“OK.”
“And always, when I ask this, my client will reply, ‘But no! I only stole from them!’ Or they will speak of some lesser crime, like destroying another’s valuable possessions for revenge, or sleeping with another man’s wife, comprenez-vous?”
Despite the excruciatingly awkward circumstance, an amusement begins to twitch my lips.
Grinning, André nods. “Just so. For the first time, I ask this question and you HAVE murdered someone. But… it is during war, in the service of your country, I think?”
My jaw tightens. It wasn’t during war, but I keep my mouth shut.
I have committed murder. When I did, it brought forth an avalanche of confusion, guilt and doubt. I’ll never tell anyone what I’ve done.
I wonder now, is mentioning sodomy Renata’s personal take, her sexual version of André’s murder technique? Could this be her way of trying to normalize any forbidden fantasies I might have? She suggested the most perverse act possible, so anything I say must seem acceptable in comparison, right?
It must be.
“I know what you’re doing and I appreciate it,” I finally say to her.
“Do you?” she asks. Something about the way she asks me makes me wonder.
Anal sex is a shameful longing of mine. It’s an illicit desire I’d ordinarily never discuss, much less consider forcing on anyone. The words of Leviticus come to me. They were drummed into my head when I was young: ‘And if a man also lies with mankind, as with womankind, both of them have committed abomination; they shall surely be put to death.’”
Sodomy is not only immoral, it was also illegal in Alabama, Florida, Idaho, Kansas, Louisiana, Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, North Carolina, Oklahoma, South Carolina, Texas, Utah and Virginia—right until the Supreme Court invalidated those laws in 2003.
My heart skips a beat with a combined thrill of both lust and dread. Surely she can’t be serious about being willing to take it in the ass? Would Renata really let me fuck her there?
My blood boils—my whole body surges with an inferno of need.
The thought of committing such a forbidden act flips every perverted switch I have. These are crazy thoughts filling my mind. I want to ask her if she was serious when she mentioned anal sex, but I don’t have the nerve.
I can’t excuse myself for having these unnatural desires.
I struggle for composure. It must be an intentional exaggeration—or is it? André taught her. No doubt she’s simply being as subtle and open-minded as he is.
Renata tilts her head. I see her assessing me, sizing me up. I swear she knows I’m hiding something. If she asks, I’ll tell her I thought of something I’m not yet comfortable talking about. As she told me on the airplane earlier today, we all have our secrets.
“I may not consent to some of your fantasies, Grant, but you would be hard-pressed to shock me,” Renata says. “Hey, I’ve lived with André!”
We both laugh and I relax, knowing I'm safe for now. She isn't going to question me. She’s dropped the subject.
“Anyway,” she adds. “Anything that gets you going will probably get me off, too.”
“Honestly?”
“Sure.”
“Well… good.”
“I try never to mix morality with sexual curiosity or kinks,” she says. “As long as sex is between consenting adults and no one gets physically or emotionally hurt, anything goes. Think about it. Do you think there is a right or wrong when it comes to safe, consensual sex?”
I shrug.
“Well, I think it's what each person is into and whether or not a couple is sexually compatible.”
I frown, mainly because I still can’t tell why she mentioned anal sex. I can't stop thinking about it, either. I really want her that way, and I hate myself for wanting it. “I won’t tell you everything—not yet,” I warn her.
“That’s fine, Grant. We don’t need to rush into anything.”
I frown at her statement because we may need to rush everything. I still have the threat of jail hanging over my head.
“Anyway, what people think they want and what people really want are often very different in practice. Some fantasies involve things that people never intend to do or even want to do. For example, rape fantasies are extremely common among women. In reality, women who fantasize about it would never actually want that to happen to them.”
“I see,” I murmur.
“And, as for your climax and whether you jerk off in my mouth or not? Well, do it or don’t do it as the mood takes you. If you’re not up to it, that’s fine. We do have a no-touch rule in effect tonight.”
I shake my head. “I’m worried that if I let your mouth get too close to my dick, it might trigger my… issues. It would end our session rather quickly.”
She shrugs. “So what? We’ve done plenty already. You’re in a good place now, right?”
“Yes.”
“OK, then,” she says, with a mischievous glint in her eye. “It doesn’t matter if I get the pleasure of sucking your cock tonight or not. I do want you to know that I’ve got blowjobs on my list of things we’ll do together at some point. I have to warn you, it’s a very, very long list.” Her eyes shine and her eyebrows arch playfully. “And it’s growing longer all the time.”
I chuckle. “Always thinking of me.”
“Um, as sweet as that sounds, I’m not going to lie to you.” Her lips curve up in a sassy smile. “I was actually thinking of myself with many items on that list, especially BJ's. There’s nothing hotter than going down on a guy. I love doing that.”
I stare at her with suspicious, narrow eyes. “Honestly? Using your mouth to make a man climax turns you on?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s hot for so many reasons. As I said before, seeing you aroused gets me off. Also, giving pleasure to someone I care about is a huge turn-on for me," she says with enthusiasm.
I grin but say nothing.
