I wake up horny, likely because I was having erotic dreams again. My very own tantalising hot sex story. But, as usual, when I attempt to poke around in my memory to recall them, to find out what sexiness my sleeping mind conjured up, the dreams dissipate like smoke. All I’m left with is a vague inkling that something filthy took place in my unconscious world, and the very real sensations in my body.
My nipples are hard, tingling and sensitive, my breasts heavy. My pussy is swollen, needy, and aches to be filled. I squeeze my thighs together, which obviously doesn’t do a damn thing to assuage my suddenly intense sexual cravings. But I know what will.
I smile, open my eyes and look over to Jimmy’s side of the bed. He isn’t there. My smile fades as I reach out and smooth a hand over the sheets, only to find them cold. He’s been gone a while. I pout, then roll onto my back and stretch languorously, enjoying the delicious pull in my muscles as I do so. I wriggle into the soft bedding—which feels divine against my naked skin. It gives off the faint aroma of clean laundry, and a less faint aroma of sex. I smirk. The latter is no surprise. Since Jimmy and I have been on our much-needed holiday, we’ve barely been able to keep our hands off each other.
With the blessed luxury of time on our side, we’ve played hard—fast, slow, different positions, loads of foreplay, no foreplay at all, toys, in the garden, the bathtub, over the kitchen counter… I’m not sure it was quite what the hosts of our rental had in mind when they told us to make ourselves at home, but hey, we’ve had tons of fun and haven’t broken anything. Yet. Thank goodness it’s a self-contained house on its own plot of land—no neighbours to disturb or offend. Or make jealous.
The sensual flashbacks of our copious lovemaking flitting through my mind ramp up my arousal further still. I’m temptedto call out for Jimmy, but I’ve no idea where he is, whether he’ll hear me, and I can’t be bothered to get out of bed just yet to go and find him. I’m comfortable here. I could send him a text, I suppose, or call him on his mobile phone. Mine’s on my nightstand—I wouldn’t even have to leave the bed.
Or, I think, as I dip my right hand beneath the sheet and slide it down my stomach and towards my shaven mound, I could take care of this myself. I don’t think Jimmy would begrudge me a solo orgasm when he’s so generously given me countless climaxes over the past few days. Maybe he’s even pleasing himself right now. Maybe he’s in the shower. Naked, wet and tugging on his long, thick cock. His head thrown back, his other hand braced against the tiled wall to keep him steady as the water pummels his sexy body, droplets rolling and bouncing off him, then succumbing to gravity.
I burrow deeper into the pillow and mattress, letting them cocoon me as I cup my vulva, then press my fingers between my pussy lips. I’m hot, wet, and my clit is already swollen and ready for action. It really must have been a scorcher of a dream. I’m gutted I can’t remember it.
Closing my eyes, I flip back to the mental image of Jimmy in the shower and let it play out as I slick my rapidly increasing juices up and over my aching bud. His gorgeous masculine form, his arousal, his raw passion—all ignite me as I draw slow, gentle circles around my clit. Sparks of pleasure radiate out, making my heart pound faster, my blood pump more furiously. My cheeks heat, and I can’t help but let out a moan as I enjoy the blissful sensations. My core flutters; I stroke harder, faster, each move adding to the delicious pressure building low within my pelvis.
I use my other hand to pinch and roll my nipples, cup my breasts in turn, sending lightning bolts of bliss zinging through me. More juices seep from my pussy, a hot trickle over my perineum which will no doubt add to the heady scent of sex on the bedsheets.
Fantasy-Jimmy has changed position. Now he’s hunched over, his arm and shoulder muscles flexing as he works furiously at his length while the showerhead rains on his nape and upper back. Through the steam billowing around the cubicle, I see rivulets scurry down his shoulder blades and over the plane of his lower back. Some then slow as they encounter the curve of his tight, luscious buttocks, before taking on the challenge, traversing the firm swoop of flesh before either tumbling into the abyss of the shower tray, or making it to the crease of his thighs. Others still disappear into the dark crease between those luscious buttocks, making their way over soft skin, coarse hairs and the tight hole of his back passage. Like the water droplets, I’ve explored both buttocks and crease in minute detail, with hands, fingers and tongue—even the occasional toy, if the mood strikes us.
The thought of crouching behind him in the shower and teasing his puckered hole while he tugs himself to completion fans the flames of my arousal, makes me hungry for… more. I leave the soft flesh of my breasts, the stiff buds that are my nipples behind, and slip my hand between my clammy thighs before curving two fingers inside myself with a groan. The feeling of fullness, of being stretched, of having yet more nerve endings stimulated, is incredible. I arch my back, clenchmy internal muscles around my digits, sparking off yet more heavenly sensations. It’s almost too much.
I’m so horny now, my climax so close that I can’t concentrate on my fantasy any longer. I’m fully in the moment, aware of every millimetre of skin, being carried along on a current of pleasure as my rapid breath makes my chest heave, and my pulse pounds in my ears. I rub my clit, zero in on the tiny, unmarked spot that’s guaranteed to catapult me from simmering to bubbling over and really go for it.
I finger fuck myself simultaneously. It takes a few seconds to find a rhythm that works, but before long I’m gasping and moaning, bucking on the mattress with abandon as I approach the edge of orgasm. I continue until my toes are curled over the precipice and I’m looking down into the abyss. The anticipation makes goosebumps erupt all over my skin.
Then I… stop. Why not? I curl up one side of my mouth in a self-satisfied smirk. With all the time in the world, why on earth would I rush to come? Why wouldn’t I indulge in a spot of edging? For me, at least, it makes the final payoff all the sweeter. I leave one hand resting on my mound, the fingers of the other still jammed inside me, and catch my breath as I shuffle back from the precipice.
I wait, half in a doze, until the pound of blood in my ears has almost faded away. Then I take a deep breath and go again. Thrusting my fingers in and out of my still-slick core, teasing and titillating the needy bundle of nerve endings at the apex of my vulva, until the pressure that had dissipated starts building once more. I eagerly return to the fantasy of Jimmy in the shower, pick him right back up from where I left him, pumping his luscious dick. He’s going harder now, and faster, and I follow suit, rubbing and thrusting until everything inside me goes taut, like a guitar string pulled tight, on the verge of snapping. Except when I snap, it’ll be a good thing and will make sweet music, rather than ruining it.
I gasp and moan, my journey to the edge quicker and easier the second time around—but no less erotic. As I approach the precipice once more, I’m in two minds about whether to take the leap or back off again. There’s no limit to the number of times I can do this, but it won’t be long before my hands, wrists and arms get tired and begin to cramp, and I want to climax on a pure, unadulterated high of pleasure, not one mixed in with desperation and discomfort.
Fantasy-Jimmy looks as though he’s close, too. I decide I’ll try to come when he does. Jaw clenched, I work furiously between my legs as Jimmy strokes his meat, the tip red and swollen, precum glistening on his glans whenever I get a peep. I bite my lip, almost able to taste him on my tongue as he lets out a grunt and freezes. Milliseconds later he grunts again as his balls empty, jet after jet of spunk arcing out and landing on the tiled wall and the floor of the shower. The imagined sight doesn’t just push my buttons, it slams them with full force. Repeatedly.
With a cry, I plummet from the edge, almost swooning as pleasure assaults me, beginning in my core and bouncing out to my extremities like some sort of internal pinball machine. I curl my toes as my cunt clenches powerfully around my fingers, waves of bliss crashing into me, over and over, gradually becoming gentler, until I’m left contentedly basking in the afterglow of bliss.
Heat radiating from my cheeks and decolletage, I blow out a breath, drop my hands to my sides and sag into the mattress, taking a moment to recover before I figure out my next move. Right now, I’m not sure my legs will hold me up, so I’m staying precisely where I am.
After a while, some of my other bodily needs start to kick in, so I reluctantly roll out of bed and make my way into the bathroom. My baser requirements taken care of, I grab a clip and pull my long, dark hair into it, securing it out of the way before getting into the shower—which is sadly Jimmy-less. For a couple of minutes, I stand beneath the spray and luxuriate in the warm water, letting it run over my shoulders and back. Still sensitive from my masturbation session, I soap up and wash gently but thoroughly, before rinsing off and stepping out. I let my body air dry as I brush my teeth, then return to the bedroom, where I dress, slip into some light sandals, apply a little makeup and brush out my hair, leaving it loose and hanging down my back. Satisfied with my reflection in the mirror on the dressing table, I flash it a quick smile before leaving the sex-scented room behind and going in search of Jimmy.
