ducky stamp is a good idea!), I’m feeling a bit callus right now. My decision to leave the bar was mostly about teasing her. My mind, not to mention my cock, are completely focused on fucking this girl. This isn’t something I would normally do, but there are times when I just want to grasp a woman’s hips, and pull her back onto my cock... fuck her hard and fast. Feel her cunt drip and spasm on my cock as I fuck her to orgasm after orgasm. Sure, I’m like anybody, sometimes a nice slow, loving night is the best thing on earth, but that’s not tonight. She better not be some little cock-tease.

I order a Sapphire rocks at the bar and slam it down quickly as the band begins to tune for the second set. I scan the crowd looking for her. I see her, standing next to semi-drunken gaggle of girls that look like they are going to the J-Lo school of whoring. She doesn’t look at all pleased to be near them - they are flirting it up with a bunch of frat boys. In fact one of the boys is backwards-hat boy who had bumped her earlier. I’m pretty sure she could spit blood into that boy’s face if he provoked her again.

She is dressed much more appropriately for the band. A black tank contrasts beautifully with her pale clean skin. She is beautifully proportioned with a smaller chest and long, gracefully strong arms. She is wearing a great skirt that hints at her femininity without being ridiculous in this setting. She wears some silver rings on her fingers. I wonder what (if anything) she is wearing underneath all of that. Ahhh, life’s small mysteries are often the most interesting.

The gin and the weed cut my mood perfectly. I feel free, wired, and strong. The band is announcing their next song - an energizing ripper that will get everybody sweating again. I walk up to her without her noticing, press my right hand into the small of her back, just above her beautifully shaped ass, and say “Dance” that sounds much more like a command than a question or request. I keep the pressure up nudging her in the direction of the quickly crowding dance floor. I do not smile; I do not scope her out. I look directly into her eyes and keep her moving.

I felt the touch on the small of my back and heard, “Dance” in my ear. He steered me through the crowd onto the dance floor. I had half a mind to turn around and tell him to go to hell, and then I saw who it was. My head swam. I let him lead me through the press of bodies, feeling them brush against me as we moved through the crowd. The vodka made my head swim and the pulse from the pounding drum made my heart pound. He grabbed my ass and pressed my hips against his and moved in time with the pulsing rhythm. I let him lead me through a dance that wasn’t so much an exercise in flirtation and grace as a dry hump, feeling his cock pressing into my hip. His hands down over my ass and over the top of my thigh.

I put my arms around his neck and pressed my chest against him. I drew in a heavy breath, breathing the heavy smell of sweat, alcohol and smoke. I leaned closer to his chest, hoping to bathe in that musky smell. I couldn’t stop myself from tasting it. He had the top two buttons open on his shirt. I buried my mouth inside. I slide my tongue from his collarbone to the base of his neck, tasting the salty sweat, feeling the heat, rocking against his heartbeat. We rocked with the pulsing beat of the drum. It was at a deafening level now. I felt his cock digging into me, and I knew I wanted to feel that between my legs. The smell of this man was intoxicating. I slid my tongue up the side of his neck, and up to his ear. I whispered to him, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

I didn’t expect her to taste me like that. I certainly didn’t expect her to say that. It makes my head spin and my cock scream to explore under her skirt (“sir, I know its a dangerous mission and that I may never cum back, but I’ll volunteer!”), or slip past her red ever-so-kissable lips. I don’t answer her immediately. I want to see her move just a bit more, feel her hips and waist move under my hands, in time with the music. So I just continue to do what I’m doing, which is illegal in most of the Bible belt.

When the song ends and everybody else is mulling around like sheep without their dog I stand with her in the middle of the floor holding her striking face in my hands and kissing her as though I’ve been wanting to do so for a million years. Her lips are soft and yielding, her tongue is probing and aggressive, her hands wander over my ass and pull me closer into her. My cock, painfully restricted in my pants, presses into the lower part of her belly.