Her face takes on an almost dreamy quality. "Mmm,” she sighs. “The responses I'd arouse in you… that's heady stuff. I’d love to touch you, and to watch your swollen shaft tense and relax. The sounds you’d make, the moans, grunts, groans and sighs. Not to mention the smell and taste of your cock and your cum. It’s all powerful turn-on material. Yum!”
My jaw tightens as my thoughts begin to turn inward. Discomfort with this subject begins to snowball. At this point, the idea of Renata’s mouth on me is creating more emotional pain than anticipation of pleasure.
She smirks. “Oh, I guess I should mention that you could go down on me sometime, if you’re up for it.”
“Yes,” I say and I swallow hard. “I’ve never done that before, but I’d really like to try it.” Anxiety creeps up inside of me, making me increasingly tense. “Going down on you is much more attractive to me than getting a blowjob.”
Black shadows begin to loom over me. My chest tightens as childhood memories begin to resurface. “It’s just that with a blowjob—”
Renata cuts me off. “Don’t tell me just now unless you truly want to or need to, Grant,” she says abruptly.
I blink, surprised by both the interruption and her vehemence.
She runs a hand through her hair, pushing it back, over her shoulder. “Listen, I can see you’re getting worked up and we don’t want to change the playful, sexy mood we’ve got going on here. I can more or less guess large parts of your story—I know what predators do. I want us to discuss everything—your shit and mine, but not tonight.”
Dark memories haunting my present, ease and dissolve, returning to the past where they belong.
“OK,” I say with relief.
“Tonight's all about getting off and having fun,” she says. “We’re working through the body. You should focus on your dick.” Her eyebrows move up and down suggestively.
Amused, I exhale audibly. “That works for me.”
Renata moistens her lips. She sweeps her hungry, heated gaze over me slowly, starting with my face, lowering over my chest, and ling
ering on my eager cock. She's looking at me the way a caffeine addict would look at her morning coffee.
With her, I forget about my scars. She’s at ease with my appearance as if I were normal, or even handsome. It's liberating and exhilarating to have the freedom to be myself.
“You really are the hottest guy ever,” she says in a breathy voice.
I smile and raising a doubtful eyebrow at that.
“No joke, Grant. I mean it,” she says with a grin. “You do it for me like no one else.”
Chapter 18.
“Good sex requires further exposure than simply removing one’s clothes. And as for a good relationship? Ah! For this one must be prepared to reveal even more.”
— André Chevalier
~~~
Grant Wilkinson
We both take a break to use the bathroom before we get started on our dares.
When Renata returns I see that she’s combed her shoulder-length, silky blonde locks—which is a shame. I enjoyed her tangled, mussed-up hair. It gave her a sensual, ‘just been laid,’ look.
“You’re so beautiful,” I say, with awe and appreciation. I still can't get over the fact that Renata wants me.
“Mmm, thanks. I’m glad you think so,” she says with her knock-out smile.
There’s a flirty tone in her voice and her blue eyes smolder. My pulse quickens as my fevered imagination works overtime. I’m back to having constant visions of fucking her right here, in the kitchen, in my bathroom—or up against any wall or surface.
How am I going to possibly function with her living in my house? For a start, I’ll have to get used to being hard all the time. That and having so little blood left in my brain that I might be reduced to a virtual idiot.
Renata sits down on my bed and lies crosswise, halfway across my light grey sheets. She places her feet on the floor with her knees together, a few inches from mine. She reclines across two pillows placed behind her head and upper back. This way we can watch each other.
She looks magnificent.
I love the shape of her long, sleek body with its soft feminine curves. I adore her pale skin, her large breasts with their luscious, erect nipples. The woman is insatiable and is clearly all set to go again—the horny little thing.
As if I’m one to talk!
I'm uncomfortably erect. What is this relentless, aching yearning I have for her? It’s a new experience for me. Usually I’m in control of my urges. I’ve never had trouble with unmanageable hard-ons around women, mainly because I’ve never given my dick the idea that it had any chance of getting lucky.
My aching cock knows exactly what my weakness is—she’s sprawled across my bed right now.
“You ready, handsome?” Renata asks with an arched eyebrow. “You certainly look as though you are,” she adds with a happy smirk, staring at my jutting erection.
“Yes,” I say in a husky voice I can barely recognize as my own. The excitement of the moment has my body straining with lust.
“Get comfortable,” she advises. “You’re going to get a really good view of a very intimate one-woman show. Ready? I’m going to masturbate just for you.”
I nod and our gazes meet and hold for a long, timeless moment. Heat and lust fill the space between us, electrically charging the air.
Eyes half-lidded, Renata slowly raises her right hand and places two fingers inside her mouth. With slow and deliberate intent, she begins to sensually lick and suck them as if she’s sucking me. Logically, this could be a trigger, yet the only thing it triggers is an urgent need to bury myself inside of her.
My buttocks tighten, my thighs flex, and my aching cock twitches.
I groan loudly at the sight.
Renata laughs. Her other hand moves to her breast where she slowly begins to circle and tease one luscious nipple. Hard already, it responds by puckering further. Her tongue glides over her lips, while her eyes remain fixed on me. I’m pretty sure that she finds my concentrated attention exciting.