I don’t find him in the house, so I head outside, the bitter scent of coffee giving a hint as to where he might be. I follow it to the tree and bush surrounded patio area. It’s a gorgeous place to spend time, all dappled with light but protected from the sun’s glare, and quiet, except for the occasional burst of birdsong. My stomach rumbles as I pad down the steps, where I spot him at the beautiful table, with its gorgeous carved edges and legs, looking handsome and relaxed in shorts and a shirt, unbuttoned at the top. Despite my recent orgasm, the mere sight of him gets me going again and I can’t help smiling. What can I say? We’re seriously hot for each other. And, of course, as scorching as Fantasy-Jimmy was, the real thing is a thousand times better.
Still smiling, I join him at the table, where he returns my grin and puts down his newspaper. We say good morning and exchange light, inconsequential chatter about how we slept as he pours me a cup of coffee and passes it over. He’s been busy, too—though possibly not in the same way I have—there’s not only coffee, but a nice spread of breakfast foods. He catches me eyeing it, then moves closer to me at the enormous table. I enjoy his proximity, the heat of his body, the scent of his fresh, spicy aftershave, as he snags a chunk of watermelon with his long, talented fingers and offers it to me. I part my lips and take an eager bite, then hum with delight as the juicy fruit releases its flavours over my tongue. We enjoy more watermelon together, as well as lots of sexy, meaningful eye contact, then I grab a huge, delicious-looking grape and pop it into my mouth as Jimmy gets to his feet, slips behind me and begins to massage my neck and shoulders.
I moan and close my eyes in bliss, my senses being assaulted yet again as Jimmy’s large, strong hands manipulate my flesh and my tastebuds are titillated by the flavour of the fruit. I chew and swallow, then give myself over entirely to his ministrations—and not a moment too soon.
A shiver wracks me as he eases my hair out of his way and begins to drop kisses on my neck. All the tiny hairs on my body stand on end as he brushes his lips over one of my most erogenous zones, his warm, coffee-scented breath only serving to stimulate me more. I love it. I love him, and I find my pussy growing wet once again as he kisses and gently nibbles that delicious spot just below my ear. I bite my lip in ecstasy.
Then he pulls away, and a little mewl of protest escapes me. As I’m about to ask if that was it, he scoots into the wicker chair opposite me. I take the opportunity to drink him in; he really is mouth-wateringly gorgeous—those beguiling blue eyes holding more than a hint of mischief, that cheeky, boyish smile. What’s not boyish is the considerable bulge in his tan shorts. I smirk, and more juices seep from my core at the mere thought of having him deep inside me, filling me, stretching me, making me blow my top.
But he teased me, so it’s only fair I get my own back, right? I slip off my sandals and ease my bare feet into his lap. Then, I zero in on that impressive bulge and begin to stroke it with my foot. Obviously my coordination isn’t as good with my feet as my hands, but Jimmy doesn’t seem to care, as his eyelids lower a tad and he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. I rub harder, the hot, solid flesh beneath my toes and sole highly gratifying.
Without warning, Jimmy grabs my feet and begins stroking and massaging them. It’s so good, and while part of me would love for him to play with my feet forever and a day, another part of me is turned on as hell and eager to get a glimpse of his dick. I rein in my desires, though, force myself to take it slow as I lower my feet to the ground, stroke his thighs and eventually slip onto his lap. Like when I was playing with myself earlier, I remind myself we have all the time in the world. There’s no rush.
Our kisses are gentle, almost tentative—Jimmy is following my lead when it comes to pace, and we take our time as we explore each other’s mouths, faces, necks. Skin brushing, hair tickling, hands stroking, grasping, squeezing. Moans escaping. All the while, the thick, solid wedge of his cock is beneath me, burning hot even through his underwear and shorts, and the barely-there material of my G-string. I rock my hips slowly, grinding onto him, stimulating my swollen vulva and occasionally my clit. I’m so wet I could take him right now, despite his huge size.
As if reading my thoughts, Jimmy moves things along, sweeping the straps of my pretty ruffled dress off my shoulders and easing the lilac material to my waist, exposing my bare breasts and stiff nipples. Immediately, he goes for my naked flesh, kissing my chest and breasts, feasting on my teats. I continue grinding on him, throwing my head back and allowing the sensations to wash over me.
But I’m distracted by thoughts of the luscious cock beneath me. I have to see it, to hold it, to taste it. I disentangle from Jimmy’s embrace, slip to my knees in front of him—one of my very favourite places to be—and unbutton his shirt, tuck the sides out of the way so I can see his delicious abs as well as the heft in the crotch of his shorts. I palm his erection through his clothes, peering up at him through my eyelashes. He’s loving this as much as I am—maybe more. It’s clear from the increase in his breathing, the widening of his pupils, the slight flush in his usually pale cheeks.
Between us we make quick work of ditching his shorts. Ever considerate, he uses the brief pause in proceedings to snag a cushion from another chair and slip it under my knees. I melt. I’m so incredibly lucky to have this man who treasures me, cares for me, yet still makes me feel so amazingly sexy. I smile, stroke him through his boxers a little, before urging him to ditch those, too.
Eager to show him how much I treasure him, too, I curl my fingers around his huge length and girth, lick my lips and sink them onto his tip. It’s fat and swollen in my mouth, and the salty taste of his precum slicks over my tongue. Damn, it’s good. I want him inside me so badly I’m almost consumed by thoughts of it. But I won’t rush this. I refuse to rush this. Jimmy deserves to be taken care of thoroughly, to be worshipped, and I’m going to do exactly that.
I lick, suck, tease and tantalise him with plenty of eye-fucking along the way. His groans of pleasure and heavy breathing spur me on.
After a while, Jimmy leans down and pulls my face towards his for a kiss. It’s clear he wants more. I do, too, so when he hauls me into his lap, I go willingly. I’m wet and ready, and between us we shove my panties to the side and guide his cock inside me. I shudder and moan as I sink onto him, my slick internal walls stretching around him, sending sparks of ecstasy pinging through me.
It feels so good. Jimmy obviously thinks so, too, and we cling to each other, kissing as I begin to rock on his lap, slow at first as I adjust to his size, then faster. And harder. I’m so lost to lust, I’m barely aware of Jimmy guiding my dress over my head and getting rid of it, but I’m deliciously aware of the increased skin-to-skin contact once it’s gone.
The sensations are heady, and I’m disappearing into a fog of passion, rolling and bouncing on Jimmy’s shaft as I cling to him, rapidly heading once again for that cliff edge of climax. There’s no question of edging myself this time. I’m a slave to my own wants, and what I want, more than anything, is to come all over Jimmy’s luscious dick.
He senses the change in me, holds me tighter and yanks me onto him faster and harder, helping to push me over the edge with a powerful shudder and a cry. I spasm, moan, as dizzying waves of bliss crash through me and Jimmy murmurs encouragement and reassurance into my ear.
As my muscles eventually relax, I settle into the gorgeous feeling of afterglow, and enjoy gentle kisses with Jimmy, his rock-hard cock still lodged deep inside me. He hasn’t come, not even close—but I’m not worried.
We’ve got all the time in the world, after all.
The End

With a sigh of relief, Lovita lay back in her stretchy hammock. It was dusk and she could finally get a chance to rest in the comfy fabric swing. It had taken her ages to put up, making sure it was holding tight. Then, getting in had been a bit of a tricky manoeuver too—she was achy from a full day of training clients at the gym. Luckily she had flexible limbs and a body that easily did her bidding, even when tired.
With the tension of the day finally ebbing away, Lovita stretched her smooth legs, pointing her toes up. She could see the darkening sky, hear cicadas humming and she breathed in the fresh air. Lovita felt a bit like a kitten, luxuriating in comfort; she took in her surroundings peaceably.
Her pale skin matched the creamy hue of the hammock fabric almost perfectly. If she hadn’t been wearing her cute little jumpsuit she would have blended right into it. If she were naked, only her darker lips and nipples would stand out in the dim light…
It felt delicious wriggling into the cotton fabric and getting cosy. Though her outfit actually felt a bit restrictive, now she came to think about it. Maybe she could loosen some buttons, get some air on her overworked body. Her pert little breasts were always eager to be free and Lovita figured that she’d positioned her hammock in a secluded enough area of her patio to get away with letting them out.
She knew her local area well, it was quiet and she was comfortable enough in her own skin. Being naked was second nature to Lovita—she grew up in the countryside where nobody was around to judge or point fingers; her own bohemian parents never raised an eyebrow and she’d had lots of freedom.