I take her smaller, but tough and strong hand, and lead her from the floor towards the door. I figure if she has a bag her friends will get it or she’ll stop me. I’m wondering if I can make it back to my place with her. The heat of this moment has me thinking about more immediate gratification, possibly followed by something more relaxed later or not... I can’t think beyond the need I feel to wrap myself into this woman.

He grabbed my hand and took me from the dance floor. I let myself get dragged away from the noise, the lights, the obnoxious crowds. I don’t really remember the cab ride home. I remember our thighs touching each other, the touch of his hand on my inner thigh, his tongue exploring my mouth. I remember the strange and knowing look the cabbie gave us as he drove off into the night. Up until then the road was a series of dim, orange lights and needless stops at the traffic lights between here and the club.

I remember the stairs. Stopping halfway to feel his mouth over mine, his beautiful hands gliding up the back of my skirt to grab my ass. I remember the feel of his cock pressing into my pubic bone; knowing that I wanted the full length of that hardness inside of me. I knew if we didn’t make it upstairs soon, we’d end up fucking right there in the stairwell. Not that it would be a bad thing, just awkward if somebody happened to pass by. Besides, I wanted it done right this time, and I knew I found the man for the job.

We found our way to the door. He fumbled with the keys and managed to find his way in. The place was small, but still a good size for the city. He turned the dimmer on and wandered to the kitchen. He poured something clear into a glass and handed it to me.


“What is it?”

“Anything you want it to be…”

It felt warm going down and my head started to buzz. I tried to finish as I felt his mouth on my chest, my neck, my mouth. The whole time I felt those strong hands all over my body. He ran his hands through my hair and pulled my head back, exposing my throat. He was licking and sucking like a vampire. I felt consumed. I melted under his touch. Oh, God, those hands, up my skirt, over my thighs, stroking my back, brushing my stomach. He slid his hand up under my shirt. I couldn’t help myself; I arched my back into his touch. My pussy was throbbing, and at this point I didn’t care if he bent me over the kitchen sink, I wanted his cock inside of me.

The way she moves her body in response to my touch is phenomenal, as though she is nothing more than a tight furious ball of sexual energy that snaps and twangs to every provocation it senses. Her thighs are like magnets drawing me in. Her tits are inviting soft and beautifully shaped. The ass that she moves with an ages-old rhythm in my hands is like a promise of some sort of blissful nirvana. Yet even with all these attributes screaming for my attention, for gratification, it is her eyes that I can’t stop thinking about. When my cock has slid in deep and drips with her cum and I burst forth into her in my own orgasm I will be looking into those eyes.

The situation demands a different type of action though. She is leaning against the counter, finishing the drink I’ve given her, exuding a strange power that I’ve never sensed in woman before. It compels me to worship at her alter, to want to serve her every whim, gratify her time and time and time again.

I move in close to her, place my hands on her hips. She looks up at me - she is probably 9 inches shorter than I am. I move in to her space as our lips seem to guide themselves to each other and we are kissing. Our tongues explore each other, hers is active and strong, not the limp passive jello I’ve so often experienced in kiss. She bites me gently a number of times, as I do to her. I could eat her lips. As we kiss my hands begin to pull her skirt up. Then, when then they have access to her hips, my hands acting without any conscious control of my own slowly begin to pull down the thin black material that constitutes her panties. They slide over the pale skin of her hips then fall to the floor, damp from the come starting to seep from her cleft.

I begin to kiss her neck, my hands running back up the sides of her body, across her breasts which now move with her deepening breaths. I move her to the small kitchen table, pushed against a wall. I half push, she half helps and she is sitting on the table her legs spread around my hips, her skirt pushed up and revealing the tender, fuckable flesh of her thighs. I kiss her neck again, begin to work my way down her chest, stopping only briefly at her still-clothed chest. As I work my way down to her pussy which I’m dying to taste, to lick, to explore I wonder if she shaves or trims or keeps it natural, I can’t even hazard a guess with this woman. I drop to my knees and still looking up into her eyes while I push back her skirt, I say “I want you to come in my mouth.”

