Our kink is probably not a standard one. Or maybe I’m wrong. After all, most people put something on their heads now and then, don’t they? Well, I like hats—all kinds of hats—and they are definitely at the centre of our sex fantasies. The first time I met Ridge I was wearing a two-gallon Stetson—an original Made In Texas beauty and very authentic.
I will never forget what he said to me. It was a glorious Autumn afternoon and I was sitting in Richmond park finishing my lunch break. I work around the corner for an estate agent and was daydreaming really when I heard a very deep voice behind me say,
“Howdy partner, mind if I join you?”
Looking up I saw Ridge. Well, I didn’t need to think twice. He was hot with a capital H. So I shimmied along the bench a little and patted the space beside me. He asked me where I got my hat from and we started chatting.
He invited me to his flat for dinner and requested I wear the Stetson. It turned out well. We ate and drank an extreme amount then he fucked me over the side of the Dallas-style sofa saying I was Sue Ellen and he was my JR. It was so raw and hot.
We pretty much became an item straight away. We were crazy for each other, a hot couple fucking each other when ever we could. Working on the oil rigs means he is usually gone for one or two weeks at a time. On his return, he’d call me up and we’d arrange to meet.
“Wear a hat.”
Always his main request. But that was fine because I had a whole cupboard full.
I remember a really hot date when we met at a West End wine bar. I was wearing a slinky pencil skirt, tight jacket and a beret. His eyes nearly came out on stalks when he saw me. I was really pleased with myself. But not as chuffed as he was, trying out his pidgin French, as he slipped a hand along my thigh to feel for the stocking top.
“Votre béret est chaud.”
We hadn’t even left the restaurant at that point. In fact, we only made it to his car, which was parked in a dark alley. He pulled my skirt up, panties down, and pushed me onto the bonnet, muttering what sounded like French dirty words. Then, he slapped my bum a couple of times before shafting me until my beret came flying off in the commotion. We both laughed. That’s one of Ridge’s great traits, he can always see the funny side of anything.
While shopping one Saturday, I couldn’t believe my luck when I came across a mariner’s cap in a vintage shop. You know the type, a low peak with a braided pattern around the middle. It was a really great price and in good condition too. I bought it on the spot. Ridge loved it, saying it set my eyes off a treat. And for me, it was so comfortable.
Caps, in general, are very handy. If your hair isn’t looking great when you get up in the morning, it’s easy to tie it back, slam on the cap and a little make-up and—I am not kidding—within minutes you’re looking sexy and ready for anything.
When I told Ridge what the style of cap was called, he began one of his elaborate tales. Joking that I was a stowaway on his ship who was discovered by a crew of sex-starved sailors. Warming to the idea, he pressed on with the story, his voice growing husky. Lips close to my ear, he explained that my punishment for stowing myself away on their men-only vessel, was I had to fuck every one of them or I’d be thrown overboard. Being the captain, however, Ridge would pull rank and put a stop to this—allowing him to claim me for his own use.
The nautical fantasy would continue. He’d take me to his cabin, strip me naked and tie my hands and feet to his small cot-bed. Lighting candles he would go on to inspect me. Checking, my mouth, cunt and anus were all clean. Next would be grooming. My pubic hair would be shaved and rubbed with the ‘finest whale oil’. Then I would squirm and squeal as he drizzled candle wax over my nipples and along a line down my tummy towards my slit. Spying the fear in my eyes he would stop just shy of my clit. Instead, he’d replace the wax with his tongue. Lubricating me liberally with his saliva before releasing his beastly member and taking what was now his.
Phew! It has to be said all this role play made us both hot and damp so of course, his tale advanced into the practical mode as he lifted me on to the kitchen island, telling me if I didn’t do as he wanted, I’d have to walk the plank.
“I’ll be a good gal, Captain.” I love a hot fantasy.
I laid back. Pulling me to the side of the surface his cock was just the right height for him to fuck me right where he stood. Taking his time to watch his thrusts he pummelled my pussy over and over to the lusty rhythm of the sea shanty he was chanting in a hoarse baritone voice.
At other times he’d make up a scene where we would be fucking for the first time—and I had to keep the cap on—or perhaps the captain would make me do a ‘leave your hat on’ striptease. Ridge has such an imagination. I am certain he will write a book one day.
As our relationship became more serious my hats and I moved into his flat. Ridge sorted out an American-style walk-in closet for all my clothes, with four shelves allocated just for my headwear. When we were apart for a few weeks I’d always miss him. Sometimes I would open up his wardrobe and smell his clothes or use a dab of his aftershave. And of course, when he came home our passions ran high. During such reunions, all the hats had an outing and all my holes were filled.
When he announced his next contract was in Alaska—meaning three long months of separation—we both felt a little downhearted. I couldn’t imagine how I was going to get by for twelve whole weeks without sex. For Ridge, however, that was always just part of the job; the price that every roughneck pays.
I swore I’d be true while he was gone and invested in a few more sex toys. He said all he needed was his hand and imagination. But then he changed his mind.
“You know what would be nice, Peaky?”