Lovita dreamily unbuttoned a couple of the delicate top buttons on her orange jumpsuit, pursing her lips into rosebuds as she did so. These little pearl things were so fiddly. The fabric opened up though, and her coral nipples escaped happily. She smiled at them—they were always so cheery looking when they were erect.
Lovita rubbed a fingertip against each of her nipples lazily. Her eyes fell closed and her lashes fluttered. It always felt good to stroke herself—and the air had a little bite to it which was pleasant against her warm body. She was somewhere between feeling dozy and low-level horny. It was too late to take a nap though and too early to go to bed. Maybe she could have a moment of indulgence and give herself an orgasm as a reward for a hard day at the gym.
It seemed worth marking —she’d taken on several new clients since starting her personal training business, and this week was the first with 100% attendance from all. A cold glass of bubbly would really hit the spot, she thought. Although it felt like a bit of effort to get up and grab a drink, she was happy to complete the perfect tableau.
Extricating herself from the hammock but not bothering to cover up her lightly bouncing breasts, Lovita padded through to her little galley kitchen, enjoying the feeling of grass and tile on her feet.
As she poured from her favourite bottle into a crystal flute, she glanced idly at her bare toes. Her nails were painted a glossy shade and they reminded her of another glossy item she could do with…
Making a detour to her bedside table, Lovita headed back to the jasmine-fragranced garden with some goodies in hand. She put down her flute and climbed daintily back into the hammock. Her aches were a distant memory—now that she had some frolicking in mind, she was all abuzz. The glass dildo she’d picked up was now warming up a little with her body heat.
The wine went straight to Lovita’s head. It always did. She was petite and had no tolerance for alcohol but that’s what made it so fun. She lolled her head back and let the sensation of loosening run through her body. She licked her lips and ran her fingers through her silky hair, letting the dildo rest against her breasts.
She knew she made a sexy picture; it would be fun to film herself one day. She could dress up in some outrageous lingerie and take some steamy erotic movies of self-pleasuring. Lovita liked thinking of watching her own face on film and in different positions—perhaps it was vain but she fully appreciated her own body. She worked hard to keep it just the way she liked it. Looking at herself in a mirror while she pleasured herself always made her come even faster. There was something incredibly erotic about watching yourself writhe in orgasm.
Lovita let her fingers run down her body. Her nipples were tight and her belly button also felt sensitive. She was wet already. She always got extra horny when she drank. She pulled up the back of her jumpsuit to feel the lace of her underwear. It was such a hot sensation. She loved both leather and lace against her skin, but today had been a day for delicate underwear.
Maybe she’d wear her leather harness at the weekend. It would be appropriate for the hammock. Could she use it as a sex swing?
Gripping her large dildo Lovita giggled to herself. She dipped one end of it into her fizzy wine, then drizzled it into her mouth, one drop at a time. So naughty.
She licked the tip with her dextrous tongue so that her saliva coated it lightly. There wasn’t any need for lube today.
She pushed the glass against her nipples, feeling the stickiness of her saliva and gasped lightly. The coral nubs stiffened even more than they had before.
Lovita worked her way down her body, squirming delightedly as the dildo glided easily to her eager mound. She knew her clit was swollen without even touching it and the combination of her fingers and smooth glass was perfect on it. She increased the pressure and felt the blood pump around her body as she started bucking around in the hammock.
The movement of the swing was erratic and she lost herself in the sensation. A lack of control meant she wouldn’t come too fast. She liked to make it last. A long slow orgasm was one of life’s great delights and she wanted to savour it.
Her hair stuck to her face, momentarily distracting her. She blew a strand of it away and refocused on her pleasure. The toys she had were always fun to play with. The last time she’d used this particular dildo had been when she was being a bit of a perve with her next-door neighbours.
She remembered the day vividly; it had been particularly cool for a summer evening and she’d run a bath to warm herself up—and to get a little frisky.
Lovita had been inspired by the peek she’d got at her new neighbours. They were a hot lesbian couple and friendly too; as soon as they’d finished unpacking, they’d turned up at her door with a muffin basket to introduce themselves. You couldn’t make it up.
The taller of the two was raven-haired and cute in a commercial way, big doe eyes and round curves that hinted at a deeper sensuality. The younger and shorter of the couple had darker eyes and multiple piercings. She was slimmer, with a dancer’s physique. They looked striking together, a wet-dream pairing and were even wearing matching denim shorts.
“Hi, we’re your new neighbours,” the tall woman had said. “I’m Maxie and this is Ling.”
They had both grinned at her.
“Do you need a hand with anything?” Lovita had asked, knowing full well her offer of help was already too late.
“No, we’re all settled, thank you,” said Maxie holding out the basket.
“It should be me bringing you home-baking.” Lovita laughed while reaching for the muffins. Chocolate was a weakness of Lovita’s. And free pastries were a win since she hadn’t been grocery shopping for a while.
“These are wonderful!” She had taken an appreciative bite and nearly swooned. “Maybe I can invite you both for dinner once you’re a bit more settled.”
They’d agreed to reconnect another time and Lovita had gone on with her day, feeling satisfied at the sugar hit. From her lithe body, you wouldn’t know she ate like she did. But Lovita was very grateful to have the metabolism she had inherited, and of course the career she’d chosen. Her perfect milky skin never broke out either.
Later that same evening Lovita had noticed she could see the neighbouring couple fooling around in their kitchen next door. They’d clearly been making dinner—various candles and spices littered the countertops—but that had been abandoned at some point when they’d started necking.
Their kitchen was only dimly lit, but the view Lovita had from her downstairs bathroom window was unobscured. She wouldn’t have seen them unless she’d gone in just then to wash her hands which were a little sticky from another of the delicious muffins.
Lovita was transfixed at the sexy serendipity; she’d lingered in the bathroom, feeling like a minx but enjoying the show they were putting on.
She’d seen Maxie shimmy out of her own shorts before pulling down her partner’s. They’d both been wearing underwear that shimmered in the candlelight.
Ling was wearing something gold that looked like a Brazilian cut, showing off her excellent ass cheeks, while Maxie was in more conventional silky panties. They both had gorgeous bodies and Lovita found herself pushing closer to the window, wanting to see what else would be revealed.
The girls were French kissing deeply, up against a kitchen counter. Each of them were gripping the other’s bottom and Lovita imagined little noises of pleasure. She could almost hear them, gasping and moaning in heat.
Ling had turned Maxie around now, so Lovita could see both their faces. Their eyes were screwed shut in ecstasy. Ling was rubbing her breasts against Maxie’s back and nuzzling the nape of her neck.
Ling’s hands were sneaking up Maxie’s top—kneading her under the thin layer. It was alluring and yet unfair. Lovita desperately wanted to see this without the clothing in the way.
Then her prayers were answered and she’d gotten an eyeful of Maxie’s big, round breasts as Ling ripped off her faded t-shirt. They were encased in a green silky bra that matched her knickers. The bra had a balcony effect, making her boobs appear like they were about to fall out.
It was mesmerising. Lovita wished with all her heart that Maxie’s nipples would pop out. Would they be dark? Would they look like chocolate chips?
Both women’s hair was mingling as they continued to rub their faces and necks together. The dark strands of each were tangling sexily.
Ling had kept on her halter-neck top but her hands were still massaging Maxie’s curves. She coaxed down Maxie’s green bra-straps until they fell limply to the side, and finally, gloriously, Maxie’s large teardrop breasts were exposed. They were heavy and luscious. Ling moved to Maxie’s front and half-kneeled so that she could kiss and lick those tight, sexy nipples. They were dark and Lovita had fervently wished she could be there too. To get a taste—to feel her own nipples graze against Maxie’s.
They stayed in the kitchen for another few minutes, long enough for Lovita to get thoroughly over-heated. Her own hand had snuck into her panties and she’d been drenched. She’d been so turned on that she didn’t even know if she could wait to get comfortable before getting herself off. But her nature was methodical and she liked to do things leisurely, so she’d run a bath, her mind full of the delicious images she’d seen.
Her head almost couldn’t comprehend how sexy the scene her neighbours played out had been. She was going to remember and relive every moment. Lovita reached for her favourite dildo and climbed into the tub with it.
The bath was steamy—perfect to counteract the chill of the night—and she envisioned herself in the kitchen with her horny-as-hell neighbours. The bubbles lapped at her soft skin and she let her imagination run riot.