The shock of the cold table sent a chill up my spine. I instinctively arched my back, brushing my chest against his shoulder. I felt the warmth of his hands on the insides of my thighs, spreading my legs. The heat of his breath sent even more shivers up my spine. I struggled to hold still under the heat and the pressure of those beautiful hands. His tongue slid up my inner thigh towards my slit. He probed gently at first, parting the folds of skin, then became more aggressive as he reached my clit. My stomach filled with butterflies as I felt that skilled tongue dancing over me, inside, outside, his hands massaging my thighs.

I have no idea what time it was, it didn't matter anymore. My head swam. I felt myself flushing from the chest up, and my nipples grew hard. I couldn't help myself; I braced my foot against his shoulder and arched my back. I grabbed a handful of his hair, pushing his tongue deeper and deeper Inside of me. I drew in a sharp breath between my teeth.

"Oh, Fuck!"

I could feel the wetness gushing from like a flood. My hips rocked uncontrollably to his rhythm. I instinctively pushed him away, but he held on and kept pressing against my clit. I think put him in a death grip as I finished, couldn't keep myself from moaning and clutching the back of his head. It came out before I had a chance to censor it:

"Oh God, fuck me."

As she cums I feel a warm flood of her salty, muskiness wash over my tongue, lips, and chin. My cock won’t wait any more and is only urged on by her cry of “fuck me”. Well, if that’s what she wants...

I stand and look into her eyes, grasp her hand and help her from the table, now wet with her cum. I stand behind her and unzip the skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Then reach around her in an embrace as I slide my hands across her chest and remove her shirt, revealing a sexy, lacy black bra. I love lingerie and this bra contrasts with the pale skin of her chest wonderfully, holding her beautifully shaped breasts in a most delicious fashion. I leave it on her - it accents her sexuality perfectly. I nudge her forward, to my small living room, trying to get to the bedroom, but deciding that I don’t want to wait that long.

I turn her around when we stand near the couch and kiss her hard. My cock presses out through my pants and into her soft, flat belly. Her ass feels strong and cool in my hands as we kiss deeply, playfully biting each other’s lips. As we kiss she steps back a bit, unbuttoning my shirt and slowly pulling it off. She runs her hands across my chest and kisses my neck. She works her way down, to my clavicle, then to my nipples where she pauses. She bites them harder then I expected and sends a flood of sensation into my brain.

As she kisses my nipples she unfastens my pants, and rather expertly drops my pants and boxers to the floor in one swift motion. My cock, finally released, now stands at full attention, the circumcised head bobbing about 8 inches from my thick patch of black hair. She drops to her knees in front of me, looking up at me with her fuck-me eyes, then gracefully removes my shoes and socks allowing me to step out of my pants. Then she gently grasps my shaft, now hard enough to smash a concrete block or so it seems, and kisses the head, which drips with my pre-cum. Taking my head into her mouth she looks up at me and we lock our gazes. Her hands slide across my hips and she cups my ass, pulling me in to her.

I can’t help but stare into her eyes. There is nothing as sexy as a woman’s gaze as she swallows my cock. She is quite skilled and I never feel her teeth as she takes in the first four or so inches. I can feel her tongue run across the bottom of my shaft as she begins to bob slowly on my shaft. As she bobs on it she is able to swirl her tongue around my head on the outstroke, and I feel my knees weaken. I know that if she keeps this up for even a minute more I’ll be pumping her mouth and throat full of cum. It's tempting - I’d love to see a little stream of cum trickle down her chin, but I feel the desperate need to slide myself in to her first - to consummate the lust that has been building all night long.