Since I bought the cap this had become my nickname.
“If I run you a nice bubble bath with candles?” I whispered. That was one of his favourite things. I would perch on the floor and play with his cock while he soaped himself.
“Yeah, that would be good Jen, but I’m thinking about when I’m away next. I’d love a sexy video of you. Something I could watch on my phone when I’m alone and feeling horny.”
“Wha’dya mean, me dancing seductively?”
He used to ask me to do that when he was tired and relaxing.
“Na. I was thinking more like—we film you going down on me.” He looked me up and down, slowly. “Fuck, I’m getting hard just thinking about it. Get your arse over here gal.”
As I knelt in front of him, he faced fucked me in double quick time.
After discussing the idea in full he explained he wanted it to be a special movie. Slow and sensual. Like a soft porn film really.
“I dunno if I’d be happy doing it naked though, Ridge. What if someone else accidentally got hold of it?”
So we agreed I’d be dressed and he insisted I wear the mariner’s cap as well.
One thing I adore is Ridge’s cock. It is just—perfect. I think I suffer from penis worship. Well, I certainly can’t get enough of his. I really enjoy giving him a blowjob as it is my BIG chance to take control of him and see the pleasure on his face. When we have the time, I take it really slow. Wind him up until he can’t hold back any more and explodes all over my mouth or face. That’s what we decided the film would capture. A centrepiece from our real sex life. Something we both love to be involved in and take our time with. Just thinking about going down on him makes my cunt clench and I sometimes think I could orgasm simply by sucking his cock. It turns me on that much.
So the home movie-making day arrives. We set up the camera and snuggle together on the sofa, kissing and touching, just a little to get us in the mood. When I push record and settle in front of him, I can see his cock already straining to be out for a turn in the limelight. I slowly undo his shirt caressing his stomach and chest. He has a really fit body. He’s toned and ripped. With energy to burn and time on their hands, most roughnecks spend a few evenings in the gym taking out their many frustrations on the equipment.
While I undo his belt, he watches me intently. At this moment it really feels like the first time, perhaps because I’m more than a little aware of the camera. I try not to stumble over the buttons and trouser zip. Once that challenge has been conquered, I massage his hardness through his boxers until he can bear it no longer and whips them down along with the trousers. Now I have all the access I need.
I shower his tummy with some flash kisses then take his cock into the warmth of my mouth for the first, slow taste. The skin is wonderful against my lips. I can smell the familiar aroma that is uniquely his.
I work on the shaft, pressing my lips and licking the swollen tip. Almost teasing. I am giving him head but I never forget the value of a few handy stokes to move the rhythm on. Covering the glistening knob with each jerk.
Ridge is large—I can only fit so much of his sex in my mouth—but I try my hardest for him, opening my throat to let him drive as deep as he wants. Sometimes when he face-fucks me I nearly choke. But a blowjob is different. It is about him receiving the pleasure, not merely taking it.
Then I cradle his balls, squeezing and sucking them. He really gets off on this and strokes my back but I can tell he doesn’t want to interrupt my flow. I know what I am doing. I know how to please him. Working my hand and mouth together in unison for the best effect, the most stimulation.
The mariner’s cap tips down over my brow but even though he can’t see my face clearly the camera can. This is for Ridge’s pleasure—not just for now but more so for the future when he watches the recording. I wonder how many times he will replay this very scene? The thought brings me back to his cock and I redouble my efforts—let’s make this one to remember.
This cap, above all others, compliments my look so well. I’m Ridge’s very own sex goddess. Clasping the root of his dick I quickly thrust my head up and down. My lips pursed, the muscles in them creating friction as the blood rushes to his pleasure zone making it rigid and unyielding. At moments like this, I’d like to discard my panties, put my Stetson on and ride him back to the ranch. But this is not about me, so instead, I caress his dick and slightly twist the skin exerting pressure on the knob.
He holds his breath in anticipation of what is coming next and I remind myself again that we are creating a film—a personal porn classic he will be watching on those long nights without me. I need to make eye contact so as I lick and manipulate his length I stare straight into the camera. When he watches this, I want him to see the intensity and enjoyment in my eyes. For me, there is only him and the need to make him happy.
Ridge lays his head back. Perhaps gone into the world of his imagination but knowing I am the one here giving him what he wants. Delivering. I tease the end with a few flicks of my tongue. From past experience, I’ve realised that area is the most sensitive part of his organ. Then a little tug of his balls with my teeth—excited that all this action is being captured for eternity.
It’s obvious to me he can’t possibly hold out much longer—he’s ready. The blood is pulsing through his veins and I speed up my movements. It’s such a buzz having this level of control over his body. I can almost hear his heart beating faster.
Glancing up at his face I see the veins bulge on his forehead and I taste the spurting juice before I hear his moans. Staring straight into the lens I let some dribble from my lips. This turns him on so much. I imagine him watching it alone and I expect this would be the moment when he’ll spurt into his fist, knowing I took it all in my mouth because I love him so. But I don’t stop there, not wanting to waste any I continue and suck up every last drop of this tasty treat as he smiles down at me