Would they have invited her in if they’d seen her at her little bathroom window peeking at them? She loved the idea that one of them—Maxie with her gloriously popping out boobs perhaps—would have made eye contact and held it with her while her partner lapped at her. Starting at her large, sensuous breasts, moving down her flat belly and then maybe even licking her out. Lost in their private pleasure, but acknowledging Lovita’s presence with a sly wink at the end.
Maybe even after staring at them for a while, Lovita would have flashed them herself. She could have pushed her pinky-peach nipples against the cold bathroom window and licked her lips slowly, provocatively. They could have put on a mutual show, house to house. The idea was thrilling.
Lovita was frustrated at missing the end of their sexy interlude. What would have happened in their bedroom, she wondered? She imagined that Ling would have been the one to continue the hard work of seduction. Maxie would have laid back in their large bed—perhaps they had silk sheets, the colour of red wine—and have been attended to.
Lovita could see their boudoir in her mind’s eye. A string of fairy lights threaded through a four-poster bed. Dark, erotic art on the walls and some kind of heavy jazz music playing on the stereo. She would be a pervy fly on their wall. The girls would spread themselves out on the chartreuse sheets and move confidently through their scene.
Maxie on her back, in repose, Ling climbing all over her. They would start with just their hands and lips, enjoying the taste of each other, taking their time and exploring. Maybe later, one of them would gather some massage oil and they would rub each other with it. Ling would lie spread-eagled on Maxie and roll her entire body against hers, up and down, side to side slowly and tantalisingly.
Once they were thoroughly oiled up, Ling would bring out a heavy hitter. A vibrator that was double-ended perhaps. One of those big, thick silicone jobs that could start off gently and then be adjusted according to how hot and rowdy they wanted to get. Lovita imagined Ling warming it up for Maxie. She could see in her mind’s eye how Ling would spread Maxie’s legs and nudge at her folds, exploratory at first, and then insistent in her need.
Both of them would have heavily dilated eyes and would be gasping for breath. Maybe one of them would then open a window so that their sex noises would travel in the night air. Lovita loved the idea of that—catching the groans and keens of pleasure. It would be like getting an audio show to match the visuals in her mind.
She imagined the vibrator again; half engulfed in Maxie’s wetness and waiting for Ling to mount it. She was slim and Lovita imagined that her dancer body would move as lightly as a feather. She’d rock herself onto the vibrator, delicately and then they would find a rhythm.
The pulsing of the machine would be irrelevant as the two of them created their own speed and thrusting pattern. They would shake with impending orgasm and she could see how they would come in their individual ways. Maxie would be breathy and loud—“Oh, Oh, OOOh”—while Ling would make a noise like a mewling cat.
Lovita in her bath that day, had delighted in the sounds and sensations she was imagining. She wished she were in that bedroom next door but still had enough pleasure in her present moment. Her own glass dildo was slick in the soapy water. It pushed and pulled at her pussy, creating a glorious suction effect.
Her body was reacting so strongly to the prolonged excitement. She loved how fully absorbed she was in her sex and gave in completely to herself. She shuddered magnificently to a toe-tingling peak, the bubbles sloshing slowly to the floor as she gave a low satisfied cry.
The erotic high she had reached that day was skewered through with a sense of naughtiness; not only at the scene she had caught of the lesbians in the kitchen, but then also the fantasy she’d built up. The outrageousness of the whole situation still tickled her.
In the hammock, Lovita took pleasure in reminiscing over the story she had built around the bedroom antics next door. The previous sensation of being cocooned in the hot bath water synced beautifully with how she was held now in the hammock fabric. Lovita held the memory tight and squeezed her pussy hard around the thick glass as her orgasm rose and ravaged her until she was breathless.
She still had to invite the girls for dinner. She’d seen them a few times but only in passing. Maybe this weekend was the time to have them over. Have them over her sofa perhaps…
The End

Samantha had been smiling ever since she’d received Nick’s text.
A short but sweet set of directions. He was a man of few words, but Samantha knew that those directions were guiding her to a promise of an experience that she’d never forget.
She’d still been smiling as she showered, making sure to pay special attention to her nipples as they hardened under her soapy palms, imagining Nick sucking one of her breasts into his mouth. Her body stretched languidly beneath the cascading water, responding to the memory of his skin against hers. His lips parting. His moans as he took in her body. As he touched her.
They had met at a conference three months ago, and Samantha had thought about those few days away from home every day since. There had been maybe eighty people at the conference, but somehow, she and Nick had gravitated towards each other almost immediately. They’d both had to rent accommodation at the hotel too, which meant they’d spent lots of time in the hotel bar getting to know each other—first small talk, then drinking, then a lot of flirting and gazing at each other… she imagined her hands were Nick’s as she clipped herself into her lingerie, then ran her stockings up her smooth, long legs and attached them to her suspender belt. She was getting hornier and hornier. Zipping up her black boots was the final straw for her, her pussy was pounding so hard.
Samantha smiled even more when she decided she’d play with herself before joining him in the room he’d booked for them, reading one of her sexy hook up stories. The thought of being with him again after such a long time was so deliciously unbearable that she was forced to take matters into her own hands. Retrieving a small vibrating toy from her overnight bag, Samantha circled it over her hardening clitoris, thinking of Nick all the while. The way he had made her feel the last time they had been together. The only time. The feel of his lips against hers, the way his tongue explored her mouth. She had slipped the vibrator into her slick pussy by now, and although it made her cum hard, the vibe made her long for him even more desperately. It was good, but it was no match for Nick’s beautiful thick cock, the cock that she’d fantasised about and craved for months.
She was so wet after cumming, but she didn’t wipe. The smell of her sex surrounded her like a heady perfume as she slipped her lacy panties back on and reached for her coat. Only a few more minutes to go until she saw Nick’s face again. Just a short walk, and then she’d have his tongue in her mouth. His cock deep in her hole.
It was a warm summer evening, so Samantha might have looked strange to a passerby, buttoned up tight in her mackintosh. Not that she cared. Her thighs rubbed against each other, the cream that had trickled down them earlier met in a wet kiss with every step. She walked briskly, and she could feel the soft weight of her tits as they bounced against the mesh of her fancy bra. It was so exciting, walking along the street wearing nothing but underwear beneath her coat. She couldn’t resist opening it wide for a moment, enjoying the feeling of reckless naughtiness as the cool air caressed her skin—and the damp patch between her thighs. She imagined Nick’s face when she showed him what she was wearing. Her pounding heart made her start walking even quicker.
***
God, I can’t wait any longer…
Nick threw back another gulp of his drink, trying to settle his nerves.
The text had been sent and Samantha would soon arrive… wouldn’t she?
The hotel room he was sitting in was beautiful; he’d made sure of that. He’d also made sure that the temperature of the air was just right, set to a level that was just perfect should one decide to remove their clothes and press their naked body against someone else’s, but right now, he was starting to feel cold with nerves. To be perfectly honest, it wasn’t actuallynerves—it was stone-cold fear.
He felt exposed.
Sitting.
Waiting.
Hoping.
If he was really honest with himself, it was more intense than hoping.
It was praying.
The message had gone out, and it had been received and acknowledged, but Samantha was a goddess, a beautiful, gorgeous, statuesque goddess, far too good for the likes of him. The message was short, just a set of directions, really. He was a man of few words, but that was only because he felt so deeply that his vocabulary couldn’t adequately describe what he was feeling. What if she didn’t show up? What if she was just teasing him, sitting in her lounge at home miles away? What if he just wasn’t worth it?
Please God, let her show up. Please.
The glass clinked against his teeth, pulling him out of his doom spiral. He changed position and sat up straighter. Breathe, Nick, he told himself. Just breathe. She’ll be here. Be cool. Remember what she said the last time you spoke:
I’ll do all the talking, Sweetheart.
I’ll take control.
All you need to do is lie back… and enjoy it.
Recalling the velvet tones of her voice warmed his body and reawakened his desire. A tingle in his groin soon became a gentle throb, lust surging hot blood down the shaft of his cock, hardening and thickening it.
I really need her to show up tonight, Nick thought to himself, otherwise I’ll have to spend hours in bed trying to wank this erection down. His penis had been springing up without warning all day in anticipation. He’d been wrestling with that and thoroughly inappropriate thoughts of Samantha constantly—at work, on the train—to the degree that he was wondering whether he was losing his mind a little bit. In fairness, his mind had little to do with how he was feeling. He hadn’t been able to figure out which had been pounding harder all day, his heart or his cock.