I gently pull my cock from her mouth and drop to my knees in front of her. I hold her face in both hands and kiss her hard. I then turn her around, with a firm push and place her hands on the seat of the couch, the front part of her hips against the edge where people’s knees usually bend. I move behind her, getting a lovely view of her nice, rounded ass. I think about taking that later too - this woman is so sexually enticing that I am overwhelmed by my desire to fuck and suck and tickle and tease her in every way I can, and even can’t, imagine.

Instead I bend her over more urgently and she braces her self against the couch. I push her shins apart from their place on the floor and kneel, as if in prayer, between her parted wet thighs. Her dripping cunt is exposed and its red lips look they are ready to pull my cock in if I don’t do it soon. I rub my head across her labia, adding her cum to the already saliva-wetted head. I push my way in, slowly, and watch the head disappear into her folds... the feeling is so perfect, so right...

I wish I could find the words to describe the ecstasy of penetration. Maybe If I was a poet, I could find the words to touch that delicious sensation of emptiness being filled. He eased his cock in so slow, as If he sensed this and was determined to let me savor it as long as possible. Butterflies left my stomach and made their way up spine and through the rest of my body. I felt my nipples harden as his cock slid deeper, deeper. He put his hands on my hips and began sliding in and out, slowly, rhythmically, as if following a primal drumbeat that only he could hear. He moved slowly, deliberately making every thrust count. I could feel my pussy throbbing to that primal rhythm, and could only think of one thing:

"Faster, oh God, please, faster," I begged him.

He picked up the tempo, gradually at first, but growing faster with each thrust. I raised my hips up to meet him. I felt it faster and faster, my pussy contracting in time with each stroke. The internal drummer never missed a beat— I could feel it each time his pubic hair stroked my ass and his balls slapped against my thigh. I kept trying to hold myself back, but the throbbing inside was too intense; I just couldn't.

"Harder. Fuck me hard."

Oh, God, the thrusting. I felt his cock pounding into me, sending shockwaves through my entire body. I could hear myself moaning. My muscles contracted around him as I showered him with cum. The movement became slick, and he slid in and out even faster now. I sat up straight and leaned back toward him. He grabbed my hair with his right hand and left breast with his other hand. I felt his hot breath on the back of my neck. His breath caressed my cheek and shoulder as the whispered in my ear, "Not yet. Not…yet…"

He let go with his right hand and eased me back toward the couch. He just kept pounding me with that beautiful cock of his. Faster, faster, faster. He grabbed my hips and I felt the most powerful thrust yet. I cried out with each slow, powerful thrust. His cock pulsed inside me, and my pussy contracted around him, trying to milk every last drop. He reached forward and grabbed my left arm. He pulled me back against him, sliding both hands up my stomach, pushing my bra up. Instinctively, I reached behind me and touched his hair. He covered the back of my neck with soft, wet kisses, letting me luxuriate In the sensations around me: his fingers fondling my nipples, the warmth of his breath on my neck and shoulder, the dampness between my legs and the slow trickle of moisture running down the inside of my leg.

Running my hands across the graceful curves of her breasts, I lose myself in the soft sensualness of her skin. Her nipples stand up proud against the pale, dimpled skin of her areolas. My softening cock slips from her pussy and I pull her in even closer to me, continuing to delight in the warmth of her smooth skin. Raining kisses under the now-sweaty tangle of red hair on her neck I let my hands trace my way down her curvy waist to her hips. The urgency of our lust now seems somewhat tamed in our post-coitus high, affording me the luxury of time to appreciate her femininity and find ways to give her the pleasure that will, undoubtedly be returned to me in kind.

I let my hand slide forward across the trimmed triangle of hair over her sex, now damp with the products of our joining. My hand slides slowly across engorged folds, slick with cum that runs down her thigh in a most intimate river. My other hand returns to her breast, feeling the curved weight of her breast settle perfectly into my palm. I roll her warm nipple between my fingers and inhale the smell of her hair, the leather choker, her sex, her sweat. I feel my cock stir from its resting place nestled in the curve of her ass.