Renata isn’t shy—at least not when it comes to sex.
When she removes her fingers from her mouth, they’re shiny and glistening with moisture.
“Spread your legs nice and wide,” I say, my voice rough with anticipation and lust. “I want to watch you make yourself come.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” she says, saluting smartly, mimicking a good soldier. “And I’m going to watch you stroke that bad boy between your legs while I do.”
My breath catches as she spreads her legs, raises her bent knees and puts her feet up onto the edge of the bed. Her thighs are parted wide—she’s fully exposed to me, just the way I want her.
I inhale, smelling her heady, musky scent. Utterly turned-on, Renata drips, she’s soaking wet with arousal. Despite my history, she wants me.
My mouth waters as I wonder what she tastes like.
My God, she’s the sexiest woman I’ve ever known.
Spellbound, I lean forward. I’ve never before seen anything like her bare, feminine flesh. I’m fascinated by her vagina, her soft, puffy folds and her erect clitoris. The way her hips curl upwards, a tantalizing hint of the small, puckered ring of her anus is in view.
I’m mesmerized by the sight.
I’ve never, ever seen a woman so closely and so absolutely displayed.
I've only had sex in dark alleys where I never saw anything. Copulation was hard, fast and over. I treated sex as if I were ripping off a bandage, get it over fast to get past the pain associated with it.
I’ve been missing out.
I plan to make up for it now.
Renata’s gaze remain fixed on me, while I track her every movement. She trails her moistened fingers down her body until they circle her clit, spreading the wetness that has collected there.
“Talk to me, Grant,” Renata says. “Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need.”
My attention centers on her slick, knowing fingers. I bite back a moan as she slowly pushes them inside her slit. She begins to circle and stroke herself, working her greedy, tight hole with delicious, tantalizing allure.
From time to time she moves her fingers upward, circling her clit, working it in a sexy, erotic rhythm. While she pleasures herself she stares at me. Her heated gaze sets my body afire, humming with raw lust and arousal.
Desire surges between us, creating urgency and need.
Even the air in this room seems charged with passion.
I get the biology thing—sure. I’m a male, genetically programmed with an imperative need to mate. But what we have together isn’t only biology, or even chemistry. What is this crazy longing? I’ve never craved anyone to the degree that I crave her.
She stares at my erection. “Do you want to put that great big cock in here?” she asks, pushing a finger in her slit and temptingly circling her entrance.
I curse under my breath, but I also answer, “Hell, yes. Not tonight, but soon. Soon I’m going to pound myself deep inside that sexy pussy of yours.”
“Mmm, yes,” she sighs.
“Keep working yourself,” I order her. “You're so fucking hot. I want to see what happens as you get close to orgasm.”
Renata’s eyes widen at my command—I’ve surprised her, but she does as I tell her to. I’m supposed to be voicing my fantasies, but I don’t care. I stare at her sex with single-minded intensity, learning the feminine shape and texture of her.
I want to see this.
I need to see this.
“Good,” I encourage her, “that’s perfect. You look amazing.”
Time passes as I watch her masturbate, circling and teasing her clit. Color blooms on her chest, face and neck. Renata’s creamy flesh flushes a delightful shade of pink from her arousal. There’s a sheen of sweat on her skin and her sex glistens, looking incredibly sensitive and swollen with need.
From time to time her sex twitches.
Watching her blows me away.
I’m captivated because I’ve never seen anything like this before, yet it’s so much more t
han that. It’s because this is Renata. She’s already become so important to me. I care about her—she’s extraordinary.
I want to know everything about her, especially how she pleasures herself. I pay close attention, noticing what gets her off. Someday soon, maybe my fingers will be what drive her to completion.
“Pinch your nipples,” I tell her. “I want to see you squeeze and twist them.”
“Mmm,” she replies, complying immediately. Both nipples are puckered, erect and tight. “I can’t wait to have your hands on me,” she purrs. “This would feel so much better if you were caressing me.”
“What do they feel like? Your nipples and breasts?”
Her eyes widen—I’ve snapped her out of her sensual fog. For a long moment she just stares at me with a mixture of curiosity and surprise.
“What do they feel like?” she asks.
“Yes. You know, when you’re turned on like this.”
Understanding lights her expression, she can tell I’m genuinely interested. “My breasts are heavy, full and tight. They're sensitive and they ache. Touching them eases the ache and as for my nipples? They’re hard and engorged with blood—they tingle. When I pinch them it hurts, but in a good way. My breasts and nipples need to be stroked, licked and sucked—even bitten. They need a man’s touch. They need you. I ache for you, Grant.”
“I see,” I murmur, gazing at her speculatively. My lips curve up into a slow smile, but I make no move to touch her breasts. “Sorry to interrupt you. Keep on pleasuring yourself.”
“Tease,” she protests, but she isn’t angry. Her laugh is quick and easy as she again begins working on her wet sex.
How can she be so comfortable stretched out before me like this? Masturbating is such a private, intimate act. I wonder if she’s pleasured herself in front of others before—not that it’s any of my business. A strange, twisting pang of emotion washes through me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was jealous—which makes no sense at all.