Why is longing so painful and yet so pleasurable, he wondered, grateful that there was nobody else around to see his erection straining against the zip of his trousers. The waiting and the hunger for Samantha had started to drive him crazy but Nick knew he had to rein himself in. He was a gentleman and didn’t want her to see him like the lust-crazed madman he felt he’d become recently. Deep down, he longed to thrust his throbbing tongue down her gasping throat, slobbering, and grunting and grabbing at her, desperate for some relief from his repressed lust for her. It had been months since he’d seen Samantha in person, months since he’d been able to run his hands over the smooth, warm curves of her body, press his mouth against those gorgeous, giving lips…
Then the keypad beeped four times.
Nick’s breath caught in his throat.
She was here.
Their eyes met, and a smile broke across her lips at the same moment as his.
Rooted to the spot, Nick watched Samantha coming towards him. Samantha, the statuesque goddess he’d dreamed about for months, was here, she was actually here, in real life, for him. The pounding in his dick went into overdrive, especially when she leant over him and whispered seductively into his ear, a hand stroking down the length of his arm.
I want you, she said.
Shivers of pleasure ebbed through his body at the feel of her warm breath against his skin. He caught a glimpse of shining skin where the mac parted—a tantalising promise of what was to come.
***
She smiled at his response to her words. It was better than she had expected, and it egged her on.
I’m here for you.
I want you to watch me.
Then I want you to fuck me.
She took the glass from his hand and drained what liquid was left down her throat, making sure that Nick could see her long, graceful neck to full effect, the muscles moving sensuously as she swallowed. She knew they were both visualising her swallowing his hot cum later.
Samantha took Nick’s hand in hers and led him to the large sofa against the wall. His cock was so damn hard, but she resisted touching it. Once Nick was seated, she peeled her coat off little by little, making sure that he had ample time to take in the slope of her shoulders, the curve of her spine, her beautiful chocolate skin gleaming against the frivolous lace of her bra and pants.
Samantha revelled in Nick’s silence as she revealed herself to him, her soft arse cheeks, her gorgeously long legs, her suspenders, her sexy black boots. His silence spoke volumes, and the loudest message she received from it was I Want You. She basked in his desire. It made her want to move and be enveloped by it, and her hips began to roll and sway almost subconsciously. All she could hear from him was the shortness of his breath, and that turned her on beyond measure. Samantha bent down, her ass in his face. She hoped he could smell her sex from before, because her pussy was plump and throbbing with excitement, knowing that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
She stroked her hands up her legs as she had done before she came to him, long sweeping movements that ended as she trailed her fingers over her heaving chest and swelling breasts. They longed to be free of their intricate prison, they wanted to sway and slap together and to be taken by Nick and sucked hard, but she continued to dance. She moved languorously in the heat of their lust—she loved the power she exerted, and she didn’t want it to end, not yet. She was totally in the moment. And she was drenched.
***
Nick wanted so badly to reach out and touch Samantha’s skin. God, she looked so good. She smelled amazing, hot and dusky, and the motion of her body dancing right in front of him… his body thrummed to her every movement, heart and cock pounding in unison. He longed to turn her around and kiss her hard, feel her boobs pressed against his chest, but her movements were hypnotic and as for her taut buttocks… he was transfixed.
As if she had heard Nick’s thought, Samantha turned her body to him. He could finally get his hands on her, and he rested his chin on her tight belly, breathing her in, revelling in the way she felt beneath his hands. She wore hardly anything, but it was still too much for Nick’s liking, despite being fully clothed himself.
***
Samantha ached for him as she looked down and sensed his longing for her, but she wanted to keep him—both of them—in a state of anticipation for as long as possible. She bent down before him, trailing her hands down the crisp cotton of his shirt, feeling the curve of his pecs beneath it, before stroking her fingers coquettishly over the hard ridge of denim she found in his lap. Nick sighed, and she celebrated.
She turned her back to him again, not to tease him more but to grind their bodies together, wanting to feel more of that denim ridge rubbing against her. To be close to Nick again after so long was addictive, and Samantha’s pussy squeezed with delight when he reached around her to fondle her breasts in their lacy cups. He was pushing against her too, now, and when she turned back to lock her lips on his, Nick’s mouth was wet and open and delicious.
Samantha was done with teasing now. Her lust aflame, she turned and unbuttoned his shirt, making sure she burned every inch of his skin into her memory for future recollection. He moaned beneath her touch, and she kissed him again and again, desperate to lose herself in the exquisite moment, never wanting it to end. What Nick couldn’t communicate verbally, he certainly expressed physically. His hard, yet supple torso undulated and flexed as Samantha unleashed his hard, enormous cock and lowered herself onto it. His strong hands kept her writhing body stable as she milked its length. The muscles in his thighs tightened under her palms as he began to thrust harder and faster, their bodies pounding together. His deep, sparkling eyes never left her gaze as they fucked.
***
Nick loved the wild abandon of shagging Samantha with his jeans down by his ankles, but he wanted to be even closer to her, feel as much of her body against his as he could. The beast at the highest point of his carnal desire was taking him over. In one slick movement, he swept Samatha up and threw her on the sofa, standing to rip away the jeans, shoes and socks that formed the last barrier between Samantha and everything he wanted to do to her. He noted the greedy grin on her face and the look of admiration as she ran her eyes over his body from the top of his head to the tip of his cock, and any last bit of self-consciousness died in him at that moment. Nick took her with one thrust, his entire engorged dick in her slick pussy in one go. Samantha gasped with pleasure and slid her long, stockinged leg around his neck, urging him to give her more.
Nick held her body as tightly against him as he possibly could, savouring how Samantha wriggled and undulated against the size of his cock and how her breasts wobbled with every thrust that he made. He wanted to be inside her forever, feeling the warm, moist sheath of her cunt walls grab at his shaft and slide against him, hearing her gasp and moan no matter how fast or slowly he worked her. He felt the most virile and the most sexy he had ever felt in his life, to be sliding, then screwing, then hammering his cock into the most beautiful woman he had ever known… and for her to be panting for more, begging him not to stop.
***
Samantha couldn’t believe how alive her snatch felt, filled to the hilt with Nick’s perfect penis. She was stretched and soaking and being pushed to every limit of pleasure that her body could cope with. Every stroke inside her propelled her further and further to a place that she could hardly describe, and she came hard around his thrusting cock, harder than she had ever done with anyone else or by herself, even. She was utterly undone; all her steely, seductive strength dissipated as Nick pulled out of her to come himself, spurting hot gobs of cum all over her naked pussy lips, her hole still clutching in orgasm.
Her body started to relax against his in a perfect post-coital glow. She gazed into his eyes and smiled.
Nick kissed her gently but passionately on the mouth.
‘Hi Sam,’ he said. ‘It’s great to see you again.’
The End

I was so excited when she called to confirm her booking. No, excited wasn’t precisely the word… more like so incredibly wet with anticipation, more accurately described my reaction when I heard her sultry voice on my voicemail. We had spoken several times before, and each time, she had hesitated to go through with actually booking a session. I get it. Clients can take a while to warm up to the idea of what I do.
After all, it’s not a mainstream sort of thing… tantra massage, that is.
After being in this business for many years, I’ve learned to trust my gut when it comes to meeting a new client. I can always tell if they will be shy, or nervous, or hesitant about taking the final plunge to meet me in person. Many, in fact,get cold feet and cancel at the last moment. I had hoped that wouldn’t be the case with Leanne. Because from the moment we began our first conversation, I just knew she would be one of the hottest sessions I’ve ever had.
Like I said, sometimes you can just tell.
***
I prepared my studio for Leanne’s session just as I’d described it to her over the phone: low lighting, quiet music, incense burning, with a white cotton sheet spread out over the floor. My clients always appreciate the attention I put into maintaining my studio. I treat my space as sacred… a space where the energy between two people can freely flow without any encumbrance. Part of that lack of encumbrance, of course, involves being completely naked with my clients. Because of this level of intimacy, I always make sure they feel as though they are in a luxurious spa, surrounded by the most serene setting I can provide, where they won’t feel inhibited at all.
When Leanne arrived my heart literally started to pound as if I’d just completed a forty-five-minute, high endurance ride on my Peloton. She was as beautiful in person as the picture she’d sent me. Her tall, perfectly proportioned body already had my fingers tingling. I couldn’t wait to run my hand over her bare skin, and feel her breasts, her hips, her thighs… well, every part of her.
I wanted her, badly.