“Lets lie on my bed.” I want to say her name, and realize that we don’t know each other in that way yet. Smiling, I introduce myself, “I’m Peter and am quite pleased to meet you.”

Without seeing her face I sense a smile grace her lips as my hands continue to explore. She turns her head to me, eyes closed, lips red, whispers “Dawn.”

I remove her bra leaving us in nude together but for the thin band of leather across her neck. I kiss her again. “My bedroom is there” nodding to a door on the far side of the living room. “I want to watch you walk, indulge me.” This isn’t a question, as if she would have ever considered it so.

I can’t be certain, but am confident that the smile never leaves her lips. If anything, perhaps it widens a bit. She isn’t a shy, young, skittish bird. She is a confident, sexual being - proud of what she brings to this encounter and obviously aware of how she can produce reactions in her counterpart.

She leans back into me momentarily, sliding her hands down onto my hips, and then slowly, gracefully standing in front of me. The curves of her ass, so womanly and enticing, hover for a moment just inches from my eyes. She turns to my room and with grace in her every move slowly walks across the room. Her hips sway in a rhythm that only serves to increase the amount of blood flowing into my cock leaving me feeling like I’m carrying a leaden weight. With a slight turn of her head and flash of her eyes she disappears into the dark.

I stand to follow her, pausing to gather a spliff and lighter stored in a cookie tin on the bookshelf. My cocks sways in front of me, a hound on the hunt and leads me into my den. I walk to the dresser in my cluttered but clean room and light several candles - cliches that will never grow old to me. I turn to the bed where Dawn lies diagonally across its length, her head propped up on the palm of her left hand. She is on her side, her right leg drapes down across her left in a gentle arc that twists her torso just so. Her right hand is tucked between her thighs, not sexually, but eliciting a sexuality that wouldn’t have been there otherwise. Her red hair tumbles drunkenly from her head, a sweat-dampened lock hanging onto her cheek.

I spark the herb as we stare into each other’s eyes. We simultaneously know everything and nothing about each other. I take a long smooth drag on it, the tip glows orange as the earthy smell mingles with in my nose with hers. Holding the smoke, I walk to my bed, noticing how her eyes look me up and down. I sit on the bed and lean into her, whisper in her ear, “exhale”. She does. Anticipating me, she turns her head up to me, our lips draw together and I begin to exhale a stream of smoke into her mouth as she pulls it in from me.

The smoke spins me into a more sensual space where the I become more interested in the act than the end; where I want to feel and explore her every pore. I want to feel her collapse in my arms after she has cum so often that she can no longer stop herself and we melt into a pool of glowing sexual energy.

I breathe in the heady smoke; feel it relaxing me, leaving me slightly light-headed. We finish the smoke like that, exchanging breaths in an intimate communion. I lay on my back and closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation that I'm floating. I felt his hand on my stomach, gently sliding up toward my neck. He lay down full length beside me. He kissed me, opening my mouth with his tongue. He pulled away and I felt his tongue sliding down my neck. He didn't stop until he reached my nipple. His tongue caressed my nipple, making it hard. He used the perfect combination of tongue and teeth: licking, sucking, biting until I couldn't keep from groaning with pleasure.

He parted my legs with his hand. I felt him slide his finger over the folds of skin, rubbing my throbbing clit. I instinctively spread my legs wider, allowing him full access to whatever he wanted. Even though I was dripping wet, I was surprised at how easily he penetrated me with his fingers. He pressed his thumb against my clit and finger fucked me like that until I came, showering his hands with even more moisture.

I was really feeling the effect of the smoke and this man's beautiful touch. I felt I would do anything under his command. I reached down to stroke his cock. He was as hard as steel. I ran my tongue up the side of his neck and whispered in his ear, "What do you want?"

I smile inwardly, considering my absolute lust for this woman, knowing what I want immediately. “You. I want to possess you. I want you to do my bidding when, where, and with whom I say. In return I’ll make you as happy as you can possibly imagine and we’ll explore a new world together.”