I led her into my back room and left her to undress in private. I busied myself by lighting a few more candles and making sure everything was in perfect order, and the outside door was completely secured. I wanted nothing to disturb our session.
When I reentered, I found Leanne seated on the floor in a cross-legged position, fully naked, just as I’d instructed. Immediately I could sense her open aura. Her sensuality practically seeped from her gorgeous body. She looked so serene with her bare breasts exposed, her nipples already hard, the little buds protruding from the tiny circles of her soft pink areolas. I caught her gaze, and she gave me an inviting smile, without an air of self-consciousness about her. I could tell she was comfortable being naked around another woman, which excited me even more.
I circled her, then knelt behind her, letting out a small breath.
I grazed my fingers over her shoulders and down her back, and she let out a tiny, nervous cough. My hands came in contact with her bare skin. I began to breathe with her, inhaling deeply, then slowly exhaling, until her rhythm matched mine. In this way we were already discovering the pure essence of tantra. I say we because even though I was the one introducing the practice to her and I was the one touching her, I was discovering her femininity and her raw sense of sensuality… as if I had never touched a woman before. It was intoxicating.
Leanne took long, even breaths as I allowed my hands to roam all over her. I pressed against her, feeling her nervous system begin to relax. I raked my fingernails down her long, smooth back and down over the gentle curve of her hips. She shuddered under my touch, yet she wasn’t the only one reacting to what was happening. With every stroke I grew more aroused. My nipples hardened under the flimsy fabric of my tank top. My breathing shallowed. The heat between my legs intensified. I had to fight to maintain my focus before I lost all control of my senses.
Although, really, would it matter?
I wanted her in a way I don’t normally allow myself to want other clients. I wanted to taste her lips… her breasts, to feel her cunt pulsing as I thrust my fingers inside her. Fuck, she was so gorgeous. It was times like these I couldn’t believe I was this lucky to have this job.
It wasn’t always this easy to connect so deeply and so quickly with a client. When I first started working as a tantra massage therapist, I expended so much effort to make sure a client experienced ultimate bliss under my hands that I had no energy left to give. With men, I would bring them to the edge and back countless times, often for over an hour at a time, rubbing their bodies in every imaginable way before focusing all my efforts on their pulsing cock… stroking them in just the right rhythm, with just the right pressure until they exploded, shooting rivers of white over my body. I gave my all to ensure they ejaculated in a manner many of them had never dreamed of before.
With women, I spent my energy tuning into their bodies, making sure I touched them in just the way they needed… caressing their breasts, gently stimulating their clit, sliding my fingers inside them and drawing out every sensation until their bodies shook and shuddered in waves of pure orgasmic joy. Rarely, if ever, did I allow that energy to flow back to me.
Then, slowly, I discovered I wasn’t as powerless to control the tantric forces as I’d thought. A few clients turned me on to the point of wanting to fuck them so badly I could barely finish the session. I was losing myself in my work, unable to keep these desires from overtaking me. I couldn’t think of anything except fucking these strong, powerful men, and these beautiful sensual women.
Then, eventually, I allowed it to happen.
Nick was the first. He wouldn’t be the last, but he was the one who changed everything. Right from the moment he walked through the door I was powerless. His raw sexuality was too much for my already sexually overwhelmed senses. I couldn’t control my thoughts, or my actions. It was as if my body had been turned over to the gods of desire, and there was nothing I could do to stop what was happening. His body was a temple that beckoned to be worshipped at, over and over again. His cock pulsed between us with an invitation to use it in any manner I chose. I lost myself in him, my legs spreading involuntarily as my body wrapped around his. I took him inside me like a drug, milking his glorious cock deep inside my swollen pussy, fucking him over and over again as we came together in torrents of sheer pleasure that left us both on the floor, gasping for breath.
And that was just our first session.
There were many men after Nick. I encountered many women, too, who possessed an intoxicating sensuality I simplycouldn’t resist. It was impossible to remain impassive and in control. I was losing myself in the very world I had created. Each tantra session left me more and more vulnerable and open to the raw sexual energy that came as a result of connecting in such an intimate manner. I couldn’t keep my feelings of arousal from burning inside me. I began to touch my clients in a manner that I never had before… touching them in ways that made us mutually excited, rubbing my breasts and pussy over their bare skin, over their faces, allowing their lips and tongue to pleasure me until I shuddered in orgasm after orgasm, coming so hard I often had to lock the door after they left and cancel my remaining appointments.
Without a doubt Leanne was one of those clients.
***
With each gentle sweep of my hands over her naked body she relaxed more completely and let out a sigh. I leaned into her, drawing my palms back and forth over her breasts and up and down the graceful sweep of her neck. With my lips pressed to her cheek, I blew lightly on her skin and then nibbled on her ear, earning another gasp of pleasure for my careful, tormenting movements.
“I want to fuck you so badly,” I imagined myself whispering. “The things I want to do to your body… you have no idea…” Would she freeze, or immediately grab her clothes and run? I wasn’tcertain.
Oh, so often I’ve imagined saying those words to clients, but this was different. I really, truly wanted to do all the things that were racing through my mind to Leanne’s young, fit body. I wanted to pleasure her as she’d never been pleasured before. To bring her to the edge and back so many times she lost count. To rub my body all over hers, kissing every inch of her. Then, finally, when she was begging me breathlessly to allow her to come, I wanted to shove my fingers in her slick cunt and fuck her so deeply that she exploded, her juices dripping down my fingers as wave after wave of orgasm ravaged her body.
But first, we had to get her to that place of complete surrender.
I pulled Leanne against my chest, cradling her in my arms, and creating a safe space for her. She was completely naked, responding to my every movement. I was fully aware of the power I still had over her and held her firmly as I caressed her breasts and stimulated her nipples. I traced long lines up her neck and across her cheeks, over her lips, then down her belly before allowing my fingers to slide between her legs. My touch stayed gentle and controlled, even though my insides were burning with a desire I could hardly contain. Her moans grew louder. Her body rocked against mine as she allowed herself to relax ever more deeply. I blew gently on her skin, dragging my fingers over her stomach and over the smoothness of her inner thighs. She leaned back against me, now gasping for her breath. Her body was responding to my touch as perfectly as I hoped.
She was almost ready.
I turned her around and sat her in my lap with her face inches from mine. We breathed together finding our rhythm. With each inhalation and exhalation we grew more and more in sync. In and out. In and out. She was mirroring me with perfection. It was almost as if I could see myself in her eyes, and in her soul. Tantra can be that powerful… if you connect with the right person. In that moment, Leanne was most definitely the right person for me.
I shifted slightly and held her upright. With one hand on her back and my other hand on her breasts I continued to guide her breath. The heat radiating between her thighs caused my own body to respond. My tongue was dry, and my heartbeat was rapid. Then she touched me. Her hands roamed my body, caressing my legs, my hips and my breasts. I didn’t have to coach her… Leanne moved in pure surrender, letting go of all of her inhibitions. We moved together, our bodies swaying in soft, slow circles… an ancient dance of delight. I held her in my arms as her internal pleasure grew.
Now she was ready.
***
I pushed her back gently until she was lying in front of me on the floor, her legs spread apart. I poured oil all over her, allowing it to drip on her breasts, between her legs, over her vulva and pubic mound. She gasped with delight. I moved my hands over her in a gentle massaging motion, back and forth, up and down. She quivered and squirmed under my touch.
“Just breath baby, just breathe…”
We stared at each other, our connection deepening with each stroke. I slid my hands between her legs, focusing my attention on her yoni… her most intimate of areas. I gently spread her outer lips, teasing her pussy with my fingers. She gasped. Her clit was engorged, her folds so incredibly wet. She was shaking now, fighting to maintain her focus as the rivers of pleasure built inside her. The heat between her legs surged as I stroked her, increasing the friction with my fingers… pushing, touching, and sharing with her all of the energy I had to give.
She cried out, the sensations nearly too much to bear. I kept touching her. I couldn’t stop if I wanted to.
***
I had learned, the hard way, of the power that tantra can hold over you. With Nick, and many others, I had spent so much effort calming the bodies of my clients to the point where they became nearly comatose as we began our sessions. Then, bit by bit I built their arousal, igniting parts of their body they might never have even known were considered sexual. I caressed their ears, the backs of their necks, their hips… and especially their feet. Only after all of this would I approach their aching desire between their legs. Only after arousing them to the point of being desperate for a release did I begin to work on their pulsing cock, or their glistening wet pussy. I saved that for the very end, because I knew once I started manipulating their clit, or stroking their cock with a steady rhythm, they were inevitably going to explode.