Without waiting for her answer, I slide my fingers, absolutely wet with her cum down her wet pussy, across her taint, and to her puckered ass. I rub the cum over the rose-like hole, and continue doing this till she is soaking wet. We kiss passionately as I prepare her and when I think she is ready I role her onto her side, my right arm under her head, my chest pressed tightly against her back. I slide my left hand down her leg, then pull it over mine. Return my hand to her wonderful breast and roll the nipple between my fingers - sometimes hard, sometimes softly. I continue to kiss her, she turns her head to me and our lips meet again and again.

My cock slips between the soft globes of her beautiful ass, now slick with our cum. Almost instinctively my cock finds the entrance to her back door. I wrap my arms around her, hugging her close to me so that I can feel her heart beat faster and faster under my right hand. “Ready”

She nods and whispers almost imperceptibly, “yes”. My hips push forward, the head of my rigid cock presses into the bud. I pull her hips to me and with the slickness of our cum the tip of my head works its way in. I see her bite her lower lip, inhaling sharply. Again, she whispers “yes”.

I push forward gently and push another inch into her. The feeling is exquisite. A warm vice-like sleeve that stimulates my every nerve. I sincerely doubt that I’ll be able that I’ll hold up long in her like this - it is far too stimulating. Determined as I am I slide in farther though, more roughly this time, an animal grunt escapes me and I bite the skin at the point where her neck meets her shoulder. I don’t draw blood but I’m tempted to. I begin to fuck her ass - faster and faster - the quickening pace of her breathing and her feminine moans spurring me on. I feel my balls begin to creep up. Dawn’s nipples press into my palms like diamonds.

My cock slides in as deep as she can take it and I stop, my orgasm beginning. My head spins with the weed, the beauty, the smell, the sensations, the sounds and I burst. Spurt after spurt loosened into her ass, so perfect in its softness and shape.

I don’t let her go from my body-encompassing hug. “I want to be your Master. I want you to give yourself to me in return for all the pleasure I can think to give you. And I want an answer.”

The words echo in my skull, sounding as If they traveled through a fog to get there. I lay there, wrapped in the warmth of his body, feeling his now softening cock slipping out of me. I knew I didn't want to leave this, but I had second thoughts about the offer.

"What's in this for me?'

"You? I will treat you as any other good master treats his slave. I will care for you, protect you, and train you. I promise you, that if agree to serve me, I will treat your pleasure and desire as if they were mine. What is you’re answer?"

"Yes. But…"

"No, that's all you need to say from now on. All I need to hear is 'yes', 'no', 'please', and 'thank you.' I'll tell you if you need to speak. Now, be a good girl and get some rest."

We slept there until morning. I finally felt him stir beside me. I wondered how my new life of servitude would begin. I felt his hand on my waist.

"Dawn, get up. Go use the bathroom and run us a hot shower. We need to get you cleaned up and dressed properly," he said as he took the leather choker off of my neck.


"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Master."

I went into the bathroom, used the toilet and ran the hot water. When I stepped into the shower, I heard him walk into the bathroom. He opened the door and joined me inside.

"Wash me. Make sure you get on your knees and do a good job."

"Yes…Master," the word was a little hard to adjust to at first.

I ran the soap over his body, working it into a lather. I began at his neck, caressing him with my hands down the length of his body. I knelt before him. I gently used my hands to wash the beautiful cock, stroking him until he grew hard. He grabbed a hold of my wrist, firmly, but gently and said, "Not yet. I'm not ready yet."

"Yes, Master."

"Stand and let me wash you."

I stood up before him, watching the water cascade over his body.

"Stay there, I want to look at you. Look at me in the eyes when I address you, do understand?"


"Would you like me to wash you?"


"Very good. Turn around."

I felt him smiling behind me as he began to lather my back. "You know," he said, "I could tell you were a fast learner. I always liked those."

"Thank you."

He ran his hands down my side and back up over the front of my body, caressing my breasts. He slid his hand down my stomach and began to wash the sticky mess that had collected in my pubic hair. He pushed his hand gently between my thighs, sighing into the back of my neck.

"I want you clean. Clean and ready for me when I call for you. I like your pussy the way it is, so keep it trimmed for me. I may have you shave it, but I'll save the big decisions until after you had more training."

"Yes, Master." He gently slid his fingers over my slit, teasing my clit until I swelled with pleasure. I felt a moan escape my lips.

He pulled his hand away, "Not yet. You're not ready yet," he whispered in my ear. My knees grew weak. It was an exquisite form of torture, to be teased like that then let go. He moved me Into the spray of the water and watched the soap bubbles flow downward toward my legs. "Finish rinsing, then come out and dry me off," he said.

I turned off the water, feeling the chill of the air around me. He greeted me with a towel as I stepped out. I let him wrap me, then took another towel from the rack. I followed his orders to the letter, drying him from head to toe. He walked back Into the bedroom. I wasn't sure If I should follow him or not, not getting the command to do so. I heard him shifting around In a few drawers. I waited there for him to call.

"Come here, I have to dress you."

I followed the voice with the obedience of a child. I stood in the bedroom before him. He held what appeared to be a bundle of black cloth In front of him. He looked me up and down, appraising me. He stared for a few minutes before finally saying, "Take off the towel." I let it drop to the floor and stood naked In front of him.

"Very nice. Here, put these on," he handed me a pair of black silk panties. I took them and slid them on. "Now this," he held out a soft, black leather corset. I stepped Into It, unsure of how to fasten it.

"Turn around." I felt his hands lace the back of the corset up. It became obvious he'd done this before, but I didn't question him about it. I turned around to face him. He said nothing, but handed me a pair of black silk thigh-high stockings to put on. When I was finished he just stood and stared at me for a few minutes.

"Come here."

I walked toward him.

"Sit," he motioned to the bed. I sat down and looked at him. He was holding one more piece of black material. He put one knee on the bed and leaned behind me. I felt the leather against my neck. He stood back up.

"Come here and look," he motioned toward the mirror. I got up and looked in the mirror. My wet hair streamed down my neck against it. It was a black leather collar with a small silver ring on the front. I felt stunned by its appearance.

"This is my first gift to you," he said, "This makes you mine now. I want you to wear It. Remember, you serve only one master; that is me. Don't take it off, and don't forget who you serve. Do you like it?"


"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good. Now, come here and kneel In front of me."

I turned around and knelt In front of him, my eyes at cock level.

"Kiss my thigh."

I leaned forward and brushed his thigh with my lips. He put his hand on the top of my head and pushed it toward him. I rested with my cheek against his thigh and closed my eyes. He allowed me the luxury of stroking the back of his leg with my fingers. He ran his hands through my hair for a minute, petting me in the same way someone would pet a loyal dog, or a beloved companion.

"I can't always be this easy on you," he said soothingly. "I'm being this gentle because you haven't served me before, and you're bound to make some mistakes. But I have to tell you; until you're properly trained, I may have to punish you. I don't want to have to, but it's the best way for you to learn how to serve and obey. Your training will start soon, I want you to be ready. Tell me, do you like your gift?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good. Be a good girl, and remember who you serve at all times."

"Thank you."

I don't remember how long I stayed there on my knees with my face against him. I remember the clean smell of him, the warmth of his flesh and the desire to please him. He just held me there, gently running his hand through my hair and letting me kiss his thighs. I had no idea what to expect next.

I must have stood there for ten minutes, dawn at my feet, her soft cheek pressed to my thigh. I had dabbled in Master/slave relationships before - had always been intellectually stimulated by the notion of being responsible for satisfying the needs and desires of another. The dominant role in many respects comes naturally to me - I have very strong notion of what I want and how to get it. I have no trouble asking for those things either. Certainly there were issues and problems inherent to these types of relationships but I had been working them out.