The tantra energy that came with their buildup of arousal was so powerful it could trigger an orgasm without me even touching them. Some clients did that. I wasn’t concerned about how it happened; I only knew if I wasn’t careful, that swirling mass of tantric energy could easily consume me. Those times it did, I was powerless to stop it.
This was one of those times.
My fingers worked furiously over Leanne’s clit. I thrust my fingers inside her wet slit, faster and faster. Her back arched, her eyes sealed shut. Her breath was lost in the moans that filled the space around us.
“Please…” she whispered. “Please… make me come…”
My movements took on a life of their own, as they always do. As if watching someone else’s hands, I stared at my fingers as they disappeared inside her slick cunt. I fondled her dripping wet folds. My thumb pressed firmly against her clit, pulsing as rapidly as a vibrator. Her screams grew louder. My fingers fucked her harder. Now it was a deep pulsing movement as I spread her lips wider, opening her with each deep thrust in her pussy. Her body rocked uncontrollably underneath me. My legs were spread open around her. I held her firmly, keeping my energy focused on her yoni. My fingers slid back and forth through her folds, circling her clit, slipping down over her perineum, and back up. She cried out, begging me for a release.
I gave her everything I had.
Finally, she exploded.
She came, and came and came. Her moans grew to screams of pleasure. I kept on stroking her as she climaxed for nearly a full five minutes.
Still, we weren’t done… it was my turn.
We shifted so we were once again facing each other. I held her in my lap again, this time my bare pussy pressed against hers. She moved her hips against mine, pushing the heated ball of energy between her legs toward me. I responded by thrusting my hips into hers. We started to grind in a frantic rhythm. Our bodies rocked back and forth, our vulvas touching with each thrust of our hips. We stared at each other. It was then I realized I was no longer the one in control. I wasn’t fucking her—she was fucking me.
My body was desperate for her… I wanted her lips on mine, her tongue on my skin, her fingers deep inside me. I wanted her to ravish me as I had just done to her. My cunt was slick with my juices, and hers. Our yonis merged… her bare pussy slid directly on top of mine, sending wave after wave of pleasure through my body. I leaned back and pressed my hands into the floor. I spread my legs wider, willing her to fuck me as hard as she could. I focused all my remaining strength on sliding my pussy against hers… rubbing our mounds together, frigging our clits… joining our tantric energy in a naked frenzy of unbridled passion.
Finally, the explosion came. I cried out as wave after wave of pure pleasure rushed through my body, then hers. The ball of orgasmic energy surged through us, and around us, finally settling down as we slowly returned to this world.
It was the hottest session I have ever experienced. My very best erotic massage story. Just like Nick and others, I knew it was not going to be the last I saw of Leanne. Like I said from the start, sometimes you can just tell.
The End

I receive a text from the Boss.
I have a gift for you. It’s on the coffee table in the living room. I’ll be back soon, angel.
B x
I glance over at the box. I’ve just got back from a particularly stressful day at work. Today’s schedule has been crammed and the phone hasn’t stopped its shrill ringing. I was meant to stay late to go over tomorrow’s inventory, but the Boss sent me home at chucking out time, urging me to nurse my blistering headache at his place with a glass of wine before he finishes up himself.
No one in the office knows we are together. The Boss and I keep our relationship strictly professional when our colleagues are around. That’s not to say we haven’t had our secret liaisons after work under the guise of pulling a late to double-check figures when really, he’s bending me over his desk having me beg for his cock. He’s into light BDSM, and I’m certainly not complaining, my sex life has levelled up majorly since quietly dating him. As his PA, no one suspects, and if they do, no one says.
Running my fingers over the off-white, matte box, I stroke the violet satin ribbon tied in a perfect bow. It will be a shame to ruin such a display, but the eagerness to find out what’s inside gets the better of my aesthetic appreciation. I slowly tug the bow undone, watching it unravel and rest on the coffee table. The matte lid slides off seamlessly, revealing an array of neatly folded tissue paper. The intricate emblem of a thistle decorated with roses sends an excited leap through my stomach.
I take special care unfolding the barely-there paper and my eyes widen as I gaze upon my gift. I gasp. Nestled inside is a set of obscenely expensive lingerie. A bra, panties and garter belt made with the finest satin and lace in a vibrant rhubarb and custard mix with a pair of fine, flesh-coloured stockings to match.
A bright smile spreads across my cheeks. The Boss caught me admiring this piece in the boutique window a few weeks ago, wishing I could go in and buy it. We didn’t have to look at the price tag to know it probably costs more than my rent and I’ve been saving my spare change ever since. I should have known by the mischievous glint in the Boss’ eye as I left work that something was in store for me when I got back.
I trace my fingertips over the buttery fabric, feeling almost unworthy to even be near it, it’s so grand, much finer than any undergarment I’ve ever owned. It is truly beautiful. Tucked under one of the bra cups is a textured, ivory-coloured card. Embossed in silver French calligraphy, the card reads:
For my special lady who deserves to be spoiled.
All my love,
B x
Placing the box back on the table, I sift through my bag to get my phone, my fingers tapping along the screen as I type out a message:
I’ve just opened your gift. Thank you so much! You’re so sweet to me null
It doesn’t take long for my phone to buzz.
Happy you like it ☺ since you’ve had a stressful day, I want you to do something for me. X
My brows furrow and I type back quickly.
What’s that?
I want you to put it on. Enjoy it. You deserve it ☺ Pleasure yourself for me. Use the glass toy until I come back and can see to you myself ???? I’ll be 20 minutes. X
I stare at the text in silence. It doesn’t take long for me to skip to the bedroom, tear off my shirt and pencil skirt and feel the luxurious lace and satin over my skin. In the Boss’ ever-efficient way, he gets the size just right.
The set fits my body like a decadent second skin. I admire my reflection in the mirror door of my wardrobe, feeling the luxurious fabric over my tanned complexion, cupping my hands over the thick padded bra, pushing up my breasts into a soft swell. He’ll love this, I think, wriggling my hips feeling the smooth thong brush in between my thighs. I’ve never felt so desirable.
Kneeling down on the carpet, I open the bottom of his chest of drawers where our growing collection of naughty toys are kept. Amongst the leather paddles and the silicone butt plug I absolutely adore, I retrieve the glass dildo, snug in its emerald satin bag.
This is the Boss’ personal favourite. He loves using it on me, teasing and twisting the cold, lubricated glass inside me while he delicately licks my clit with the tip of his tongue, keeping me at the edge until he tells me to come for him. Instinctively, my thighs press together at the memory. My climax had shuddered through me, leaving my sex languid and the soles of my feet tingling with electricity as he growled ‘good girl’ in my ear.
The cushioned armchair is where many of my memories with the Boss have been made, all sensual and sordid in equal measure. As I relax back against the heavenly cushions, I feel the familiar warmth of intimate moments with the Boss permeates through my limbs. I take a deep, cleansing breath, thankful for the silence after a day of constant chatter where I could barely hear myself think.
I start by tracing my fingers over my breasts from the moulded bra where the sensitive skin meets the lining. I love how it pushes them up, making them look even fuller and rounder. Tucking under the cup, I stroke over my nipple, circling the soft flesh and nub until it puckers hard under my touch. With my free hand, I stroke the custard satin of my knickers.
Between my legs is tense. Very tense. My clit is aching for a release and I smile to myself. The Boss is right. He knows that pleasure, by his wonderful hand or my own, will make me feel better after a long, hard day. Sparks dance from my sex down to my toes, warmth starting to ripple at the bottom of my belly. I glance at the clock. It’s 5:30 pm. The Boss will be here soon and honestly, I can’t wait for him to get back.
I wet my fingers in my mouth, swirling them around each nipple until they’re rock hard and hypersensitive, imagining it’s the Boss’ tongue flicking back and forth. The soft satin knickers trace lightly over my pussy. Over and over again I go, pinching and massaging, indulging in the self-love I desperately need. It’s not long before I have to stand, sliding the beautiful panties to my ankles.
I finger the spaces between the suspender and the pretty ribbon adornments. The Boss wants me to enjoy his new gift in all its splendour, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. Taking the stockings laid across the armchair, I carefully work the garments up my thighs, securing them in their pink garters. They feel wonderful under my fingers, so silky and luxurious.
The glass dildo rests serenely on the table to my side, patiently waiting to be used. I unthread the ribbons of the emerald bag allowing the toy to smoothly slip into my hand. I notice just how cold it is, feeling the solid ridges against my palm. I think back to the many times the Boss has used this on me, drinking in the sight of me twitching under his touch. Many a night he’s watched me come for him, massaging its bulbous head against my g-spot until I’m begging him for more.
I warm its cold ridges in my hands, sucking its tip into my mouth. I moan at the glass against my tongue, swirling the tip against my lips. As much as I enjoy this wonderful toy in my mouth, over my skin when the Boss teases me with it cold on my nipples, I eagerly wait for the Boss to come home, wishing it was his cock instead.
I take the dildo deeper into my mouth, vibrant colours bursting under my eyelids. Trailing it down my breasts and tummy, my clit tingles as I start to massage, running the glass in gentle circles over the plump, pink flesh. My hips buck as little by little, I ease the cock inside me. I arch at how full I feel, slowly moving it in and out. For a while I tease the toy around my lips, inside me and against my clit, becoming lost in the gorgeous warmth building in between my thighs.
How I wish the Boss was here, speaking in ways that make me blush while I pleasure myself. I imagine him now, working through files I was meant to, sharing my headache that had him send me home early to do this. Throughout today, all I wanted was to cuddle up in the safety of his arms, bury my face in his warm chest until the phone calls and demands from upper management just faded away.
I saw how his blue eyes searched mine concerned, yet still with that flash of pride as he watched me work through our schedule, bit by bit. My thoughts flit through every intimate moment I’ve shared with the Boss. I think of the many days and evenings I’ve spent in that office alone with him, my mind eventually settling on a particularly delicious memory of us working late one night, many months ago:
It’s the end of the day. I sort through the last of the files, ready to put on his desk when I hear the door close behind me. My spine tingles as I feel the air between me and the figure, growing thicker as he draws closer.
An arm snakes around my waist, pulling me smack against a solid torso and the tantalising scent of pine.
‘Hello stranger,’ the Boss whispers, planting a kiss below my ear. ‘Everyone’s gone home for the day, you know. We’re all alone…’
Lower the Boss’ hands prowl, over my pencil skirt and squeezing my buttocks. I gasp, but not before he cups my chin, claiming my mouth with hungry kisses. When he finally pulls away, I’m panting. The lines around his eyes crinkle, a salacious grin pulling at his lips.
‘You’re so cute when I take you by surprise.’ He chuckles.
A slew of kisses run down my shoulder while he unbuttons my shirt, watching it graze off my shoulders and fall to the floor. The blinds are drawn on the windows and the door. No one can see us.
He pulls my skirt up over my hips, his fingers caress my stockings and the trusty garter belt I’ve owned for years. My skin prickles as his hand trails between my legs.
‘Sshhh…’ he whispers. ‘Keep quiet, angel. We don’t want the cleaners to hear us now, do we?’
The mere thought of keeping quiet for him sends a wobble jostling through my knees. Holding me against the desk, he presses a hand firmly on the small of my back.
‘Bend over.’
I obey, following his guiding hand until my breasts rest against the polished oak desk. The clinking of his belt unbuckling practically has me dripping between my thighs. Slowly, he runs the tip of his cock between my slick lips.
‘Hmmm…’ he muses, ‘I love how wet you get for me…’
Hanging on to the other side of the desk, it’s hard to keep my moan lodged in my throat as he slowly eases into me. As he slides fully inside, my moan escapes. It’s louder than I thought and the Boss quickly clasps his palm over my mouth.
‘Shhh, shhh shhh…We have to stay quiet.’
A low chuckle rumbles at my ear as I hum against his lips.
‘You like it when I cover your mouth, angel?’ he thrusts deeply. Inhaling sharp through my nose, I nod. A gentle kiss is placed on the back of my neck, one of my most sensitive sweet spots, while he holds me up with his arm, snaked solid against my stomach.
‘I’m not going to make this is easy for you.’ the Boss growls.
I take his hand in mine, moving it away from my lips a hair’s breadth. I glance over my shoulder and our stares lock.
‘I don’t want you to be.’
The Boss’ blue eyes light up and he flashes me a wicked grin. He’s not going to make it easy for me at all, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Tucking his fingers back over my lips, I hold on for the ride as he grinds slowly. The Boss knows how wild that drives me.
My chest rises and falls, tiny strained moans muffled by the strong hand around my mouth. His free hand prowls up my breasts tugging down my bra, tweaking my nipples between his fingers as he growls the filthiest, most delicious words in my ear.
‘Yeah?’ He grunts, moving faster until his hips slam against mine. My breast bounces against his palm, ‘You like when I do that, angel?’
All I can do is nod, stifling my groans in his hand as they grow louder.
‘You want more…?’ He pinches harder. I nod again, frantically. Everything he wants to give me I want to take. The mixture of pain and pleasure tingles through me from head to toe. His fingers trail down in between my legs, working my clit until neither of us can take any more.
The Boss stifles primal, delicious shouts in my neck, biting my shoulder as he stiffens against me. I shudder in his embrace, eclectic warmth surging through my legs. I barely notice as he picks me up in his arms, nestling me in his lap as he settles us down on the couch. I snuggle into his chest, feeling small and protected in his big arms. The Boss strokes my hair, tilting my chin up as we share feather-light kisses in our haze…
My back arches off the chair, satin-clad chest panting as I pump the toy faster into my pussy. My climax is a luscious crescendo, pulsing through me until I’m nothing but a quivering mess. My head flops back against the chair, feeling every last slither of the day’s tension trickle out of me, pooling out into the hardwood floor below.
It is then when I hear the familiar click of the lock on the door. My heart leaps. I can barely straighten up before the Boss is inside, suitcase in hand with his eyes firmly on me. An embarrassed flush bubbles up my neck into my cheeks.
‘I see you did what you were told, angel.’ The Boss muses, placing the suitcase on the kitchen counter and loosening his tie. A mischievous little smile pulls at my cheeks.
‘Of course.’
He takes a decanter of whiskey from the kitchen cupboard and pours himself a glass. My eyes can’t help but wander over his handsome, chiselled face. Those beautiful fine lines around his eyes that are deeper after a long day. He’ll be glad to relax in his favourite chair, nursing a scotch. The Boss is a hardworking man, often neglecting his own wants to see the job is done. I enjoy relieving him in whatever way I can, whether it’s sitting together enjoying the silence of solitude or having him sit while I take his cock into my mouth, riding him slowly to a much-needed release.
‘I take it you like your gift?’ he strides over, downing his drink in one gulp with a boyish grin.
‘I love it,’ I say. ‘Thank you.’
I sit up, placing a small peck on his lips, when he cups my face in his hands, deepening the kiss. A soft moan hums in his throat. He runs his tongue along mine, beckoning me to let him in. I open my mouth, basking in the sparks lying thick in the air between us as our tongues dance, searching the other as if it’s the first time we’ve kissed. Suddenly, the Boss pulls away.
‘Wait. What are—?’
‘Shhh…’ he whispers, trailing feather-light kisses along my jaw. Glass toy still in my hands, he hoists me up in his arms throwing me over his shoulder. I shriek, giggling as I feel a sharp swat on my behind.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask. Though I can’t see him, I can almost feel the smile spreading across his cheeks. He’s heading for the bedroom.
‘I have one more surprise for you.’
Gently, the Boss lowers me down onto the bed.
‘You do so much for me, angel. I want to treat you. Will you let me do that?’
I stare up into his cool, blue eyes. Taking the glass cock from my hands, his eyes don’t leave mine as he reaches to the draw of the bedside table, grabbing our favourite bottle of lube. The Boss squirts out a liberal amount, smoothing it over the toy and settling himself on the bed hovering over me. I can’t contain the excited smile on my face. I love when he uses it on me himself.
‘Are you ready?’ he asks. I giggle.
‘Yes.’
Gently, he runs the lubed-up cock over my clit. We share soft kisses, taking our time before he slides the cock inside me, twisting it as he slowly works it in and out. How the Boss uses his personal favourite on me is simply exquisite. After a long time of experimenting, he knows exactly what to do to make me do what he loves: beg. It doesn’t take long before I’m doing just that, begging him as the toy is pressed against my g-spot, massaging to the point where I can barely look straight. What am I begging for? Him.
‘Come for me, angel…’ The Boss’ hot breath rolls down my neck as I’m arching under him, face contorted, consumed by the heat he so effortlessly ignites in me.
‘That’s it…’ he growls, ‘Good girl.’
The End