The rush of emotion and passion that swept through me and kept me standing there took me as a surprise. These feelings had been missing from the other relationships I’d had. The women had been cold and detached, or simply without any ego strength at all - there had been no fire, no heat between us. So the heat that I felt radiating from Dawn’s every pore was like an opiate drawing me into something that I’d never realized could be so utterly captivating.


“Yes ... Master”

“In public you will address me as Sir. In private or in situations that will be self-evident, you will address me as Master.” My hand runs through her gorgeous red hair.

“This is important Dawn. I want you to look at me.” She leans back, her back kept straight in the corset waist hourglass perfect, and looks up at me. “The collar you wear symbolizes our relationship. You are never to remove it in my presence.”

She looks at me as if I’m telling her that the sky is blue. She is well aware of what is going on here. I break into a wide smile which she returns. “If you ever feel unsafe, or threatened, or for whatever reason need to step out of the role you have chosen, you will say the word ‘rabbit’, and I will do everything in my power to immediately return you to safety.”

The momentary flinch in her brow tells me she has a question. “Yes Dawn?”

“Why rabbit?”

“Because its ... its unsexual, unpowerful, and really quite a silly picture to put in one’s mind. An unambiguous signal - try as hard as I might I can’t imagine you screaming that out in the height of passion.” She giggles playfully at this.

“Please, Master fuck me like a rabbit... “ and I almost giggle.

“Now spread your legs wider when you kneel for me. You will be open to me whenever you kneel.” She sits back again, pushing her bust out a bit as she rocks her weight back onto her toes and spreads her legs. The pale skin of her thighs beautiful in contrast to the black panties and stockings.

I go to the dresser and take my wallet. Opening it I remove a credit card and walk back to my slave. I need to test Dawn and have determined exactly how I will go about doing it.

“Dawn today you are to go shopping with this.” I extend the card to her. “Take it slave.”

“You are to obtain the following things for our date tonight. You will be meeting some friends of mine as well as the beautiful persons that serve them. I realize that this is a detailed and complicated task for you. Obtain these things in the order I indicate - yes, I will check your ‘work’. Do well. If you don’t succeed as instructed I expect you to do the best you can.” I don’t need to add any consequences - I can tell from the look in her eyes that she knows that consequences exist should she fail to please me.

I give her a long list of clothing to purchase: a remote-controlled, clitoral vibrator from an adult shop on Geary, an elegant, a pair of near-stiletto-styled pumps from an Italian shoe shop in the East Bay, emerald green dress from a downtown dress shop, and black silk panties, a bra, and garter belt from a boutique in Sausalito. The list was impossibly complicated and I knew she wouldn’t make it to the last items (even the dress might be a stretch for her). It wasn’t so much that I wanted her to fail - I wanted to see how she would handle herself when she was unable to complete the task. I also realized that there was a chance that she’d simply skip off credit card in hand and go on a shopping spree - I’d be checking the account online all day though - a fact she was probably aware of. One deviation from the scheduled order of purchases and I’d simply cancel the card.

“Wear that beautiful red hair of yours down tonight. I expect you to be wearing your new found clothing when you arrive at The Redwood Room in the Clift Hotel at 9pm. Do not be late.” I extend my hand to her, which she takes. I can see her mind spinning to remember all the detailed information I’ve just given her. She stands in front of me now. I take a spare key from my wallet, place it in her hand. I lean down and she looks up at me. Our lips touch in a perfect kiss that reassures me that she will make a fine submissive woman for me. “I’m going out now. Clean up and lock the door when you leave.”

She stands there watching me as I quickly dress. I don’t look at her and don’t say a word. I leave my apartment looking forward to tonight.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

To link to this sex story from your site - please use the following code:

<a href="">Percussion</a>

Comments (7)

Tell us why

Please tell us why you think this story should be removed.